Rogue Columnist

Phoenix's historic schools

Once upon a time, schools weren't built to resemble prisons with walls and steel fences, along with no shade and heat-radiating concrete and gravel. Even in early Phoenix, most were built to inspire. In 1873 (above) an adobe school at Central and Monroe was the beginning of better to come. Here are a few — click on the photo for a larger view:

Central School, shown in 1899, replaced the adobe structure. The town's population was about 5,500.

Monroe School at Seventh Street and Monroe, 1914. The building was preserved and is now the Children's Museum of Phoenix, alas without the shade trees and grass.

Adams School, later Grace Court, at Eighth Avenue and Adams, in 1920.

'The homeless'

I use quotation marks because this term encompasses many distinct — sometimes overlapping — conditions. Its continued use makes it difficult to seriously explore this phenomenon, much less propose constructive actions ("solutions" aren't possible). Worse, it makes the situation appear simple: All they need are homes. In fact, it is among the most complex and intractable of social problems.

In the Depression, many people who lost their homes and farms were consigned to shantytowns outside cities ("Hoovervilles") or long trips to uncertain new places, immortalized by Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath. They were not welcome many places, including Phoenix, which couldn't even care for its own, much less provide for "gas moochers." But this was a temporary emergency, eased by the New Deal and cured entirely by the demand for jobs in the ramp-up to World War II. Interestingly, crime was very low during the Great Depression.

At the other end of the spectrum were hoboes, vagrants, and bums riding the rails, living off the land and handouts, sometimes settling in the skid rows of cities. In Phoenix, this district was called the Deuce. They had cheap single-room-occupancy (SRO) hotel rooms, cheap grocery stores, cheap bars. This population was almost exclusively male. Vagrancy laws were strictly enforced. They could find temporary work in such places as the Phoenix warehouse district's produce sheds.

Color Arizona

Joe Biden won Arizona. But, as the Duke of Wellington said of the Battle of Waterloo, "it was the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life." Biden prevailed with about 11,000 votes, or 0.3 percentage points, over the most criminal and dangerous president in American history.

Mark Kelly's victory in the Senate race was easier to foresee. Kelly is a former combat pilot and NASA astronaut, as well as husband of former Rep. Gabby Giffords, who was the victim of an assassination attempt.

Martha McSally, his opponent, had already lost a Senate race to Kyrsten Sinema and was appointed Senator by Gov. Doug Ducey in a cynical partisan attempt to give her the advantage. Didn't work, Doug. For the first time since 1952, Arizona has two Democratic U.S. Senators. Otherwise, of the nine congressional districts in the state Democratic incumbents won five.

So does Arizona become a "magenta state," as the New York Times put it? Not quite.

Despite heavy Democratic turnout and Latino activism, Republicans maintained control over the Legislature. More about this later.

More Arizona railroad images

In addition to my popular column and gallery on Phoenix Union Station, I've written about the Ghost Railroads of Arizona, the many lines that helped build the state that have mostly disappeared. Another column detailed the difficult enterprise of building railroads to Phoenix, ending its isolation. And most recently photographer Jack Delano's trip across northern Arizona during World War II. Many of these have additional photos, so check them out even if you read the text.

Now, a grab bag of railroad photos from the 1950s to today. A reminder: Phoenix is by far the largest city in North America without intercity passenger trains, mostly a failure of state government.

Click on the photo for a larger image:

The Sunset Limited, premier train of the Southern Pacific, on its way to Phoenix in 1950.

A Santa Fe train hauling a block of refrigerated boxcars ("reefers") near the Colorado River crossing at Topock in 1953. These cars also hauled Salt River Valley produce by the trainload when Phoenix was an agricultural empire.

Santa Fe freight action on the double-track main line near Holbrook in 1962. The lead locomotive is a new U25B, General Electric's first independent entry into the American diesel market. It was nicknamed the U-Boat.

Amtrak's returning to Phoenix

Or so go some headlines and social-media posts I've read. In today's denuded newspaper environment, with thousands of reporters laid off and spreading news deserts, in-depth reporting is hard to find. Anyway, this salutary news was reported by KJZZ, KPHO/KTVK, and other outlets.

As it turns out, Amtrak isn't returning anytime soon. The origin of the stories was a presentation in September to the Rail Passengers Association by an Amtrak official. It proposed establishing new corridors for intercity rail that would potentially reach Phoenix in ... 2035. If that's not bad enough, the plan is mostly aspirational. No funding is available for the expansion. That might change under President "Amtrak Joe." But 2035. Really? Another plan in 2010 went nowhere.

As late as the 1960s, Phoenix Union Station was served by multiple passenger trains of the Southern Pacific and Santa Fe railroads. They gradually died off, the casualty of decades of national transportation policies that subsidized automobiles and airliners while strangling railroads with regulations and high taxes. When the Postal Service ended mail contracts in September 1967, it left Phoenix with only an every-other-day Sunset on the SP Northern Main Line. This continued when Amtrak took over national passenger trains May 1st, 1971 (killing almost 200 trains that still ran).

Deliverance *

Whatever else, we had to defeat Donald Trump this year or it was curtains for the republic. And Joe Biden is now President-elect of the United States and Kamala Harris is Vice President-elect. As with climate change and the science of the pandemic, reality doesn't care what Trump and his cult "believe." A Supreme Court trick or other attempt to reverse the results would bring Civil War 2.0. But I don't think that will happen. At least not yet. Come January 20th, our long national nightmare will be over and America will trend back toward normality.

It was closer than it should have been, considering Trump's corruption, tens of thousands of lies, damage to the rule of law, antagonizing allies, and breaking norms. This wasn't Biden vs. Jerry Ford or even George W. Bush. But that was a different Republican Party. The Party of Lincoln is now the Cult of Trump.

The close election was partly the result of the "woke" extreme left. Every night of violence, looting, and arson in blue cities such as Seattle and Portland scared low-information voters in the Midwest and South into voting for Trump as the lesser of two evils. In their minds, a Biden victory would mean defunding the police! Reparations! Open borders! D.C. and Puerto Rico statehood! An immediate end to fossil fuels and confiscation of guns! Implementation of policies to favor BIPOC and LGBTQ-plus instead of equality and fairness and viewing people as individuals. And the drumbeat of America's "systemic racism," ignoring the huge leaps we've made or that every multiracial nation faces these challenges.

Judgment days

Carl Muecke illustration

We are heading into an election like no other. So rather than writing an essay on another topic — which few would read because of the voting — or putting up a history gallery...here's a revolving open thread. Older but still relevant links will fall below the jump.

I'll be putting up election stories and links, while you can have the comments section to weigh in. The Front Page will have links to non-election stories. You can follow my Twitter comments @jontalton

Now we're at Friday and it appears "all over but the shouting" — and lawsuits, recounts, and damage Trump might do until January. Biden is President-elect. It's fitting that Philadelphia, especially, propelled Biden over the top. The city where the Constitution was born is where it was saved. Four years ago, I could not have imagined Joe Biden as a world historical figure. But here we are. And I am satisfied. Next week, I'll examine this nail-biter in more detail.

The New York Times: A Traditionalist Who Ran As Himself: "In many ways, he ran as the politician he has always been. And for one extraordinary election, that was enough."

The Washington Post: Kamala Harris, daughter of Jamaican and Indian parents, elected nation's first female vice president: "Black women helped propel Harris and president-elect Joe Biden to victory by elevating turnout in places like Detroit, Milwaukee and Philadelphia. Those women will finally see themselves represented in the White House as Biden and Harris replace President Trump, who started his political career by perpetuating a racist birther lie about President Barack Obama and has a long track record of making misogynistic comments."

The Washington Post: Five Takeaways of the Election: Winners and losers.

The Atlantic: America Won: "If, in 2016, Americans rewarded anger and extremism, in 2020 they handed victory to a man of moderation, one who stands up for progressive ideals without looking down on conservatives, and who believes that it is possible both to be honest about the country’s flaws and to take pride in its strengths. Biden won because he recognized that most Americans have far less appetite for political extremism than the country’s cable-news hosts and social-media celebrities seem to think."

Wartime on the Santa Fe

In March 1943, the photographer Jack Delano made a remarkable journey across northern Arizona on the main line of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. He was working for the federal Office of War Information, documenting the massive work railroads were doing bringing troops and war materiel to both the European and Pacific theaters. In the process, he gave us images of small-town Arizona stretched along the railroad and U.S. Route 66. For example, above is downtown Flagstaff seen from the old depot looking across "the Mother Road." Flag's population was about 5,000.

Between 1941 and 1944, American railroads carried 83% of the increase in all traffic, along with 91% of all military freight and 98% of military personnel. Pullman put its thousands of sleepers into the effort and built thousands more troop sleepers and kitchen cars. The Santa Fe through northern Arizona, a critical route to the West Coast, saw a 175% spike in freight traffic. More than 1,000 cars a day went through the Albuquerque division headquarters of Winslow, with its 33-track yard and massive roundhouse and shops, along with passenger and troop trains.

The Southern Pacific through southern Arizona, including wartime Phoenix, saw similar challenges. But it didn't have a Jack Delano to document it.

This gallery comes from the Library of Congress. Click on a photo to see a larger image.

Passing a freight train carrying M-3 Lee tanks from the Arsenal of Democracy.

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.

The finish line

Carl Muecke illustration

Joe Biden appears to have a commanding lead in the polls. This gives me little comfort. Hillary Clinton held what appeared to be a similar unstoppable advantage four years ago. And although she won the popular vote by 3 million votes, Donald Trump topped the Electoral College.

As I've written before, about 80,000 votes in three Midwestern states gave us this nightmare. It could happen again. And if it does, I don't think the Democrats will simply fold their tents. Both sides are lawyered up and this election might not be settled immediately, barring a Biden landslide.

Trump may refuse to concede or leave. Who knows the mischief he and the Republicans have planned. The lies, vote suppression, and Kremlin interference of 2016 will be on steroids this time. No wonder the Atlantic's Barton Gellman wrote an article entitled "The Election That Could Break America."

My day job, along with writing an article on Arizona's role in the election for CNN Politics, have me slammed today. So I'll leave it for you. Please discuss in the comments section.

 

 

Central through the years

The trouble with Central Avenue is it's not central to anything now." So a real-estate mogul told me in 2001. He was totally bought into endless sprawl at the expense of Phoenix, but he was also wrong. With the metroplex spread from Buckeye to Gold Canyon, Phoenix's most important street is more important and convenient than ever, as has been shown by light rail (WBIYB)  and growing infill.

I've written about Central before. But let's take a photo journey. Click for a larger image.

When it was Center Street, a southward look at Washington in the 1890s. Construction workers are installing water lines.

Here's a view of the Hotel Adams in 1909. It burned down a year later and was replaced by a "fireproof" hotel.

The Center Street, the first across the Salt River. Completed in 1910, the 2,120-foot-long span was claimed to be the longest reinforced concrete bridge in the world.

Commerce in old Phoenix

The McCulloch Brothers, who have left a priceless archive at ASU, were primarily commercial photographers. Their work, which spans from 1884 to 1947, offers a variety of images of business in the young, growing city. Most of this gallery is thanks to them.

You can read about the decades on these earlier history columns: Phoenix at statehood, the twenties, the thirties, the forties, and the fifties. Enjoy and click on the photo for a larger image.

A downtown sidewalk scene circa late 1910s with the Arizona Cigar Co. and the Apache Trail Auto Stage Co.

Washington Street, the city's main commercial drag in 1928. Awnings helped keep pedestrians cool.

Overland Motors at 10 W. Van Buren in the 1920s. These blocks of the city would become the main location of auto dealers.

Phoenix Motor Co., a GM dealership, was at 401 W. Van Buren Street. It's been restored as The Van Buren, a concert venue.

Civil War 2.0

By comparison, 1861 seemed so easy.

The nation was neatly divided sectionally and politically, with compromises over expansion of slavery run out. No large standing army existed. Most Americans saw themselves first as residents of their sovereign states, with the United States of America often taking a plural verb. No wonder Robert E. Lee turned down Lincoln's offer of top command of the Union armies — his "country," Virginia, had seceded.

The break up wasn't that neat. Outside of the fire-breathing secessionists in South Carolina and the Deep South, the decision to leave the Union was agonizing for most states. Virginia lost its northwestern counties which became a state. North Carolina was always ambivalent. Sam Houston opposed it eloquently in Texas. The future Stonewall Jackson, then professor Thomas J. Jackson at Virginia Military Institute, was against it and prayed it would not come. But it did.

We've been in a Cold Civil War for some time — I'd place the start date as the Supreme Court unconstitutionally giving the presidency to George W. Bush in 2000. But as with the hot Civil War, the embers had been crackling for decades. This might be the most important election in American history. But the presidential race should not be this close, given Trump's abundant corruption, incompetence, lies, and treason. We may look back and see that 2016 was our last chance.

I bring this up because...what happens if Biden loses? Or Trump steals the election. Or is defeated and refuses to leave office? These have been the subject of many articles. Hillary Clinton, who won the popular vote by 3 million in 2016 but was deprived of the Electoral College by 80,000 votes in three states, said "Joe Biden should not concede under any circumstances because I think this is going to drag out..."

Miracle Mile

I don't know when the stretch of east McDowell from 10th Street to beyond 16th Street received this nickname. It's certainly not the legendary shopping destination of Chicago. But I do know it was Phoenix's first major retail-commercial artery outside of the downtown central business district. (Grand, Van Buren, and 17th Avenue/Buckeye were mostly motels, restaurants, and "curio" shops for travelers).

The Miracle Mile was special because it had an urban fabric missing from any other part of the city outside, even Midtown and Uptown on Central Avenue. The commercial buildings were densely packed, most right up on the sidewalk. McDowell was only four lanes wide. The result was walkability missing in most parts of a city built for the automobile.

McDowell's businesses continued beyond 16th Street and, going west, to Seventh Avenue. However, the Miracle Mile most exemplified urban authenticity. No wonder efforts are under way to reinvent the stretch. Included is a public art arch. Sadly, they face the headwinds of demolished buildings and a six-lane McDowell which is much more dangerous for pedestrians, especially at night.

A footnote: When I was around nine some friends and I rode our bikes along the mile, then turned around and came back — on the sidewalk but against traffic. I raced to catch up with them when a car pulled out from a side street. I hit the fender and tumbled over the hood, landing on the pavement. The terrified driver picked me up from the asphalt (which you shouldn't do) and carried me to the sidewalk. There an ambulance (Phoenix Ambulance, where I would work a decade later) took me to Good Sam to await my mother and grandmother. I got away with a mammoth bruise on my upper leg.

Come with me on a tour of the historic Miracle Mile (click for a larger image):

Arizona in play

Hope springs eternal. Every election cycle since Bill Clinton carried Arizona in 1996, the narrative has gone like this: The state will change politically as newcomers bring their (more liberal) values. And thanks to Hispanics Arizona is on the cusp (always!) of becoming a purple or even deep blue electorate. The 2016 map above shows how that worked out in the most recent presidential race.

Might it finally happen this year?

Before getting there, a little history. Arizona was a solidly Democratic state until Harry Rosenzweig persuaded Barry Goldwater to run against incumbent Sen. Ernest McFarland in 1952. Political fixer Steve Shadegg switched parties to run Goldwater's campaign — and Barry stunned Mac, the Senate Majority Leader and father of the GI Bill, in a close race.

Shadegg was a talented campaign manager and had a good product: Handsome, authentic, charismatic, sexy, ran with a fast crowd (the real Barry was nothing like he was depicted by the national press). But Mac was dragged down by more than this, more even than changing demographics. The Korean War was still dragging on as a stalemate. Americans who had won World War II were angry over a "police action" that didn't yield victory. Whatever glow Harry Truman attained in recent decades, he was deeply unpopular in 1952 and this hurt Democrats.

Still, it wasn't a sea change. Mac came back to Arizona and became highly successful as governor. And for the next three-plus decades Arizona was a competitive state for both parties. Our longest serving Senator was a Democrat, Carl Hayden.

Worries of the fall

Illustration by Carl Muecke.

Enough Phoenix history and historical photo galleries for awhile. Time to write about politics, with as much honesty as keeping myself viable allows. I promise you reality based commentary. So consider yourself given a trigger warning.

The Democratic National Convention was a hit, at least with Democrats, and contained many high notes, especially President Obama's speech and the acceptance address of Joe Biden.

We are in a moment of existential peril, both for our form of self-government and the planet. The Biden-Harris ticket is the answer, particularly if Democrats win the Senate, too. Trump, who won the Electoral College thanks to a mere 80,000 votes in three Midwestern states, has shown himself worse than unqualified for the job. He is a menace. As Obama said in his speech:

Donald Trump hasn't grown into the job because he can't. And the consequences of that failure are severe. 170,000 Americans dead. Millions of jobs gone while those at the top take in more than ever. Our worst impulses unleashed, our proud reputation around the world badly diminished, and our democratic institutions threatened like never before.

And yet, according to FiveThirtyEight, nearly 42% of poll respondents approve of him. This is no-doubt low because of a new version of the "Bradley Effect," where many Trump supporters lie to pollsters for fear of being labeled a racist, white supremacist, etc. He gets credit for a good pre-COVID economy even though his jobs and growth numbers trail the last three years of Obama.

How is this possible? How could anyone who has been paying attention to the lies, corruption, incompetence, and treason of the past three-and-a-half years support this man?

Kenilworth centennial

My name and graduation date are etched in one of these bricks, which were installed to mark the 80th anniversary of my alma mater. I was honored to be one of the speakers. As for the bricks, they looked poorly carved so you might have to look hard to find the names of those of us who paid to have our names on them. But the important thing is that Kenilworth survives, thrives, and this year celebrates its 100th anniversary.

Kenilworth was the grandest of several handsome elementary schools completed in that era, including Monroe, Grace Court, and Booker T. Washington. It was in the neighborhood that initially had the same name, where Phoenix's elite moved. Now it's the Roosevelt and F.Q. Story historic districts. But that, and the ill-considered Papago Freeway inner loop, were far in the future in 1920. Then the streetcar ran along Fifth Avenue.

By the time I came along, in the 1960s, the streetcar was gone. But Third Avenue ran straight in front on the school, no curve for the freeway onramp. Seventh Avenue was only four lanes wide with a friendly crossing guard named Paul. We lived on Culver Street when I was in first and second grades, then moved to Cypress in today's Willo historic district for the remainder of my time there.

Railroads to Phoenix

Tempe History Museum photo

The recent derailment and fire of a Union Pacific train on the Salt River bridge is a reminder that railroads still play a role in Phoenix, even if far less than in the past. As the late David Myrick explained in his seminal Railroad of Arizona: Phoenix and the Central Roads, eight attempts were made to build a line to the Salt River Valley before the Maricopa and Phoenix Railroad's first train arrived on July 4th, 1887.

Among the many impediments — capital, supplies, heat, permission of the Pima Indians to cross their reservation — bridging the fickle Salt River was among the most persistent. The bridge above shows a "ten-wheeler" steam locomotive and two cars on the second iteration of the span. The first saw a flood destroy its approach trestle in 1890, then was severed entirely by the Great Flood of 1891, which also did substantial damage to canals and farmland; adobe structures collapsed from the rain.

In 1902, part of the bridge gave way without warning, dropping the locomotive 20 feet into the riverbed, killing one and severely injuring another, and leaving a passenger car hanging precariously. In 1905, the flooded Salt washed away a segment of this second bridge just minutes after a passenger train had crossed it. Similar washouts plagued the railroad's crossing of the Gila River.

Finally, the current heavy steel truss bridge was built in 1912-1913. UP says it will rebuild it — or at least replace one of the truss spans — which is good news for continued freight and potential future passenger service. Given Wall Street's pressure to suck profits from major railroads and Phoenix's relative unimportance on the system, I'd be surprised if UP built an entirely new and modern bridge.

Such was not always the case.

Phoenix, 1968

Sen. Robert F. Kennedy campaigning at Chris-Town mall on March 30th, 1968, soon after announcing his candidacy for president. He would be dead from an assassin's bullet less than three months later.

Some are comparing this year's unrest to 1968 — unpersuasively, to my mind — so it might be interesting to check in on Phoenix during that tumultuous year. Just what a different world this was is evident in a headline of the Arizona Republic on Monday, January 1st: "All The World Gay As Old Year Dies." Cultural language wasn't the only difference. The overnight low was 35 degrees, common then as Phoenix had several frosts each winter. The low would hit freezing later in the week. These are much more rare today amid the human-caused heat island. The paper carried Today's Prayer on the front page, as it had for years.

The sixties were a period of great change in Phoenix, where the magic of the old city's oasis was very much alive but the suburbanized future was coming — Maryvale and Sun City were abuilding. The city grew 32% during this decade. The city also entered the big leagues of sports in 1968 with the NBA expansion team Phoenix Suns.

Downtown was still a major retail center at the beginning of the decade, but it was in decline by 1968, hollowed out by Park Central and other malls, as well as low-cost retail buildings bulldozed to create Phoenix Civic Plaza with its convention center and Symphony Hall. This also leveled many single-room occupancy hotels and other parts of the Deuce. Critics warned the shattering of the city's skid row would send vagrants to nearby neighborhoods, which it did.

Clickbait, climate, and more

It's no coincidence that I've lately taken refuge in historical photo galleries. This is a dangerous time to write. Yes, my pen is still warmed up in hell, but fearless commentary is risky, as illustrated by the resignation of Bari Weiss from the New York Times and Andrew Sullivan being nudged out by New York Magazine. We're in a time of hysteria and thoughtcrime, made worse by social media.

So, a few nuggets that stay within the guardrails (I have a day job to protect).

• Clickbait news releases fill my mailboxes every day. I don't use most because they're based on questionable premises and shoddy data. Unfortunately, too much struggling media do. Hence, the recent story ranking Phoenix as "the best city in the U.S. for working remotely." It was carried unquestioningly by KTAR and the Phoenix Business Journal, among other local outlets.

The tiny thread of this press release came from an outfit called HighSpeedInternet, claiming to rank cities or metro areas. "We looked at things like internet connectivity, cost of living, and commute time savings. We also looked at cities with access to coffee shops, libraries, and coworking space, which gives remote workers a chance to work from different locations – when a pandemic isn’t occurring." Phoenix was No. 1, followed by Atlanta, Kansas City, Raleigh, and Toledo.

Here's why the "survey" doesn't pass the smell test. If you don't have an economy geared to remote work (e.g. Seattle with tens of thousands of highly skilled Amazon, Microsoft, Apple, Google, and Facebook workers), you couldn't possibly get that rank. Res ipsa loquitur.

More old Phoenix

A few days ago, we lost the Golden West Hotel, formerly the Steinegger Lodging House, at 27 E. Monroe Street and built in 1889. It held Newman's cocktail lounge as late as 2005. But even with all of Phoenix's losses, the preservation police could not save the oldest building in downtown. Duran Lugo documented this act of civic vandalism on Facebook's Phoenix Shadetree History page.

In memory, let me clear my desktop of some historic Phoenix photos that likely haven't been on this site before (click for a larger view)

. And a final thought: If the Golden West isn't safe, what about Union Station?

This is Seventh Avenue looking north toward Osborn in the 1940s. The image perfectly captures old rural Phoenix, including abundant shade trees. No palo verdes of gravel to be seen.

Busy Central and Washington in the same decade. Unlike today's suburban feel, downtown looked like the business core of a real city.

Thanks to Brad Hall, here's a high-resolution shot from Monroe and Central looking toward the South Mountains in the '40s. Note the Santa Fe Railway ticket office in the Professional Building. A few steps farther to the left is the Golden West. South of the Professional Building is the Hotel Adams, demolished in the 1970s.

The skyline through time

In a column last year, I explained why Phoenix lacks the skyscrapers that are the defining feature of big cities (such as Seattle, above). Why? It's complicated. Now, let's look at the Phoenix skyline through the years. Click on the image for a larger view.

Looking north on Central from Jefferson Street, we see Phoenix's first real skyline that emerged in the 1920s building boom. At left with radio towers is the Heard Building and beyond it the cap of the Security Building. At left, beyond the Hotel Adams, is the Professional Building.

Seen from the Courthouse Park, the Luhrs Building and art deco Luhrs Tower were among the most iconic structures from the 1920s skyline.

Another shot, this time from the Hotel Luhrs balcony, showcases the Luhrs Building and beyond it the Luhrs Tower.

David William Foster, an appreciation

David W. Foster in 2016 at a celebration of his 50th year teaching at ASU, in the Old Main building. At left is his wife, Virginia.

My dear friend, David William Foster, Regents Professor at Arizona State University, died peacefully last night at age 79. His ASU bio doesn't begin to capture the man in full, but it's worth quoting at length because of the depth and breadth of his accomplishments:

David William Foster is a Regents Professor of Spanish and women and gender studies at Arizona State University. He has written extensively on Argentine narrative and theater, and he has held Fulbright teaching appointments in Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay. He has also served as an Inter-American Development Bank professor in Chile. Foster has held visiting appointments at Fresno State College, Vanderbilt University, University of California-Los Angeles, University of California-Riverside, and Florida International University. He has conducted six seminars for teachers under the auspices of the National Endowment for the Humanities, the most recent in Sao Paulo in summer 2013.

In 1989, Foster was named the Graduate College's Outstanding Graduate Mentor, and in 1994 he was named Researcher of the Year by the Alumni Association. He received the 2000 Armando Discepolo Prize for theater scholarship awarded annually by GETEA (Grupo de Estudios de Teatro Argentino y Latinoamericano) of the Universidad de Buenos Aires.In 2010, Foster was honored for his lifetime work on Argentine culture by the Centro de Narratoloia at a program held at the Argentine National Library. He is past president of the Latin American Jewish Studies Association.

We've lost a man of astounding achievements, and this comes atop the crushing loss of historian Jack August in 2017. Arizona, and the world, are less for these passages.

The Groundwater Act

History is written by the victors.

This marks the 40th anniversary of the Arizona Groundwater Management Act. The state Department of Water Resources said in a press release:

The 1980 Act was – and remains -- the most sweeping state law in the Nation governing groundwater use. In addition to creating a coherent, manageable system for helping wean Arizona’s most populous regions from groundwater use, it enacted the framework for long-term groundwater-use reduction that continues to the present.

“In Arizona, we stand on the shoulders of giants — pragmatic, visionary leaders whose achievements have shown us the way and enabled our high quality of life,” said Governor Doug Ducey.

If today's Arizonans know of the landmark law at all, it's via the shorthand that new developments were required to show a 100-year supply of water. But it was primarily intended to stop groundwater depletion, which was frighteningly reducing aquifers that had taken centuries or millennia to fill. The most noticeable sign of this phenomenon is subsidence, the collapse of the earth and opening of fissures as groundwater is pumped away.

Groundwater pumping was particularly problematic in Pinal County, which depended on it heavily for agriculture. The irrigation district from Coolidge Dam wasn't nearly enough for the demands of farming there, rapidly giving way to tract houses. The resulting dead landscape along I-10 between Phoenix and Tucson makes it The Ugliest Drive In America.

More from early Phoenix

This post piggybacks on the Phoenix at Statehood column from this past year. This time the emphasis is on photography, most from the Library of Congress and the McCulloch Brothers collection at the ASU Archives. Click in the image for a larger view. Enjoy.

Washington and Center streets in 1872. The town wasn't even incorporated until nine years later. Note the abundance of shade trees even at this early stage.

Before the arrival of the railroads, mule teams hauled freight to and from Phoenix — in this case headed for "the mines." This is the 1880s at Jefferson and Second Street (Maricopa Street).

Another view of mule teams hauling freight along Jefferson Street in the 1880s.

First Avenue and Adams (Cortes Street) in the 1890s. The 1889 Fleming Building is recognizable at right. Today the boxy Wells Fargo tower stands there.

More midcentury Phoenix

I continue to feed the endless appetite for photographs of Phoenix. The value I try to add on this site is telling some of the story behind the images. I get these from a variety of sources but one of the best is Brad Hall's History Adventuring on Patreon — pledge a dollar or more and you can get access to far more photography. Click on the image for a larger view.

Here's the southwest corner of Central and Osborn in the 1970s before the two bank towers were built. This was when the city was still litigating its long battle against billboards, hence the Eller sign advertising an early gated property around 27th Street and Osborn. Behind it is an old Phoenix stucco apartment. To the right are the Mayer towers, the short one with the Playboy Club on top and the tall one with the outside elevator, headquarters of First Federal Savings.

From when I was growing up, here's the Arizona Bank at Central and Cypress Street. The shady area to the north surrounds a beautiful building that now houses the Inter-Tribal Council of Arizona. Most of these trees were ripped out for palo verdes.

The Blue Cross-Blue Shield headquarters at Third Street and Indian School, completed in 1970. This midcentury masterpiece was lost, replaced by a gas station.

Days of rage

Charles Blonkenfeld photo

Former Arizona Attorney General Grant Woods got it right when he tweeted, "We need to support and defend every protester. And we need to arrest and prosecute every single person who loots or damages private property. We can do both. We have to do both."

My two cents, after watching both peaceful protests and then the worst rioting and looting in modern Seattle history (yes, worse than the 1999 WTO): The events of the past several days are a combination of outrage over the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer, criminals who took advantage of the situation, Trump, and cabin fever from weeks of Covid-19 lockdown.

As for Phoenix, it has a downtown again. I remember when pitiful protests against George W. Bush were held on the sidewalk at 24th Street and Camelback. Now, downtown has come back sufficiently to be a dense core and offer public spaces (and police headquarters, above) to see protests and damage similar to real cities. The rocks regrettably come with the farm.

I can't think of any analogy in the city's history. When Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968, a disturbance around Eastlake Park was quickly put down and Mayor Milt Graham and black ministers held a community meeting to encourage calm. Now Gov. Doug Ducey has imposed a statewide curfew without consulting the mayors of Phoenix or Tucson.

What happens now

The 1918-1920 "Spanish" influenza pandemic appeared on the front page of the Arizona Republican on Oct. 5th, 1918. The all-caps headline: INFLUENZA RUNS ITS MAD COURSE THROUGH NATION." By Nov. 18th, the newspaper promised a full local report: 64 cases the previous evening in the Emergency hospital and 74 at St. Joseph's (city population about 28,000). The subhead of the story said, "Steady Progress Made to Halt Spread."

The "Spanish" flu, which likely began at an Army post in Kansas, was the deadliest pandemic since the Black Death in the 14th century. It killed at least 50 million worldwide and 675,000 in the United States. World population was 1.8 billion (vs. 7.7 billion now). That of the United States was about 100 million (vs. 330 million now). The pandemic was spread by the world war and unusual in fatally striking young people. This was before antibiotics, ventilators, or other miracles to come.

Phoenix shut down for six weeks until cases went down in December 1918. Masks, successful in many cities, were "not given a fair chance" here because of Phoenicians' "tendency to revolt." Yet four waves total hit and an estimated 2,750 out of the state's 334,000 people died. Phoenix was too small then to be included in a fascinating University of Michigan study on how the 50 largest cities responded. These measures included shut-downs, lowering crowding, wearing masks, and strict rules against spitting on the sidewalk.

After it burned itself out, as all pandemics do, life went on. Cities didn't die — indeed, America became much more urbanized. Neither did transit or passenger trains or sit-down restaurants or retail shops. Interestingly, for all the recollections from my grandmother — who was 29 in 1918 — she never mentioned the influenza pandemic.

While I was away...

I turned in the manuscript for my new mystery, Sunset Limited, about a private eye in 1930s Phoenix. For a variety of reasons, it was the hardest book I ever wrote. The Poisoned Pen Press, now owned by another firm, Sourcebooks, and this book's publication date is next year.

Inhabiting Phoenix during the year 1933 was a fascinating experience and welcome escape from today, Great Depression notwithstanding. Above is the Monihon Building, at First Avenue and Washington, where my shamus has his office.

• Perhaps the most astonishing thing I learned while I was away from this column came from a seemingly routine story sent along by Rogue's volunteer Phoenix/Arizona researcher Michael Sampson. Headlined "EPCOR cites increase in sewage issues," it's ostensibly about flushable wipes in a sewer system. But as with much Arizona news, reading between the lines is where it gets interesting.

The story states, "EPCOR, which provides water, wastewater and natural gas service to around 665,000 people across 44 communities and 15 counties in Arizona, New Mexico and Texas..."

Wait. What?

Book leave open thread

I must take a pass on writing new columns for the next several weeks while I finish a new book.

With the help of Front Page Editor Richard Silc and Arizona Researcher Michael Sampson, I'll continue to update the news links at left every day. Feel free to enjoy or have your blood pressure raised by the archives, including Phoenix history.

And the comments section is available for value-added commentary and discussion.

 

20/20 hindsight

A score of things that made today's Phoenix:

1. ASU: In 1920, Tempe Normal School was awarding teaching certificates and providing high-school courses. From there it became Tempe State Teachers College (1925), Arizona State Teachers College (1929), Arizona State College (1945), and finally a university (1958). Today, under the dynamic leadership of Michael Crow, ASU is one of the largest universities in the United States. Among its five campuses/centers is the transformative downtown Phoenix location. The downside: Phoenix is by far the largest metropolitan areas in America with only one real, full-sized university.

2. Agriculture: A century ago, Phoenix was the center of a major agricultural empire thanks to its location in one of the planet's great alluvial river valleys. Anything would grow — just add water, which was abundant thanks to Theodore Roosevelt Dam and its successors. It's almost all gone. At one time, we could feed ourselves and exported produce and beef to the nation. Now Phoenix is almost entirely reliant on the 10,000-mile supply chain. A more foresighted place would have established agricultural trusts to preserve the citrus groves and Japanese flower gardens.

3. Air conditioning: Refrigerated air showed up in movie theaters and new hotels a century ago. Swamp coolers and central air units made Phoenix bearable for more people year-round (no more sleeping porches and wrapping oneself in wet sheets in summer). For awhile after World War II, Phoenix was also a center of air-conditioning manufacturing.

Plague

I'm not sure what I can add to the stories we've had on the Front Page. But I'll tell you what I know.

Writing from Seattle, I'm in one of the hotspots of coronavirus in the United States. As of today, 420 people are infected in King County, with 47 deaths. More will surely follow, but that's not the whole story. No infections or deaths have come from downtown or Belltown, where I live. The epicenter is an assisted-living center in tony Kirkland on the snooty Eastside across Lake Washington. So people should be cautious about making assumptions.

Gov. Jay Inslee has banned gatherings of more than 50 people and ordered all restaurants and bars shut down. More than 253,500 Washingtonians work in food service and drinking establishments. This "one-note-on-climate-change" presidential candidate who dropped out early has shown far more leadership on the pandemic than the current occupant of the White House.

Even so, we lack so much knowledge about the situation, especially because of the lack of test kits. South Korea has fast, free drive-through testing. The United States, "Great Again," feels like the Third World. We can't tell what is prudent and what is wild overreaction, what is irrational panic. Of course, many Republicans, even friends of mine, deny coronavirus is a problem at all. It's all a conspiracy to take down Dear Leader. Never mind lockdowns in Italy, Spain, and France. Never mind the British study that predicted 2.2 million deaths in the United States without vigorous action.

Remember, 80,000 voters in three Midwestern states gave an Electoral College victory to the most unqualified and dangerous man in American history. For three years, we were mostly lucky (not Puerto Rico in Hurricane Maria) with no immediate crisis demanding presidential leadership. Now our luck has run out.

Someone tweeted: "I think it's okay to be a little resentful at Trump voters for ultimately murdering us."

The field II

Carl Muecke illustration

Much has changed since late September, when 19 Democrats were running for president. Now, it's a Biden-Sanders contest. Despite the narrative that the former vice president was a dead candidate walking, he scored a massive win on Super Tuesday. This is a reminder that Twitter world is not the real world. Much can still change: Thirty-eight primaries remain and 62% of pledged delegates are still unwon.

Still, based on today's state of play and barring a massive setback for the frontrunner, Joe Biden will be the nominee.

Some friends of the blog asked me to assess the situation. I have a hard time topping Andrew Sullivan's essay, which was on Rogue's Front Page over the weekend. Among his many insights:

This was not the GOP in 2016 — unable to winnow the field and coalesce behind a single opponent to Trump, and then staggering backward into submission. This is the Democrats in 2020, finally a party capable of operating with some institutional authority. Here’s a headline you don’t often see: “Democrats Not in Disarray!”

So I'll try to bat cleanup and go in a few other directions.

Jack Welch, an assessment

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones... — Shakespeare

 

The era of Jack Welch, who died Sunday at age 84, roughly coincided with my career as a business journalist. But I only met him once, at a cocktail party in Charlotte. What most struck me was how short he was. I'm six-two; he was officially five-seven. That's neither here nor there (or maybe it really matters). But that's my only personal memory. We made small talk for maybe five minutes.  I also recall being asked to do a Page One story on Welch for the Arizona Republic, when it seemed his General Electric was about to acquire Honeywell. I learned how many business professors were funded by GE and hence untrustworthy, perpetuating the Welch mythology.

This is on display in his obituaries, the New York Times emphasizing that he "led General Electric through two decades of extraordinary corporate prosperity and became the most influential business manager of his generation." And "Mr. Welch’s stardom extended beyond the business world. In a 2000 auction for the rights to his (ghost-written) autobiography, Time Warner’s book unit won with a bid of $7.1 million, a record at the time." Fortune magazine named him "Manager of the Century," overlooking the likes of the legendary Alfred Sloan of General Motors.

Here, though, I must depart from de mortuis nihil nisi bonum (Of the dead, say nothing but good) taught me by my flamboyant Latin teacher at Coronado High School, Leo O'Flaherty (Magister O'). For John Francis Welch Jr. was the most destructive and toxic corporate leader of the century, probably in the history of American business. He's a big reason why we find ourselves in this era of inequality, the ashes of much of the middle class, and resultant political instability.

More Phoenix in the 1920s

Here are photographs of Phoenix from 100 years ago — I wrote about the decade in this column. Click on the image for a larger view. Enjoy!

The McColloch Brothers Commercial Photographers posing in 1928 outside the Arizona Republican offices. ASU preserves the McCulloch archive as an essential resource for images from 1884 to 1947.

First Street and Washington looking north with the Anderson Building on the left in 1928.

In 1926, Phoenix gained the northern main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad and most of its passenger trains at new Phoenix Union Station. This San Diego Chamber ad promotes a direct route between the two cities on the SP's challenging Carrizo Gorge route. That segment was originally begun by sugar magnate John Spreckels.

Arizona ends and odds

• The Arizona Republic continues to tiptoe around the water issue. Most recent is a story about the uneven water availability for cities in metropolitan Phoenix. A day before, the paper ran a piece headlined "Buckeye is the nation's fastest growing city. But it doesn't have the water to keep it up."

Where to begin? First, Buckeye is not a city except on legalistic paper. It is a far-flung collection of real-estate ventures ("master-planned communities") connected by wide highways. Buckeye has an astounding 393 square miles of area for 74,000 people. As James Howard Kunstler puts it, "the matrix of single-family home subdivisions, arterial highways and freeways, chain stores, junk food dispensaries, and the ubiquitous wilderness of free parking — the last of these implying just one insidious side-effect of this template for living: mandatory motoring."

By contrast, the city of Phoenix consists of 519 square miles and 1.7 million people — that's a city. Buckeye, once tiny stop on the Southern Pacific Railroad was never meant to be a "city."

But the big enchilada is that Arizona doesn't have the water to continue unlimited sprawl. Who will tell the people? Who will stop the Real-Estate Industrial Complex?

• Phoenix opened the "Grand Canalscape" trail along 12 miles of the Grand Canal from Interstate 17 to Tempe. Mayor Kate Gallego said, “People are surprised when I tell them that Phoenix has more canal miles than Venice or Amsterdam. Today we are integrating the canals into our communities to improve neighborhood access, add new public art spaces and contribute to a healthier Phoenix by introducing them as a recreational amenity."

The Grand Canal, one of the original legacies of the Hohokam, once looked like the photo above. The new "safe, convenient route for bicyclists and pedestrians" is a sun-blasted emptiness. Phoenicians don't even know what they lost. Aside from road-widening, the ministrations of the Salt River Project is the biggest killer of Phoenix's once-abundant canopy of shade trees. And more sprawl is not worth the destruction of even one of those trees, much less tens of thousands. In the meantime, enjoy your skin cancer and heat exhaustion. It's heartbreaking to imagine a shaded canal, even in stretches. But, no.

The road ahead

Oh, the temptation to put up another photo gallery of old Phoenix and let the traffic soar. But duty obliges me to put my shoulder to the task of commenting on our moment.

Forget a Democratic frontrunner. It's too early. I also know that some of you fervently want Bernie Sanders to win the nomination. Were the stakes for the republic and the planet not so enormous, I'd like to see it. When he got creamed, you would still believe — "He is the one!" — and make bitter excuses. But at least the zombie lies about how he wuz robbed in 2016 and would have triumphed if not for the eeevil DNC could finally expire.

America is not Seattle. Sanders can't win a general election. The angry shtick he honed on the Thom Hartmann radio program won't win a single swing-state vote that Hillary Clinton didn't carry and will alienate many that she did. He's not even a member of the Democratic Party and elides over the need for commanding Democratic majorities in the House and Senate to enact his sweeping agenda.

I generally agree with Sanders on many points. But he's not capable of winning. The American electorate is not me.

HRC lost the Electoral College in 2016 because of fewer than 80,000 votes in three Midwestern states. She won the popular vote by 3 million. And all this was in spite of Kremlin meddling, journalistic malpractice, vote suppression, Jill Stein, the Susan Sarandon cohort, and tepid support toward the end of the contest by Sanders. So few votes sealed our fate.

More Phoenix in the '50s & '60s

Last week's gallery of the 1940s was so wildly popular, let's continue on a theme. For readers, I produced columns on Phoenix in the 1950s and the 1960s. I invite you to read them, for they provide important context and history of the photos that follow (images that didn't make the original decade columns).

Enjoy! (Click on image to see a larger version):

Overhead and in color, Phoenix in 1956. In the lower part of the photo are the Southern Pacific tracks and the Warehouse District. In the middle-left is Phoenix Union High School, including Montgomery Stadium. Camelback is bare of any houses, a situation that won't last long.

Roosevelt Row was decades in the future when Birch's Drugs was snapped in 1953. It was part of a larger commercial strip along east Roosevelt and easily walkable from the Evans-Churchill and Garfield neighborhoods.

Another walkable spot. Tenth Street and McDowell, part of the "Miracle Mile" commercial district in the 1950s.

The northwest corner of Indian School and Central shows A.J. Bayless, Bekins moving and storage, and Carnation Dairy's restaurant, soda fountain, and main processing plant. It's 1957.

More Phoenix in the 1940s

Earlier columns delved into our fair city in this decade and its role in World War II. Here are more images from the decade. Most are thanks to the McCulloch Bros. Collection at the ASU Archives or Brad Hall's archive (click for a larger view):

First Avenue looking northwest toward the Title and Trust Building (now the Orpheum Lofts).

First Avenue and Monroe in 1947.

Inside the famous Saratoga Cafe at Central and Washington.

Affordable housing

This is one of those weaponized words whose meaning is made murky by activists. It often means low-income housing. It doesn't mean I am entitled to afford a place on Sunset Cliffs in San Diego making low pay in "sunshine dollars." This is complicated issue.

So first, some definitions. According to the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), "Families who pay more than 30 percent of their income for housing are considered cost burdened and may have difficulty affording necessities such as food, clothing, transportation and medical care. An estimated 12 million renter and homeowner households now pay more than 50 percent of their annual incomes for housing. A family with one full-time worker earning the minimum wage cannot afford the local fair-market rent for a two-bedroom apartment anywhere in the United States."

A more comprehensive view comes from the Center for Neighborhood Technology's H+T Index, which captures housing plus transportation affordability. Metro Phoenix's H+T costs average 49%, vs. a 68% national average and 46% in pricey Seattle and 55% in San Diego. The research center states, "The traditional measure of affordability recommends that housing cost no more than 30% of household income...However, that benchmark fails to take into account transportation costs, which are typically a household’s second-largest expenditure. When transportation costs are factored into the equation, the number of affordable neighborhoods drops to 26% (nationally).

The National Low Income Housing Coalition's annual Out of Reach report drills deeper. For example, to afford central Phoenix's 85003 ZIP Code requires an average hourly wage of $20.38 for a two-bedroom apartment. Maryvale takes $17.69 an hour (working full time). The once middle-class south Scottsdale's 85257 takes $23.08.

Now we're getting close to the problem in metro Phoenix.

Tico days

When I was a little boy, I rode the bus with my grandmother. We would board around Central Avenue and Cypress Street, riding downtown to shop. Such excursions were rare, to be sure. This daughter of the frontier loved to drive as much as she adored sliced bread, paper towels, and her "stories" (soap operas) on television.

In those days, the 1960s, buses were operated by a private company as Valley Transit. The city's surprisingly extensive streetcar system was a fading memory — cutbacks began in the Depression and the last dagger was a fire at the car barn in 1947. The replacement bus system was inadequate from the start.

In 1971, the city regained control of the system. Private ownership hadn't worked. Three years later, the Tico logo appeared on festively repainted Phoenix Transit buses. The mascot showed a sunny dot wearing a smile, sunglasses, and sombrero. It remained on Phoenix buses until the late 1980s.

Democratic magical thinking

James Kwak has a new book that captures the zeitgeist of a Democratic Party that is trying to recreate a left-wing version of what the Republicans did in making itself an exclusively right-wing party. In Taking Back Our Party: Restoring the Democratic Legacy, he lays out our situation of inequality, business monopsonies, and complicit "third way" Democrats pioneered by Bill Clinton. Even Barack Obama bought a $12 million home on Martha's Vineyard.

Kwak writes:

And so, because this is a book about how to make things better, it’s a book about Democrats. It’s about how, in the wake of the Reagan Revolution, we latched onto the idea that a more modern, more sophisticated, more business-friendly Democratic Party could successfully compete for the White House. It’s about how this transformation, while paying off in victories in four of the past seven presidential elections (six if you go by the popular vote), has left us impotent in the face of growing inequality, even when in power, and incapable of making the case that we can help families struggling against economic insecurity and misfortune. And it’s about how a new Democratic Party, dedicated to a progressive economic agenda, can take up the challenge of ensuring a decent life for every American.

Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren are on board. So are numerous Democratic activists, AOC and "the squad." I'm sympathetic to many of their positions, but I have some misgivings.

Phoenix in the 'teens'

In 2010, Phoenix and Arizona were stuck in the worst (by most measures) bust since the Great Depression. Unemployment peaked at 10.9% in January statewide and 10.2% in metro Phoenix. Single-family housing starts in the metro area plunged from a monthly peak of 6,000 in 2004 to 854. Construction jobs fell from 183,000 in June 2006 to 81,000 in the summer of 2010. Phoenix was a national epicenter of the housing crash.

It was an eerie time. Freeways that had been clogged with tradesmen's pickup trucks were noticeably empty.

Now, nearly a decade later, the economy has recovered. Metro Phoenix joblessness was 4.1% in October, higher than the 3.6% nationally but still a marked improvement. Building permits clawed out of the 2009 trough but are still at levels of the early 1990s.

Population — the holy of holies worshipped by the local-yokel boosters — bounced back. After falling from 2008 to 2010, it rose by 653,000 by 2018 in the metro area. A much ballyhooed snapshot had the city itself the fastest-growing in the United States from 2017 to 2018. But the percentage rate of change looks to be slower this decade than the 2000s or the record 1990s.

True, the decade doesn't officially end until a year from now. But the "twenties" begin in the popular imagination this New Year's. So let's take stock of the "teens":

Spreading tech innovation

A new report from the Brookings Institution highlights how "Superstar Cities" — Boston, Seattle, San Diego, San Francisco and Silicon Valley — captured nine out of 10 jobs at the headwaters of advanced industries from 2005 to 2017. (See the coverage here and here). And it offers an ambitious plan to spread tech centers to "loser cities" in what is mostly considered flyover country.

An interesting footnote: One of the authors of the Brookings study is my friend Mark Muro, who worked at the Morrison Institute at ASU in the early 2000s.

One can't argue with this reality, particularly set against rising inequality and four decades of mergers that took away the economic crown jewels of hundreds of American cities. But some context is also necessary. In addition to these headwinds, many of the "loser cities" made their own fate.

And I'm not talking about Detroit or Cleveland. A better example can be found in Phoenix. Despite being the nation's fifth-largest city and 13th largest metropolitan area, Phoenix punches well below its weight. And no outside force has done this to Phoenix as much as Phoenix has done it to itself.

When Payson was small

In 1967, my mother arranged for me, my friend Billy Warren, and my grandmother to spend much of the summer in Payson. It had not been connected to the outside world by a paved highway for even a decade. The population was around 1,500 and it was clustered around a real tiny town, the enchanting massif of the Mogollon Rim towering to the north above the forest. I was 10.

We lived in a rented house on what's now called Frontier Street, a few blocks west of Arizona 87 (the Beeline Highway). Like almost everything in town, it was built of wood. An early look around was a disappointment to this callow city kid: No trains, no chain restaurants, no easy biking to parks or soda fountains. I don't recall having television, either. Payson revolved around the two-lane highway, with logging trucks rumbling by and everything locally owned. At night, the darkness was primeval under the vault of billions of stars.

The fear of boredom didn't last more than 24 hours at most. The volunteer fire department had a new station a block south, a place to hang around, admire the apparatus, and talk to the firefighters. I got a library card and quickly became a darling of the librarians by being a bibliophile and checking out books every few days.

But the big show was outside.

Both Billy and I were in Scouts — Camp Geronimo was north of Payson — so my grandmother had no concerns about us spending most of the day wandering around the forest. And we did, armed with canteens, pocket knives and compass. She trusted our good sense and caution. In those days, child abductions were rare. Today, Arizona has 909 open cases of missing persons, many children.

Into the wild

When I was about three, my family was driving from Tucson to Phoenix in those pre-Interstate times. I have three vivid memories. The first is the restaurant where we ate breakfast; it had ancient double doors with windows behind ancient double screens. The second is the fierce rainstorm that cut visibility severely, almost the desert version of a whiteout. We headed out of Coolidge, my mother behind the wheel, me between her and my grandmother. No other cars were on the two-lane road.

My third memory is of a vast torrent of fast-moving latte-colored water that suddenly appeared in front of us.

I'm sure it wasn't as wide or as biblical as I recall it. I had never seen water in a river before! But what was undeniable is that the bridge had washed out — perhaps at the Gila River — and only my mother's caution, slow speed, and fighter-pilot reflexes prevented our deaths.

As I write now, searchers are still trying to find six-year-old Willa Rawlings, lost when her father's "military-like truck" was swept away in flooding Tonto Creek. The bodies of her brother and cousin, both five, were found Saturday. Only Willa's shoe has been recovered. Her parents escaped.

The Republic's Laurie Roberts hit the right notes of sympathy and bafflement — that the driver would try to cross the flooded creek, and that the Legislature in its low-tax religion has failed to build a bridge. Yet I suspect little will change. Especially on the common-sense front, for bridges can be overwhelmed as anyone knows who remembers Scottsdale's comic attempts to span Indian Bend Wash in the 1970s.

The art of this deal, cont'd

For Thanksgiving week, talented friend-of-the-blog Carl Muecke has been busy creating his unique takes on our crisis. Enjoy if you dare — in times such as these satire is a great antidote. (Click on image to enlarge).

'Solutions' annotated

From the Arizona Republic on Nov. 17th. My annotations are in black.

Headline: ‘We need to act fast’: Statewide forum focuses on climate solutions for Arizona. Journalists are pushed to seek solutions to largely insoluble problems. Steve Jobs was more on the mark when he critiqued Fox News to Rupert Murdoch: "The axis today is not liberal and conservative, the axis is constructive-destructive, and you’ve cast your lot with the destructive people. Fox has become an incredibly destructive force in our society."

Lede: With climate change cranking up the heat and intensifying droughts, more than 400 people from across Arizona gathered Friday and Saturday to brainstorm solutions for reducing planet-warming pollution and preparing for a hotter, drier future. What people? Doug Ducey? Developers? Republicans who have held control over the Legislature for decades? Elliott Pollack? Grady Gammage. No...

Second graf: Among them were young activists who see climate change as the defining issue for their generation. The time to act is now, they said. You bet. But what power do they have? Do they vote? Did they drive to the conference, adding to climate-causing emissions (rhetorical question)?

Next grafs: “This is rapid change and we should do something about it before it’s too late,” said Alicia Rose Clouser, a 13-year-old eighth-grade student from Sinagua Middle School in Flagstaff and a member of the Navajo Nation.

“My people will be suffering for generations on if we don’t do something,” she said. Mandatory inclusion of a woman and "marginalized person" but otherwise empty information calories.

Next: The two-day conference at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff brought together the students and teenage activists along with academics, health officials, tribal representatives, environmentalists, representatives of farming businesses, urban planners and city officials, and people from the community who said they wanted to be part of the discussion. Now we finally get the "who" — none of whom have the power to enact policies that would address climate change.

'OK Boomer'

Carl Muecke illustration.

According to the New York Times, "OK Boomer" is the Gen Z/millennial declaration of war on the baby boom generation. Shannon O'Connor, who is selling T-shirts and hoodies with the phrase, said:

“The older generations grew up with a certain mind-set, and we have a different perspective. A lot of them don’t believe in climate change or don’t believe people can get jobs with dyed hair, and a lot of them are stubborn in that view." The younger generation is mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore.

One problem, of course, is which boomers? The older cohort of this large and diverse generation got drugs, sex, rock'n' roll, and pensions. My cohort got the AIDS and STD scares, disco, and (if they're lucky enough) inadequate 401(k)s.

Is "OK Boomer" President George W. Bush or President Barack Obama (born 1961)? Such luminaries as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Sir Elton John, Michael Jordan, UA climate scientist Diana Liverman, chess grandmaster and Trump nemesis Garry Kasparov, Stephen King (who also relentlessly trolls Trump on Twitter), Elizabeth Warren, and yes, Hillary Clinton are all boomers.

I was a loner and never much identified with my g-g-g-generation. But I hate today's "woke" ideology of forcing people into groups that can be made into neat packages of victims or villains. That includes generations. No room for individuals in that ideology.

St. Luke's memories

St. Luke's Hospital was built on the ruins of the dense Hohokam village called La Ciudad. It tilts at an angle because it had to fit against the original canal dug by Jack Swilling and his gang from Wickenburg. The Town Ditch or Swilling's Ditch was covered in the 1920s but Villa Street preserved the angle. Today's St. Luke's extends all the way to Van Buren Street with a ghastly spread of rocks and gravel. Yet the hospital you see above was built in the shady Montezuma Heights barrio of houses and public housing projects south of Edison Park. No gravel.

In my time on the ambulance, I spent a good amount of time at the emergency room of St. Luke's (or, as we called it with our dark humor, St. Puke's). In the New Testament, Luke the Evangelist was referred to as a physician.

Once, we heard an explosion outside and went to check what had happened. A patient had thrown himself off an upper floor and was well beyond our ministrations. On a happier note, we regularly had lunch (Code 7) at nearby Sevilla's (before it moved to McDowell), a family-owned Mexican restaurant surrounded by the 'Jects. The homeboys kept watched over our units so they wouldn't be broken into for drugs or stolen.

Off duty, I would visit my mother there, in her twice-annual stays as a patient, being treated for the emphysema that would kill her within a few years. The care was good.

I write all this because, after a century at this location, St. Luke's is closing.