Superstition Vistas

In 1977, when I was working on the ambulance as an EMT-paramedic, I was temporarily exiled from the city and worked for Aids Ambulance (the former Mesa Ambulance Service). This involved rotating to stations in Mesa, Tempe, Chandler, and Apache Junction. At the latter, two 24-hour units were maintained and the crews could expect major trauma calls, even lake rescues, in largely empty country. We proclaimed ourselves the Junction Medics. Superstition Mountain loomed to the east, not unlike the late 1940s photo above.

In those days, we left behind Mesa around Gilbert Road and were enveloped by massive citrus groves. This continued for about 12 miles, broken only by an occasional trailer park. Not much was out here. AJ's population was closing in on 9,000.

We christened Rossmoor Leisure World, a pioneering gated property, "Seizure World" because of the nature of calls from its elderly retired population. Williams Air Force Base sat miles to the south, down two-lane roads crossing farmland. Completion of the freeway was years away, so Main Street in the Maricopa County part of our territory wasn't even named or part of Mesa. It was four-lane U.S. 60, primevally dark at night, no curbs or sidewalks, lethal to pedestrians. Otherwise, it was empty desert all the way to the iconic mountain.

I couldn't imagine it would be anything else.

Fast forward to the 2000s. Mesa had ballooned from 63,000 in 1970 to nearly 400,000, grown all the way to the Pinal County line. The little suburbs I served had grown supersized and merged together into a sprawling conglomeration called the East Valley. The groves and farms were gone. Superstition's slopes were profaned by subdivisions. And all that empty desert was the most coveted piece of land in central Arizona. The boosters called it Superstition Vistas.

A 2006 report from the Morrison Institute examined scenarios for development, including ones that might be more innovative and — dare I say it — sustainable than what has been cookie-cutter tract housing and shopping strips stamped across central Arizona. The report stated:

Preparing The Treasure of the Superstitions brought a profound recognition that Arizonans are dealing with something larger than even 275 square miles of potential development. Many of the issues and ideas presented in this study apply to the future of all cities and new growth areas in the Valley of the Sun, and perhaps the future of cities in general. Take a piece of land. Fill it with a million people.What should it look like? How should we decide? These are the questions and opportunities that Arizona faces.

On April 2nd, 2006, the Viewpoints section of the Arizona Republic was dedicated to Superstition Vistas. Headlined, "A Better Vision: At this key moment, Arizona Must Decide How to Plan For The State's Next Great Community," the front page featured columns by Grady Gammage and yours truly. Gammage, the real-estate lawyer, was lead author of the Morrison report. Although an apologist for sprawl, he argued that careful planning could get Superstition Vistas "right."

And me? I began by writing, "Haven't we built up the area around the sacred mountain quite enough, thank you?" Then I highlighted the report's mention of "rail solutions" and other non-auto transportation opportunities, "environmentally sensitive" development, and people's "preferences for unique urban places" and disgust with "endless sprawl characterized by cookie-cutter 'garbage burbs'" and "scrape-and-build development with destruction of desert." I warned of climate change and stressed the uncertainty of water supplies. But in a constant attempt to keep myself viable and employed, I largely praised the report.

Of course, the honest response would have been: Another million people in single-family-house sprawl, far from jobs and amenities, adding to air pollution and environmental degradation, in a region that already has yet to build the infrastructure to meet even existing needs, where the temperature has risen 10 degrees in my lifetime, when 300,000 acres of empty land already sits in the metro area, and climate change is coming...are you insane?

But this was state trust land, meant to be sold and developed, and stopping the onslaught was never going to happen. At least given the politics of that era and now, the enormous power of the Real Estate Industrial Complex.

Other power alignments could have turned the land into a wilderness area. After all, this land was given to Arizona by the federal government at statehood to fund education. Yet education is always, at or nearest the worst in the country, starved for funding. No legal requirement exists to sell state trust land. Another alignment might even required implementation of the Morrison report.

But no, Superstition Vistas has turned into the usual Arizona development clusterfuck.

The latest example is a Republic scoop by Robert Anglen, about the sweet deal available to connected developers:

The starting price on the 2,783 acres up for bid in a vast tract known as the Superstition Vistas is so low some developers are calling it a steal. But most will never get a chance to bid on it.  

Restrictions imposed by the Arizona State Land Department ensure only a handful of developers nationwide are able to qualify and compete.

Among them is Brookfield Residential Properties Inc., a publicly traded behemoth worth about $4.5 billion. Brookfield for years worked with state officials to bring the land to auction and helped structure the deal's unique financing terms, and arguably stands to benefit most from the sale.

Rest assured this isn't the only funny business. [Here's a follow-up story]. And long-range water supplies? Cue Scarlett O'Hara. Whatever the reality, the Ponzi scheme rolls on. Until nature's rough justice rides into town.

I prefer to remember this land as it was.

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My book, A Brief History of Phoenix, is available to buy or order at your local independent bookstore, or from Amazon.

Read more Phoenix history in Rogue's Phoenix 101 archive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[drifter]

Those citrus groves were fabulous.

[eclecticdog]

Business properties have been built and are remarkably vacant, but more are on the way plus apartments, burbs, townhomes crammed onto what were single residential lots. Truly remarkable idiocy.

[DoggieCombover]

And another Republic article today about a single "bidder" on a valuable parcel in north Scottsdale. The bidder who basically wrote the development plan...

Every time I'm in the designated wilderness above the "Vistas," I think about the loss of solitude and silence that currently exists if this goes forward. Water?? What, me worry?

[Cal Lash]

The serial killer developers would shoot their mother in the middle of the road at the intersection of Highway 60 and 79 if she got in the road of their developments.
I live near the mountain and I recall the mountain from 1950.
Horn toads still could be seen.
There were great Monsoon seasons And it froze in the winter.
Sad, very sad what crimes "manunkind" has perpetuated on the Great Sonoran Desert.

[Redhead]

I am a little confused about the “news hook” for this story. Perhaps the follow will serve: today’s p. 1 story in The Republic about the North Scottsdale purchase by Nationwide Insurance (a sweet deal) and Robert Robb’s opinión piece about the way the land department has become a part of the development deal.

[Rogue Columnist]

Redhead, the hook is the Robert Anglen scoop mentioned down in the column.

[AzRebel]

AND, while golfers are enjoying a cold beer at Gold Canyon golf course, others only five to ten miles away are hiking, searching, and even dying in the search for the Dutchman’s gold. Moral of the story: if you feel the need to hike back into the 1800’s, go prepared cause 911 hadn’t been invented yet.

P.S. Land fraud had been invented and it thrives to this day.