History Adventuring

I love going to places like the Manistee Ranch, which is just west of 51st Avenue south of Northern, in Glendale, Arizona. I call these places "hidden gems" because people can live right near them, and drive right past them, and never know about them. I was at the Manistee Ranch yesterday, and I remembered how much I love finding places like this which are just a few feet away from the noise of traffic. I'm not kidding here, if you turned around from where I took this photo you would see traffic going by, probably about thirty feet away. In fact, while I was eating lunch there with one of my history adventuring friends, we were aware of the noise of traffic, and had to speak up to hear each other. I started finding places like this when I lived in Los Angeles, and it was always the same. I'd discover them, go and "depressurize" my stressed-out brain, and later tell people about them. And no one believed me. Everyone would just smile and back away from

I've been alone a lot on Christmas, and it's been my choice. In 1986 I decided to move back to Los Angeles and try again to get a real career started. This time I decided on the San Fernando Valley, and settled into a tiny apartment in Canoga Park. It's the, uh, less fashionable part of the west valley, adjacent to Woodland Hills, which is where I got the job the following year. I grew up in Minneapolis, got my college degree in Arizona, and had been living in Santa Barbara for the past three years so the noise and crowding of Canoga Park was very hard for me to take. I remember being curious if the traffic ever let up, and I once got up at 3 a.m. just to check. Nope, just as much traffic as in the middle of the day. The noise and commotion, never, ever stopped. Except on Christmas Day, which I remember as something of a miracle. I woke up on Christmas Day with nothing to do, and nowhere to go, so I decided to just walk. I love to walk, and always have, because it se

I haven't lived in California since the '80s, but I visit often, and the there people really haven't changed. My California is Los Angeles, by the way, so maybe what I've seen doesn't apply to the rest of California. California is a very big state, but whenever I see a California license plate here in Arizona, I always jump to the conclusion that they're from Los Angeles. And I'm OK with the weird behavior of Californians, which always follows a definite pattern. Here are some typical California behaviors that I've come to recognize: • They're rich. People in California scoff at any house that's under a quarter of a million as "a run-down shack". What they pay for everything just seems like another world, and they take it for granted. My California friends are rich, but most of them hate "rich people", which are the people who are richer than they are, you know, the ones who live up higher on the hill than they do.

When I graduated from ASU, I wanted to move to "the big city" and see what I could do there. My degree is in Graphic Design, and I had a vague notion that I wanted to work for an Advertising Agency. I knew nothing about Los Angeles, but I did know that the Advertising Agencies are on Wilshire Boulevard (the equivalent of Madison Avenue in New York). So I headed out to LA in August (I didn't bother to wait for the graduation ceremonies, which are in December). What I found out was how insanely expensive apartments were in Los Angeles. Of course, I'd done no research, I hadn't talked to anyone, I just drove out there. I had no job, no prospects, but I figured that things would just work out. I was young! I settled into an apartment complex on Argyle north of Hollywood Boulevard. It was a bizarre combination of old Hollywood glamor, and run-down places that were cheap enough for people like me to actually live in. Hollywood in 1932. The Castle Argyle in the

There are a lot of reasons why I love Arizona, and one of my favorite things to do is to flaunt the beautiful weather around Christmastime to my friends back east. I moved away from the snow and cold of Minnesota when I was 19 (which was quite a while ago!) but I'm still thrilled by how gorgeous it is in Arizona in December. The first year I just kinda stood around and gaped. I still do that, but have another Christmas tradition, telling my friends back east how wonderful it is here. I used to send postcards to my friends, now I just post the weather, with a picture of a beautiful blue sky, on Facebook. If you're a friend of mine there, you saw me do it yesterday. 73 degrees on December 20th. Yes, it gets awfully hot in the summer, which lasts pretty much all year in Phoenix, but from October to May it's the most beautiful weather in the world, especially if you like to golf. Blue skies, sunshine, and what I describe as "Chamber of Commerce weather".

There's a faceless building in downtown Phoenix that I've always been curious about. It's on the southwest corner of Van Buren and 4th Avenue, and is completely covered over with stucco. I went past it a couple of weeks ago and I saw that some of the stucco had been peeled away to reveal the original bricks from the 1930s. I've been trying to figure out this faceless building for many years now, and I'll tell you what I know so far. The Phoenix Motor Company in 1939, 4th Avenue and Van Buren, Phoenix, Arizona Quebedeax Chevrolet in the 1950a, 4th Avenue and Van Buren, Phoenix, Arizona. It was built in 1930 for the Dud R. Day Motor Company, and in 1939 became the Phoenix Motor Company. They stayed there until 1954, when it became Quebedeau Chevrolet. By the way, I'm learning how to pronounce that, in case anyone asks me to - it's KAY - BEE - DOE. They were there until 1959. By the way, Quebedeax moved up to 750 Grand Avenue (as of this writing,

I've been going over and getting a burger at Gallagher's, which is just west of 67th Avenue on Peoria Avenue, for like, forever. And it's one of those places that I hope will be there forever. Since I'm interested in Phoenix history, I wish I could tell you more about Gallagher's. All I know is that when I moved into the house that I'm in, in 1993, it was there. So that's, like forever. I learned a few things about the place while I was there to today, and I'll share what I know, but it's not much. First of all, it's a Sports Bar. I'm not a big sports fan, but apparently a lot of people are, and that's where they go to watch the Big Game. The place is divided in half, and the half I like is the restaurant half. They have nice big tables, and when I go there it's nice and quiet, with music from the '80s, and I can hold conversations with my friends. The other half is more lively, and there's not just a bar there, but (an

I've been collecting old photos of Phoenix since 1992, when I first rescued some old photos from being thrown in the dumpster, when Valley National Bank started the process of becoming Bank One, and I was helping my department (which was the Graphics area) make room for all of the new stuff. And believe me, that place really needed to be cleaned out! It was mostly junk that nobody had ever thought to throw away. I asked my manager's permission to take the old photos, which were mostly publicity photos from the '60s and '70s. And I stored them safely in my garage. Nothing much happened until the internet came around, in the late '90s, and I started scanning in the photos to use to practice making web pages. By 2001, I had created a couple of web pages about Phoenix, using those photos, just for fun, but mostly to practice this new thing that I had to teach, HTML. Over the years I updated the pages with CSS, and then when Google+ was introduced in 2011, I created

The Chuckbox in 1972, Tempe, Arizona I collect old photos of Phoenix, and I share them on the internet, and one of the most common things that I see is that people regret the loss of something, like their favorite restaurant. And then I see people wondering who to protest to, or whether they should click "like" or something, or forward a Facebook post. And sometimes, well, there's just nothing to be done. Times change, and things go away. But you can do something that will make a difference. I think about the places that are precious to me, like the Chuckbox in Tempe. And I try do something - I go there as often as I can. I tell my friends to go there (and take me with them!). Because it's all about money. Of course, just going to my favorite places won't be enough if someone wants to buy that block and put in something else. I know that, I get it. But most businesses around here aren't in any kind of danger like that. They're just in danger of dying from

Walk with me. Let's go to the Tri-City Mall in Mesa. It's 1982 and we're starting from my little apartment in Tempe, on Wildermuth, near Price and Apache. I know we're not supposed to do this, but let's walk along the railroad tracks. I don't really need to buy anything, I'm just walking. I like the road less travelled, and I walk along the railroad tracks all of the time, usually with my neighbor's dogs. I've never seen anyone, and even trains are rare. The tracks are absolutely straight, so I can see for miles in both directions, so I'm not worried about getting hit by a train. Yeah, I know it's against the law, but we're young! There's an open field where the Light Industrial area will be in the 21st Century, so it's an easy walk to the tracks. The dogs are barking but they can't come along this time. Looking south along the Tempe Canal on the border of Tempe and Mesa in the 1980s. This is the view from Apache Bo

I lived in the San Fernando Valley, which is part of Los Angeles, in my twenties. And it fascinated me to see how much of the magic of movies was created right there. I think that's when I became a "background watcher" of movies, and wanted to know exactly where something was filmed. The exterior scenes of "A Wonderful Life" showing Bedford Falls (I assume you've seen the movie) were shot at the RKO Encino Ranch, located at what is now the Sepulveda Basin Recreation Area, which most people call Balboa Park, in Encino, California. You know, where the golf course is, and the lake. Yes of course the snow was all fake, and from what I've read, it was shot in the summer, during a heat wave. You know, typical show biz stuff. I don't remember know how I learned all of this, way before the internet, but I did. I've been a big fan of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" for a very long time, and apparently a lot of other people are, too.

Great fortunes are made on guns, and the Winchester company has been one of the most successful. That's the Winchester '73 at the top of this post, for those of you who appreciate the very finest Winchester ever made. 1873. The Winchester is the gun that won the West, and it sold well, because it was a magnificent weapon. We often think of "six-shooters" as the guns of the west, and there were plenty of them, but the Winchester repeating rifle was an absolute necessity. It was remarkably accurate, and it could mean the difference between living and starving to death for someone who was out hunting. But, unfortunately, it was also used on people. Of course not as much as the stories that are told, but enough to really put the fear of ghosts in Mrs. Winchester. And if you've visited her house, in San Jose, you know what she did - she just kept adding on rooms to give the ghosts some place to go. I understand it's a good place to go ghost hunting to this d

I was getting a haircut yesterday, and in the course of casual conversation, the young woman (she's in her thirties, but everyone looks about twelve to me nowadays) who was cutting my hair mentioned that she grew up in Phoenix. I told her about my interest in Phoenix history, and found out that her parents had grown up in Phoenix, too. I've lived in Phoenix for a long time, and true born-and-raised in Phoenix people are still pretty rare. So we talked about Phoenix, and I could tell, yep, she knew Phoenix the way that only a local would know it. When I mentioned that I had moved to Phoenix when I was nineteen, she asked me to exactly whereabouts. I hesitated, and then I asked a question that everyone who is a Phoenix local knows. Did she know where Gay Denny's is? Of course she did. And if you know, well, it doesn't mean you're gay, it just means you know Phoenix in the same way that people refer to Chicken Park in Glendale. Now waitaminute, calm down here if

As a Graphic Designer, and frustrated architect, I understand why buildings become ugly. I understand that they all start out on a drawing board, with great expectations, and then things start to go wrong. It happens with all designs, but buildings are especially prone to this. I spend a lot of time looking at buildings. And I look at them with the eyes of a designer. When I see a brand new building, I know that I'll be seeing it at its best for the last time. Because things happen. No, it's not a conspiracy, man. No one stands around, laughing manically, and saying "wait until I ruin this design!" It's most often best intentions, and sometimes just human error, and of course, budget. Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by the little models of buildings. And I'm also fascinated by artist's renderings. These show the building as it appeared in the mind of the designer. Everything is bright and shiny clean, there is usually a lot of lan

In spite of claims to the contrary, there are only two places for "show biz" in the United States: New York City and Los Angeles. And everyone who has ever had a dream, or stars in their eyes, and has gone there has come up against some pretty harsh realities. I don't know anything about New York City, and I only know about Los Angeles because of my friends there. I was never involved in the entertainment industry, or "Hollywood", even though I lived in Hollywood briefly. Yes, for a tiny percent of "stars", it's wonderful. There's big money in the movies, and some people make a LOT of it. You see their names on celebrity magazines, they can pick and choose their projects, they have agents that negotiate for millions of dollars. And then there's the rest. And there's a lot of other people. I met these people when I lived in Los Angeles. If they're lucky, they're the "guy who was in that thing", getting regular

I worked in downtown Phoenix in the '90s, and have been interested in the historic buildings ever since. I would often walk around during my lunch breaks and wonder what the buildings looked like "back in the day". Most of what I saw looked pretty terrible, and I would squint my eyes and imagine. I'm a Graphic Designer, and a frustrated architect (I couldn't do the math!) so I really enjoy looking at buildings. All types of buildings fascinate me, and like all designers I'm saddened to see what I know to be a beautiful design that has been buried. And it's most often done with the best intentions, to "modernize" a building, or to make the building more usable, or more attractive to tenants. I understand. But I could see that there were beautiful buildings there under all the stucco, and matchboard, and plastic. There were times when I wished that I could take a penknife to them and scratch away the ugliness, and reveal the beauty. To my am

I've lived in Arizona, and California, all of my adult life, and I love it here. I grew up in Minnesota, and I left there because I hate snow and cold. Minneapolis is a beautiful city, and that's why I love trees, they just make me feel better. I will always remember the trees. And I will also remember the etiquette, which can sometimes make me twitch. Today I enjoyed a delicious tamale. I had some fresh salsa in the fridge, and almost forgot to take it out, but I remembered just in time. I love fresh salsa! I also love having a lime in my beer. But I've never been able to bring myself to put barbecue sauce on a steak, or A-1, or catsup. If you never lived in the midwest, you may not realize how incredibly rude it is to do something to "kill the taste" of a steak. And although tomato-based sauces can be delicious, they were used in the old west because meat tasted pretty bad, and something with some spices and tomatoes could help make it more palatable. Tha

As long as I can remember, Phoenix has had a LOT of empty lots. All over the place, and often in places that have made me wonder "why hasn't anything ever been built there?" Of course no one knows. (Update - Some people do know! See comment below! Thanks, JR!) So when I see some activity in a lot that's been empty for a long time, it gets my attention! If you're like me, you've been driving past the empty lot on the west side of Central north of Glenrosa, which is the light just north of Indian School Road, for a LONG time. The Central Avenue entrance to Steel Indian School Park is right across from it. You know, the big empty lot with about a million little yellow posts in front of it. Yeah, that's the one. Today, after doing some History Adventuring downtown, I stopped at Lux on Central Avenue for a decaf. I parked on Turney, and in an idle moment I wandered over to see what I could see because there was now a permanent fence where there had once

My main goal in life has always been freedom. I wanted to get away from home as soon as I could, which I did at 18, and I've done all that I could to be independent since. And it included living in some terrible apartments, like the one I had in Canoga Park in the 1980s. Nowadays, living in my suburban Phoenix house, it's hard for people to imagine that I ever lived in these horrible places. They turn up their noses at the neighborhoods where I was in my twenties, and wonder what I was doing there. And it was all about freedom. I didn't want roommates, I've never been married. I wanted to be able to do what I wanted, when I wanted, to answer to no one. While I was going to college I lived alone in a little tiny converted garage , which I made pretty cozy, in a neighborhood that to this day is not exactly something to brag about. Everyone else I knew was living in better places, in better neighborhoods, but they weren't doing it alone. Living alone is expensiv

When I first started learning about old Phoenix, I discovered that there had always been "good old days". And those were the days that former kids remembered when they became adults. Good old days happen every twenty to thirty years, and have been doing so since the first time an adult looked back on their childhood. Recently one of my PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives) wondered if people would look back to now in twenty or thirty years as "the good old days". And of course I believe they will. Twenty years from now children will look back fondly at a time when everything was a simpler, when families really cared about each other, when children really knew how to play. And now that I know that, I'm OK with people always criticizing right now, and pining away for the good old days. But it does make me wonder what Phoenix will be like in twenty years. As someone who's lived in Phoenix for many decades, the first thing I think of will be things that I j

I hate snow and cold. That's the main reason that I left Minneapolis as quickly as I could. At 19 I packed up all of my earthly belongings (which were a cheap set of golf clubs, my tennis racquet, a drawing board, and maybe some other stuff) and headed west. I had spent too many winters in Minnesota, delivering newspapers and walking to school in the snow. I had a map, I had a driver's license, I had a car (well, an MG Midget), and all that mattered was to go where there wasn't any more snow and cold. I drove to Phoenix, Arizona. I arrived in August, and even though my car, and my apartment, didn't have air conditioning, I really didn't mind. And I was anxious to see what winter would be like without snow. I was one of those typical midwestern people who was out by the pool when the locals were smart enough to be inside. But when Christmastime came, it hurt. I dreamed of a white Christmas. It all just felt so wrong. I remember making the mistake of guessing t

I've lived in Arizona and California all of my adult life. And I just love looking at these places. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen the Pacific Coast Highway, or the Estrella Mountains, I want to see them again, and again. But it's only been in recent years that I've realized that what I'm seeing is very different from what most people see. Yeah, I'm weird. If you would like to be a little bit weird, or your think that you may already be, come along with me, and let's see stuff. Let's go see Arizona. If you live in Phoenix, you may be saying, "Great! Let's go to the Grand Canyon!" And yes, the Grand Canyon is great, but my first thought is "what about right here?" and the most common response is "there's nothing to see here!" I used to hear that in Los Angeles, too. There was so much for me to see in Los Angeles, and there's so much to see in Phoenix that I can get very excited about it. If

I just love collecting old photos of Phoenix. If you know me, you know that it's something more than just collecting, it borders on an obsession. Like most middle-aged guys, I love adding to my collection, which at last count is something like about 10,000 images, all of which I give away all of the time on the internet. I don't have any originals, and I don't collect paper. I scan, optimize in Photoshop, and save the file with as accurate a file name as I can. A typical file name would be "Washington_1st_Ave_looking_west_1901.jpg. And I do that because I personally don't like photos labelled "back in the day" or with no location. I want to know as precisely as possible when and where. I want to step into the photos in my imagination. And my collection has given me a kind of "Google Street View" that travels in time. I'm not just collecting photos, I'm time-traveling back to old Phoenix. I'm walking around the old dusty streets of