Desert Visions and the Making of Phoenix, 1860-2009

Desert Visions and the Making of Phoenix, 1860–2009

Desert Visions and the Making of Phoenix, 1860–2009

Philip VanderMeer

University of New Mexico Press | Albuquerque

ISBN for this digital edition: 978-0-8263-4893-7

© 2010 by the University of New Mexico Press

All rights reserved. Published 2010

Printed in the United States of America

First paperbound printing, 2012

Paperbound ISBN: 978-0-8263-4892-0

The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

VanderMeer, Philip R., 1947–

Desert visions and the making of Phoenix, 1860–2009 / Philip VanderMeer.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-8263-4891-3 (cloth : alk. paper)

 1. Phoenix (Ariz.)—History. 2. Phoenix (Ariz.)—Economic conditions. 3. Phoenix (Ariz.)—Social conditions. 4. Phoenix (Ariz.)—Politics and government. 5. City and town life—Arizona—Phoenix—History. 6. City planning—Arizona—Phoenix—History. 7. Social change—Arizona—Phoenix—History. 8. Cities and towns—United States—Growth—Case studies. I. Title.

F819.P57V358 2010

979.1’73—dc22

2010033059

For Mary, with love and gratitude

Contents

TABLES

FIGURES

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Introduction

Part I The First Desert Vision: An American Eden

1 Civilizing the Desert: The Initial Phase

Physical Realities and Early Settlement

The Town That Agriculture Built

Building a Town

Establishing the Public City

Building a Hydraulic System: Controlling and Using Water

Climate and Health

2 Building the Modern City: Physical Form and Function

Phoenix in an Urban Context, 1890–1920

The Changing Urban Form

The Changing Urban Form I: Downtown

The Changing Urban Form II: From Streetcar Suburbs to Automobile Suburbs

Remaking or Saving the Desert

3 Shaping the Modern American City: Social Construction

Making a Moral City

Making a Cultured City

A Lively City

Social Structures and Diverse Peoples

Governing the City

Selling the City

Crisis and Completion: The 1930s

Controlling the Climate

The Phoenix Economic Elite

Phoenix in 1940

Part II Creating and Pursuing a New Vision, 1940–60

4 Creating a New Vision: The War and After

How the Military Reshaped Phoenix

Building an Aviation Industry

The Expansion of Military Aviation

The Military and Phoenix Politics

Postwar Trials and Shaping a New Vision

The Growth of Tourism

Migration and Health

Overcoming Climate and Distance

Planning the Future

Phoenix Leaders and a New Vision

Conclusion

5 Building a New Politics

Political Conflict

From Charter Reform to Charter Government

The Nature and Success of Charter Government

Political Debates and City Services

Managing and Planning for a Growing City

The Top Job: Water

Getting Around the City

Growth and Other Services

6 Growing the City: Economic, Cultural, and Spatial Expansion

Growth of the Postwar Economy

Planning for Manufacturing

High-Tech Firms and a Changing Economy

Shaping Identities: Western and Outdoor Cultures

High Culture and the Arts

Growth and Annexation

A Dramatically Different Place

Part III Elaborating and Modifying the High-Tech Suburban Vision

7 From Houses to Communities: Suburban Growth in the Postwar Metropolis, 1945–1980

Building Homes

Houses for a Growing Population

Phoenix Builders and the Home Building Industry

Building Homes in Phoenix

The Structure and Size of Phoenix Homes

Building Affordable Housing

Building Communities

The Shift to Community Building

New Approaches to Residence: Retirement Communities

New Towns

Planned Communities

From Agricultural Satellites to Supersuburbs

Shopping for Community

Conclusion

8 Political Change and Changing Policies in the 1960s and 1970s

Charter Government and Politics of the Center

Charter Government as a Liberal Movement

A Conservative Turn and Charter Government’s Demise

Taxes and Revenues

The Politics of City Services

Civil Rights, Poverty, and City Politics

Mexican American Political Activism

9 Changing the Urban Form: The Politics of Place and Space

The Politics of Housing

The Politics of Place and Space: Downtown

The Politics of Place and Space: Older Neighborhoods

Planning, Land Use, and Sprawl

Planning to Live in the Desert

Planning and the Urban Village

The Growth Crisis

10 An Uncertain Future: Looking for a New Vision

Creating a New Economic Vision

Prelude: A Maturing Economy, 1960–1980

Continuing Economic Strengths after 1980

Rising Economic Problems

The Collapse of High Tech

A Building and Financial Crisis

Planning and Responses to Economic Challenge

Creating a New Political Vision

Leadership and a New Politics

Representing Citizens and Governing the City

A New Urban Vision

Building the City: The Downtown Era

The Reemerging Role for Culture and the Arts

Sports, Politics, and Identity

Envisioning Neighborhoods That Work

Population and Communities: Growth in the Desert

A Hispanic City?

A Growing City

Communities and Community

Living Together in a Desert: Metropolitan Issues

Fighting over Growth

Conclusion Desert Vision, Desert City

NOTES

INDEX

Tables

Table 2.1 Western inland cities, 1870–1930.

Table 2.2 Population in the largest Arizona towns and cities.

Table 3.1 Western cities in 1940.

Table 4.1 Defense spending in western metropolitan areas, 1940–45: regional median averages (in $ millions).

Table 5.1 City elections, 1949–59.

Table 5.2 Condition of Phoenix streets, 1950 and 1960.

Table 5.3 Traffic and safety improvements in Phoenix, 1950–60.

Table 6.1 Annual per capita manufacturing wages in Arizona, 1958.

Table 6.2 New manufacturers in the Phoenix area, 1948–60.

Table 6.3 Population of metropolitan Phoenix and Maricopa County, 1940–60.

Table 7.1 Population of metropolitan Phoenix, 1960–80.

Table 7.2 Number of moves per Phoenix area household, 1960–67.

Table 7.3 Valley malls, 1957–81.

Table 8.1 Charter Government collapses: 1975 City Council votes by group (averaged).

Table 8.2 Federal spending in Phoenix.

Table 9.1 Per capita water use in southwestern cities, 1981.

Table 9.2 Condition of Salt River Project canals and laterals, 1956–73.

Table 10.1 Population of metropolitan Phoenix, 1980–2008.

Figures

Figure 1.1 Signs of the Hohokam irrigation.

Figure 1.2 Hohokam and modern canals in the Salt River Valley.

Figure 1.3 Heyman Furniture Building, 1895, at Washington Street and 1st Avenue.

Figure 1.4 Beyond Main Street.

Figure 2.1 Central Phoenix, 1924.

Figure 2.2 Downtown Phoenix in 1929, taken from the courthouse.

Figure 2.3 A shady residential street, 1917 (Culver and 12th Street).

Figure 2.4 Lush canal vegetation, 1924.

Figure 3.1 The Palace Saloon—one of many on Washington Street.

Figure 3.2 One of the large movie palaces, the Fox was the first to provide air-conditioning.

Figure 3.3 Parlor Car Apache of Arizona Tours, Inc., in front of the Santa Fe Depot in Phoenix, around 1930.

Figure 3.4 Lobby of the Arizona Club, where city leaders met.

Figure 4.1 Wartime employment changed opportunities and ideas in Phoenix.

Figure 4.2 The ease of trailer life in Phoenix.

Figure 5.1 The Charter Government Committee’s campaign against corruption was an important reason for its initial success.

Figure 5.2 Phoenix area water systems in 1960, showing the city’s expanding service region and facilities.

Figure 6.1 Baggage carriers loading Motorola products, 1960.

Figure 6.2 Phoenix annexations, 1950–60.

Figure 6.3 Undeveloped land in the Phoenix urban area, 1958.

Figure 7.1 Housing construction in Maricopa County, 1960–80.

Figure 7.2 Selling Maryvale.

Figure 7.3 Making the outdoors into the good life in suburbia.

Figure 7.4 Planned communities in the Phoenix area, 1980.

Figure 7.5 Sun City new floor plan, 1967.

Figure 8.1 Phoenix revenue sources, 1960–80.

Figure 8.2 One view of progress in building the Papago Freeway.

Figure 8.3 Phoenix Inner City, 1963.

Figure 8.4 Joe Eddie Lopez and Daniel Ortega at Chicanos Por La Causa meeting.

Figure 9.1 Older Neighborhoods immediately north of downtown.

Figure 9.2 Annexation and city size, 1958–78.

Figure 9.3 Floodwaters hit Sky Harbor Airport, 1979.

Figure 9.4 Urban village boundaries, 1985.

Figure 10.1 Aviation in Phoenix.

Figure 10.2 The collapse of Motorola.

Figure 10.3 Building activity in Maricopa County, 1980–2006.

Figure 10.4 Mayor Hance’s reaction to Goddard’s 1983 victory.

Figure 10.5 City of Phoenix annexation, 1984.

Figure 10.6 Annexation conflict in north Phoenix, 1985.

Figure 10.7 Stucco-tacky housing.

Figure 10.8 Housing in Verado.

Acknowledgments

One of the pleasures of completing a long-term project like this is the opportunity to reflect on and thank the many people who helped along the way. I benefited greatly from the help of various librarians and archivists. I have been especially fortunate in being able to work primarily in the Phoenix area, which permitted me to avail myself of the abilities and support of these people. The substantial holdings of the Arizona State University Library were made more accessible by the assistance of the library’s able staff. In the Archives and Special Collections, Chris Marin was especially helpful, as were Rob Spindler and Mike Lotstein. Becky Burke located obscure and missing items in the Government Documents section, while Deborah Koshinsky and Jim Allen aided me in working through collections in the Architecture Library. Dawn Nave and Dave Tackenberg assisted my efforts to examine the many useful collections of the Central Division of the Arizona Historical Society, especially the Phoenix History Project. Catherine May facilitated my access to the archives of the Salt River Project and helped me identify important materials. I am also grateful to the staffs of the Arizona Library and State Archives (Melanie Spurgeon), the Phoenix Public Library (Linda Risseeuw), the Arizona Historical Foundation, and the Auraria Library of the University of Colorado, Denver.

Over the years I have been researching and writing on Phoenix, I have been aided by the work of two able graduate research assistants, Victoria Jackson and Karla Alonso, and by Kevin Norton’s voluntary research on city directories. My work with Arizona State University graduate students has strengthened this project, and I particularly wish to acknowledge the contributions of Fred Amis, Trace Baker, Jerry Briscoe, Mike Casavantes, David Dean, Robin LaVoie, Jane Lawrence, Nicolas Locher, Matt Lord, Vince Murray, Mark Pry, Mark Scott, and Mark Simpson. Several undergraduate students—notably Jeff Dean, Linda Miller, and Ian Storrer—also contributed to my understanding of the city’s history. Jim Hanley, from the home owner association management firm of Rossmar and Graham, helped clarify some important aspects of contemporary HOA policy. Finally, I want to thank former Mayor Terry Goddard, who spoke to me with great insight and frankness about his experiences.

Several colleagues generously gave of their time to read and comment on the manuscript. Heidi Osselaer returned the favor of my work on her dissertation and then excellent book with her extensive and helpful notes on this manuscript. Peter Iverson, my longtime and good friend, encouraged me through general counsel and specific observations on the text. Karen Smith, who has written insightfully on the city’s early years, offered good suggestions on my chapters relating to that era. All of them improved the manuscript in important ways.

Other colleagues shared research materials with me. Arturo Rosales loaned his extensive collection of newspaper articles on Mexican Americans in Phoenix; Jan Warren Findley offered material produced by one of her classes on a 1950s subdivision; and Carol Heim provided photocopies of changes in the Arizona’s annexation law. With the encouragement of department chair Noel Stowe, ASU gave me release time from teaching, which advanced my progress in completing this study.

My greatest debt is to my wife, Mary. She shared directly in some of this work when she was the photo editor on my earlier history of the city’s postwar period, Phoenix Rising (2002), from which some of the material for this book is drawn. For that project she chose and secured the permissions for numerous photographs, wrote captions, and essentially laid out the book. For this volume, although she is an excellent editor and writer, she had none of the direct responsibilities, for she had her own projects on which to work. However, she heard more detail about the researching and writing of this book than anyone except the author or a therapist should have to endure. Her kind attention, gentle questioning, and unfailing encouragement were essential to my completing this study. For that and for so many reasons, this book belongs to her.

Introduction

The history of Phoenix over the last fifty years has prompted very different perspectives. The city’s tremendous growth has been its most prominent characteristic, touted by city leaders and many observers as reflecting popular choice. A massive in-migration has fed a burgeoning economy, as new residents have found jobs, affordable housing, and a pleasant living style. Some analysts have considered it within the context of other Sunbelt and postmodern cities. Rather than faulting its differences from traditional cities, they have praised its decentralized form as reflecting new urban patterns in an era of global and technological change.

Critics have objected on various grounds. Observers from older midwestern or eastern cities have often found it unfamiliar and unattractive. They, like a number of urban theorists, have stressed that it has lacked vertical growth, a dense population, and a vibrant downtown. It seems, then, less like a city than a sprawling suburb. A related social criticism alleges a lack of an urban culture, stretching from the culinary to the fine arts, and portrays the area as bland, sun drenched, and superficial. Others have faulted it on ecological grounds, seeing its growth as unsustainable and harboring suspicions that placing a city in a desert violates a basic principle about cities, population, and natural resources.

Form, location, and culture have been central issues for Phoenix from its beginning, as early migrants sought to create something that people further east, the cultural standard bearers, would view favorably. Throughout its history, residents have pursued growth with this in mind. For the last half century they have reveled in the city’s rise relative to other urban places, and they have taken this quantitative measure as indicating larger achievements. This dynamic has made both pride and insecurity consistent elements of the city’s past. Equally central is a persisting mixture of perspectives about the central character of this place, as migrants have continued to bring expectations rooted in places from which they came.

I, too, am a migrant to Phoenix, coming with expectations and a cultural perspective. I moved to the area in 1985, a midwesterner by birth, by residence, and through my historical research. Studies and work had taken me to the various states of the Old Northwest, and from observation and study I knew the lay of that land. Central Arizona confounded my knowledge and perspective. Its topography of mountains and valleys contrasted with rolling, forested hills and grassy prairies; the burden of its ovenlike summers was the seasonal reverse of frigid Michigan winters; and its regularized canals and irrigation ditches bore little resemblance to Indiana’s itinerant creeks and streams. Illinois’s checkerboard of sections and townships, the regular location of its county seats, and the wide distribution of its towns and cities represented very different natural and constructed landscapes than the clusters of cities and towns in Arizona.

Living in Mesa, working in Tempe, and visiting Phoenix and Scottsdale, I found that the built environment of these cities was more familiar. Detached, single-family homes were built in various architectural styles, especially different types of ranch homes, which were common throughout the country. The landscaping of yards varied more substantially. Some had lawns and deciduous trees; others sprouted citrus trees or tropical plants; while the most divergent, to my midwestern eyes, contained cacti and rocks or stones. The cities had grassy playgrounds and shade trees, while parks on the urban periphery and some places within the cities were mountains or buttes, rocky with low-lying vegetation, unlandscaped, and open to the sun. The juxtaposition of arid desert with landscaped lawns and swimming pools suggested a contrast that was both historical and contemporary, built and natural, visual and cultural.

These differences, these tensions, pushed my interest past a standard curiosity about the place in which I lived and beyond my midwestern sense of this as a truly different, even exotic locale. The reasons for my own migration I understood, but why had so many others come? What had they been expecting, and what did they find? How did they change this place, and how did it change them? My efforts to understand how and why this area had grown began with my observations and moved to reading. At that time very little had been written about the history of the area, but the pioneering work of my colleague Bradford Luckingham and my own efforts in directing substantial research on it by graduate and undergraduate students helped me see this region in more complex terms.

My perspective was also reshaped because the last twentysome years have been an extraordinary period in the city’s history. Reflecting national urban changes and especially new ideas about both western and global cities, public officials and people from many professions within Phoenix and its major satellite suburbs have thought, talked, and worked to redefine this city and the metropolitan area. And some have explicitly described this as a crucial era. In 2001 the insightful Arizona Republic columnist Jon Talton argued that Phoenix was at a tipping point in its development. Arizona State University urbanist Nan Ellin framed it historically, likening the era to other moments of significant change in key cities—Paris in the 1860s, New York in the 1910s, and Los Angeles in the 1950s.

Prodigious amounts of construction either completed or in process have been creating a vastly different built environment in downtown Phoenix and in several surrounding cities. The building of a highway system and the opening of a light rail system have produced multiple, sometimes conflicting changes in urban form. Concerns about resources, the environment, and sheer size have stimulated greater skepticism, or even resistance, to growth on the Valley’s periphery and new approaches to development within the central areas of the city. The new built environment has provided venues for public audiences and has affected the nature of the city’s development. The arrival of major league sports teams both roused the enthusiasm of fans and became an important part of urban development. The proliferation of museums and cultural facilities resulted from the significant growth of many cultural organizations and their audiences. Together with an increasing diversity of population, these changes reflected a more mature, even cosmopolitan character, and the rippling effects could be seen in multiple areas, even in the significantly more diverse cuisine of the city’s restaurants.

My observation of these changes and my study of the area compelled me to look beyond the perspective I had brought with me to Phoenix. Instead of seeing the city in traditional terms, I began viewing it through a different lens—if not a postmodern perspective, then at least one not simply dependent on forms and standards established many decades before. After writing Phoenix Rising, a relatively brief history of postwar Phoenix, I began a more comprehensive study of how and why Phoenix grew. Starting from its origins in the 1860s and tracking its development to the present state as the nation’s fifth largest city, I sought to understand how such unusual growth occurred in what many now consider—and even more did earlier—an unlikely place.

The complexity and size of this subject has forced me to make many choices about what topics to cover and to what extent. Some issues that are interesting but peripheral to my purpose I have had to ignore; other topics of importance I could only cover briefly. While I have attempted to balance my coverage of basic themes across the different periods of city history, my attention to specific topics has varied to reflect their changing importance. Perhaps the most obvious issue in terms of coverage is the definition of Phoenix. The narrow meaning of this name is the incorporated municipality, but it has been commonly used to refer to the larger metropolitan area. This is not a concern before 1960, when other communities were so small, but for the years in which they grew, the question of coverage became more complex. In general, I consider most topics across the region except for politics. This was partly a question of sources and structure, but it also reflects the reality that the city of Phoenix has been the dominant political voice in the area.

My study develops five major thematic areas across the years from 1860 to the present. The natural environment has set the basic context for the development of this city and others in the Salt River Valley. Set within the Sonoran Desert, its climate, topography, and vegetation defined the early expectations of settlers, but the Salt River’s waters and the Valley’s alluvial soils provided opportunities for change. Residents have promoted different views of this environment during the course of the city’s history, but the fact of it has always been the first element in shaping the type of city that grew.

The second, urban form, also reflected the broader cultural values that residents held and created, as well as the economic systems they built. Their initial goal was to make Phoenix a modern American city, and their efforts to shape their built environment continued to follow this objective into the late twentieth century. However, the speed of the city’s growth and its proximity to California affected the forms of housing, neighborhoods, and the larger development of the city in important respects.

The economy of Phoenix, a third theme, shows important continuities but even more significant shifts. Initially based on agriculture, with tourism and health seeking as added revenue sources, the city expanded as a government center and as a retail and wholesale center. Aviation and air-conditioning not only changed the postwar economic context, they also made up part of the new economy. Aerospace and electronics provided the main substance for the city’s new manufacturing sector, but tourism grew increasingly important, as did the construction generated by the continued population influx. By the 1990s, however, this economic model was showing considerable signs of wear, and city leaders began, slowly, pursuing new ventures.

The social and cultural values of Phoenix were brought by immigrants but also shaped by the area’s environmental, urban, and economic character. Some of these values—like ideas about urban landscaping—have changed over time, but others—like an interest in the outdoors, recreation, and an active lifestyle—have remained constant. The overarching goal of creating a modern city that would impress a national audience prompted periodic changes in the Valley’s popular culture, but the emphasis on the fine arts and culture remained constant. In the 1950s city leaders talked quite explicitly about their value in attracting and retaining employees in the new electronic and aerospace businesses, but in every era boosters, builders, developers, and city advocates supported these institutions as a key element in the city’s development.

The final theme of this work is public leadership, both from the political officials who held elective or appointive office and from community leaders, those men and women who served in community organizations or ad hoc groups, or whose stature gave them importance and influence without their holding any specific position. While any city’s fortunes reflect its location and population, the quality of its leadership can also materially affect its position, as the history of Phoenix clearly demonstrates. Before World War II, Phoenix was a relatively undistinguished city whose leadership was congenial and open to newcomers, but in the postwar era it achieved enormous success. This was not because it followed some unique economic plan; its strategy was largely what many western cities followed. Instead, Phoenix grew because of the leadership’s holistic approach, connecting economic, political, and social factors, and their ability to carry out their common strategy effectively. Leaders also adapted to changing circumstances and values, particularly in accepting the political mobilization of minority groups, the rise of social politics, and the expanding definition of city services.

Examining the broad history of Phoenix, I see several sets of expectations, several notions of what the city was about and what its future would hold, and these form several different eras. This desert area prompted specific visions of the Phoenix which its residents sought, successively, to implement—a transplanted vision, then an adapted vision, and then, currently and incompletely, a vision reflecting both place and time. The initial vision, An American Eden, was a familiar, imported plan for an agricultural settlement. While the process of transforming a desert into profitable farms had unique elements, it more generally represented a fully familiar attempt at environmental transformation that Americans had pursued for hundreds of years. Only the particulars varied. Settlers believed in the efficacy of human efforts and the bounty of nature; they envisioned Phoenix as the service center for its agricultural hinterlands. They constructed an environment of buildings and landscapes that resembled what they knew and that would impress national observers. Furthermore, they intentionally and thoughtfully created social, cultural, and political institutions and values to mark Phoenix as a modern, progressive American city.

In the 1940s war called forth massive energies that led to the creation of new structures, relationships, values, and expectations. The Valley had traditionally relied on the federal government for crucial resources, and the New Deal had increased the distribution of federal funds, but World War II taught Phoenix leaders how to pursue development, while Cold War spending offered significant opportunities for economic growth. In addition, technological innovations, notably in aviation and air-conditioning, let Phoenix take advantage of these new options, and the city’s tourist trade greatly profited from national prosperity. But the primary factor enabling Phoenix to boom as it did was its rapid adoption of a High-Tech Suburban vision. More than reliance on electronics and aerospace manufacturing, it was the holistic approach to development, including citywide governance, an emphasis on administrative autonomy and inexpensive city services, aggressive annexation, community development and affordable housing, and the development of cultural institutions. The combination of public and private actions enabled this plan to work.

The city’s implementation of this vision spurred rapid growth by attracting new businesses, adding population, constructing new neighborhoods, and expanding city boundaries. But the original vision was not flawless, and during the 1960s and 1970s city leaders addressed problems inherent in that vision, as well as structural problems shared by cities across the nation. The civil rights movement and the mobilization of minority groups changed city politics and expanded the city’s policy interests. Simultaneous suburban sprawl and the decay of downtown raised serious questions about urban form and the role of city government. Even more significant than policy debates over specific issues like in fill, taxes, or transportation was that many Phoenicians began worrying about the environmental, social, and political costs of growth, and they started to explore what sorts of controls the city might adopt.

By the 1990s the rising concerns had begun to foster major changes in how the city grew. Debates over how and where the city was being built, changes in the structure of the economy, and the increased vibrancy of the cultural sector suggested that the postwar vision was no longer the primary force shaping ideas or actions. While many individuals offered their own plans for the future, only the successful actions of political leaders could mold these disparate views into a single perspective, a new vision that would reshape this city. The task of building a twenty-first century desert city involves issues of form and culture, but most of all it means confronting the importance of location. The story of the city’s future, like the narrative of its past, must start with the impact of human habitation on the land and with the particular character of that place.

Part I         

The First Desert Vision: AN AMERICAN EDEN

From the city’s founding in the 1860s until the onset of World War II, the leaders and residents of Phoenix followed a vision of its future that reflected the physical realities of central Arizona and the American culture of the time. This vision was rooted in agriculture, for the area’s beginnings and its growth during this period depended primarily on the development of farming in the Salt River Valley. Irrigation made these efforts successful, and it fostered an awareness that human labor and ingenuity had transformed this area—Phoenicians felt a sense of pride in civilizing the desert. Their sense of place also led them to create the supporting elements of this vision, seeking residents and tourists by emphasizing the healthfulness of the climate and the beauty of the scenery. Living in this area involved a struggle not only against physical elements but also to fulfill cultural expectations. Phoenicians sought to create a modern and American city, for their own sakes and to gain the esteem of others. Thus, the initial Phoenix vision grew from the culture that settlers brought and the place in which they lived. Like most Americans, they dreamed and worked for growth and economic prosperity. They imagined making Phoenix the largest city in Arizona and it having an importance beyond that, but they also saw the city’s prospects in an agricultural and regional context. And by 1940 the city had achieved its expected place: it had become the largest city in Arizona and New Mexico, but distinctly smaller and less significant than El Paso or cities to the north like Denver and Salt Lake City.

To realize this vision, Phoenicians worked to change the natural environment, to create a complementary built environment, and to develop the accouterments of modern American culture. They employed exaggerated rhetoric, but their accomplishments were impressive, for while every community grapples with its natural environment, the Arizona desert was more daunting than most other places. Boosters deprecated concerns about the summer climate by comparing it with the weather elsewhere and touting the benefits of a dry heat; later, and with considerable effect, they redefined harsh as healthy. More substantively, they sought to reshape the climate—and more importantly the land—by damming the rivers, channeling water into canals, and creating new ecosystems. By irrigating fields and watering the town site, they created greenery, shade, flowers, and saleable produce. These changes allowed boosters to describe the Valley as a veritable paradise, to compare the climate with that of Italy or Egypt, and to liken its irrigated agriculture to that of ancient regions, biblical Canaan, the Nile, or southern California.¹ The application of capital, engineering, and labor transformed the physical appearance of the Salt River Valley and created a prosperous agricultural economy. But it also fostered a somewhat dangerous belief in the malleability of nature and the near-limitless power of human ingenuity.

Building the city was an integral part of transforming the desert, for residents considered the city’s physical characteristics an important demonstration of its essential success. This effort started with the initial town plat, which designated public space, and continued as the town erected significant public buildings. The types of buildings, both public and private, commercial and residential, held considerable importance, for their size, design, and construction demonstrated the affluence and confidence of the community. The emergence of a distinct downtown by the 1920s represented both similarities to and differences from other American cities, while the structure of the city’s suburbs reflected a variety of transportation influences. The extent and quality of city services and urban amenities also represented significant accomplishments. The various reports of buildings and services produced during this time read like ritualized booster rhetoric, but these descriptions were not fundamentally inaccurate. The larger perspective that shaped the language of these writers also formed the vision that guided the city’s planners and builders.²

Phoenicians also touted their community as modern and American. They did not emphasize their southwestern location, except in struggling to overcome the problems of isolation from the East. Instead, their standards for modernity were drawn from their communities of origin. Like other communities organized before this, Phoenicians stressed the presence of businesses, professionals, tradespeople, and prosperous farmers to demonstrate both what was available and to show that the community could support a complex and growing economy. Similarly, the impulse to create schools, churches, and societies reflected the real needs of the people and demonstrated that they were cultured, liberal, and progressive. Being American also meant being white and Anglo. While some persons of color resided in the city and had developed separate institutions, town leaders during this period attempted to ignore them as much as possible.³

Thus, the history of Phoenix from its founding to the beginning of World War II was the story of developing and implementing a plan for civilizing the desert. It grew steadily, not dramatically, as a prosperous agricultural community, the territorial and then state capitol, a marketing center, and a tourist destination. But how did Phoenix develop and realize this vision? Why did it become the dominant city in the Salt River Valley, and how did it surpass the initial leads of Prescott and Tucson to become the largest city in the state? If one expands the context, how did the urban form that Phoenix developed compare with other American cities, and what type of society did Phoenicians attempt to create? And how did Phoenicians balance the use of private and public actions? To answer these questions one must begin by examining the area in which the city sits.

1

Civilizing the Desert: The Initial Phase

PHYSICAL REALITIES AND EARLY SETTLEMENT

The defining geological and geographic features of the Salt River Valley are as obvious and significant today as they were a hundred or ten thousand years ago. The Sierra Estrella Mountains define the southwest limit of this central Arizona region, which is also bordered by mountain ranges on the northwest, north, and east, stretching roughly 80 miles from the White Tank Mountains to the Superstition Mountains. Various buttes and mountains protrude from the Valley floor, most notably the ten-mile range of the South Mountains, a southern boundary roughly 40 miles from the northern Phoenix Mountains. The Valley is open to the west, following the Salt River as it joins the Gila River flowing in from the southeast. To the southeast, stretching around the South Mountains, the Valley also flows into the larger Sonoran desert, extending down to Tucson and ultimately to Mexico. The large Valley area bounded by these mountains totals roughly 17,700 square miles.¹ More malleable but no less fundamental, the Salt River provides water that sustains abundant life in this Valley. Human decisions have produced many types of landscapes within the Valley—such as grassy lawns, desert oases, and tropical gardens—but beyond the outskirts of settlement is a sparser and harsher natural landscape that prevailed before irrigation. Although dams, canals, and air-conditioning made life in this desert comfortable, climate remains a real and persistent force shaping life in the area.

Confrontation with this environment gives the history of Phoenix, especially the early decades, a particular direction. The course of American expansion and settlement is the story of settlers facing major issues and problems—scarcity, danger, and the absence of facilities and institutions. They responded, to varying degrees, by creating and building. Boosterism—a community’s self-promotion based on optimism, bravado, and fraud—provided a crucial aspect of this process, as settlers struggled to attract additional residents and capital. But while every community shared some experiences of settlement and growth, they often differed in critical ways. For Phoenix, location was a vital and defining characteristic. In the nineteenth century, without a navigable river or direct railroad connection, in a desert largely surrounded by mountains, and a thousand miles from the nearest sizable cities like Omaha or Kansas City, Phoenicians felt a strong and understandable sense of isolation, a reality that continued well into the twentieth century despite improved transportation and communication. Like many westerners, they often felt unfairly ignored or mistreated by economic or political powers in the East. Producing crops and raw materials for those distant markets, dependent on their capital for needed loans, and with seemingly marginal political power compared to established political machines and urban bosses, they struggled to shape their own destiny.

Climate and topography posed major challenges for these settlers. Heat, minimal rainfall, and desert terrain forged an environment that compelled settlers to make hard choices between their imported culture and their new physical environment. Here, as in most other places, settlers attempted to combine elements of both. The physical realities required concessions as well as innovations in the built environments they created, the ways they lived, and how they farmed. Irrigation was the most obvious and significant element in this process, involving considerable effort and ingenuity for Phoenicians to create prosperity from this new situation. Yet they also decided how to build the physical and social structure of their community that represented inherited and imported values, partly to suit their own desires and sensibilities, but also to appeal to potential settlers. Both the personal desires to recreate familiar settings as much as possible and the goals of boosterism led Phoenicians to live and speak as they did.

The term desert has a significantly varied and contested meaning in American history. In the early nineteenth century Americans accepted the geographers’ label for the Trans-Mississippi West as the Great American Desert. Exploration and settlement shrank the scope of this perceived area by the 1870s, eliminating the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains but still including the intermountain region. This change reflected not only familiarity, but also the belief that civilization and settlement could alter climate, that human habitation and agriculture had increased rainfall in the area. While the drought that began in numerous places in the late 1880s caused many residents of the Great Plains to question that view, a more general conviction that human intervention could substantively transform nature and living conditions remained an article of faith throughout the West.²

Perceptions of Central Arizona as a desert were not false, but the implications most often drawn were wrong. Phoenix is situated in the Sonoran Desert, one of four North American deserts.³ The traditional American expectations of the term desert—emptiness, deadness, and sand dunes—are strikingly inaccurate for this region. In reality, it contains abundant life; the density and diversity of its wildlife make it one of the richest deserts of the world, with more than thirty-five hundred species of plants and hundreds of animal species.⁴ Besides the familiar types of cactus—particularly the area’s signature cactus, the saguaro, but also many others such as cholla, ocotillo, and prickly pear types—the area hosts native palo verde, ironwood, mesquite, and cottonwood trees; it is home to lower vegetation like creosote bushes and yucca plants; and the numerous types of wildflowers bloom expeditiously or riotously, depending on the amount of spring rains. The wildlife has included javelinas, coyotes and wolves, bobcats, jackrabbits, otters (in riparian areas), and birds as diverse as cactus wrens, hawks, hummingbirds, quails, and woodpeckers.

But if settlers were surprised by the abundant life in this valley, they had a more accurate understanding of its climate, which many found alien, even hostile. The area is very arid, with humidity levels below ten percent during the early summer. It averages only about seven inches of rain annually, which generally falls within two seasons: the months of January to March sometimes see heavy downpours, while the summer monsoons during late June to August bring moisture from the south and east as part of intense weather patterns. More importantly, the summers are very hot, with daily high temperatures over 100 degrees for most of four months and periodically exceeding 110 degrees. Boosters downplayed the discomfort this caused, but even southern migrants from central Texas to the Atlantic coast found the height and duration of these temperatures unfamiliar and unpleasant. Those who stayed developed coping strategies for this season, and many felt compensated by the region’s balmy winters and the nearly year-round growing season. Still, the heat established effective limits on population growth in the area until technology and air-conditioning intruded.⁵

In the 1860s the Salt River Valley was an unusual place in several respects, but most strikingly because it contained no human inhabitants. Neither the Spanish nor the Mexicans had settled there, restricting their movements to the southeastern area of modern Arizona, with Tucson as the major town.⁶ Nor did Indians live there at this time, perhaps because conflict between tribes north and south of the valley had made residence too precarious. Yet the area was potentially attractive because of the Salt River. Although not generally navigable, the Salt had a substantial and year-round flow, for it draws on a large watershed of roughly 13,000 square miles covering east-central Arizona and through its tributary, the Verde River, drains much of the north-central part of the state. Over the eons its flooding had laid a thick layer of fertile alluvial soil on the Valley floor, and the land nearer the river sustained substantial plant and animal wildlife.⁷ It supported diverse ecosystems, including an area along the southern bank that W. H. Ingalls described in the 1860s as low and inclined to be swampy; with timber cottonwood along banks, and mesquite and willow brush.⁸

The first Anglo settlers to central Arizona came, not for water, but for minerals, and in 1863 they established mining camps at Wickenburg and Prescott in the foothills and mountains north of the Salt River Valley. Their intrusion aroused the antagonism of local Indian tribes, and the U.S. Army established Camp McDowell in September 1865 to provide protection.⁹ To acquire foodstuffs locally, the army contracted with John Y. T. Smith, who began harvesting wild hay growing in the Valley near the Salt River, and in 1867 Smith hired Jack Swilling to help him. An adventurer and entrepreneur, Swilling had lived in the territory since 1862 and had seen various tribes practicing irrigated farming. As he looked at the Salt River Valley, he saw a major opportunity.¹⁰

Swilling realized that despite its current lack of habitation, the Valley contained abundant evidence of previous settlement. As many as fifty large mounds marked the ruins of former multistoried dwellings, while more numerous smaller ruins with pots and other material were scattered across the Valley. More importantly, he saw signs of a canal system that could have supported extensive agriculture for a sizeable population. What Swilling recognized were the remnants of prehistoric Hohokam settlements. Some fifteen hundred years previously, these people had begun building an extensive system of up to a thousand miles of canals, some of which extended twenty or thirty miles, with the largest canals measuring fifty feet wide and twenty feet deep. At its peak the population reached somewhere between twenty-five and fifty thousand people.¹¹ Then, because of floods and drought, the increasing salinity of soil, and civil strife, the population began to dwindle, and by 1450 the area had been abandoned. Over four centuries the structures disintegrated, but although the canals had partly filled in, their forms were easy to recognize and invited activity (figure 1.1).¹² Swilling hired miners from Wickenburg to begin redigging the canals and to reestablish farming in the Valley. These efforts drew the interest of others, and in 1870 roughly two hundred settlers chose a town site, which was quickly platted in the standard Anglo grid pattern with a courthouse square. The place they selected was over a mile north of the river, on higher ground relatively free of ruins and with limited desert growth.

Figure 1.1 Signs of the Hohokam irrigation. This canal was one of many that visitors to the Salt River Valley observed. The form of the canals and the network they comprised made it obvious that the Valley had been the site of extensive farming. Source: South Canal, Pueblo Grande Park of Four Waters, Phoenix. Photograph by Todd Bostwick.

Almost accidentally it was near the center of the Valley, a decision that would come to have great significance in shaping the hierarchy of Valley communities. They named the site Phoenix, after the mythical bird rising from its ashes and as a passing acknowledgment of the area’s past.¹³

THE TOWN THAT AGRICULTURE BUILT

Phoenix was never a western town, certainly not a stereotypical western town. It had no Mexican heritage and only an ancient Indian connection, and except for its initial decades its minority population remained relatively small. Although the surrounding area contained cattle and ranches, it was never a cow town, like Abilene or Dodge City, and although the Arizona Packing Company would become important starting in the 1920s, the slaughterhouse industry never achieved the defining role it held in cities like Fort Worth or Kansas City. Nor was Phoenix linked closely to mining, with its boom-bust patterns and its industrial labor force. Some Phoenix investors had mining interests, and the town supported some mining-related businesses, but mining companies operated from the mine sites at Prescott, Jerome, Morenci, and Bisbee, and the significant investment funds needed to develop such industrial enterprises came from centers of capital like San Francisco and New York.

Instead, Phoenix grew primarily because of agriculture. Like innumerable towns across the nation during the nineteenth century, its growth and prosperity depended on its agricultural hinterland. Its businesses, the focus of its economy, the importance of transportation, and the pace of its growth all reflected this fundamental reality. As area farmers prospered, so too did Phoenix residents. Agricultural prosperity fueled investment and speculation in land by both farmers and city residents. Finally, while an agricultural economy fluctuated, depending on weather and crop prices, it did not experience the kind of boom-bust pattern common to other types of towns. This agricultural, land-based economy fundamentally shaped the perceptions of Phoenicians about their future and their opportunities. They believed in growth and the need to boost their town and area, and they believed that some secondary economic activities could add to their prosperity. But they understood Phoenix to be primarily reliant upon agriculture, which established some basic limits to how fast it would grow and defined how big it would become.¹⁴

The Swilling Canal (later called the Salt River Valley Canal, as well as the Town Ditch) began two decades of active canal building in the Valley, and this prompted the emergence of agricultural towns dispersed throughout the area.¹⁵ Within ten years, another five canals had been dug: one north of the river and four on the south side. These canals linked directly to the establishment of additional agricultural communities. The Tempe Canal (1870), dug seven miles upriver (east) from Phoenix, served a community first named after its founder, Charles Hayden, and then changed to Tempe. In 1877 and 1878 two groups of Mormon immigrants dug canals some eight miles further upstream that supported the town of Mesa.

Development of canals and the Valley advanced significantly with the construction of the Arizona Canal (1883–85). Starting much further upstream, running far to the north of the other canals through territory unserved by prehistoric canals, it was much larger (fifty-eight feet wide at the top and seven feet deep) and extended significantly further to the west. In addition, it was built, not by landowning farmers to service their farms, but by the Arizona Improvement Company, owned by speculative capitalists who sought profits from selling water and land along the canal. The Arizona Canal made possible the settlement of the northwestern communities of Peoria (1888) and Glendale (1892), as well as Scottsdale (1895) in the northeast. Finally, two canals dug later in the southeast eventually led to the establishment of Chandler (1912), roughly nine miles south of Mesa, and Gilbert (1910), some seven miles southeast of Mesa (figure 1.2).¹⁶

Figure 1.2 Hohokam and modern canals in the Salt River Valley. Source: Salt River Project.

The size of the Valley and the ability to transport water across it encouraged the development of multiple settlements, but they did not predetermine the distribution of population or the relative importance of the settlements. Phoenix always remained the largest and then the dominant community in the valley because it began first, because it was located in the center of the Valley, and because of the decisions of the settlers themselves. (But while these other communities had little importance during this period, a century and more later they would develop a significant role as part of a multi-nucleated metropolis.¹⁷)

Canals changed the appearance and reality of life in the Valley, enabling the creation of new ecosystems. Settlers immediately planted trees along the canals, aiding a natural process, and the combination of sun and water transformed the landscape. Cottonwood, ash, poplar, and willow trees added shade, color, and definition to the rural areas, supplementing native mesquite and palo verde trees. Canals and ditches distributed water throughout the towns, where trees were even more important, providing windbreaks and shade. Phoenicians considered this botanical transformation an integral part of civilizing the desert, as vital as the construction of buildings and an economy. The change was almost immediate and remarkable to both residents and visitors. An 1881 publication described Phoenix as having groves of cottonwoods and lines of the graceful Lombardy popular diversify the landscape in every direction, a panoramic map of 1885 displayed an image of the town that it described as being embowered in shade trees and shrubbery, while a pamphlet from 1894 claimed that so dense is this forest of verdure that the traveler approaching it from any direction will not see the house until he is fairly within the town.¹⁸

Boosters, working independently and through organizations like the Phoenix Board of Trade, touted the reliability of irrigated agriculture, claimed that Valley soil equaled the best garden spots of the world, including the ‘Polders’ of Holland or the ‘Black Lands’ of Russia, and asserted that virtually any crop could be grown profitably there.¹⁹ In fact, the long growing season and the relative predictability of water from irrigation created many options, but heat and the particular soil types meant that Valley agriculture was better suited to some crops than to others. Thus, basic elements of agriculture in the Valley persisted throughout this era, but through continuing experimentation Valley farmers diversified what they raised. Their earliest crops were alfalfa (which remained the dominant crop until the 1920s) and grains (mainly wheat and barley), and by the late 1870s many farmers had introduced livestock. Vegetables were also important, particularly root crops such as turnips, beets, onions, and potatoes, but also traditional Indian crops like squash and beans, and later on lettuce was added to this mix.

By the 1880s farmers were growing increasing varieties and amounts of fruits, particularly strawberries, apricots, peaches, and grapes. Citrus cultivation began in 1889, promoted by the Arizona Improvement Company and Rev. Winfield Scott. An army chaplain who had seen citrus growing in California, Scott purchased land near what he would later found as Scottsdale and began raising citrus and other fruits. The citrus effort quickly became successful, and by 1895 roughly 150,000 trees had been planted, most densely in the Orange Belt, near the Arizona Canal. By this time the Valley had become a significant agricultural area within the Southwest, with more than 125,000 acres being irrigated and farmed. Climate and expanding irrigation had provided the basic means for this rapid expansion and had shaped the choice of crops, but improved transportation played a key part in this process.²⁰

Wagon roads provided the initial transportation options for Phoenix and the Valley, linking the area directly to Prescott, Florence, and Tucson; more distantly to Yuma; and then to California. This changed in 1879, when the Southern Pacific Railroad reached the town of Maricopa, a twenty-three-mile journey from Phoenix taking six hours by stagecoach and sixteen by freight wagon. This enhanced opportunities for trade and travel, but the main Southern line ran through Tucson. Founded in 1775, territorial capital from 1867 to 1877, and the territory’s largest town (its population was 3,224 in 1870 and 7,007 in 1880), Tucson’s acquisition of a direct rail connection promised to bolster its existing advantages and transform it into the dominant community in the territory and perhaps in the Southwest.

Recognizing the need to improve their situation and respond to Tucson’s gain, Phoenix leaders raised the money to construct a spur line to their community. In June 1887 the rails reached Tempe, and a month later they entered Phoenix; eight years later, a spur connected Mesa to the Southern line. Equally important, the Atchison, Topeka, & Santa Fe tracks reached Phoenix from the north in 1895. This changed the city from being on a dead end to being on a through route, served by two competing lines, and firmly linked to the national transportation system. These rail connections greatly enhanced the opportunities for Valley farmers, letting them change from wagon shipments for central Arizona towns to transporting goods to markets across the nation, and expanding the nascent competition with California. The easier and more direct passenger service increased the prospects for migration and tourism. Thus, land prices, population, and agricultural production all boomed with the arrival of the railroad.²¹

BUILDING A TOWN

The development of farming and transportation fostered the growth of many economic services, new social institutions, and a significant built environment. Economic forces stimulated these developments, but the desires of Phoenicians to create a modern American town gave them drive and direction. Roughly a decade after its founding, the Phoenix population reached 1,708. More impressive than this respectable rate of growth, the village featured key institutions and a surprisingly well-developed occupational structure. A branch of the Bank of Arizona opened in 1878. Another vital public institution began service in the same year, when C. E. McClintock started the Salt River Herald (which became the Phoenix Herald in 1880), followed after several years by the Arizona Gazette. By 1881 two hotels had opened: the Phoenix Hotel and the more substantial Bank Exchange Hotel, started by Emil Ganz, who later served as mayor. Phoenix also offered a wide range of shops: general stores and butcher shops, dry goods stores and laundries, liveries, a floor mill, an ice factory, and lumberyards. Certain professionals—lawyers, doctors, and ministers—as well as various tradesmen—carpenters, painters, blacksmiths, tailors, barbers, and photographers, among them—found employment in the young community.²²

Phoenicians developed social structures and amenities almost as quickly as they built an economy, reflecting the cultures they brought as well as their aspirations. Two churches were established by the first wave of settlers, and within a decade three denominations—the Methodist Episcopal, Presbyterian, and Roman Catholic—had erected houses of worship. A second crucial institution begun as soon as settlers arrived was a school, demonstrating the community’s legitimacy and providing a crucial meeting place. Legitimacy through the pursuit of knowledge also inspired the organization of both a library association in 1877 to bring books to the community and the Maricopa Literary Society a year later. While