History Adventuring

It's 1910, and I could use some new clothes. I'm all grown-up now, well into my twenties, and some nice clothes could probably help me find a better job, and a girlfriend. Let's face it, I'm a mess. Let's take a look in the paper. There's a place called "the Hub" on Washington Street. Let's see, the address is 18-20 W. Washington so it must be a pretty big place. 18 W. Washington is west of Central and on the north side of the street. But before we go, I think I'll read this ad more carefully. I don't have much money, but I want to look sharp, and have good quality clothes. OK, let's see... the ad says that it's poor policy to shop around buying clothes unless you're a first-class judge of values. Well, I haven't a clue, so that sounds like me. I see that their slogan is "good clothes and no other kind" - not very catchy, but I understand it. What I don't understand is why that baseball play

Even though I lived in Tempe, I never went to Big Surf, so I thought that it would be fun to do some imaginary surfing today. Personally, I've never surfed. I've also never skateboarded, or have done anything that requires the kind of excellent balance that that type of activity shows off. I could ride a bicycle, but that's about it. But this is an imaginary story, and here I'm surfing, and you're shouting "Cowabunga!" Big Surf Waterpark is at 1500 McClintock Drive, which is north of the river between Curry and McKellips. And I have to admit that when I lived in Tempe, going to ASU, I really didn't realize that Tempe didn't stop at the river. Tempe actually ends at McKellips, although it wiggles around a bit behind the zoo. Since it's the 70s, I'm not using sunscreen. Instead I've made sure to get a dark "base tan" so I won't burn. Whether people knew about the dangers of cancer from the sun back then I have no

It's the 1930s, we're in Phoenix, Arizona, and I'm getting hungry for some lunch. Let's go over to the Annex Hotel! It's next to the Arizona Hotel, which is on the southwest corner of Washington and 3rd Avenue. To find the Annex Hotel, you just look for the Budweiser sign. I know what you're thinking, how strange it is that alcohol is no longer illegal, and that there are signs up, and you can drink a beer with your lunch. Arizona made alcohol illegal in 1916, and it's been illegal for the entire country since 1920, when the Volstead Act was passed. But it was repealed in 1933, so it's OK now, we don't need to sneak around to "Blind Pigs" or "Speakeasys" anymore. We can just walk right into the Annex Hotel, and order a beer along with our buffet lunch. Here we are. We can park our bikes right there in front in the rack. What? Locks? Are you kidding? No one is going to steal our bikes! Mmmmm... something smells good in th

I've been doing history adventuring around Phoenix for many years now, and plan on doing it forever. And while it's my name and face that you see mostly, I'm not doing this alone, this is a team effort. I call my team PhDs, which means Phoenix History Detectives. And even though the people on my team do most of the work, I take all of the credit, and as necessary, blame. But if you're new to the team, which means that you're just discovering history adventuring, this may seem a bit puzzling. I'll see if I can explain. I'm a visual person. I've spent all of my adult life as a graphic designer and illustrator. So basically I'm a Photoshop guy. And the images that I find I optimize in Photoshop (which just means to make them as clear and sharp as possible) and then I look at them. When I look at them, I imagine that I could actually go there, in time and space. And that's where my team comes in. Because, as have probably figured out by now, I

I'll admit it, I'm a girl-watcher, always have been, and always will be. Now calm down now, if that's you, too, you're not some kind of a weirdo. In fact, if you weren't a girl-watcher, I'd consider you weird. In a long life, everyone I've ever met has been a girl-watcher. Male, female, young, old, gay, straight. Everyone likes to look at women. As I drift into my senior years, seeing a lovely young woman increases my belief in a loving God. Or in the power of evolution, if that's what you prefer. Come on, let's go look at some girls! Walking towards the Del Webb Townehouse in the 1960s, wearing a red dress. It's the 1960s and we're in front of Del Webb's Townehouse, which is at 100 W. Clarendon. The palm tree back there is a Washingtonia Robusta, and the architecture is... oh never mind. Yes, that's quite the dress! The A-1 Queens Softball team in 1949, Phoenix, Arizona. Now let's time-travel to 1949 and meet

I was talking with one of my PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives) yesterday, and we both agreed about the amazing feeling that we get by just standing somewhere that is important in history. It's something that I've done for a very long time, and I'll see if I can explain what I'm seeing in the photo that I took last week the from window of the Starbucks on the southeast corner of 67th Avenue and Peoria in Glendale, Arizona. If you're familiar with Glendale, Arizona history, you know that the Sahuaro Ranch, originally owned by William Bartlett, was a square mile, or 640 acres, and in modern terms it extended from 67th Avenue and Peoria to 59th Avenue and Olive. A part of the ranch has been preserved, just south of the Main Glendale Library, and just north of Glendale Community College, but as big as that area is, it doesn't encompass the size of original ranch. Looking southeast over the Sahuaro Ranch in 1889. So no, there isn't anything left to see

OK, I'll admit it, I'm a tree-hugger. I especially like tropical plants, like palm trees. And one of the biggest, best, and oldest, arboretums in Arizona is the campus of ASU - Arizona State University. And if you're wondering where the arboretum is - it's the campus . Yes, the campus itself. Starting in 1885, there are have been many interesting and exotic trees planted there. The Tempe Normal School, now called ASU, in 1911 Finding gardens in the Phoenix area that have been continuously taken care of for over 100 years isn't easy. But viewing the arboretum at ASU is as easy as finding a visitor's parking spot (OK, maybe that's not so easy) and just wandering around the campus. Many of the more unusual specimens have little signs attached to them, but most are just old trees, like the Mediterranean palms in the photo at the top of this post, which are nearby the art building, south of University at Forest. So go there, already. Park legally so

Phoenix has always grown fast. Nowadays, most people think of the explosion of growth after World War II, in the 1950s, but today I'd like to take a look at the 1920s, from the point of view of people who had been living there for a while. Let's take a look. It's the 1920s and we're looking northwest on the corner of Central and Adams. We've lived in Phoenix since before the Heard Building (that monstrosity back there) was built in 1919, and before the streets were paved, in 1911. The first thing that I notice is that there is now a police officer standing in the road. And he has a "stop/go" sign. Before that, people just used courtesy on the streets, but now it's all enforced by law. What's Phoenix coming to? I don't see a gun on him, but I'm sure he has a whistle, and I'm sure if someone doesn't obey them, they're going to the hoosegow. Although I do have to admit that the paved streets are nice. It doesn't rai

As someone who is interested in Phoenix history, I've always been fascinated by the Westward Ho, which is on Central at Fillmore. It was built in 1928, and in its heyday was the height of luxury. Stories are told of celebrities, and mobsters, but that never really interested me. I'm interested in the architecture. It was built, at considerable expense, to attract the kind of people who could afford luxury. And when those people moved on to other places, the Westward Ho became just like any other old building in Phoenix, lost and neglected. The rich people had just lost interest. The pool at the Westward Ho in the 1960s, Central Avenue and Fillmore, Phoenix, Arizona. I visited the Westward Ho a couple of years ago, invited by one of the people who live in there now. It's now an apartment complex, especially for people who aren't rich. That is, affordable. And that means that the days of fancy cars pulling up to the front, with elegant women in mink coats are go

It's going to be a warm day, and I could use a beer. Since it's the 1940s, and we're staying at the Aztec Court Trailer Inn, I suggest that we take a walk over to the bar next door, the Gay Inn. Now calm down there, it's the 1940s, and back then the word gay just meant cheerful, and festive. And I figure that if I get a few A-1 beers in me, I'll be more cheerful. I'm no expert on beer, but A-1 is brewed right here in Phoenix, and besides it's a Pilsner (whatever that means!). Here we are, 3601 E. Van Buren. I see that they also sell ABC Supreme beer. Maybe I'll try that, too. What's this? Are you interested in Greyhound Racing? Maybe we'll go there some day. Barkeep! I'll have an A-1, and the same for my friend here! Nothing but the best. Let's toast to a great day in Phoenix! The Aztec Court, next to the Gay Inn in the 1940s, 36th Street and Van Buren, Phoenix, Arizona. Photos from the McCulloch Photography Collection

I feel like buying a car in 1940s Phoenix. Let's go to the Phoenix Motor Company, which is at 4th Avenue and Van Buren. Since this is an imaginary purchase, let's imagine that we have lots of money! You can get whatever you want! I think I'll get a Chevrolet. My Uncle Bob always drove Chevrolets, and he was a pretty smart guy! What? Oh sure, you can get a Buick. They're a little too flashy for my tastes, but I'm sure that we can find one that would be perfect for you. Here we are. Yes, it's just north of the Presbyterian Church. That reminds me, I really should go to church more often! So, what do you want? A convertible? Remember that price is no object - this is an imaginary story, and we have plenty of imaginary money! Window of the Phoenix Motor Company in the 1940s, 401 W. Van Buren, Phoenix, Arizona. Let's take a look in the window. Say, that's a dandy right there! I like that slogan "The longest of the lot!" Wait 'til

As someone who has been trying to figure out Phoenix history, one of the most common things I hear from people who were there in the 1950s, is that "everyone left". Businesses moved out of downtown into the new shopping malls, people stopped going to restaurants there, and "everyone left". Well, of course, not everyone. And the people who stayed behind are the type of forgotten people who had to move along when downtown Phoenix started getting "cleaned up" in the 1970s and '80s. And yes, a lot of it was because of buildings that were condemned, that were unsafe for people to live in, fire hazards, that sort of thing. If you're familiar with the new and improved downtown Phoenix, it may be just about impossible to believe that the photo at the top of this post is 7th Street and Jefferson. You know, where the baseball stadium has been since 1994. And yes, there were people there who had to move on. That's just how it works. Most of the peopl

To understand the history of Phoenix, or any modern city, you have to understand subdivisions, and suburbs. I took the pic at the top of this post yesterday, at the Alice Park subdivision in Glendale, which is on Seldon and 61st Avenue (south of Olive). And as a history adventurer, I have mixed feelings about subdivisions, and suburbia. As you know, Phoenix as originally platted went from Van Buren to Harrison, and from 7th Avenue to 7th Street. Everything beyond there was considered an "addition", or what we would call nowadays a "subdivision". So houses that we don't consider "suburbia", such as just north of downtown Phoenix, were actually exactly that, many years ago. And I'm sure that people had mixed feelings about seeing Phoenix grow. Not to mention the growth of other towns nearby, like Glendale, or Peoria, or Scottsdale! 1890 ad. Note the word "suburban". As the houses were built, the open spaces went away. The farms

Although nowadays most of us are comfortable describing anyone who works with cows as a "cowboy", it's not really what most of these people prefer to be called. And I don't mean "cowmen", either. The preferred term in old-time Phoenix, as now, is "hand". And that applies to people of any age, and gender. To be told that you're a useful hand at a ranch is a compliment. Of course, nowadays no one is really going to be all that offended by "cowboy", in spite of the word "boy", which really applies to humans of the male gender of a young age. Our language includes the word "boy" for grown men combined with "boyfriend" or "playboy", but really most men don't want to be referred to as a "boy". And most women would prefer not to be called boys, either! Cowboys, maybe. But in old-time Phoenix, they were cowhands, if they were good at their job. And while we're on the subject of

Let's go fishing. We can go to the Grand Canal, which has been there since 1885. In my imagination it's 1896, so all we need is a fishing pole, but we could do it IRL (In Real Life) today, in the same canal, but we'd need a fishing license. Oh yeah, and a fishing pole, I don't have one. Can I borrow yours? Yes, there are fish in the canals of Phoenix, and there always has been. The water comes from the Salt and Verde rivers, which are created by snowmelt up north. And while the water is cleaned up and purified before it's ready to be used in the bathtub, it's still just river water. With fish. And this water has flowed through the Salt River Valley for over 10,000 years, since the end of the last Ice Age. I've always been fascinated by the canals of Phoenix, and I've followed them from their beginnings to their ends. Grand Canal begins east of the Salt River Pima Indian Community, which is east of Scottsdale, and ends west of the Cardinal's st

I recently stumbled across a postcard showing an ostrich farm in Phoenix, Arizona. Based on the date of the postmark, it looks like it was about 1914. Of course it could have printed earlier than that, and the photo may be earlier, but I'm gonna say 1914. There had been ostrich farms around Phoenix since the turn of the century, and it was big business. The reason for the value of ostriches was that the feathers were used in ladies hats, and back then, just as today, there was a lot of money to be made in women's fashions! 1902 ostrich farm and feather salesroom ad, Phoenix, Arizona. Of course, when women decided one day that ostrich plumes were no longer fashionable, the bottom dropped out of the ostrich farming industry. I have no idea if they could be eaten, like chickens, or what their eggs tastes like, but I do know that they couldn't replace horses, and there's nothing more ridiculous than a cowboy riding an ostrich. 1913 map from Phoenix to an ostri

Walk with me. Let's wander around one of my favorite places in the whole world, the Sahuaro Ranch in Glendale, Arizona. Yes, they misspell it that way. It's been there since the 1880s, now lost in a suburb of Phoenix that hides the secret well. But I know where it is, and you know me, so let's go walk around. 1889, when it was called the Bartlett Ranch, and was waaay northwest of Glendale, Arizona, almost to Peoria. You're looking southeast. It's just north of Glendale Community College, which is on Olive between 59th Avenue and 63rd Avenue, and it's just south of the Main Library, which on Brown and 59th Avenue, just south of Peoria Avenue. And if you're trying to picture driving past it, you may have never seen it, although it's gigantic. It isn't on a major road, and the entrance on 59th is so subtle (just a gate with a peacock on it) that you'd probably miss it if you weren't looking for it. I like to walk there. Yesterday I h

Phoenix has a LOT of palm trees. Millions of them, and they've been there for well over 100 years. No, not the same ones, of course, but there have been palm trees displaying wealth and fertility since before the turn of the century. I like palm trees. And I've heard people argue that they aren't as utilitarian as they should be, and don't seem to provide a practical purpose. And I agree, they're like rose bushes, they're simply beautiful and show wealth and fertility. They've shown that Phoenix is no longer a desert, it's an oasis. It's hard for us to imagine nowadays, but getting people to actually move to the Phoenix area, and invest in it, wasn't easy. It was a desert. And while that might sound good to us, with purple mountains, and colorful plants, to turn-of-the-century people it was the worst place imaginable to live - the desert that they saw could best be described as "miles and miles of kitty-litter" (an expression I h

Although I usually go history adventuring in my imagination, yesterday I did it IRL (In Real Life), to Sun City, Arizona, where there is an amazingly gentle quiet. And I had mixed feelings about it, which I'd like to share with you. By the way, Sun City is a retirement community that was created by Del Webb in the early 1960s. It's just west of where I live, but in so many ways it has always seemed like a "different world" to me. And of course I knew nothing about it. Sun City, Arizona in the 1960s. You're looking south over Grand Avenue at 107th Avenue. I was visiting a friend who had been arranging to sell the home where his parents had lived in Sun City. And I chose to sit out in the front, where there is a little seating area, to watch the world go by. And like I say, I found things that I liked, and things that made me sad. Sit with me. The loudest noise was the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes. There were a lot of them, and I took a photo of on