Rogue Columnist

Three topics for your week

Much is being made of finally returning Amtrak to Phoenix. Alas, it's a long shot. A reminder: Phoenix, the nation's fifth most populous city, is the largest city in North America without intercity passenger trains. Okay, a second reminder: Once multiple trains served Union Station on the Southern Pacific and Santa Fe railroads for decades, then Amtrak until 1994.

The reason Amtrak stopped service to Phoenix was because the state — the Republican-controlled Legislature and later disgraced GOP Gov. Fife Symington — refused to help the Southern Pacific bring the western portion of the Northern Main Line (from Arlington to Wellton) up to trackage standards to accommodate Amtrak trains.

The present situation is aspirational at best. It consists of a $500,000 grant, as the Arizona Republic reported, "to begin planning for a passenger rail corridor that links Amtrak’s existing line, which runs through Tucson, to the Phoenix metro area." 

Rethinking Obama

Of the hundreds of columns I’ve written on this site since its inception in 2008, many were about the 44th president of the United States. A long seven years have passed since he left office, years that saw the rise of Donald Trump, his stunning and contested win of the presidency, the pandemic, and so much more. Most of the time, I miss "No Drama Obama," his pragmatic and steady hand at the helm of the republic. Other times, I wonder about the many meanings and consequences of the man and his times.

He was elected with 53% of the popular vote and 68% of the Electoral College, a strong showing considering the close elections of recent years. He came into office on a swell of revulsion of George W. Bush's carelessness in allowing 9/11, endless wars and policies of rendition and torture in black sites. He triumphed over Republican John McCain, who not only had the baggage of the Bush years but showed the lack of judgment in picking the half-term Alaska Governor Sarah Palin to be a heartbeat away from the presidency. And with the goodwill of a nation that had elected its first African-American president.

Obama was an intellectual, a rarity in politics, especially for a president. Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, maybe just maybe John F. Kennedy fit this mold. But Obama wore it lightly. He enjoyed playing hoops, snuck a cigarette, and spoke with empathy and sincerity (a striking contrast from the cold and insecure Wilson). Obama wasn't merely book smart but street smart, too. He was blessed with good instincts, as with his insistence on continuity and calm, rather than being the Angry Black Man. It didn't endear him to the left, but overall served him and the nation well.

Snake removal

If you follow the online Regional Dispatch Center maintained by the Phoenix Fire Department, you'll frequently see calls labeled "snake removal," especially in north Scottsdale. As I understand it, firefighters respond to the tony manses Slightly North of Bell (SNOB) to pull rattlesnakes out of pools, away from doors, or their expensively xeriscaped  properties.

The Regional Dispatch Center isn't as inclusive at Seattle's Real Time 911, and it usually consists of calls to automobile collisions (962s) — often involving pedestrians, bicycles, and motorcycles — as well as mountain rescues of idiots hiking up mountains in mid-day high summer. But the call for snake removal seems especially apt for our moment.

As the wealthy Anglo subdivisions have pushed ever deeper into the desert, they've destroyed and disrupted the habitat of the creatures that live there. It's no surprise, then, that  a diamondback — not a baseball player — suns himself on a championship golf course or gives a new meaning to the "water hazard."

When I was growing up in what's now the Willo Historic Neighborhood north of downtown Phoenix, we never saw snakes. Believe me, we looked! As a teenager, friends and I would hike around Arizona with a varmint gun at the ready, but never saw a rattler, much less a deadly coral snake or Gila monster. For one thing, I knew to walk with a heavy tread so the snake could feel me coming. DDT had killed off the scorpions and black widow spiders. They've made a big comeback, especially on the ever-expanding fringes. And snakes? Call the fire department.

 

Class in Phoenix

When I was growing up in the 1960s, my mother told me Phoenix was a much less class-conscious city than those back east. Consider Boston, where it was said, "The home of the bean and the cod, Where Lowells speak only to Cabots, And Cabots speak only to God." Phoenix was more of a meritocracy. In the 1960s, Phoenix was largely a middle-class Anglo city.

Merit she had in abundance: A piano prodigy from the age of four, studied at the Eastman Conservatory, was a concert pianist — all before I came along. But we didn’t have money and things were always tight. Still, she and my grandmother raised me in a middle class neighborhood north of downtown, in the house on Cypress Street (above), long before this became one of Phoenix's first historic districts.

And what she said was true. Our across the street neighbors and friends were wealthy, heirs to the Fred Harvey fortune, but they never put on airs. From the rich children in Palmcroft to the poor ones near Roosevelt Street, we all attended public school at Kenilworth.

Four topics for your week

The photo above shows Central and Southern avenues in 1930. When I post pics like this on Vintage Phoenix, Arizona Memories, and Phoenix Shadetree History groups on Facebook, the reaction is "wow!" Indeed, it's a wow view. Then, "What happened?" "How could we lose this?"

Most people living in metropolitan Phoenix today have no living memory of the oasis created by the Salt River Valley. Most don't care. "We live in a desert," they gloat as they throw down gravel. Actually, you live in what was an oasis. But thousands of shade trees were torn out to widen streets or by Salt River Project along the canals. In their place: Asphalt, concrete, and gravel. Oh, and cooling grass ("turf") must go.

The Mayor pledges to plant more trees, but I'm skeptical. With a federal grant, the city pledges to "plant native and drought-resistant trees such as mesquite, Chinese pistache, or desert acacia. Likewise, they'll avoid water-hungry trees like palms." She's very woke, interested in "tree equity." I think we'll get palo verdes and little shade.

Too bad for Phoenix as the summers keep getting hotter and lasting longer. So much was lost.

Cities, past and future

Downtown Cincinnati at night, seen from across the Ohio River.

A reader asked me to write about what Phoenix might learn from cities in the Midwest. It’s a challenging assignment, also one freighted with paradox considering so many Phoenicians come from the same region. Nevertheless, I'll put my shoulder to the wheel.

I lived in Cincinnati when I worked for the Cincinnati Enquirer in the 1990s. Churchill called it America's most beautiful inland city decades before and I found it the same when I was there. So, this puts me in a position to examine advantages, challenges, and lessons. Like all Midwestern cities, Cincinnati is much older than Phoenix. It was founded in 1788, named after the Society of the Cincinnati, Revolutionary War veterans honoring the Roman general offered the dictatorship of Rome, but went back to his farm. He was an apt comparison to George Washington. Cincinnati was the Queen City of the West, although the West moved on.

It has numerous advantages. Cincinnati is built on hills rolling down to the Ohio River, distinctive neighborhoods, a dense downtown, architecture jewels such as Union Terminal (above right) — now mostly a museum center but also served by Amtrak — Over the Rhine which is a National Urban Historic Landmark, and major corporate headquarters, including Procter and Gamble whose offices are downtown.

Cincinnati's numerous cultural institutions are crowned by music: The Cincinnati Symphony, Cincinnati Pops, Chamber Orchestra, May Festival, and the University of Cincinnati's College-Conservatory of Music. In addition to UC, Cincinnati offers other universities in and near the city, including Miami, my graduate alma mater and one of the original "Public Ivies."

Chips on our shoulders

No, this isn't a photograph of the much-hyped Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co. plant in Phoenix, but therein lies part of the tale. Above is the high-speed passenger rail station in Hsinchu, Taiwan (technically, the Republic of China). But USA USA can't have nice things. Amtrak hasn't served Phoenix since 1994, making it the most populous city in North America without intercity passenger trains.

Boosters claim the fabrication plant, or fab, will create 21,000 construction jobs and 4,500 permanent positions, as well as $40 billion invested at build-out. This is part of President Biden's effort to make America less reliant on overseas chip makers, especially in the People’s Republic of China. Be skeptical about the claim of permanent jobs because advanced fabs are highly automated.

One big problem for Phoenix is that the fab is located on Interstate 17 and Dove Valley Road, nearly to Carefree Highway. This makes it totally car dependent, adding to congestion and smog. The company says "making sustainability is a priority." Sure.

Drug stores of old Phoenix

Growing up in the neighborhood north of downtown Phoenix in the 1960s, later to become Willo, I was bracketed by drug stores. Ryan-Evans was on the southeast corner of Seventh Avenue and McDowell Road in a shopping strip including the Sprouse-Reitz five-and-dime store. My Florist was across the street with its dazzling neon sign.

At Central and McDowell was McCreary's Drugs. Farther south at Third Avenue and Roosevelt was a Rexall. And another drug store was located at Fifth Avenue and Thomas. Most had soda fountains. Alas, I lack photos of these boyhood haunts. But let's take a tour of Phoenix’s ubiquitous small drug stores before they were supplanted by a handful of giant chains. Above is Sun Drug at First Avenue and Monroe in 1947. At right is First Methodist Church.

Birch's Drugs at Third Street and Roosevelt, part of a thriving block of shops and long before urban pioneers reclaimed the area as Roosevelt Row (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Walgreen's, before it became one of the giant chains of today, on the northwest corner of Central and Washington in the 1940s (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

 

Broiling point

Phoenix doesn't lack for national news coverage this month, but the headlines aren't likely to please the local-yokel boosters.

From the New York Times: "In Phoenix, Heat Becomes a Brutal Test of Endurance." "Phoenix Breaks Heat Record Set in 1974." And, "In Phoenix, Firefighters Battle an Invisible Inferno."

From the Washington Post: "Phoenix will be the first major U.S. city to average 100-plus degrees all month," "Phoenix hits record for 19th day of 110-plus degrees — with more to come," and "A Phoenix power outage amid a heat wave could possibly kill thousands, study says."

The only comfort I can take is that the newspapers used Phoenix in their headlines, not "the Valley." (Which Valley? Silicon Valley? The San Fernando Valley?" "San Joaquin Valley?" "Red River Valley — of the north or of the south?" "Valley of the Jolly — Ho Ho Ho — Green Giant?).

I spent a month in my hometown in June and it was plenty hot and getting hotter. The day we flew out of Sky Harbor it was 111 degrees. But that was only the overture to this hellish July. I could say I told you so, but what would be the point? I've been doing Phoenix for 15 years and little has changed for the better beyond ASU downtown, infill for the Central Corridor and light rail (WBIYB). Our most insightful commenters have gone away, but thanks to those who remain.

 

Sedona

The challenge of writing a history of Sedona is that Arizona's population is 7.4 million. As a result, most people associate the city with resorts, art galleries, restaurants, and shopping at Tlaquepaque or in Uptown Sedona, hiking through the red rock country, and Oak Creek Canyon, all easily accessible on wide highways. A few may recall the incident in 2009 where a self-help guru killed three people, baked to death in a sweat lodge.

And the "spiritual vortices." New Age tourism is big business. Bell Rock, Airport Mesa, Cathedral Rock, and Boynton Canyon are considered to be vortexes of unique power. The "Harmonic Convergence" was held here in 1987. Sedona also offers a film festival and chamber music program.

In the 2000s, I did several book signings at the Well Red Coyote bookstore (now sadly gone) and gave speeches to Kiwanis and Rotary. It was an easy hop up Interstate 17 and Arizona 179 from Phoenix.

The problem for me is that it's not the Sedona I remember as a child, when the state had 1.3 million people. Sedona was harder to reach, with far fewer people, and a charming row of shops, including a restaurant called The Turtle. The Red Rock Country was empty and majestic. I'm grumpy company on a road trip.

Tucson through the years

The Old Pueblo was founded in 1775, a year before the Declaration of Independence was signed two-thirds of a continent away, by Irishman Hugh O'Conor working in service to Spain. The presidio he established survived repeated Apache attacks, isolation, and Mexico's takeover after it broke away from the Spanish Empire. If not for the Gadsden Purchase in 1854, Tucson would have remained in Mexico.

As of 2022, Tucson was Arizona's second most populous city — for now, at least, it's 546,674 vs. Mesa's 512,498. But it has some of Arizona's richest history. Let's take a photographic tour (click for a larger image):

Mission San Xavier del Bac in 1915. It was founded just south of the future Tucson by Father Kino in 1700.

Barrio Libre, 17th and Kennedy streets in Tucson, circa 1890 (Library of Congress).

Another view of Barrio Libre (Library of Congress).

Many of Tucson's historic barrios have been spruced up in recent years.

The 2023 to Yuma

For most people, Yuma is a stop by the Colorado River at the California border on Interstate 8 for gas and fast food, or for retirement in one of the hottest cities in the United States, to be enveloped in agriculture that moved down from the Salt River Valley without the rich, alluvial soil of American Eden.

But Yuma is much more: Rich in history, it's the place along with Tucson where American settlement began. Where boats could come up the Colorado delta unhindered by dams upstream. Now, with a population of nearly 96,000, it's worth our time.

Gallery (click on photo for a larger image):

Fort Yuma in 1875.

Horse-drawn water in the 1890s (Library of Congress).

The first locomotive in Arizona, Yuma 1877. The Southern Pacific built east across the state.

Yuma's handsome Southern Pacific depot.

A Pullman porter and conductor await passengers on the SP early in the 20th century (City of Yuma).

A street-level view of the SP depot, since demolished.

Bars of old Phoenix

Phoenix once had an abundance of locally owned taverns, from fancy spots to dive bars. I used to reminisce about them with the late John Bouma, managing partner of Snell & Wilmer, over lunch at Durant's. I knew a few: Kren's and the Anchor on McDowell, the Pueblo on Scottsdale Road, the Can Can at Third Street and Roosevelt, and Jerry's Treasure Island on Thomas Road. I had my first beer at the Pueblo bar on Scottsdale Road.

But Bouma was a veritable encyclopedia of old Phoenix bars. Among them, Rocky's Hideaway, Chauncey's, Mister Fat Fingers, the Velvet Hammer, the Blue Grotto, and the Ivanhoe, where the plan to bomb Arizona Republic reporter Don Bolles was finalized.

Here are a few:

The Clown's Den on Camelback Road around 23rd Street.

The Band Box at 19th Avenue and Campbell, this night featuring Mike Condello's band and Pat McMahon (Brad Hall collection).

Chez Nous at Seventh Avenue and Indian School Road. During business hours it was so dark it took a few minutes for your eyes to adjust to the blackness.

Magoo's at 19th Avenue and west Van Buren Street.

The scam...again

The headline in the New York Times read, "Arizona Limits Construction Around Phoenix as Its Water Supply Dwindles." Then the story began:

Arizona has determined that there is not enough groundwater for all of the housing construction that has already been approved in the Phoenix area, and will stop developers from building some new subdivisions, a sign of looming trouble in the West and other places where overuse, drought and climate change are straining water supplies.

The decision by state officials very likely means the beginning of the end to the explosive development that has made the Phoenix area the fastest growing metropolitan region in the country.

But the devil is in the details. The state won't revoke building permits that have already been issued. Instead, it's hoping "new water conservation measures and alternative sources (will) produce the water necessary for housing developments that have already been approved."

GOP vs. WBIYB

Cars, 138-year-old technology.

A reader writes:

WBIYB, very true.

However..........AZ republicans are behaving like fanatical religious groups found in the middle east, whose only goal is to end public transit, if not in their lifetime maybe the life time of their great grandchildren.

What in the hell drives these nut jobs nutty about public transportation???

I will attempt to explain, although for regular readers this is familiar ground. In 2004, Maricopa County voters approved Proposition 400. It assessed a half-cent sales tax for 20 years to build new freeways, widen existing ones, expand highways and arterial streets, and fund transit. Of the total, 33.5% was intended for transit. Headlines in the Arizona Republic often use shorthand calling it "a transit tax," when it's really a transportation tax.

Legislative Republicans would have preferred to use the highly regressive sales tax exclusively for cars. But voters felt otherwise. The real hot button for Republicans was light rail, a modern technology and concept that was little understood by most in metropolitan Phoenix.

The resorts of old Phoenix

Before the Sanctuary, Boulders, or Phoenician, the city embraced a tourist experience beyond the hotels downtown, motels along the highways, or dude ranches. They were resorts offering amenities that couldn't be found elsewhere in the Southwest. First came the Arizona Biltmore (above) in February 1929, months before the big stock-market crash. Next, during the Great Depression, was the Camelback Inn in 1936, financed by John C. Lincoln and Jack Bell Stewart.

All fed into a reviving economy, location on a transcontinental railroad, and the Chamber of Commerce's "Valley of the Sun" tourism campaign. Contrary to urban legend, the Biltmore wasn't the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, but rather his student, Albert Chase McArthur. McArthur paid Frank Lloyd Wright $10,000 to use his patented block design, (but it turned out Wright didn't actually own the patent). Soon, William Wrigley Jr. bought the resort and built the famous mansion on a nearby butte.

Let's take a tour. Because TypePad, which hosts Rogue Columnist, is buggy on photos, I'm going to bunch out the gallery, below, without captions. You'll see the Biltmore — including its pre-construction site — Camelback Inn, Royal Palms, Chandler's San Marcos, and the Wigwam near Litchfield Park. Hope you enjoy. Click on a photo for a larger image.

Drive-ins in old Phoenix

Midcentury Phoenix was remade by the automobile age. One of the keystones was drive-in restaurants. Sit in the car and eat. Or sit on benches. Drive-ins were essential to the tradition of Cruising Central — an essential way for teenagers from different high schools to meet each other and find new steadies.

Regular readers know that the McDonald's at Central Avenue just south of Indian School (above) was the first franchise location outside of California and the first with Golden Arches. Opened in 1954, it was the only McDonald's location in Phoenix for years.

Let's visit a few, from the 1930s to the 1960s.

The Coffee Pot Drive-In at Seventh Street and McDowell in the 1930s.

The Village Inn at two-lane Central and Thomas in the 1940s.

Gizmo at 13th Street and McDowell Road in the late '40s. Not much business when this photo was taken.

The historic districts

The A.C. Redewill House, built in 1914, in the Willo Historic District after a rainstorm rolled through leaving clear blue sky. We lived there in the 2000s.

In a city better known for tearing down its heritage, including the irreplaceable Fox Theater, some precious victories have been won. Among them: the Orpheum Theater, Professional Building, Luhrs Tower and Luhrs Building, and — for now, at least — Union Station.

But some of the best preservation victories are the Historic Districts, 35 in all as of 2023, and rebranded as Historic Neighborhoods. And most of them are: distinctive, authentic, walkable, rich in history. The earliest began as a response to the Papago Freeway Inner Loop. Its construction required the demolition of 3,000 houses, many irreplaceable historic dwellings.

Even with the concessions of running the freeway underground from Third Avenue to Third Street, the coming of the Papago put everything from Roosevelt Street to McDowell Road at risk. From Thomas to Roosevelt and Central to 15th Avenue was once a continuous neighborhood. Only Palmcroft had a name. But the freeway cut it in half and people wondered if blight would spread as far north as Thomas.

 

The road ahead

Pinned post (for newer columns see below):

I want to write about the future of Rogue Columnist. When I began the blog in 2008, my primary mission was to write about the issues and news with perspective and context that no one else provided. Also, I wanted to write about Phoenix history that wasn't easily available elsewhere. This was strictly pro bono — no charge to readers and no ads on the site itself.

 

Buses in old Phoenix

Old Phoenix had busses, too — kisses. But as for transit on wheels or intercity travel, it had those, too, spelled right. Click on the photo for a larger image:

The "Hellzapoppin" group arrives in Phoenix by bus for the Rodeo of Rodeos in 1939 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

The Greyhound Bus Depot at 29 E. Jefferson in the 1940s (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

The Santa Fe Trailways bus depot on Jefferson in 1944 with the Pantry Cafe and Jack's Liquors. The Santa Fe Railway operated this subsidiary to compete against intercity buses, which were cutting into its ridership (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

 

The geriatric state

One of the many lies the boosters tell is that Arizona is a youthful state. Yet according to the U.S. Census Bureau, 18.3% of the state's residents are 65 years or older. That compares with 16.8% nationally and — among peer Western states, 15% for Colorado, 16% for Washington, yet surprisingly 18% for Oregon (home of Portland, "where young people go to retire").

Either way you slice the baloney, Arizona is a state with a sizable cohort of older people. It's not surprising. Since 1960, when Del Webb built his pioneering Sun City development west of the Santa Fe Railway tracks and Grand Avenue northwest of Phoenix, Arizona has marketed itself to retirees.

One of our long-lost commenters — I believe it was Concern Troll — made the point that a huge piece of the state economy is dependent on retirees, including their Social Security and pension checks, and the vast system of hospitals, medical workers, and caregivers who serve them.

According to the Social Security Administration, nearly $1 billion was dispersed in Arizona in 2021, the latest data available (Thanks, Rich Weinroth for the catch). The average monthly check is modest: 574.76. And not all this goes to seniors. Still...

Copper Square

The Morenci mine in eastern Arizona, with one of the largest copper reserves in the world. It's owned by Freeport-McMoRan, formerly Phelps Dodge (Tom Blackwell photo).

One of the misbegotten efforts to revive downtown Phoenix in the early 2000s was to rename it. "Copper Square" was the monicker chosen on the, er, thinking that people in the metropolitan area didn't even know where the city's downtown was. Phoenix had nothing to do with copper — aside from the low dome of the Territorial Capitol and an occasional freight car going through with equipment to the mines — and thankfully the name went away.

But the story was far different for Arizona. Copper was one of the "Five Cs," along with cotton, citrus, cattle, and climate and for decades the most profitable. Arizona has by far the largest concentration of copper deposits in the nation — including Butte, Montana — and second only to southern Peru and northern Chile. Copper mining also produces such byproducts as gold, silver, and molybdenum.

Arizona is the only state with an elected Mining Inspector. His office estimates more than 100,000 abandoned mines dot the state. About 10 major copper mines remain today, with controversy over efforts to start the Resolution Mine near Superior.

No wonder the Grand Canyon State is also the Copper State.

Let's take a tour through the years (click for a larger image):

Jerome, a classic mining town, on Cleopatra Hill in the 1930s (Library of Congress). 

 

The United Verde Mine in Jerome produced 2 billion pounds of copper, silver, and gold from the 1880s to 1953 (Library of Congress).

An ore train passes through Jerome's Hopewell Tunnel circa 1920s (Library of Congress).

 

'Rim to River'

I don't do book reviews on this blog, but I'm making an exception for Tom Zoellner's superb Rim to River: Looking into the Heart of Arizona.

It deserves space on your Arizona history shelf along with Thomas Sheridan's Arizona: A History, Philip VanderMeer's Desert Visions and the Making of Phoenix, William Collins' The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix: 1944-1973, Marshall Trimble and Jack August's works, and, I hope, my Brief History of Phoenix.

The book has urgency because Arizona matters more than ever. It holds 7.2 million people, compared with the mere 1 million when I was born. It's the third most populous state in the West behind California and Washington, and Phoenix is the fifth most populous city in the nation. Facing a historic drought, state leaders are unwilling to stop the second-biggest driver of the problem: Sprawl. The biggest, climate change, is sure to bring rough justice to the Grand Canyon State. The politics are as extreme as the weather. 

Magical thinking and Bolles

Two topics this week:

• Above is a water desalination plant at Eilat, Israel, which turns Red Sea salt water into fresh water. Israel, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates make up the biggest users of desalination, with 21,000 plants worldwide, even in Australia.

Now an Israeli company, IDE Technologies, proposes to bring such an operation to Arizona, from the Sea of Cortez at Rocky Point through the Mexican state of Sonora.

At a cost of $5 billion, it would deliver 1 million acre feet annually to Arizona. Or so is the plan. By comparison, the Central Arizona Project carries 1.4 million acre feet from the Colorado River. The CAP cost approximately $4 billion, with only $1.5 billion repaid to the federal government. 

In 2016, Scientific American proclaimed "Israel proves the desalination era is here," as one of the driest countries on earth makes more fresh water than it needs using this technology. 

Parades in old Phoenix

From frontier days onward, who doesn't love a parade? Phoenicians certainly did. (Click on the image to enlarge).

Date unknown, a military parade on Washington. That looks like the Ford Hotel on the left.

 

It's 1899 and the Chinese Division parades through Phoenix in the Winter Carnival. The name is obscure, so I welcome information in the comments.

The Indian and Cowboy Carnival Parade goes down Washington Street in 1903 (National  Archives).

February thoughts

February was always my favorite month in Phoenix. I can't say exactly why. Winter was passing and the hot days hadn't yet arrived. Although the weather has changed because of ripping out citrus groves, shade trees, and grass ("turf") and replacing it with gravel and pavement, somehow this February remains magical. Above is a rainstorm over Park Central.

I'm here for the rest of the month, although between keeping up my day job as a columnist for the Seattle Times and seeing friends, I've been less attentive to the blog. Thanks for keeping things going on the previous open thread. Some thoughts:

• The Super Bowl came and went. Although it was played in the taxpayer-funded, developer subsidizing stadium in a former cotton field in west Glendale, almost all the festivities centered on downtown Phoenix and the deck park. (Regular readers know I refuse to call it Hance Park because of its namesake's destruction of the center city when she was mayor; name the mountain preserve for her, which she richly deserves).

Anyway, this was a triumph for central Phoenix, which has reasserted itself as the center of this sprawling metroplex of lookalike super-suburbs. Light-rail trains (WBIYB) were packed with visitors. Restaurants and hotels did a great business. Scottsdale was irrelevant except for the corporate jets at the Airpark (more than 200 private jets departed local airports after the big game). An Urber from Scottsdale to the cotton field was said to cost $500 on game day.

SOTU open thread

Carl Muecke illustration

Aviation in old Phoenix

A year before statehood, a balloon went aloft to take this photo centered on Second Street and Adams (click for a larger image).

Fighter ace Lt. Frank Luke, a Phoenix native, gained fame in World War I as the "Arizona Balloon Buster" for his success against German observation balloons as well as enemy aircraft. Here he is with 13th confirmed kill. He was shot down and fatally wounded two months before the end of the war. German soldiers buried Luke in the Murvaux cemetery; Americans retrieved his body two months later. He received the Medal of Honor and Luke Air Force Base is named after him. 

Amelia Earhart visiting Phoenix at the South Central Airport in 1931 (USC Libraries).

An aerial view of the land Phoenix purchased for its new airport in 1935, called Sky Harbor (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

The omen

The international news that Rio Verde Foothills has seen its water cut off by the city of Scottsdale is a drama in miniature for how the Arizona Ponzi scheme is going to play out on a larger stage in the coming years.

From the BBC and New York Times, to the Washington Post and local media, Rio Verde Foothills is invariably described as a "town," "suburb," or using typical sales language, "community." The Times even gave "Rio Verde" its own dateline.

In fact, it is a subdivision in the desert of about 2,000 houses ("homes" is sales language) north of Scottsdale. It's a wildcat subdivision, built by several developers who never had to comply with the Groundwater Act, with a "100 year guarantee" of water (itself an elaborate hoax).

As I've warned you for years, the developers are gone to more hospitable climes, leaving the foolhardy owners of these houses holding the bag.

Hospitals of old Phoenix

Good Samaritan Hospital facing McDowell Road in the 1930s. Its history can be traced to Lulu Clifton, a deaconess in the Methodist Church who established Deaconess Hospital in 1911. In 1917, it was moved to remote 10th Street and McDowell and renamed Good Samaritan in 1928 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Deaconess Hospital in the early 1920s before it was renamed.

The east wing of Good Sam in the 1930s. The shady, grass cooled grounds of the hospital lasted into the 1970s (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

A color postcard shows the hospital in the same era.

 

Lies we tell on the border

The North American Leaders Summit in Mexico City came off with pledges of friendship and promises to address immigration, gangs, drug trafficking, economic cooperation, and  a nod to climate change.

“There can no longer be any question, none, in today’s interconnected world. We cannot wall ourselves off from shared problems,” President Biden said, in a news conference with his counterparts, Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador and Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

But many questions and lies linger.

It's a question and a lie that NAFTA was a total failure. Real personal gross domestic product for Mexico more than doubled since 1993. Mexico moved from a Third World nation to a First World nation. Did NAFTA cause disruptions? Yes, and on both sides of the border. Mexican agriculture was swamped by U.S. imports, while many U.S. manufacturing jobs were lost. But the authoritative studies show they were scrambled to other manufacturers exporting to Mexico. The big job losses can be blamed on the "China Shock" when Beijing joined the World Trade Organization.

Parks of old Phoenix

The original townsite set aside room for a park (plaza) on Block 23, site of today's downtown Fry's supermarket. You can click on each image for a larger view.

It became City Hall park, Phoenix's first, with a gazebo and shade trees (Brad Hall collection).

In 1905, the park was welcoming people for a concert. Easy access was provided by the Washington Street streetcar (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

 

Carl Muecke's New Year's wish

The Central Arizona Project

The Mark Wilmer Pumping Plant, which draws water from Lake Havasu and vaults it 3,000 vertical feet over the Buckskin Mountains on the way 336 miles to Phoenix and Tucson. Wilmer and Charlie Reed were the lead lawyers in winning the landmark Arizona v. California lawsuit, guaranteeing the CAP. The plant accounts for 50% of the $4 billion CAP's energy use (Central Arizona Project photo).

In 1922 the Colorado River Compact — cornerstone of "the Law of the River” — was signed by states of the Upper and Lower basins. Arizona didn't ratify it until 1944, complaining it apportioned water to the basins rather than to individual states (Library of Congress).

Parker Dam, completed in 1938, impounding the Lake Havasu reservoir. California put the first "straw in the river" here with the Colorado River Aqueduct. It was conceived by the legendary William Mulholland and completed in 1939 (Library of Congress).

 

Sinema vérité

I suppose readers expect me to comment on Sen. Krysten Sinema's switch from the Democratic Party to independent. Entire digital forests have already been felled examining it, as shown on the Phoenix and Arizona links over the past several days.

She was obviously afraid of losing a primary to someone such as Rep. Ruben Gallego. This allows her a chance to split the vote among her, the Democratic challenger, and the Republican Senate candidate — and maybe come out on top. Arizona Democrats are furious with her for tag-teaming with Sen. Joe Manchin, D-Coal, to undermine President Biden's agenda, and will do everything to ensure her defeat.

But don't be so sure. Behind the sophisti-cute nerd girl eyeglasses and abundant looks privilege is an ambitious brain. Her hole card is that although she's a Jack Mormon, she earned her bachelor's degree from Brigham Young University and the LDS never give up on their own. The Mormons remain a formidable voting bloc in Arizona.

The famous in old Phoenix

For a frontier town grown large, old Phoenix had its share of visiting statesmen, heroes, and celebrities. Here are a few (click for a larger image).

President William McKinley visited the capital of Arizona Territory in 1901, a few months before his assassination.

Dr. James Swetnam Winton with the first automobile in Phoenix, 1902.

President William Howard Taft passes Melinda's Alley in 1909.

Theodore Roosevelt at the Heard home in 1911, here for the dedication of Theodore Roosevelt Dam.

Minds made up

Carl Muecke illustration.

When was the last time you changed your mind? Be honest.

I can think of a few times in my recent life. I was skeptical about human-caused climate change until I read Elizabeth Kolbert's seminal reporting on the subject in 2001. I changed my mind. When I was business editor of the Charlotte Observer, where we covered the major bank consolidations of the 1990s, I had misgivings. About the repeal of Glass-Steagall. But I was convinced the system was secure. When it nearly melted down in the Panic of 2008, I changed my mind. Being raised a Goldwater Republican in Arizona, I adamantly changed my mind in the coming years.

"When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?" to use a quote attributed to John Maynard Keynes.

But the evidence on the ground indicated that fewer Americans are willing to change their minds about anything.

More Phoenix in the 1930s

Phoenix went from Depression to a recovery earlier than most places thanks to abundant New Deal investments. Have a look in the photo time machine (click for a larger image):

The privately funded Agua Fria River Project, shown in this 1932 map, was derailed by the Great Depression. It sought to bring water to cultivate land all the way to the White Tank Mountains.

One part of the Agua Fria Project survived as the "Frog Tanks Dam," under construction in 1926. The dam, later the Old Waddell Dam, was located on the Agua Fria River northwest of Phoenix. William Beardsley, a champion of the project, hired civil engineer Carl Pleasant to design the dam. Today, the dam has been replaced by a higher, longer structure that holds back a larger Lake Pleasant as part of the Central Arizona Project (McCulloch Bros.Collection/ASU Archives)

Thomas and Grand Avenue in the 1930s, the Alhambra Garage and a nearby grocery, with a Holsum Bakery truck making a delivery (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Boehmer's Cut-Rate Drugs in the Monihon Building at First Avenue and Washington Street in 1937. My fictional private investigator Gene Hammons has his office in this location (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Not quite blue

I watched tensely on Monday night as NBC News, CNN, and finally the Associated Press called the Arizona governor's race, with Katie Hobbs winning over Kari Lake. She will become the first Democratic governor here since Janet Napolitano.

But it was a close run thing, as the Duke of Wellington said of his triumph over Napoleon at Waterloo. Hobbs won by a mere 18,551 votes.

How could this be? Hobbs was Secretary of State, former state representative and state senator, a Phoenix native, very well qualified to be governor. Kari Lake was a former newsreader for the local Fox television station. She has no government or executive experience at all, was Trump anointed, an election denier, spreader of COVID disinformation, claiming President Biden had "a demonic agenda," and one-time Democrat. She called for putting Hobbs and journalists in jail (sound familiar?). Yet nearly 1.23 million voters were willing to go with her.

The answer lies in Arizona still being a hotspot of the Trump cult — the party of Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan, and John McCain is dead. Props to McCain for choosing Sarah Palin, a proto-Lake, as his running mate in 2008.

The old High Country

Before land swaps and subdivisions in the pines, before a Super Walmart in Payson and wildfires started by the likes of Valinda Jo Elliott, the Arizona High Country was wild and lightly populated. Click on a photo for a larger image:

Loggers working between Heber and Overgarrd in the late 19th century.

Pack mules heading into Payson, 1901 (ASU Archives).

The Payson General Store (ASU Archives).

 

Vote like your life depends on it

Carl Muecke illustration.

Because of Typepad problems I am late in posting this urgent plea.

Vote like your life depends on it. Don't believe the polls. Some are fake. All risk dampening Democratic turnout.

Vote like your life depends on it. If Republicans win one or both Houses of Congress next week, you won't recognize this country next year.

Vote like your life depends on it because today’s GOP is a radical nihilistic cult worshipping Donald Trump. Its the party of Ginni Thomas, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Ron DeSantis, Herschel Walker...of election deniers, those who would dismantle the safety net, privatize Social Security, switch Medicare to inadequate vouchers, and abandon Ukraine.

Vote like your life depends on it because there are no moderate Republicans.

Blog troubles

Typepad, which hosts Rogue Columnist, spent the weekend switching over to a different system. As a result, the blog was unavailable for most of that time. Now it's up but still buggy. Photos aren't loading (I have a help ticket in). You can check Typepad status on Twitter @typepad.

At 2:16 p.m., they reported: "The Typepad team is continuing to work to fully restore service. At this time, you may see issues such as blogs or images not loading, or you may encounter an error when logging into the application. We are working non-stop to address all remaining problems."

Meanwhile, check out Ruben's comment on the previous post:

"I started following Jon while he was still at the Republic. The reason he caught my eye was because he was offering common sense ideas to issues that challenged the community. At that time, the city, county, state and country were headed in a bad direction. Picture a graph where the line of progression is headed downward at a 45 degree angle. I must have been really naive at that time because I thought that the "powers that be" would see his ideas and take him up on his advice. Little did I know that they would do the opposite.

"Fast forward to now and we are still at a 45 degree downward angle and we are speeding faster and faster to who knows what hell awaits us.

"As to the blog, I would vote to keep it as a photo and memories site for us old folks. After millions and millions of words posted, WHICH CHANGED NOTHING, I vote we stop the political stuff which has tens of commentors who still try to sway a person here and there. Failure is never fun and I"m afraid that the overwhelming tide of uneducated, ignorant citizens have bulldozed us into the pit of irrelevance."

Living with drought

My new Gene Hammons Novel (a mystery due out in the next year or two) is set in 1936. In my research, I found that much of the Midwest and South suffered from a terrible drought, which claimed thousands of lives (separate from the Dust Bowl). But Arizona had plenty of rain that year — temperatures were also lower than today — and Phoenix was protected by the dams and reservoirs on the Salt River. And therein lies a tale.

 The population of Arizona was around 443,000 — fewer than live in today's Mesa. Phoenix clocked in at 55,000 or do, double that for the metropolitan area (remember, the city then was only around 17 square miles). Had today's mega-drought hit then, Phoenix would have been fine. Even with climate change.

But population growth has long been the primary driver of Phoenix's leadership. On the flag of the Arizona Republic in 1936 was a bug headlined "How Phoenix Grows!" listing population increases and building permits (The "flag" is the name of the paper atop the front page; the "masthead" lists the newspapers leadership, typically on the editorial page). So as of 2020, Arizona's population is 7.2 million, with Phoenix the nation's fifth most populous city — though far from No. 5 in other measures of quality and influence.

Russell Lee's Arizona

Russell Lee (1903-1986) is a photojournalist best known for his work with the New Deal's Farm Security Administration. Some of his work documenting Depression-era Phoenix is iconic. He also worked around Arizona circa 1939-40. Here's a sample from the Library of Congress:

An unknown location in the Apache National Forest in far eastern Arizona.

The Bird Cage Theater in Tombstone.

Office of the Tombstone Epitaph. It is the oldest continually published newspaper in Arizona.

Main Street in Bisbee.

What did I miss?

Carl Muecke illustration

Thanks for your patience. The novel is now completed and will be soon sent to the publisher. A few quick thoughts:

• It's astounding that the former local Fox newsreader Kari "Trump in a Dress" Lake stands a good chance of becoming Arizona's next governor. Or not. I've been skeptical of Arizona becoming a purple, much less blue state. For one thing, the GOP-controlled Legislature passed voter suppression laws, as I warned. And Hispanics are not a monolithic voting bloc. They don't want police defunded. Many are suspicious of woke Democratic virtue posturing.

• It's astounding that Republicans — the Party that Broke America with the Iraq war, Great Recession, and Trump — remain not only relevant but favored to win control of one or both houses of Congress. Trump could win the presidency again, in our last election. When Herbert Hoover and the GOP were blamed for the Great Depression (where I've been living writing the second Gene Hammons novel), the Republicans didn't win the White House for 20 years, and then under the moderate Ike. Not now.

• Similar astounding that Trump and his enablers have faced no consequences for the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol. Lake is an election denier.

Read on about this blog and its future:

 

Book break

I hate to do this, but with a deadline looming for my next novel I'm stepping away from Rogue Columnist until at least November. The exception might be if major news breaks. In the meantime, enjoy the archives and favorites, especially those on Phoenix history. Thanks for your support.

You may use this as an open thread for comments.

 

Death and life of Sunbelt cities

 

By Soleri

Guest Columnist

 

I hadn't been to Phoenix in several years, so my trip a couple of weeks ago was animated as much by curiosity as it was the desire to see old friends. I did know the city had more than recovered from the previous housing crash. Indeed, it was booming again. A dozen years ago, I predicted Phoenix would never recover from the crash. I don't like eating crow but if it's the sole item on the menu, so be it.

 

Much of what I did see made that crow taste better. Phoenix looked much healthier than when I moved to Portland in 2013.  The downtown had filled in with new high-rise apartment buildings and crowded clubs. The activity at night, in particular, was heartening to see.

 

What I didn't see were the thousands of "unhoused" mentally ill drug addicts who have turned much of Portland into a dystopian hellscape. Yes, street people were on the sidewalks of downtown Phoenix, but without the trash, tents, and drug paraphernalia that have so deeply damaged Portland. Phoenix is relatively litter-free and unmarred by graffiti.

 

Maybe it's the weather, or maybe it's because its political center of gravity is simply not in far-left field.

Grand Avenue

Grand Avenue never lived up to its splendid name. It continued as U.S. 60 from Van Buren Street northwest, picking up the companion Santa Fe Railway at 19th Avenue on the way to Wickenburg and eventually — in pre-Interstate days — to Los Angeles. Let's take a tour through the years. Click a photo for a larger image.

In 1892, this map shows Grand Avenue running to Glendale, Peoria, and beyond.

This 1915 map shows how Grand was the only street to break the ordinary street grid of Phoenix.

Narrow and under a shade canopy, here's Grand Avenue in the 1920s. Joseph John's Grocery at 1007 Grand (McCulloch Brothers Collection/ASU Archives).

Grand near Lateral 4 near Thomas Road, looking southeast, in the 1930s (McCulloch Brothers Collection/ASU Archives).

Another view of Grand and Thomas, circa 1930 (McCulloch Brothers Collection/ASU Archives).

The same location looking northwest in the 1940s (McCulloch Brothers Collection/ASU Archives).

 

More Valley towns

Another look at some of the distinct towns and villages of the Salt River Valley before the blob of sprawl consumed them. Click on a photo for a larger image:

Avondale:

Avondale street scene, 1946 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Avondale Market and Schneider Drugs, 1945 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Another view of Schneider Drugs, 1945 (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Coldwater Drug Store featuring Phoenix's famous Donofrio's ice cream in the 1940s (Brad Hall collection).

The Avondale Southern Pacific depot, circa 1926 (Arizona Archives Online).
 

Buckeye:

Downtown Buckeye in the 1920s. Founded in 1888, it was originally named Sidney after the hometown of settler Malie Jackson. It was changed to Buckeye to honor his home state of Ohio (McCulloch Bros. Collection/ASU Archives).

Buckeye's Southern Pacific depot in an undated photo. The platform is for unloading boxcars. In 1926, completion of the SP Northern Main Line placed Buckeye on a transcontinental railroad.

Depression-era housing for cotton pickers in Buckeye.

Buckeye Union High School, built at Buckeye High School, built in 1921.

When Scottsdale was real

After I finished grade school at Kenilworth north of downtown Phoenix, we moved to Scottsdale (population 68,000) so I could attend Coronado High School. My mother was alarmed by news that a gang of teenagers had kicked a West High student nearly to death. I lucked out, going four years and graduating from one of the nation's best public secondary schools, with a superb fine arts program and academics. And I got to see Scottsdale before it became so rich and big and fake, Silicone Valley with its plastic surgery and a city limits reaching all the way to the Tonto National Forest.

Here's how "the West's Most Western Town" was in those decades. Most of the gallery is thanks to Brad Hall's collection. Click on a photo for a larger image:

Brown Avenue in the 1950s. Scottsdale's population was a little more than 2,000 in 1950 (Photographer unknown).

The Lulu Belle at Scottsdale Road and Main Streets (Photographer unknown).

Main Street in the 1950s. It was much the same in the 1970s (Photographers unknown):