History Adventuring

It's 1903, we're in Phoenix, Arizona, and I need to get a suit made. Let's go to Nicholson, Artistic Tailor and Cutter. They're at 37 W. Washington, which is on Washington just west of Central on the south side of the street. They've been there for four years, a well-established place! No, I'm not contemplating matrimony, are you? If I did I'd get one of those swell Prince Albert coats! But I think that everybody should have a Dress Suit, even me. And Phoenix is the social center of the territory, you know! I guess I need to order my suit for spring and summer, although I can't imagine wearing a suit in Phoenix at that time of year. I see that they can make suits out of wool - I guess if Phoenix suddenly gets cold in the summer? I wonder how I'd look in Tweeds? And I wonder what a Chevoit is? Looks like they can make a suit in a day if necessary. They have fourteen tailors there, the best in the west! I think I'll order the su

It's Saturday Evening, May 3rd 1913, we're in Phoenix, Arizona, so let's go see the new Fords. The big parade starts at 8:00 o'Clock. According to the ad that I'm reading in the paper, it's all about Ed Rudolph's new location, at 3rd Street and Adams. I like the Roadster, but the Touring Car is nice, if you have the money. Luckily, this is an imaginary story, so we should have imaginary money, right? Look! There's Ed, the man that sells 'em. I wonder if he'd give me a discount? Or maybe a free car? I could drive it around town and give him free advertising. What do you think? Maybe you could go ask him for me? I'd let him put my name in the paper, just like B.F. Casper, C.H. Tinker, Mrs. J.A. Ivy, J.W. DeFever,C.C. Custer, S. Harry Robertson, H. Creswell, J.P. Stenry, Harry Moon, Frank Avery, H.J. Schaulis, Jack Tharpe, E.H. Winters, G.A. White, Louis Derosier, White and Schewel, and C.H. Spain. Or maybe we can j

Yesterday I walked from Glendale, Arizona to Peoria, Arizona. They are two suburbs of Phoenix that originally were five miles apart. So, if you know the Phoenix area, and you know a little bit about its history, you would have been impressed if I told you that I walked from one little town to another 100 years ago. Yesterday, you wouldn't have been impressed, because the two cities meet in the center of 67th Avenue. That is, when you walk across 67th Avenue, you start in Glendale, and when you get halfway you're in Peoria. I've lived in Glendale for a long time, and I've even seen the Peoria police cars turn left, while the Glendale police cars turn right. But make no mistake, if needs be, the two cities help each other out. It isn't as if the Glendale police would chase you to the city limits and stop! When I lived in Los Angeles, it was a crazy patchwork of little towns that had grown together. Just a few decades before I lived there there were open spaces

Walk with me. Today we're going to the Sahuaro Ranch (yes, they misspell it that way), which is just north of Glendale Community College, which is at 59th Avenue and Olive in Glendale, Arizona. I've been there more times than I can count, and yes, I want to go back. I find wonderful serenity there, but it's also a place of activity. I choose to go there when the activities, such as art shows, or weddings, or whatever, aren't going on because I'm kind of a dreamy person who wants to imagine what it all looked like 100 years ago. The Ranch is only a few blocks from me, and it's right next door to where I worked, so it isn't as if it's very far away, and yet it feels millions of miles away when I'm there. I took the photo at the top of this post as I was walking home from my dentist, which is on 51st Avenue and Olive. I walked through the neighborhood and entered on Mountain View. And the instant that I stepped through the arch on 59th Avenue (

This morning I walked under an Arizona sky, which I do every day. And after I stopped and took a photo I got to thinking how weird my point of view is, and always has been. If you understand me, you're kinda weird, too. Walk with me. When I travel with people, I'm often interested in what they see. Responsible people, like pilots, and drivers, watch out so that they don't crash. I like that, and have always been happy to delegate that responsibility to them. When I fly in a plane, I look at the clouds out of the window, and trust that the pilot is doing his or her job up there. It's the same whenever I'm a passenger. I've always blamed it on my "artsy" attitude, which started for me as a little kid, drawing, and then painting. It's a way of looking. This way of looking at things comes naturally to everyone, and most people outgrow it by age 4 or 5, when they start school. At that point they learn to pay attention to what the grownups want th

Yesterday I visited the History Museum in Cave Creek, Arizona, which is just north of Phoenix. And I did my usual time-traveling. I stood there and imagined what it looked like and felt like, over 100 years ago. There's a wonderful display outside of the museum that most people walk right past, that gives this feeling. You can see the old stuff, and also see the mountains as the backdrop, smell the desert air, hear the quiet. Yeah, most people who go to museums immediately head inside to look at displays, which is fine for them, but doesn't really do much for me. I prefer the road less traveled. And yesterday as I was walking up to take a photo of an old gate from one of the original ranches in Cave Creek, I saw that I wasn't alone. There was a young man carrying a baby, trailed after by some toddlers. The baby looked as if it had been born about ten minutes ago (I don't know nothing about no babies!), and he carried it with ease, slung over one arm. He greeted

I've driven back and forth between Phoenix and Los Angeles more times than I can count. And I've always hated the drive. Sitting in a car for hours and hours, staring ahead of me at just about nothing but taillights, and the annoyance of passing trucks, isn't my idea of fun. So I've always tried to make it more interesting by stopping at Desert Center, Indio, and Palm Springs. I haven't been there in years, but I'd imagine that Desert Center, Indio, and Palm Springs are still there. Most of the people that I talk to who have driven from Phoenix to LA are familiar with Indio, it's right on the freeway, but few people have stopped at Desert Center or Palm Springs, which aren't on the freeway. Desert Center always made me feel as if I was half-way there. I don't know if it's geographically true, and I'm never going to bother to measure the distance, but the name makes me feel as if I'm in the center of my journey. If you've ever s

It's been cold and rainy in Glendale lately, which is unusual, so I've avoided doing much walking. But today, in spite of the cold wind, it was sunny, so I ventured out to do my morning walk, which totals to about 1/2 mile. I live near the northwest corner of the original Sahuaro Ranch, and a couple of decades ago a McDonald's was built just about half a block further on, so I like to walk there, get some coffee, and walk back. I usually take the shortest route there, and then a longer route back (I call that a "long-cut"). On my walk back I amble a bit and ponder this and that. If you've ever walked around suburban Glendale, you know that there are very few people walking. In the early morning I see the kids walking to school, but after that the sidewalks are pretty empty, especially in the neighborhoods. There really aren't very many cars, either, off of the main streets. So while it's not as scenic as say, walking along the beach, at least it&#

As someone who enjoys walking, and has spent his whole life in cities, with sidewalks, I often look down and see the date stamp on the concrete, and it makes me ponder the history of that area. The neighborhood where I live in Glendale, Arizona (a suburb of Phoenix) was built in the early 1980s. I know that the house that I'm in was built in 1985. And so the sidewalks, which were built at the same time, are date stamped right around that time. Several of the date stamps, as you can see by the photo at the top of this post, have the "4" drawn in, as presumably they didn't have that number handy when the concrete was wet. The concrete seems have held up fine for decades, although part of the date stamp being drawn like that makes me wonder just how great the quality control was for "New System Concrete Inc." I'm sure it's fine. DBA Construction Inc., which updated the corners in 2019, seems to have been more organized. I've always enjoyed lo

It's 1942, and we're women in Phoenix, Arizona. Not only are we helping in war plants, and war work, but we are also helping by looking our prettiest. We realize that an attractive woman is an inspiration to all, especially during war times. So let's go over to Juanita's Beauty Shop in the Fox Theater Building, at 1st Street and Washington. According to their ad, Juanita's operators are expert and efficient, and her rates are reasonable. I wonder what I should get? A Permanent Complete, for three dollars, a Plain Shampoo and Wave Complete for a dollar, or a Eucalyptus Oil Shampoo and Wave for a buck and a quarter? The Fox Theater Building in the 1940s, 1st Street and Washington, Phoenix, Arizona. May I use your phone? "Hello operator, please connect me with 3-7138. Yes, I'd like to speak to Juanita." If you liked this article, and would like to see more, please consider becoming a patron of History Adventuring on Patreon. If you're al

History adventuring saved my life, and I believe that it can save your life, too. And no, I don't mean this blog, or the Patreon page, or anything like that. I mean the process, and the mindset. I'll see if I can explain. Walk with me. I started going history adventuring many years ago after a terrible accident that suddenly took away just about everything I loved to do (please don't ask). I lost my ability to play golf, even to drive a car. In reality I could still do these things, but the joy was gone. I needed to find joy elsewhere. And on days like this, when I can't walk (which is only temporary nowadays) I walk in my imagination. My damaged body will never be the same, but my spirit can continue to soar, as can yours, if you choose to. If you've had terrible things happen to you, you understand. If not, I envy you, I hope that you never will see them. And since it works so well for me, I'd like to continue on doing it for the rest of my life, rega

I just loved being a corporate guy. I worked for Valley National Bank, which became Bank One, from 1989 to 1996. And to my surprise, most people can't see it from my point of view. I'll see if I can explain. When I moved back to Phoenix from Los Angeles, with my tail between my legs, I was afraid that my wonderful corporate life was over. In California I had worked for Blue Cross in a beautiful building with everything from state-of-the art computers to a cafeteria. Not only was it a great job, with a nice salary and great benefits, it gave me a way to define myself. I just loved answering the phone "Communications, this is Brad". I was in my late twenties, and it just made me feel so grown up. I had a great boss who intended to promote me to his position as he moved higher in the company, and I also had a gorgeous girlfriend. Life was good. And then it suddenly ended when our department was eliminated. Just like that. I hadn't intended to move back to Phoe

If you're familiar with Phoenix, the view in the pic at the top of this post is just amazing. You're at 7th Street between Glendale Avenue and Northern looking east. Needless to say, it doesn't look like this anymore! Of course if you're not familiar with Phoenix, this just looks like anywhere with mountains in the background and a plowed field in the foreground. And there are still a LOT of places in Arizona, and California, that still look like this. But to visit this in Phoenix takes some time-traveling. Let's go visit Mr. Lotfus and look at his grapevines! Similar view from Google® Street View. This is looking east from 7th Street on Northern, but it's as close as I could get to see the mountains. There's a city in the way now! Many things change in Phoenix, of course, but the mountains remain the same. If you stand there today, assuming that you're not standing next to a building, they look the same. The vineyard is gone, because Phoenix h

Yesterday, while I was enjoying some coffee at the McDonalds which is just northwest of the original edge of the Sahuaro Ranch in Glendale (67th Avenue and Peoria) I talked to a young man who told me that he was working with the homeless in Phoenix. And I was surprised that he wasn't familiar with the word "transient". Because transient people have always been in Phoenix, and the word transient simply means someone who moves around. There's an emotional connotation to the word "homeless" which he told me implies that someone has lost their home and would like to get back into one. Transient people aren't all necessarily that way. I'll see if I can explain. Time-travel with me to old-time Phoenix. Certain old-fashioned terms really don't mean much anymore, but I'll start with the word "Hobo". That was just someone who traveled around, sometimes walking, sometimes hitching a ride. They may, or may not have been wishing that the

Phoenix is getting to be so modern! It's 1913, and in addition to some paved roads, there are several grocery stores. Let's go try some crackers and cakes made by the National Biscuit Company! They're over at Elwell's. You know the place, at 2nd Street and Washington. Yes, I suppose we could call them at 714, but I don't have one of those new-fangled telephones. We could take the trolley, but a little bit of exercise will do us good. Besides I'm low on coin these days! You understand. The Elwell Grocery Company is having a free demonstration of crackers and cakes, and I think that means free food! Here we are. What? The crackers? They're right over there, in the barrel. What? Plastic wrapping? What are you talking about? This is 1913, the crackers are in the cracker barrel. Dig in! No, there's no plastic scoops, just use your hands. Yes, I washed my hands. Last Tuesday, I think. Besides, I don't believe in all of that nonsense about "ge

It's 1913, I'm a young man in a wealthy family in Phoenix, and I want a motorcycle. I've been following the news in the paper about the desert races and I've decided that I want a Harley-Davidson. I've been reading in the paper about which motors are the best for desert racing, which is what I plan on doing. My dad tells me that I could get an Indian, an Excelsior, a Thor, or a Harley-Davidson. I want a Harley-Davidson! My dad disagrees, but he says he'll still buy me anything I want. He likes names like Thor, or Excelsior, even Indian. He thinks "Harley" doesn't have the right sound. What does he know? He's going to be paying for it, but he isn't going to be riding it. If anyone thinks the name of my motorcycle is funny, I'll just punch them in the nose! I'm trying to imagine how powerful the motor will be. We have several very strong horses here, and I've even been in a wagon pulled by four of them. But eight horses w

I enjoy watching Phoenix grow, and that's a good thing to do, as Phoenix has been growing, very quickly, since it began, in 1870. The one thing that everyone who has ever lived in Phoenix has in common is "wow, it's changed!" Yesterday, as I was trying not to think about the root canal that I was about to have, I looked out of the window at some construction going on, either condos or apartments, at 83rd Avenue and Thunderbird, in Glendale, a suburb of Phoenix. And while the nurse and the dentist seemed to think that I wanted to know about root canals, my mind wandered to thinking about what people will think of those condos years from now. Time-travel with me (let's not think about root canals!) to when future generations will look back on those condos as "old fashioned" or "quaint". Right now, of course, they're the latest thing, the latest design. They're made up of multiple colors, and shapes, with the idea being I guess to b

A snowflake melts in northern Arizona, and as it becomes water, it begins to roll downhill and travels south. It joins with other drops of water, coming from 13,000 square miles of watershed, and pauses at the Roosevelt Dam. It then travels on, heading towards Glendale, Arizona, where I live. It dances on my face as I shave, and then it continues on. It pauses at the confluence of three rivers: the Agua Fria, the Salt, and the Gila (Tres Rios), and travels on towards Yuma, in the Gila River. At the mouth of the Gulf of California, it enters the ocean and joins up with other drops. Soon it will begin its journey again, by rising into the sky, and quite possibly falling again as snow in northern Arizona, and maybe one day it will visit my face again. If you liked this article, and would like to see more in the future, please consider becoming a patron of History Adventuring on Patreon. If you're already a patron, thank you! Your pledge makes this happen! Click here to be

I've been collecting and sharing photos of old-time Phoenix for many years now, but it's only been recently that I've noticed how absolutely random they must seem to be to people who are visiting me for the first time on Instagram, or Facebook, or Pinterest, or Patreon. And it's simply that I've been "unstuck in time" for quite a while. And that just means that at one moment it could be the 1940s, and then the '60s, and then territorial times, back and forth, with no real pattern, no path, just jumping around. That's being unstuck in time. I just love it, and I hope you do, too, as it means that we can instantly be anywhere, at any time. I rely on my friends, the PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives) to help identify where and when the photos are. And I know that most people have a favorite place and time, maybe their childhood, maybe the days before air conditioning, maybe the roaring twenties. I like them all, and the only thing that I don'

As I was browsing through the Desert Magazine from 1944, I saw a blurb about the problems that Phoenix was having with joyriders taking cars that had their keys left in them, and it's gotten me to thinking about all of that. Speaking for myself, I never even dreamed of leaving my keys in the ignition of my car, but I do remember the TV commercials when I was a kid in the 1960s that said, "Lock your car, take your keys", so it must have been a problem that persisted for decades. Whether my parents, or grandparents, did that, I don't remember. They probably did. I don't know about you, but I did have my car stolen by a joyrider in Phoenix, back in the '90s. No, I hadn't left my keys in the ignition, but apparently the make and model of car I had was easy to get into, and steal. All I really remember about it was the strange feeling of walking out to where I had parked my car, and realizing it was gone. Just in case you're wondering, the police did

Let's time-travel back to turn-of-the-century Phoenix and stay at the Ford Hotel, which was on Washington and 2nd Avenue. Of course air conditioning hasn't been invented yet, but the nights even back then before pavement and asphalt were pretty darned hot, and most hotels had beds outside so their customers could actually try to "cool off" enough to get to some sleep. In this journey of imagination we're men. I'm going to say that we're traveling salesmen. No one vacations in Phoenix when it's hot, but we have a job to do. It's miserably hot there, even at night, but we're tough. We're old campaigners, fought side-by-side in the war, so this is nothing. OK, the sun is going down but it's still miserably hot. How in the world can people live here? Let's go see how it is out on the sleeping porch. Still hot, but not as bad as inside of the room. I wonder if someday there will be some kind of magical way to cool off a room? Yes,