The new neighborhood

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It's been four years this month since we sold our 1914 house in Willo and moved to Seattle. It was not a voluntary move, but one necessitated by the Republic ending my column after years of pressure to silence me, and then my inability to find work in Phoenix. We had hoped to live in this house, located a block from where I grew up, for the rest of our lives. Things didn't work out. The new neighborhood is very different. Here's the front-porch view from the condo downtown (in Belltown) looking east to Capitol Hill:

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A pocket park is right below the balcony.

The last titan

It was probably fitting that John Teets died amid the worst economic depression modern Phoenix has ever experienced. The retired head of Greyhound/Dial was the last of a breed that every competitive and livable city must have: A dynamic chief executive of a major local headquarters, passionately committed to the city, able to knock heads and write checks. I'll let Soleri take it from here:

As CEO of Dial, he was one of the last corporate titans who figured prominently in local affairs. He was a headknocker and socialite who helped make Phoenix more than just a branch-office backwater. I was living near Central & Palm Lane when the Dial building was built in 1990. It was part of Teets' stewardship ethic to make a big corporate statement close to but not in downtown. The original plan was to construct two towers, with one perpendicular to the other. As with so many real-estate dreams, this one was only partly realized. The result is a free-standing mountain of a building completely out of scale to its surroundings.

Teets spent lavishly on it but the tapestries he hung in the lobby, or the exquisite garden outside couldn't quite make up for the fact that it was another ostentatious project that seemed so much like the city it was built in: Isolated and strange.

Did Phoenix light rail fail?

My first experience with light rail came living in San Diego in the early 1980s. One segment linked downtown with the border crossing at San Ysidro. It was popular and uncontroversial. "I didn't think one of these could run without graffiti all over it," I heard a visitor from then dysfunctional New York exclaim of the new, bright red trainsets. As a reporter, I wrote about the Trolley, especially the ambitious expansion plans. San Diego is the most Republican of California's big cities, but the light-rail system was begun under Pete Wilson, a mediocre U.S. senator, bad California governor, but stellar San Diego mayor (he was also, along with developer Ernest Hahn, the father of the spectacularly revived downtown). Today, the San Diego Trolley extends 53 miles on three routes.

Then I lived in Denver, where the city started a segment downtown. It too, was popular and widely embraced. Now it comprises 39 miles with another 12 due in two years. I was in Charlotte for the planning of the now-operating Lynx light-rail, a relatively modest 10 miles, but more is in the works. It was the first modern light-rail system in the Old South and, again, widely supported, especially by the business leadership and developers who built hundreds of millions of dollars of projects near the line. Similar success happened in other cities, especially Dallas (!), with its 72-mile system and clammoring of suburbs to get the next line.

The story didn't play out that way in Phoenix. Yes, we built it, you bastards. But it's also time to take stock.

South Phoenix

South Phoenix

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South Phoenix encompasses so much history, so many cultures and distinct districts, it deserves more than one post. Every square mile is special. Still, a start. It's not a separate city such as South Tucson, so I'll go with the style "south Phoenix." When I hear the words "urban village," I reach for my Colt Python plus Speedloaders, so forget about the city's developer-speak term "South Mountain Village."

Then there's the matter of geography. For many Anglo Phoenicians, when the city still had some cohesion, "south Phoenix" began at the Southern Pacific tracks. This was, and latently remains, a place where "the other side of the tracks" is a powerful totem (it helped do in the unfortunately named Bentley Projects, the galleries, bookstore and cafe). A subset of "south Phoenix" emerged in the 1960s, to define everything below the somber wall of the Maricopa Freeway. And true south Phoenix is south of the Salt River. All must be dealt with.*

Phoenix's relatively small Mexican-American and African-American populations were historically located south of the tracks. Well into the 1970s, the commonplace offensive term for the latter was used by whites. Schools were segregated and inferior. Poverty and injustice were severe. Corruption by city officials legendary, at least through the 1940s. Most property ownership was controlled by deed covenants that largely excluded minorities (I told you this was a Southern town). Ownership was more possible south of the river, and minorities gathered there. (Most of the city's legendary and now largely lost barrios were north of the Salt, but a few, such as the River Bottom, were in south Phoenix proper). Minorities were also heavily employed as agricultural labor. This was farm country, especially after the completion of the Highline and Western canals by 1913.

The most successful farmers were the Japanese, who arrived early in the 20th century and were able to purchase farms in the 1930s, after Arizona's anti-"Yellow Peril" law was found unconstitutional. Arizonans my age remember them for the stunning Japanese Flower Gardens that ran for miles along Baseline Road. But the Japanese were among the most innovative growers, raising a variety of crops. This also raised much jealousy among Anglo farmers, who were happy to see them, including American citizens, interned during World War II. After this shameful episode, the Japanese, including many of their sons who had fought in the U.S. Army, returned to south Phoenix and farmed again.

The recovery con

When you wonder why this blog is such a downer to some readers, consider what I must read. For example, The Phoenix Business Journal last week published a story headlined, "Phoenix Cracks Forbes' Top 10 Potential Boom Cities." I am suspicious of these kind of lists, which can be shallow and misleading, although they are wildly popular. And Forbes is not exactly without an agenda. Still, I dutifully followed the link. Imagine my non-surprise when it turned out to be a post by Joel Kotkin, the four-square apologist for Sun Belt suburbia. He claimed to have crunched data to determine which "cities are best positioned to grow and prosper in the coming decade." Austin and Raleigh led the list. He goes on:

Our other two top ten, No. 9 Phoenix, Ariz., and No. 10 Orlando, Fla., have not done well in the recession, but both still have more jobs now than in 2000. Their demographics remain surprisingly robust. Despite some anti-immigrant agitation by local politicians, immigrants still seem to be flocking to both of these states. Known better as retirement havens, their ranks of children and families have surged over the past decade. Warm weather, pro-business environments and, most critically, a large supply of affordable housing should allow these regions to grow, if not in the overheated fashion of the past, at rates both steadier and more sustainable.

Thus enlightened, I set out on the due diligence and critical thinking that should be the basics of good journalism, but are seen as "negative" in booster culture.

All stars

Even the most skeptical auditor of Phoenix's challenges and follies must admit some pride in Major League Baseball's All-Star Game being held there. And in downtown Phoenix, not some "Valley," not in exurban "Glendale, Ariz." Considering how city leaders allowed the central city to circle the drain for decades, visitors will see some impressive efforts at revitalization: CityScape, the Phoenix Convention Center, Sheraton, biosciences campus, ASU downtown and light rail (we built it, you bastards). Oh, for big-city boutique hotels at the Westward Ho and Professional Building. The baseball stadium is ugly, a lost architectural opportunity, but at least it's downtown, an eventuality I highly doubt if it were being built today under present ownership. They can hop a train to Midtown to take in the spectacular Modern Mexican Painting exhibition at the Phoenix Art Museum, a pleasant contrast to the general, and generally deserved, reputation of intolerance and racism for the state at large. If you want to boycott, do so against the East Valley and Scottsdale (but not the Poisoned Pen bookstore), not tolerant central Phoenix.

Some quick advice to out-of-towners: It's a dry heat, but so is hell. So is a thermonuclear explosion. Stay hydrated (I freeze bottles of water to carry with me; they melt quickly but you're not left drinking hot water). Avoid much exposure to the sun. Wear light-colored clothes, especially white, and cover as much skin as possible. Keep some popsicles in the freezer at the hotel; have one to help cool down when you come in from outside. Don't do something stupid like climb Camelback Mountain or go "exploring" in the desert. God created air-conditioning for a reason — use it. A dark, cool Mexican restaurant is an especially satisfying hangout in the summer. If the media say the high will be 105, that's in the shade at Sky Harbor. The surface temp on the street is around 140. I hope to hell somebody will give them such advice, so there's not a great All-Star die-off. Too bad City Hall encouraged all that concrete, all that gravel and no shade trees.

Still, the big game is, at best, a temporary respite from the troubles of city and state.

The ambition deficit

Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood… — Daniel Burnham

Hard as it is to believe for someone my age, it's been 50 years since construction began on the Space Needle, the iconic symbol of Seattle and the centerpiece of the 1962 World's Fair. Seattle leaders elbowed out much better-known cities, including New York, to gain international accreditation of the event, which was a coming out party to the world for the Emerald City. The site is now Seattle Center, a cultural mecca in the central core right down the monorail from downtown. It was actually Seattle's second world's fair and had initially been developed to mark the 50th anniversary of the 1909 Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition, whose grounds became the University of Washington campus. Another one of my adopted hometowns, San Diego, also held two world's fairs, in 1915 and 1935 — their legacy was magnificent Balboa Park.

My real hometown never did one world's fair, even though it passed the population mark to be a big city more than half a century ago. It may be just as well. Unlike Seattle or San Diego (or even Knoxville, Tenn.), Phoenix would have built something out in the middle of nowhere and, unlike Seattle lucking out with the timeless Space Needle, suffered the worst of modern architecture. Maybe the dusty streets for an empty subdivision would have been left behind. Indeed, I was approached by a group of well-meaning folks in the mid-2000s to promote a world's fair in the former gravel beds of the Salt River. That it was far from downtown never seemed to have occured to them.

Still, this is another sign of Phoenix's astounding lack of ambition. It plays in the majors. It just doesn't want to admit it. I recall hearing from someone who moved to Phoenix and tried, within his modest means, to push forward a project of civic betterment. He was taken aside and told, "People move to the Valley to be left alone. That's the way they like it. You either have to live with that or move." He moved.

Off the edge

Yet another pipe dream has exploded in the Phoenix Depression. This time Steve Ellman's Westgate "City Center," — the Republic story pimped the development as "the flashy dining and shopping complex that anchors Glendale's football stadium and hockey arena" — is facing foreclosure.

This is time to revisit my 2010 post on Glendale's folly. It's also relevant coming directly after the popular Phoenix 101: Malls. Yet more needs to be said; not to make thin-skinned Phoenicians feel depressed, as is the usual criticism, but to learn something from these costly debacles to move the metro area forward into some kind of broad, non-heat-island-scorched uplands.

The only ones that could be surprised by the Westgate mess are those millions who drank the developer-speak Kool-Aid ("flashy dining and shopping complex" blah blah blah). Every time I was forced to go there for an event, the place was dead. It was far from anything else besides a too-narrow freeway, unless you wanted to farm some cotton or throw up the frames of subdivisions on former farm land. Nor is it flashy, aside from the sun blinding you when it hits the bumper of some jacked-up truck in the parking lot. It is off-the-shelf suburban stuff found everywhere, with the unfortunate distinction that all the asphalt and concrete, besides being ugly, adds a special hellish ambiance even when the surface temp is not 140 degrees.

How malls remade old Phoenix

How malls remade old Phoenix

Park_Central_Shopping_City_parking_lot_1950sSing a city of malls. Actually, the first modern mall west of the Mississippi was built in Dallas and the first suburban mall was Northgate in Seattle (now closed and turning into a dense development around light rail). But it's easy to imagine Phoenix invented them. They were not good for those of us who loved shopping at the great stores downtown, and how they contributed to the central core's collapse.  But most Phoenicians loved them.

When I write "mall," I don't mean the beautiful 19th century Arcade in downtown Dayton. I mean a shopping complex built around the automobile. Park Central was Phoenix's first, developed by the Burgbacher brothers on the site of the former Central Dairy and opening in 1957. It was anchored by Diamond's, Newberry's and Goldwater's, the latter closing its downtown store two miles south and beginning the end of downtown retail.

Even so, in the early- and mid-1960s, downtown held its own as the state's busiest shopping destination — but the die was cast. Most natives don't even remember when Phoenix was more than a city of malls.

I grew up within bicycle distance of Park Central (had my bike stolen there, too). It was open air (the city was not yet devastated by the heat island), convenient and wildly popular. It anchored Midtown, along with the twin towers across the street, the taller of which sported an outside glass elevator and the shorter being home to the Playboy Club. Old Park Central was semi-urban, contiguous to the city and human-scaled.

It was followed by Biltmore Fashion Square, which until Westcor turned it into another lookalike suburban soul-killer, was also open air, with plenty of shade and in a pleasing scale. Across the street was the open-air Town and Country shopping center (which was not an empty name, for the city around it was still meshed with citrus groves and horse properties). Chris-Town became the first enclosed, air-conditioned mall in 1961 — the property has been a farm owned by the Chris family.

The fire this time

As I write, the Wallow fire in eastern Arizona is at 607 square miles — larger than the city of Phoenix — and zero containment. I haven't been to Eager or Springerville in more than 30 years, but Google Earth confirms that this is still a part of the state that has not been consumed by the Growth Machine. All of Apache County has less than 72,000 people and grew only 3 percent from 2000 to 2010. It is magic country.

Unlike the Rodeo-Chedeski fire, which consumed 732 square miles along the Mogollon Rim, this doesn't appear to have the added risk of hundreds of tract houses built amid pine trees on land made private by secretive federal land swaps. It also lacks Valinda Jo Elliott, the accidental arsonist, who stalked away from a fight with her boyfriend carrying the essentials for the wilderness that every Boy Scout learns to carry: Cigarettes, a lighter, flip-flops and a towel. And be sure to light a "signal fire" in dry, windy country when you get lost. She is the perfect Arizona voter, if not member of the Legislature.

This is pure tragedy. It is also a taste of the future.

.357 to Yuma

As the world knows, five people were gunned down last Thursday in and near Yuma before the 73-year-old killer took his own life. Yet another person was left in critical condition. The mainspring of the violence was a nasty divorce, but, even though overall crime is falling, the tendency to reach for a gun is if anything on the rise. Especially in Arizona. This latest bloodbath comes a mere five months after nineteen people were shot, six fatally, during an assassination attempt on Democratic Rep. Gabrielle Giffords at a suburban Tucson shopping center.

The Arizona Republic wrote the predictable lines about the "killing spree that shocked the tight-knit farming community of Wellton, outside of Yuma" where the ex-husband killed the ex-wife. This, of course, is not true. Wellton, where the onetime northern main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad diverged for Phoenix from the southern main, was indeed once tight-knit and a farming community. The northern main has been out of commission for years because the state wouldn't help upgrade it to ensure continued Amtrak service to Phoenix and Phoenix has so few rail-bound exports now. The farming is mostly large-scale and industrial, much of it moving there after having been pushed out of the Salt River Valley. Wellton is now an extension of the Interstate 8 sprawl that trickles out from Yuma.

Yuma is rich in Arizona history; not just the territorial prison, but the 19th century steamboats that plied the Colorado River, the railhead into the territory from California, and the long political rein of state Sen. Harold Giss, one of the most powerful men in Arizona in the mid-20th century. It is also one of the bleakest locations in America outside of West Texas — near the end of a great river "tamed" to death and so hot it makes Phoenix seem like Seattle by comparison. Yet it has become a retirement magnet, especially for those with less money. Sun, it has. It is also a very poor place, close to Mexico to feed the farm economy with labor, and consistently suffers some of the worst unemployment, income levels, educational attainment and child poverty. It has about 200,000 people in a place with a carrying capacity for one-tenth that number. As elsewhere, sprawl and population growth have annihilated "tight-knit" and "community." Much less civic culture, a "we" society and the brain mechanisms that preserve the always-fragile wall between civilization and nihilism.

Palin in Scottsdale

Just when we thought the Arizona Freak Show couldn't get any more grotesque, Sarah Palin buys a $1.7 million house near Hayden Road and Dynamite "Boulevard" in north Scottsdale. Apparently the title release came through a robo-signed (fraudulent) procedure. The Kooks write better real-life material than I could invent. The New York Times did a whimsical piece on "neighborly advice for the Palins," including wear sunscreen and watch for rattlesnakes. But it made north Scottsdale sound like a real community, which it's not. In fact, she'll fit right in with the white-apartheid culture there, where people don't want to know their neighbors, fear going south of Bell Road, shout down opposing views in city council meetings and live somewhere else for most of the year. The shocker would have been if she had bought a hundred-year-old bungalow in the Phoenix historic districts.

She will find simpatico "neighbors" who believe the banking panic was caused by the socialist Community Reinvestment Act, that America is under siege from Mexican immigration, which somehow just happened despite the resistance by the God-fearing Anglos, and the Patriot Act is too politically correct. Her motorcade can take her to outer-belt chain book stores for signings. Maybe Russell Pearce can get an audience. Maybe she can get an audience with the Badged Ego. One must wonder what Sen. John McCain, R-Fox News, must think. From the authoritative reporting of the presidential campaign, it seems the two didn't get along. McCain is rarely in the state anyway. Not for nothing did daughter Meghan flee to a bachelorette pad in west Hollywood.

Will Palin run for Jon Kyl's Senate seat? She could win it, no question. She's with her base now, far more than in Alaska where her half term as governor left much bad blood. Will she use Arizona as a base from which to launch a presidential campaign for 2012? Why should we care? Alas, we must. She is able to galvanize the white-right in a way no other Republican can. The fact that she has no accomplishments and plays up her arrogant ignorance makes no difference (here's a recent example). Far from being a liability in today's America, it is an asset.

Centennial blues

So it has come down to this. Arizona will mark the centennial of its statehood in 2012 by leaning on schoolchildren to "shine" the territorial capitol dome (always on the cheap, Arizona never built a real state capitol building). It will do a $7 million "streetscape renovation project" on Washington between downtown and the capitol. "Plans call for that stretch of roadway to be 'transformed' with wider, more-decorative sidewalks and crosswalks, enhanced street and pedestrian lighting, benches, shade canopies, bike lanes and displays that feature historical and cultural information about Arizona's 15 counties," the Arizona Republic reported. Something will honor the indigenous tribes whose land we stole, without putting it that way, of course. I can imagine the outcome: Gravel, concrete and shadeless palo verde trees in a no-man's-land of vacant lots and soulless state office buildings. Too bad the leafy neighborhood of Victorian houses and territorial-era apartments that once stood there couldn't have been saved, and no reinvestment in this precious historic area happened. The truly historic mining museum was kicked out for some nebulous "five Cs" museum. And that's it.

The only silver lining to this cavalcade of underachievement and failure that I can find is that the state avoided some brutal piece of post-modern celebrity architecture in a new capitol building. Otherwise, how sad. And don't blame the Great Recession: Any effort to significantly commemorate Arizona's 100th birthday would have had to be started years ago, during the so-called boom. There was no more appetite for it then, either. Public virtues, community virtues, civilizational aspirations: Don't look for them here. It's not that the state lacks the means; at 6.4 million people it is the third most populous state in the West. It just lacks the interest.

Consider West Virginia, carved out of the Old Dominion by the Civil War. It finally dedicated a classic, lovely state capitol building, designed by Cass Gilbert, in 1932 during the depth of the Great Depression. This is a poor, isolated state. Are you telling me growthgasm Arizona couldn't do as well? Instead, we got the horrendous executive office tower in the mid-1970s, which visually obliterates the copper dome of the old capitol and looks very much like a jail. Perhaps that helps explain the series of legal troubles that ensnared Arizona governors. Or consider Chicago's Millennium Park, a magnificent public space. Conservative Cincinnati marked its bicentennial by beginning to reclaim its riverfront with parks and the Serpentine Wall along the Ohio River. For Arizona and Phoenix — nothing. The city lacks even one heroic or historic statue in a public space downtown (even Oklahoma City, younger than Phoenix, has at least one). This despite all the wealth and capital that poured into the state, decade after decade, going into community-destroying sprawl and little else.

Why isn’t Joe Arpaio in jail?

That's the question Matt Taibbi would ask, as he did in his famous diatribe against Wall Street. For the more sober purposes of this blog, the question is, Why is Joe Arpaio still in office? The latest reason is Chief Deputy David Hendershott being forced from office with allegations of misconduct, including using the Maricopa County Sheriff's Office anti-corruption unit to smear foes and featherbedding the jobs of his friends. The deputy chief was ousted, too. (And all this from an investigation by the friendly Pinal County Sheriff Paul Babeau). As Arpaio adamantly says he will not resign, the question of his lax oversight of his chief deputy/sycophant becomes very much like one that should be directed to the banksters: Were you corrupt or stupid? Which one? There's no other answer, especially for a man who presents himself as so smart, so in charge, so much America's Toughest Sheriff.

The abuses of Arpaio go back many years. No wonder his office is under investigation by the U.S. Justice Department and a federal grand jury. Real police officers have no use for Arpaio, referring to him as the "Badged Ego." He co-opted most of the media years ago, including the Arizona Republic, where crusading is not part of the Gannett business model. Eugene C. Pulliam would have run him out of office and out of the state long ago. Still, the Republic has done a creditable job on the Hendershott investigation, if not exactly jumping on allegations that those in the law enforcement community had known about for years. Most of the media were played like a cheap fiddle with the chain gang, the tent jail, pink underwear and the "sweeps." One exception is New Times, which has fearlessly investigated Arpaio for more than 15 years. The casual violations of civil rights, cronyism, lack of attention to actually doing the job and high costs to taxpayers are not in question.

Why is Joe Arpaio still in office, particularly when voters twice had the choice of a lawman beyond reproach, Dan Sabin? It says much about the condition of today's Phoenix and Maricopa County.

The Giffords test

NASA keeps putting off the final launch of space shuttle Endeavor, so who knows when it will finally lift off. It's a media event because Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, who survived a grievous injury, flew to Cape Canaveral to witness the first attempt which was scrubbed. President Obama was another guest. I'm sure she'll try to return when her husband and his crew finally make it off the pad. And America — and Arizona — have written an inspiring, inoffensive narrative of the affair: Plucky heroine fights back from adversity to see her heroic spouse fly into space. What happens next? Is she, some ask, the natural replacement for Sen. Jon Kyl when he retires?

Little of this is real, but it's a test of our collective blast-off from reality. No one but family and close friends really know how she's recovering from such a traumatic injury. There's no chance that a Democratic congresswoman from Pima County who barely secured re-election could win the statewide Senate race in an Arizona that is one of the reddest places in America.

Most horrendous in this Lifetime movie version of events is the Soviet-style airbrushing of the most important fact: Giffords was the target of an assassination attempt that grew directly out of the extreme hate- and gun-filled rhetoric of the Tea Party election season in 2009 and 2010. Almost immediately after the shooting, which claimed six lives and injured 12 others, the rewriting of history began. Why, this was just the work of a deranged individual. So what if his reading included Ayn Rand? And what possibly could be the connection between Jared Lee Loughner and, say, repeated death threats to Giffords, the widely televised gun-toters at the president's appearance at the Phoenix Convention Center, Sarah Palin's gun sights on Democratic candidates (including Giffords), lines such as "Don't retreat, reload" (Palin) and "I want people in Minnesota armed and dangerous…" (Michele Bachmann), and the weakest gun laws in the country. Nothing to see here, move along.