History Adventuring

If you've lived in Phoenix for a long time (and I've lived there longer than I care to admit), it's fascinating to see it from the viewpoint of someone else. I do this as much as I can, and I call it "looking through someone else's eyes". And it can be quite amazing, and paint a picture of what you hardly see at all as unique, and maybe even a little bit bizarre. Today I talked to a friend of mine who has lived in Phoenix for many years, but his heart is definitely still down under (Australia). And so I've been thinking about what Phoenix looks like to him. First of all, it's in the United States. I know that sounds strange, but it's something that I rarely think about. My Australian friend sees this as the U.S., not just Phoenix, and not just Arizona. And we do a lot of strange things here, like drive on the wrong (right) side of the road. I often wonder how he manages to switch back and forth (he visits back home every year) but he just

Although I usually go history adventuring in my imagination and in cyberspace, yesterday I went IRL (In Real Life) and spent some time near the Estrella Mountains, which are southwest of Phoenix. If you're like most people living in Phoenix, you probably have no idea that these mountains even exist. I live in Glendale, which is due north of the Estrellas, and it wasn't until just a few years ago that I realized that every time I look south I'm seeing them. To me, like to most people, they just seemed to be more of South Mountain. And it makes sense - they're mountains, and they're south. But South Mountain (originally called the Salt River Mountains) ends at 51st Avenue. And while South Mountain is big enough to give a dramatic backdrop to Phoenix, it's nothing compared to the gigantic scale of the Estrellas. To get there, go south on 51st Avenue, probably farther south than you've ever been. That's where the pass between the Estrellas and South Mo

I collect old photos of Phoenix, and I give them away. I don't have them on paper, so I can give them away without losing anything myself. I can share them with thousands of people, and all it costs me is a small effort. I've been doing it for years, and I really enjoy it. And that's gotta be typical human nature, that a collection is only fun if other people can see it. And on the internet, there's no limit to how many people can share. So I give away stuff every day. And I really do enjoy it when I see other people enjoying what I enjoy. I hope that makes sense? But this past Thanksgiving I wanted to do a little more, and it struck me that I could actually give something tangible, so I'm giving my favorite book, Phoenix Past and Present. Yes, I'm gonna get myself another copy, don't worry about that! I think that I was inspired to do this by my Patreon patrons. If that's you, thank you so much! I support a few people on Patreon, and while it'

In addition to collecting old photos of Phoenix, I collect old maps, and it always surprises people to see that there once were city streets where there is now airport property, at Sky Harbor Airport. Take a look at the east end of Sky Harbor Airport in 1956, in the map above. Those were city streets there, with houses, and people in them. And if it's hard for you to imagine, I think I can help, since I grew up in Minneapolis, right near by airport, at 48th Street and Bloomington. South Minneapolis, Minnesota - near the airport I just took a look at my old neighborhood in Minneapolis on Google maps, and while the houses aren't as close as the ones in the 1956 Phoenix map above, they're still pretty darned close. I have friends who still live in the neighborhood, and when I'm talking on the phone with them they have to wait until the planes go over. From where my house was, you could see the landing gear, and we really never thought of it as a big deal. Of co

When I started teaching at the Art Institute of Phoenix in 1996, I quickly realized that there was going to be a lot more that I needed to do in addition to teaching Graphic Design, and software. At my advanced age (I was darned near 40!) I had lost touch with what recent high school grads were like. And I added an aspect to the classes that I called adapting to the "waiting for the van generation" - that is, people who were one generation younger than me. What really surprised me is how confused so many people would get if I didn't explain everything very precisely, and over and over again. These people weren't rude, or anything, they would just sit there, looking confused, and patiently wait until I came over and explained again, and again, and again. I wanted to sympathize with them, and I just imagined that as kids they had play dates arranged by their parents, and were driven to their sporting events. And that's why I thought of them as "waiting for

I was taught to never say "Trailer Park" by my parents who lived in a Mobile Home Community in the 2000s in Peoria, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix. And since I remember it well, it occurs to me that you may have never spent time in a Trailer... oops, I mean Mobile Home Community. Let's go visit. The Trailer... I mean Mobile Home Community where my parents lived was for people 55 and better. You never said "older", you said "better". Get ready for a LOT of rules! My parents were "snowbirds" since 1989, when I moved back to Phoenix from Los Angeles. No, they didn't stay with me, they started out staying in an apartment in the same complex where I lived, which was specifically for winter visitors. It rented monthly, and included everything you would need, not just furniture but dishes, pots and pans, that sort of thing. Then they found a rental condo, which was actually pretty darned nice, over on the El Caro golf course. I'm prett

I'm fascinated with the history of Phoenix. Not just the famous stuff in books, or a speech made by a politician, but everything. And although I do most of my history adventuring in cyberspace, sometimes I actually go out and travel around Phoenix. It can be a challenge for me, so I make sure to bring along a responsible party to do things like drive, etc. I've made some mistakes, and have talked to people who've done the right and wrong things, so I'd like to share some observations on how to have a successful history adventure. The first thing you need to do is to map it out. Just randomly driving around Phoenix is all well and good, but it's better to plan out something of a loop. You don't have to be stuck on the agenda, but it's nice to make a circle of your trip, not a zig-zag. I have found that about three or four places to go see is about right. I don't stay at these places very long, and I don't do guided tours, so I can be flexible abo

I love you, you love me, it's the 1940s, so let's get married right away. And I know what you're thinking, there's a three-day waiting period here for the blood test. But I know a place that doesn't have that law, Arizona. And I can get us there in one of those aero-planes. Come along with me, we're going to Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, Arizona. Yes, it's a romantic name, but that's really what it's called, and it's been there since the 1920s. Let's jump on a plane, I'll pay for it. Get yourself all dolled up, and I'll put on my best suit, we want to look our best, we'll be flying! Yes, of course, pack your wedding dress. Me? Well, if it's OK with you I'll just wear my best suit. How do I look? Thank you! 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, aeria

I just love history adventuring in Phoenix, and while I usually do it in my imagination, with the help of old photos that I find, sometimes I like to do it IRL (In Real Life), which is what I'm gonna do today with the help of a fellow adventurer (who calls it "Urban Spelunking"). Of course, just being in the Phoenix area I see a lot of stuff. I know that the moment my feet hit the ground, even in my house in Glendale, I'm walking where the Hohokam people walked - every inch of this valley belonged to them, not just the tiny preserved area around 44th Street and Washington. I also know that I'm looking at the mountains that the Apaches protected, and the routes that the gold miners struggled on, especially north of me here in Glendale. When I pedal over to the Fitness Center at my local community college, I go through the Sahuaro Ranch park, past some impressive history there. But today will be special, as I will be covering more ground that I usually do. Th

If you've lived in Phoenix anytime after the 1880s, you've seen the Hanny name. If you're a real old-timer, you may remember Christian Hanny, but you probably are more familiar with his son Vic, who started a clothing store in 1912. His original store was on Central Avenue, and the store that most people know about today (which is now a restaurant) was built in 1949, at 1st Street and Adams. Hanny's Menswear in 1949, when the building was brand new, 1st Street and Adams, Phoenix, Arizona. Now Hanny's Restaurant. And yes, there are still members of the Hanny family around Phoenix. By the way, it's pronounced like Danny - Hanny. I had the pleasure of meeting some of those people recently (no, their last name isn't Hanny, it's been several generations along the maternal line) and taking a look at some of the interesting documents that have been preserved from all of the way back to the 1880s, just before the family moved to the brand new town of P

I've lived in the Phoenix, Arizona area for a long time, and I've seen a lot of cats. And not just on the internet, but also in IRL (In Real Life). Where I live now, a few blocks from the Sahuaro Ranch, the feral cats wander around the neighborhood, especially in the wee hours of the morning. When I lived in Tempe, back in my ASU days, I had never seen so many cats wandering around all of the time (I grew up in Minnesota and I guess they can't live outside there in the winter). So, as you can tell, today I'm thinking about cats in old-time Phoenix. I wish I had a pic of some cats in old-time Phoenix, but the closest I can come to that is this ad for Dr. H.T. Doak, Veterinary Surgeon in 1918. Looks like he took care of domestic animals (he probably didn't treat farm animals, which would have been much more common in those days), and I find it interesting that horses (equine) were considered domestic animals back then. Makes sense, although I don't see a lot

I like to collect old photos of Phoenix, Arizona. At last count, I've lost count, and my collection continues to grow. And I love to share them, which I do, on the internet. It's a wonderful learning experience, and one of the most fascinating things to me is discovering what's important to each person. Speaking for myself, I'm fascinated with the architecture. I never could do the math, so I could never have been an architect, but I've always enjoyed looking at buildings, and imagining them being designed and built. I also love looking at classic cars, so a lot of times the photos I find will fascinate me because of the old cars. Of course, it has to be something that I personally know a little bit about - I call that a "reference point". That's why old photos of someone's family are so boring, there's no connection to you, although it's fascinating to them. The comments that I see will often tell me what's important to each ind

As someone who grew up in Minnesota, and moved to Phoenix at age 19, the word "soda" sounds very strange to me. Yes, I know it means pop. But it's kinda like hearing someone say "dungarees" (which means bluejeans). And it's a reminder that if you move away from where you grew up, you'll see some strange things, and then after that, you can never really fit in either back home or where you live after that. So I'm not really sure what native Phoenicians call soda. If you grew up in Phoenix, please let me know what you say. I will tend to use the term "soda-pop" as a compromise, and I also used the term in California. Here in Phoenix I'd be uncomfortable asking someone to go into a store and buy me a pop. Of course in Minneapolis, it wouldn't sound strange at all. I've only lived three places in my life: Minneapolis (where I grew up), Phoenix, and Southern California (Santa Barbara and Los Angeles) so I wouldn't consider

I've paid a lot of taxes in my day - sales taxes, income taxes, gasoline taxes, but I'd never even heard of a Poll Tax until I saw this receipt for one from 1891. The person who paid this tax was Christian Hanny, who lived in Phoenix, and he paid it to the County of Maricopa, Territory of Arizona. It cost him two dollars and fifty cents, which doesn't sound like much nowadays, but you have to consider that he could have gotten a shave and a haircut for two bits (25 cents), so it wasn't just pocket change back then. There haven't been Poll Taxes for a long time, and as near as I can figure, it was just a tax for just being there. As if the government just said, "Hey you, give us some money!" It wasn't tied to income or outgo or anything, it was just a chunk of change that you had to hand over. By the way, if the name Hanny sounds familiar, yes, it's the same name that you see on the restaurant in downtown Phoenix on 1st Street and Adams. Ha

When I moved back to Phoenix from Los Angeles in 1989, I had developed a taste for learning about a much bigger world than I had been exposed to growing up in Minneapolis, and going to ASU in Arizona. I had met people from all over the world, and for the first time had become fascinated with seeing things from other people's point of view. And one of the point of views that amazed me was a friend from England named Stuart, who lived in my apartment complex in Phoenix. Yes, I know when you tell a story like this you're supposed to change the names to protect the innocent, but Stuart wasn't innocent. I have no photos of him, only this cartoon that I drew poking fun of the fact that he tended to make long-distance calls to London from his friend's phones. Back in 1989 that was ridiculously expensive, and he ran up my phone bill one month to over $200. Yes, he paid me back. Stuart was very old (at least 45!), very tall, and had an incredible British accent. Like most

Facebook can be a scary place. And that's because people can be scary. And that's just the way it is. I created a Facebook study group about a year ago for my Phoenix historical images collection and it performs many functions in my life; firstly it keeps me engaged with my favorite hobby (collecting photos of old Phoenix): it helps me to refine the information about those photos (I just love to "step into them" - which is what this blog is all about); and I get to see other people's point of view. As a teacher, I learned a long time ago that it's nice to get help. I prided myself on always knowing my subject well (which is Graphic Design), but I often got mixed up about what day it is, and when something was due. I rely heavily on my computer for that kind of stuff, and I learned to ask for help in the class, by simply saying "This is due next Thursday, which is the 23rd, right?" and then someone would say, "No, the school is closed on Tha

When most people look at old photos of the trolleys, or Street Cars, of Phoenix, they imagine that they went up and down Central Avenue, but they didn't. And the reason for that is the same reason that wealthy neighborhoods fight against public transportation to this day. Let's go back to Phoenix soon after the turn of the century. The wealthiest people were building their big mansions on North Central Avenue, from north of Van Buren all of the way up to the canal, which is just north of Northern Avenue. That's where the really respectable "Old Money" was in Phoenix, and the Central Corridor, as it's now called, between Bethany Home Road and Northern, is still a wealthy area, protected by money, lots of it. If you're wealthy, back at the turn of century and now, you don't use public transportation. You don't stand on street corners waiting for a bus, or a trolley, you used private transportation. And as you go by in your carriage, or SUV, yo

Deciduous trees are the opposite of evergreen trees. Evergreen trees keep their leaves all year, whereas deciduous trees drop their leaves in fall, are bare all winter, and then grow their leaves back in the spring. Being deciduous is a response to cold, so unless you're a pine tree, and you want to grow in, say, Minneapolis, you need to drop your leaves for the winter. In warm climates, many more types of trees than pine trees can be evergreen. Since it never snows in Phoenix, I've always preferred to see leaves on trees in the winter. There are many evergreen trees to choose from, such as mesquite. My logic has been that winter is the best time to be outside, and I really never wanted to look at bare branches during that beautiful weather. It's just a matter of aesthetics. The reality is that it would be better to have a deciduous tree in Phoenix, as it would provide the best shade in summer, and in the cool months allow sunlight to warm you, and your house. Yes, it

If you've lived in Phoenix in the past 100 years or so, you've seen a lot of name changes of the streets. For example, Pima was changed to 3rd Street, Christy Road was changed to McDowell Road, Mission Drive was changed to 27th Avenue, Chicago was changed to 44th Street, and Olive was changed to Dunlap. The reason for all of these changes was to try to make the consistent system that we all know today. And the reason that the names weren't consistent is that Phoenix has always grown by "leap-frogging", that is, an area is developed waaaay out there, given names, and by the time the city has grown to there, the street names wouldn't match, and a decision had to be made. For people who need to travel around a big city, it's wonderful, but it probably made for some big fights to make it happen. Map of Phoenix, Arizona in 1881  If you lived in Phoenix in the 1800s, you would have known that the north-south streets were named after after Indian tri

One of the most commonplace things in the world is buying groceries. It's not the kind of thing that historians show much interest in, but it fascinates me. That's because I'm interested in the ordinary things of life that people do, and have always done, especially in Phoenix, Arizona. Time-travel with me now to Phoenix in 1890 and let's buy some groceries. I'm Christian Hanny, and you can be my son, Vic. If the name sounds familiar to you, you may have gone to the clothing store that Vic Hanny had, or you may have gone to the restaurant on 1st Street and Adams, which is the former Hanny's Clothing Store building. The family still lives in Arizona, and I was privileged to see what the latest generation have saved and lovingly preserved, including this receipt from W. F. McNulty, Family Groceries and Provisions, Gents' Furnishing Goods, Etc., Washington Street. Your first question might be "Where on Washington Street? - That's not much of an

In 1915, Hanny's Clothing Store described itself as a "One Price Cash Clothier", which to our modern ears sounds very strange. You may wonder if there was just one price for everything in the store, like a dollar store? No, that's not it. And you may wonder if they only accepted cash, not checks? No, that's not it either. Let's take a closer look. Nowadays there aren't many businesses that have more than one price for their stuff. The only place that springs to my mind is a car dealership, where the price is negotiable. I can't do that at my local Walmart, I pay the price that they ask, or I don't buy it. So a "one price" store would be a store that asks a price, and will not listen to negotiation. Pretty common now, not so common 100 years ago. Vic Hanny put a price on an item, and expected you to pay it, no haggling, no offers, take it over leave it. This may have offended a lot of people, who were used to entering into negotiation

You will see the word "Ho" on many old buildings around Phoenix. Examples would be the Westward Ho in Phoenix, the Valley Ho in Scottsdale, and before it was demolished, the Superstition Ho in Apache Junction. If you're about my age, the word "ho" will remind you of a comedy skit that Eddie Murphy did on Saturday Night Live in the 1980s, which made the word "ho" what most people recognize today, a shortened version of the word "Whore", which is a prostitute. Of course, the name of the Westward Ho, Valley Ho, and Superstition Ho had nothing to do with that. It had to do with an old-time phrase that indicated that there was a good destination ahead, and proceeding there would be a good thing. Sailors would shout "Land ho!" when they saw land. Leaders of wagon trains would just shout "Ho" to get everyone moving. If your wagon train were to go west, the leader would shout something like "Westward Ho!".

I've lived in some pretty awesome places in my lifetime, including where I live now, Phoenix Arizona. And in all of those places I've been dismayed to see people who live there and have no appreciation of it the way that tourists do. It's November now, and the beginning of the tourist season in Phoenix. People are escaping the cold from back east, people are coming from all over the world to see the beauty of Arizona, which they would normally only be able to see in magazines, and way too many of the locals are slogging along, ignoring it all. 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 remember my first November in Phoenix, Arizona. I was 19, and had grown up in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was amazing. The temperatures were just gorg