Rogue Columnist

Ground zero II

Carl Muecke illustration

In Phoenix this past weekend, Trump said, "If I lost the election, I could handle it pretty easily. But when they steal it from you and rig it, that’s not easy, and we have to fight!"

The location and big-lie language are no random coincidence. For the past several months the Republican-controlled state Senate has been conducting an "audit" of Maricopa County ballots. The goal is to show the presidential election was stolen here from Trump (When Fox "News" called Arizona for Biden, something approved by Rupert Murdoch himself, Trump exploded).

The "stolen election" and the January 6th insurrection to prevent the results from being certified by Congress, is a national Republican narrative. But, as with climate change, Arizona is ground zero.

The deeper consequence of the "audit" is to kneecap Arizona from turning purple or blue. It sets a blueprint by which any future election that goes Democratic can be challenged and even reversed. No wonder Republicans from other states have been watching closely and trying to install their own "audits."

It's not the only way Republicans are working to ensure they maintain power, whatever the changing demographics and politics of the nation.

Eden in photographs

One of the most popular columns on this site is American Eden. Before red-tile-roof subdivisions built at an acre an hour. Before pavement, gravel, and longer, hotter summers, the Salt River Valley was an agricultural empire. Anything would grow here — just add water — and we shipped it across the country. Also, compared with today's 10,000-mile supply chain, we could feed ourselves.

Here's a sampling of images. Click on one for a larger view. Most are from the McCulloch Bros. Collection at the ASU Archives.

Fruit stands were ubiquitous into the 1970s. This stood at 41st Street and Baseline Road (Photographer unknown).

The Sunny Hills Fruit Stand at 32nd Street and Baseline in the 1960s (Photographer unknown).

Another one at 51st Street and McDowell in the 1960s. Phoenicians could ship fresh oranges and grapefruits to family and friends (Brad Hall collection/ Photographer unknown).

Alfalfa fields in 1923 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Ground zero

Have you noticed how many stories are generated out of Phoenix and Arizona by big national news organizations, including the New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times? This is a big change from the days when we operated in relative obscurity. It is also no coincidence.

For one thing, the state is so different from the one I grew up in: 1.3 million population in 1960 vs. 7.2 million in 2020. Arizona was the 35th most populous state in the union in 1960. Now No. 14 — the third largest in the West — and Phoenix is the fifth most populous city. With size comes scrutiny.

But more important is that many of the crises of the future are being played out here. Climate change. Border pressures. Demographic shifts. The crisis of political legitimacy and our experiment in self-government. We have a front-row seat and are players. Yes, I'm happy for the Suns (and that the arena contract requires the team to keep the city name) and for the center-city infill. Happy for light rail (WBIYB).

But all is not well. Indeed, it's shocking how dark the future looks — and Arizona is ground zero.

Churches of early Phoenix

Phoenix in the 1880s boasted 16 saloons and four dance halls on Washington Street's notorious Whiskey Row. But as the town grew, the number of churches weren't too far behind. Here are a few (click the image for a larger photo):

Central Methodist was the oldest Protestant church in Phoenix, founded in 1872.

The postcard shows it in 1904 at Central and Monroe Street. It was founded by the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, part of the Methodist split before the Civil War. North and South churches reunited in 1939.

Here's the building in 1942 although the congregation has moved farther north on Central (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).