History Adventuring

I moved to Phoenix when I was 19 because I wanted to get away from Minneapolis, and I was working for a company that had an office in Phoenix, so they transferred me. So I had a job the day I arrived. I lived cheaply, and although it didn't pay much, and the hours were spotty, it kept me alive. And then the hours got even less, and I was in trouble. I was alone, and I needed to find work. When I mention that, among other places, I used the job services at Chicanos Por La Causa, it puzzles many people, because I'm just a white guy. Most of the people that I know don't understand how all of this works. If you understand, that's great, if not, I'll see if I can explain, by starting with the Civil Rights Movements of the 1960s. I was a kid in the 1960s, and I was paying attention to the winds of change that were blowing all over the world, including the United States. The music was about the Age of Aquarius, with harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abou

My interest is in Phoenix history, and I tend to treat it as a theme. Since I'm a Graphic Designer, and have spent my whole life around artists and musicians, the idea of a theme comes naturally to me. I have discovered, however, that for some people it seems kinda strange. I'll see if I can explain my theme of Phoenix history. An artistic, or musical, theme is simply a consistency throughout the piece. It doesn't mean the same thing over and over and over, but it means something that feels recognizable throughout. And so it's important to define what one's theme is. For me, Phoenix history is everything that ever happened, and ever will happen, in Phoenix. It could be something that most people understand as "history" - maybe a photo of bridge collapsing, or a politician giving a speech, or it could be the bowl of Cheerios that I just finished in my backyard this morning in Glendale. I just love seeing, and hearing, variations on a theme. Of course

As someone who is interested in the history of the city of Phoenix, Arizona, I'm of course interested in how people invested in Real Estate. Some people got fabulously wealthy simply because the price of a chunk of land got more expensive over time. Of course, this happens anywhere that there are buildings, and land. Some places, like San Francisco, or Los Angeles, have seen property values rise tremendously. It hasn't been that extreme in Phoenix, but it has happened. I met someone a few years ago whose parents owned some land that he inherited, and it turned out to be worth the big bucks, which he got. It all happened in a generation. And sometimes it takes longer. I see empty lots all around Phoenix and I wonder what they're waiting for. Well, they're probably waiting for the big $$$$. And every once in a while I hear some say in a sneering way that someone must be "waiting for the big $$$$". And my first thought is "why not?" If you have l

Since I collect old photos of Phoenix, and post them on the internet, one of the most common comments that I see is when someone asks what an area looked like back in the day. And when I go looking, often all that I find is empty space, dirt, and billboards. Because Phoenix had a LOT of that in the 1960s and early 1970s. The photo at the top of this post is typical of what I find a lot of on the Duke University site, which is about advertising, and has a lot of billboards from places like Phoenix. If there's a building that I can identify, or anything at all to help me, I can usually pinpoint exactly where the photo was taken. But a lot of Phoenix, and the surrounding area looked like that - open space, dirt, and a billboard. Support Arizona history by becoming a patron on Patreon Click here to become a Patron! History Adventuring blog posts are shared there daily, also there's "then and now" photos, billboards, aerials, and super high-resolution photos of h

I've been the "Where did he come from? guy" several times in my life, in Phoenix, and in Los Angeles. To clarify, it's what people say when someone just sort of shows up out of nowhere, and is able to do stuff. In the Westerns, it's the gunslinger, in spy movies, it's an International Man of Mystery. What I discovered in the work world it was whoever was willing to do the work that needed to be done. And that's me. The "Where did he come from?" guy (or woman) is one of my favorite characters in movies. They're the hero, the person who will make it right, no matter what it takes. And no, it has nothing to do with Phoenix, or Los Angeles, or even Minneapolis, where I grew up, although for a long time I thought so. I would often talk of my "Midwestern Work Ethic" or the flakiness of Californians, who never seem to be able to get anything done, but who seem to be workaholics compared to what I saw when I first moved to Arizona. If

In addition to tearing down old buildings, Phoenix does something that I call "re-skinning" buildings. That is, it takes old buildings and covers them up with a modern exterior. There are a lot of old buildings like that around Phoenix, and the example that I often point to is on the northwest corner of Central Avenue and Adams, the Gooding Building. Take a look at it if you work or live downtown, or take a look at it on Google Street View, and you'll see what I mean. This building was built in territorial times, and was "re-skinned" in the 1950s. And now it's such a plan box with windows. Now waitaminute here, this isn't a conspiracy, man. There aren't a bunch of evil people walking around Phoenix laughing maniacally. This was all done with the best of intentions. I'll see if I can explain. As a designer myself, I cringe when someone makes a mess of something by "fixing it up". It could be a friend who just invested a lot of mon

I love Phoenix, but I often jokingly refer to it as a "suburb of Los Angeles", or as part of the greater Los Angeles metro area (with that small gap in the California desert!). And Phoenix does rely on Los Angeles, the way that it relied on San Francisco in the 1800s. So, at the risk of offending people who think that Phoenix could survive without Los Angeles, let's take a look. Los Angeles connects Phoenix to the world mostly through the Port of San Pedro and Los Angeles International Airport. If you've seen these places, the gigantic scale is something that dwarfs most cities in the world, including Phoenix. Yes, there are other, busier places on an international scale, such as Tokyo, which makes Los Angeles seem small and "backwater" by comparison. When Phoenix was first platted, in 1870, there were no railroads to it, and Los Angeles was still just a little town. Everything of major importance had to come from the port of San Francisco, via the G

Although most people use the term "canal" for anything that carries water in the Phoenix area, there is a difference between canals, laterals, and storm drains. Yes, they all carry water, but they have different functions. The canals of Phoenix can be compared to aqueducts in any major city. That is, how water is brought into the city from nearby lakes, rivers, reservoirs, that sort of thing. Phoenix has several canals, most of which are south of Phoenix, and since I'm mostly interested in the Phoenix metro area, I focus on the main three, which are: Grand Canal, the Arizona Canal, and the Crosscut Canal. The first two start waaay back on the Salt River, on the other side of the Pima/Maricopa Salt River Community, and end west of where I'm writing this, in Peoria west of the 101 Freeway, at the Agua Fria. The water travels from northeast to southwest, along the gentle slope of the Salt River Valley. The Arizona Canal is just north of me (I'm near Glendale C

Something that people take great pride in is talking like a local. That is, speaking with the correct pronunciation of people who grew up somewhere. To outsiders, the difference is too subtle to detect, but locals can tell if you're from there. In some places, locals can tell if you're from the north side of town, or a particular neighborhood, or whatever. Actors often study these accents, and invariably get them wrong from the point of view of people who really know. And this got me thinking about how people in Phoenix talk. Follow History Adventuring on Patreon Click here to become a Patron! History Adventuring posts are shared there daily including "then and now" photos, billboards, aerials, videos, and super high-definition photos of historic Phoenix, Arizona If you grew up somewhere, and never lived anywhere else, of course you can't hear your accent, it simply doesn't exist for you. To you, that's just the way that people talk. Personally,

When I first started collecting old photos of Phoenix, I was amazed by the trees. Up until the late 20th Century, Phoenix was a forest of trees. It was an oasis in the desert. Then suddenly the trees disappeared, and billboards appeared. LOTS of billboards. Now waitaminute, before you think that this was some big conspiracy, man, think again. Both the trees and the billboards were related to the desire of people to make money. Let's start with the trees. Trees in Phoenix, Arizona in 1915 Time-travel with me back to the days before there were any trees in Phoenix, which would be the 1860s. When the Phoenix pioneers started building canals they immediately started planting trees. Their goal wasn't just to create a beautiful background to look at, they used trees in combination with agriculture, especially as windbreaks. And of course the trees gave much-needed shade for both humans and livestock. And the trees did more than that - they transformed the look of Phoen

If you were a young person in the 1970s, you probably wince at photos of what you wore then. It was, of course, in fashion then but just seems to scream "weird" now. Let's take a look. These young people in 1973, standing next to the Bug Bus were traveling between Christown Mall and ASU. Their clothes are typical of average college kids. The men, of course, had long hair. Long hair was practically a requirement at the time to show that independent spirit that most young men like to show. Long hair had become popular for young men in the 1960s, with "hippies" and developed into the norm by the 1970s. The pants were bell-bottoms, or "flares". That is, they were very wide at the bottom, and the flare was exaggerated starting at the knee. Stripes were "in", on pants being vertical and on shirts horizontal. Thanks to the help of my PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives) of the female persuasion, I'm told that the young lady was wearing a

Walk with me. Today it's 1982 and we're going to walk along the Tempe Canal near Apache and Price. We will go from Tempe to Mesa. In this blog I usually use my imagination to time-travel, but this time I'm going to use my memory. I walked there often during my last year of going to ASU, living in a converted garage on Wildermuth Road as a "starving student". The first thing we'll need to do is to get the dogs. I don't have a dog, but I have an agreement with my neighbor that I can borrow his dogs anytime I want to. They're big dogs, and they love to run. There's a huge open field across from Wildermuth, and that's where we go, all of the way to the railroad tracks. I suppose, if you want to get picky, that we're breaking a couple of laws. The dogs are off-leash, and we're walking on the railroad tracks. In the 21st Century, this would be unthinkable, but in in 1982 it was common. The two dogs, by the way, both of which are Germ

I live in Glendale, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix, and I invest in it, and I recommend that you do, too. No, I'm not a wealthy investor, throwing bags of money around, I'm an ordinary citizen who wants the place where I hope to spend the rest of my life to be the best it can be. And my investment takes many forms, including spending my money locally, but it's so much more than that. I cherish my 'hood. I'm not one of those creepy guys who peeks out of his window suspiciously, but I keep an eye on my neighborhood. I know the difference between bad guys and people who are just doing what they need to do, and aren't perfect. So I'm not going to "freak out" if people put their trash cans out incorrectly. A few months ago there was a dog that barked all day and all night, week after week, and I invested my time to find out how to make it stop. This morning as I type this I'm reminded at how wonderful it is to have the windows open and not hear

Time-travel with me to Phoenix, Arizona in 1870. Today I will be Edward Irvine, who made his fortune in Real Estate in Phoenix. I'm thirty-two years old, I was born in Ireland in 1838, and my family came to America in 1842. I've been kicking around for a while, in places like San Diego, California, but now I'm in Arizona, watching the townsite of Phoenix being laid out. I believe that I will stay here, and seek my fortune. Here comes William Hancock, walking around the townsite, writing down block numbers. What a mess this area is, which until very recently was a mass of tangled mesquite. People like Jack Swilling are a few miles east, in the Phoenix Settlement, but Hancock figures that this is a better place for the townsite. He seems to know what he's talking about, and certainly drinks less whiskey than Swilling. It's October and it's still pretty hot. Hotter than any day that I remember in San Diego! But it should be pretty nice in a month or so.

I feel like listening to some Jazz music, and I know a place. That's because we're going to time-travel back to the early 1960s in Phoenix, Arizona and go to Cloud Nine. Come on, I'll drive, I know where it is - it's up on the top of Shaw Butte, in Sunnyslope. Hop in! My car? Yeah, I love it. I call it a Deuce Coupe - I did the hotrodding myself. It gets me where I wanna go. No, it isn't supposed to have a hood - I like showing off the engine. Here, you have to get in this side, the passenger door is welded shut. Seat belts? What? What do you think this is, the 21st Century? Support Arizona history by becoming a patron on Patreon Click here to become a Patron! History Adventuring blog posts are shared there daily, also there's "then and now" photos, billboards, aerials, and super high-resolution photos of historic Phoenix, Arizona Here we are, about 15th Avenue, north of Shangri-La, north of Peoria Avenue. Look, you can see it from here, up

I collect old photos of Phoenix, and post them on the web, and every once in a while I see a comment that says that Phoenix has lost its soul. Maybe the buildings have lost their soul, or the malls, or whatever. And it makes me sad, because I want to show them that Phoenix has never lost its soul, or spirit. It has what I call "unrealistic optimism", and it's always had it, and still does. Please let me explain. My research of Phoenix is leading me to discover that the people who have done things there are, well, just a little bit crazy. Sorry, but the pioneers who built the canals in the 1800s, to people who invested in gigantic air conditioned malls in the 1960s have something in common - an optimism that I find amazing. If you want to a label on it, it's Progressivism. That's someone staring out at miles and miles of empty desert and imagining an oasis. Imagining a city, with places for people to live, to work, to play, to live. The city of Phoenix exi

Although I took my 300 and 400 level classes at ASU, the 100 and 200 level classes I did at Phoenix College, or as everyone called it, PC. Nowadays Phoenix College is called a Community College, but back then it was called a Junior College. Let's go back to 1978. For me, Phoenix College felt right. I was only a couple of years away from High School, and the campus, pace, and feeling of PC wasn't overwhelming. I understood that to get my degree I would need to take the basic classes, like English, etc., and I couldn't imagine any reason to go to a four-year college and pay a lot more when I could go to PC, and get those classes done and out of the way easier and cheaper. My goal was always to go to ASU, and I knew that the classes at PC would transfer. Support Arizona history by becoming a patron on Patreon Click here to become a Patron! History Adventuring blog posts are shared there daily, also there's "then and now" photos, billboards, aerials, and

I collect old photos of Phoenix, and while my interest is mostly in the architecture, I have to admit I'm tickled when I'm able to see the people, and see them really well. In the photo above is a group of people at the Westward Ho Hotel (Central Avenue and Fillmore) in the 1940s. Let's take a look at them. First of all, I'll tell you right away that this photo wasn't taken in the summer. And the reason I know that is that this group, like everyone with any sense before the common use of modern air conditioning, wouldn't have come anywhere near Phoenix in the summer. I would say that it's somewhere between October and April. Anyway, let's look at their clothing. Support Arizona history by becoming a patron on Patreon Click here to become a Patron! History Adventuring blog posts are shared there daily, also there's "then and now" photos, billboards, aerials, and super high-resolution photos of historic Phoenix, Arizona I'll s

Yesterday I helped a friend of mine pick up the items that he had purchased at the auction of the Minder Binders memorabilia. If you went to ASU, or lived in Tempe, in the 1970s or '80s, you know about Minder Binders. If not, briefly it was a bar and restaurant on University and McClintock in a gigantic converted old barn that was filled to overflowing with interesting stuff on the walls, hanging on the ceiling, and everywhere. I went there a few times back in '81, ' 82 and I remember being fascinated by the amazing array of things that were everywhere. Nowadays, of course, lots of places have tons of nonsense stuff like that on the walls, but I'd never seen anything like it before, and I've never seen anything like it since. As someone who is interested in history, I'm fascinated by the two levels of nostalgia represented by these items. For most people like my friend, they are associated with the restaurant, evoking fond memories of college days. And they