History Adventuring

As someone who lives in Phoenix, my mind is always boggled by how much people are willing to pay to live in San Francisco. I mean, it's just crazy, right? There must be some kind of "mass hypnosis" or something. But that's not it, and it's something that Phoenix is learning. The City (as San Francisco is called by the people who live there, as if no other city in the world mattered) is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. And at the risk of not sounding romantic about it, it's mostly about the architecture. Even the bridge across the bay is beautiful. And of course there's the ocean, and the mountains. And that beauty that surrounds you in the city gives a feeling. And it's that feeling that people want to live with every day. And yes, they're willing to pay for that. A lot of money! Like Phoenix, San Francisco started out as a purely utilitarian place. San Francisco was a place where ships docked, where commerce was done, and it s

If you're interested in beautiful Victorian mansions, and find yourself in downtown Phoenix, I highly recommend touring the Rosson House, which on Monroe and 6th Street. I've gone there more times than I can count, but I go in an unusual way. I'll describe how I do it, which seems perfectly natural to me, but has gotten a lot of strange looks from people over the years. My experience is that most people who tour an historic place like this, no matter what their age, immediately revert back into when they were kids in school. They stand in line, then gather together in a group, listening to someone at the front of the group talk. They might read something, whether it's a handout, or a sign somewhere, and quite possibly try to memorize the information, such as the dates and the names of the people, you know, in case there's a test later on. And if that's what you do, relax, it's what I've seen the vast majority of people do. But I don't do that, a

Let's time-travel back to 1973 to see the tallest building in Phoenix, Arizona. It's the square block of Van Buren, Monroe, Central, and 1st Street. It's Valley Center, and it's now called the Chase Tower. Valley Center was built as the headquarters for Valley National Bank, which had grown out of its older building, the Professional Building, which is across Monroe from it, and is the Hilton Garden Inn now. If you lived in Arizona between the 1890s (no, that's not a typo) and 1992, you knew about Valley National Bank. Their headquarters in Phoenix in the 1890s was on Wall Street, which was the alley between 1st and 2nd Avenues south of Washington, and then they moved to Adams, then to the Professional Building, and finally into Valley Center. Valley Center under construction in 1972, Central Avenue and Monroe, Phoenix, Arizona. Contrary to popular belief, the building was never called Valley Bank Center, or Valley National Bank Center. It was simply V

About a half-block east of Central Avenue, on Monroe, is one of the oldest buildings in Phoenix, Arizona. It was built as Steinegger's Lodge in 1889, and has also gone by the name of the Alamo, the St. Francis Hotel and Apartments, and since 1930 it's been the Golden West Hotel. It's been boarded up and faceless for years, as you can see, but it's still there, which is remarkable for a town like Phoenix which tends to bulldoze historic buildings all of the time. From the front there's really nothing to see, it's just an absolute blank. But if you look at it from an angle, you can see a little bit of history. See the bricks? See the old-time arch above the window on the side? See the shape of the roofline? It's still there. I've never been in that building, and my memories of seeing it from a distance in the 1990s are that it was pretty awful. It was a "flophouse" - a place where alcohol was served, and the drunks (there's no reason h

Walk with me, and let's walk with the Hohokam people. If you're anywhere in the Phoenix, Arizona metro area, it's easier than you may think. No, you won't need your cars keys. You won't even need your hiking boots. You can put away the map, and the GPS. We're just going to walk outside. If you were ever dragged to a museum, or had to go on a field trip, to learn about the Hohokam people, I'm so sorry. Maybe you were handed a brochure about Pueblo Grande, or had to memorize years and dates. That's too bad, and if that's what you're thinking about, I'm going to ask you to forget about that. The Hohokam were the people lived in the Salt River Valley hundreds of years ago. The only reason that anyone knows anything about them is that they left behind gigantic canals, and huge adobe buildings, all of which are gone now (except for a tiny amount of preservation here and there). I don't know much about the Hohokam, and really, nobody does

I've been watching Block 23 for a long time now. The designation is of the square block between Washington and Jefferson and 1st Street and 2nd Street. It goes back to when Phoenix was originally platted, and laid out with numbered blocks. Actually, there really no Block 23, just the block between 22 and 24, which had been set aside as the Plaza. Whether the city promised that it would always be a public space I really don't know, but became just another business block in Phoenix in 1931 when it was sold off. It's where the old City Hall was, if you remember before 1931, which I sincerely doubt you do. The truth is, most people have no idea that Block 23 was the Plaza for over sixty years, as a place where families gathered for picnics under the trees, and watched parades going by. Memories in Phoenix are short. Block 23 in 1893. From a Sanborn map. In my experience, Block 23 has just been an empty space - another parking lot in downtown Phoenix. And it's been

The city of Phoenix sprawls. I've heard it described as just subdivisions looking for a city. And the most common thing I hear from people who've lived in Phoenix is how ridiculous it is for a developer to go way out into the middle of nowhere and build some houses when there is plenty of open land closer in. And it started in 1893, with a Real Estate developer named Clark Churchill. Clark Churchill Back in 1893, they were called "additions". That is, a developer would go outside of the city limits and build. And just like today, they're privately funded by people who hope that the commute won't be too far for people to deal with. And just like today, the idea was to get out into the country, where the air was clean. That was the beginning of suburbia (which just means "less than" urban - and urban means the city). So people were rushing out to suburbia in 1893, and continue to do so. Of course, looking back on what was considered suburbi

I've been history adventuring all of my life. And really, it just means that I find some kind of excuse to go wander off, and look at stuff. It really took off for me when I lived in Los Angeles, when I just needed to calm my jangled nerves, and didn't want to admit it. So I sought out quiet places, and found historical sites, like Los Encinos , in the San Fernando Valley. I would go there, and walk under old trees. If anyone asked I would say that I was interested in history, but the history was secondary. I just liked walking around and looking at stuff, and I still do. About fifteen years ago I reached a crisis in my life after a life-threatening accident (please don't ask) which threatened to take away everything in my life. I went through physical therapy to learn to walk, I feared for the loss of my sight (yes, there's physical therapy for that, too), and mostly I felt trapped. So I started adventuring in my imagination, and many years later I started to w

If you've ever asked asked why old buildings aren't saved in Phoenix, or in any city, you may be misunderstanding how all this works. Because buildings are expensive things, that perform a function. And if for some reason that function goes away, the building has lost its value. That is, its monetary value. And that means that it's no longer valuable to whoever wants to put it to use. I collect old photos of Phoenix and post them on the web and often people will comment that a particular building "should have been saved". And I agree, but I also know that a building can't be saved just to put velvet ropes around it so we can all sit back and look at it. That would be a pretty expensive piece of public art - and cities have a lot of other demands on the money that they have to spend, such as paying for police, or fire departments, among others. What I like to see is called "repurposing". The most common repurpose of an old building is to make i

One of the most confusing things that I talk to about my neighbors in Glendale is that I live on a private street. And that simply means that the city doesn't maintain it. It doesn't mean that you can't drive into the neighborhood, or anything like that. A private street like mine is the equivalent of a parking lot. People are allowed there, but the City of Glendale doesn't pay to keep it up. That's the responsibility of the people who live there, like me. Of course I knew nothing about that when I bought the house. To me, streets were streets. You drove on them, and every once in a while the cracks in them were repaired. And then every once in a while they had to be resurfaced, which costs a lot of money. What that means to me as a homeowner is that the ordinary maintenance of my neighborhood streets are paid for out of my Homeowner's Association fees, and every few years there's a special, much bigger, charge that pays for resurfacing. The streets i

Let's time-travel back to the 1940s and go waaaaay out to the City Limits of Phoenix, Arizona. We're going to 28th Street and Van Buren. In the old days, Van Buren was called the Tempe Road, because it's the route between Phoenix and Tempe. It's also U.S. 60, 70, 80, and 89. Heck, grandpa still calls it the Apache Trail! It's the main road through the valley, where all the motels are. Let's go, I'll bring along a camera to prove that we went there. Map of the Phoenix City Limits in 1949, 28th Street and Van Buren. OK, here we are at 28th Street. The sign that says, "Now Leaving Phoenix, Adios Amigos" marks the City Limits. Go stand next to it. Yes, your friend, too. OK, you can lean on it, that's fine. Yes, I know the sun is in your eyes, because you're looking west and it took us all day to get there. Try not to squint. It's amazing that Phoenix has grown out this far, but they say that Phoenix will grow even more now t

Let's time-travel back to 1954 Phoenix, Arizona, visit the golden arches, and get a hamburger, fries, and a Coke. I understand that Ray Kroc started this place, and most people call it McDonald's, but I like to call it the golden arches, because that's what I see. It's right nearby the Indian School High School, on Central south of Indian School Road. Yes, it's kitty corner from the school. The idea of "drive-ins" is really catching on, now that so many people have cars. The golden arches doesn't have an interior, you just walk up to the window, order what you want, and eat it in your car. Hamburgers are fifteen cents, and you can also get french fried potatoes, and Coca-Cola. Sounds good. You know, I developed a taste for Cokes in the service. Everywhere we went, Coca-Cola was always a nickel. At the McDonalds in Phoenix in 1954, Central Avenue and Indian School Road Yes, they cook everything right there in that little building, and serv

Scottsdale, Arizona was named after Winfield Scott in 1894. He had a big ranch out there, in what was then called Orangedale, where downtown Scottsdale is now. Specifically, it was between Scottsdale and Hayden Roads and Chaparral and Indian School Road. Winfield Scott I've always had a fascination with names. I live in Glendale, Arizona which really doesn't mean anything (there was no one named Glen!) but the word "dale" was often used to give a nice, peaceful feeling to an area. Dale just means valley, but it's more poetic, I guess. I suppose the towns could have been called Scottsvalley or Glenvalley, but it just sound sound as good, does it? Anyway, Winfield Scott was an U.S. Army Chaplain in the 1880s, and he and his brother decided to see how well it would go growing oranges out in the middle of the desert. I guess you'd call these guys "unrealistically optimistic" - but those are the kind of slightly kooky people who create places

Let's time-travel back to 1885 Phoenix and go to the Swimming Baths. It's just outside of town, north of Van Buren on the east side of Central, next to the town ditch (the Salt River Valley Canal). Chlorine? What? I have no idea what that is, it's 1885. But the water is fine - a little salty, but that's how water in the desert gets. The water comes from the Salt River. Fish? Yeah, maybe a few, mostly catfish I'd guess. Swimming trunks? What? What do you think this is, some kind of fancy swimming pool, or something? I suppose you could keep your union suit on, it might be the first time your underwear has ever been washed. I don't wear underwear, and I sure don't have swimming trunks. Besides, no one's gonna see us. And you're so darned skinny that most people would just think that a dog had dropped an old bone in the water anyway. 1911 article about swimming in the canals, and the request for more modest attire. OK, there's the scho

My experience has been that there are two categories of Arizona history 1) Boring stories that require you to memorize dates, and learn about famous people 2) Nonsense stuff that's made up just to be funny. And neither one of these things really interests me. I'm interested in the third type, and that's what I explore here. Please let me explain. I'm interested in the ordinary day-to-day life of people who lived in Phoenix. I really don't care if they were rich or famous (although I wouldn't hold that against them). I want to know what it felt like to live in Phoenix before the invention of air conditioning, what it was like to see the valley's population explode after War War II, to sit beside a canal when there were thousands of trees lining it, instead of just concrete. So if you hand me a history book, or hand me a goofy book of "Arizona Tall Tales", I'll hand it back to you, politely. No thank you. I've read the history books, a

As a young Graphic Designer in the mid-1980s, I was fortunate to have a boss who was a computer nerd. I was working for what is called an "In House" department, doing basic Graphic Sesign for the corporate headquarters of Blue Cross of California. His enthusiasm for digital stuff was amazing, and he foresaw a future when drawing boards and drafting tables would go away, and be replaced by computers. He was right. I'm grateful to have gotten such an early start with computer graphics, which in my industry came to be known as "desktop publishing" (originally said sarcastically - as if the functions of creating something to be published could be created on a desktop!). I was fortunate to be sent to training sessions for software that had just been invented - the company paid my way, and I got to travel. But the most interesting thing I ever saw, and the saddest, was the software coders of Hollywood. I went there one day with my boss. And I really do mean Hol

Mesa is the Spanish word for table, which is how Mesa, Arizona got its name. It's a description of a piece of land that sits up a little higher than the surrounding area, and is flat on top. It's often called tableland. It's not really as high as a big plateau, but in a valley as flat as the Salt River Valley, it was noticeable. Of course, you can't see it now, because of all of the buildings around Mesa, but before that area started to populate, you could. And it was important because the valley flooded, and you really don't want to build something where it floods. So the name Mesa had a strong meaning to people who might have been skeptical about buying land. Yes, the whole Salt River Valley is a giant floodplain, which has only very recently been controlled (and sometimes not so well!). I've always had a fascination with the names of things. Sometimes they mean nothing, like Glendale, where I live, which just sounded good to the founders, that's al

Let's time-travel back to Phoenix in 1906 and see it through the eyes of Alpha Williams, who was six at the time. That's her in the photo up there, sitting on her horse, Blackie. Alpha Williams (on the right) on Blackie Alpha wasn't rich or famous, and she's exactly the kind of person who interests me the most in Phoenix history. I myself am not rich or famous, I'm just an ordinary person living in Phoenix, so when I want to imagine what old-time Phoenix was like, I like to try to see things through other people's eyes. Let's do that, let's look at Phoenix through her eyes. And let's start with her nose. Yes, let's start with what it smells like to her. She's next to the OK Livery Stable (the "parking garage" of its day, for horses, like a corral), so there were a LOT of horses. And that means the smell of, well, you know. As a modern person from the city, I would probably be horrified by the stench. She would say, "

If you've lived in the Phoenix area for a few years, you've seen changes, lots of changes. New buildings appear, freeways, that sort of thing. And while it all takes some getting used to, there's nothing more frustrating that the renaming of streets. Phoenix has been renaming its streets since it began, in 1870, and up to as recently as the 1960s, the cites around it have been renaming their streets to kinda match up. And sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't. 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 Phoenix has always been a patchwork trying to weave itself together. From the time the first additions were added to Phoenix (we call them subdivisions now) there was confusion. The neighborhoods that were built miles away fro

I live in Glendale, a suburb of Phoenix. I've lived there since 1993, and hopefully I'll never have to leave, until my days are done. I like it here. To me, it's what I always wanted, a house in suburbia. And more specifically, I wanted a garage. I've owned a lot of nice cars and I always hated the thought of them having to sleep outside. So that's what my house looks like, mostly a garage, and a place for me in a couple of rooms behind it. It's a wonderfully safe, and slightly-boring piece of the endless suburbia that surrounds Phoenix. I love it here, and it's what I worked hard to get, and keep. I have a mortgage, and pay a Home Owner's Association, which will leave a note on your house if you have weeds in your yard getting out of control. Every once in a while, however, I get to see my town through the eyes of other people, and I get a big kick out of that. As a city, Glendale ranges from some very expensive real estate (further north of me) to

As someone who grew up in the snow and cold of Minneapolis, I am soooooo happy to be in Phoenix at Christmastime. With all due respect to that beautiful city, and the wonderful outdoor winter sports there, I just couldn't wait to leave Minneapolis. I bought a car when I was eighteen, learned to read a map not long after that, and soon figured out which way was west, and I went to Phoenix. Many people have marveled at that, as if it were some big achievement. But really, you hold onto the steering wheel, put gas in the car a few times along the way, and you're there. I'm not saying I arrived in style, or even smelling good, but all that matters is that I had left the snow and cold for the glory of the warmth of Phoenix, Arizona. Yes, I lived where the "po' folk" lived, learned to feed myself by stretching a dollar until it screamed, and all the usual things that old-timers say that the young people don't have the discipline to do anymore. But I know th