Seven Fridays in South Phoenix
Observations, Reflections, and
Photographs by Matthew Alan Lord
The past is a
foreign country; they do things differently there.
-Leslie Poles
Hartley in The Go-Between (1953)
Fields and
Fragments
One
of the pleasures of this course is being in the field with persons
who come to South Phoenix with divergent backgrounds.
Unsurprisingly, this means that others call to our attention things
we are overlooking or they interpret the same scene differently. I
arrived in the class having spent time looking at Laveen, South
Phoenix’ western neighbor. The verdant fields that give it a
“wide-open feel” have long been a defining trait of the landscape in
that place. Their disappearance is the most obvious sign that
suburbanization is transforming that community, and something that
catches my eye.
One
of the most-needed new academic journals to come online in the last
few years is The Journal of Mundane Behavior. Unfortunately,
as happens so often in mundane living, the project has stalled and
there has not been a new issue since mid-2004. The key reason I
feel the underlying idea for this journal is so important is that so
much academic writing in the social sciences focuses on the unusual,
the distinctive, or the outstanding that the mundane gets
overlooked. As one who has studied history, I worry what sort of
portrait the academic paper trail will leave for the future.
It
is with these notions in mind that I offer the current webpage for
this class website. I will confess that I am not certain I have
seen every single one of our predecessors’ pages, but I can say with
confidence that I surveyed nearly all. It seems to me that they
have overlooked one key feature of the South Phoenix landscape of
today and yesteryear. My intent is not that this mundane webpage
will make some lofty theoretical statement, but that it adds an
essential tile to the mosaic Dr. K’s classes create.
In part, I was also inspired by re-reading an excerpt from Dolores
Hayden's The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History.
In the introductory chapter, she reviews an argument that took place
in New York City over what sorts of buildings should be given
historic preservation status. In South Phoenix, it is not
buildings but farm fields, orchards, and nurseries that are
disappearing with few to advocate for their preservation.
When you are doing the “snapshot” style of fieldwork this class
demands, it is easy to be drawn to dynamic, dramatic places like the
Rancho Grande Super Market. Quiet, two lane “farm-to-market”
roads like the one shown below still exist at the western and
southern periphery of South Phoenix.
Farm fields are not flashy. Tree (and other plant)
nurseries are rather sedate. Unless there is a brush fire, vacant
lots do not usually draw much attention. Most of the time, there
are no people active in these spaces. Yet these fields, nurseries,
and “holes in the urban fabric” remain very much a part of South
Phoenix’ landscape. As even casual observers of this place know,
but perhaps fail to document or discuss for future generations to
remember, there are basic patterns involved in their appearance and
removal from the landscape.
Agricultural production has taken
place in most of our study area for about a century. Prehistoric
American Indians also relied on an irrigation-based system of
agricultural production in this area for hundreds of years.
The photos below show water being diverted from a lateral canal into a field of
wheat. The farmworker is reinforcing a barrier to keep the water
from advancing to the next section of the field.
This type of
irrigation is called flood irrigation. It is what has fed the
flowers, citrus orchards, and field crops, and even front yards here
from time immemorial. Other than the water source differing from
the Huhugam, the diversion into field here remains essentially the
same. There are two modern differences. First, the water is moved
from the lateral into the field by inserting pipes (right photo) which
siphon off the water from the canal to the lower elevation of the
field instead of opening a gap in the canal water to divert it.
Second, the canal itself is lined with concrete rather than clay and
rocks. Although drainage canals (also called ditches) still
can be earthen, the concrete lining substantially reduces water loss
in transit.
In South Phoenix as elsewhere,
fields like this can
be directly converted to housing or other
development. Often, however, they can instead sit unproductive
for years at a time. They typically emerge once agricultural
production ceases but before the owner (either the farmer or someone
else)
decides to cash in, speculating that the value will rise. This
vacant lot is one such example. These vacant lots are typified
by weeds which are dead most of the year, providing the fuel for
brush fires. Development has surrounded it years ago. The
City is probably responsible for dressing up the sidewalk when it
widened the road. This lot also typifies a pattern seen in
South Phoenix and elsewhere in that the section of the parcel right
at the street corner was developed, in this case as a Circle K.
More than likely, those who opened the Circle K were willing to pay
a premium to get right on the corner. The property owner at
the time may have speculated that this would also increase the value
of the rest of the land. Now, however, parcels like this one
are less attractive to commercial property developers as the
convenience store is considered an eyesore in a prominent spot.
The intensity of development in South Phoenix is now such, however,
that this vacant lot will soon disappear, as the General Plan Hearing sign
testifies.
Whether going directly from
agricultural production or from vacant lot status into development,
there is a final, brief phase that all such open spaces transition
through before development. It is an old saw in farm country that
crop rotations on the fringe go “Cotton, Corn, Condos.” The final
tilling of the soils is a brutal one. Sometimes one will see a
tractor pulling a plow with the discs set at odds. Instead of
generating furrows, it simply tears up the land in preparation for
compaction. At the particular site shown below, there are a
variety of earthmovers at work. Besides compacting the soil so
that
structures do not sink, their primary task is to rework the surface
(or topography) so that water will move in a controlled manner.
Until recent decades this usually meant just getting it to drain off
site into storm sewers. At present, however, they must create
artificial swales and basins to either retain the water on site or
detain it temporarily before releasing it into the storm sewer
system so that the system does not get overwhelmed. Engineering of
this sort is particularly critical in desert cities where the nature
of precipitation patterns is dominated by very short, intense
periods of rainfall. Retention has the added advantage of helping
recharge the groundwater, but both retention and detention are
essential buffers to reduce, if not eliminate, flash flood hazards.
One side note that has attracted my
attention for a couple years now is what I call “urban growth
graffiti.” Some of my classmates have
chatted about the gang (and
other) graffiti in South Phoenix. Markings of that sort are
considered a blight and are not officially sanctioned. Growing
areas see a proliferation of markings in anticipation of and during
development, but is usually ignored by everyone not directly
involved with construction. Ofttimes it is not removed after
construction is finished. Below are several examples.
Just like gang graffiti communicates in a language of its own, so
too do these 1:1 maps on the landscape. (see box with
color-coded text) While stakes and paint have long been the urban growth
graffiti artists’ stock in trade, “whiskers” are a lovely, relative
newcomer to the scene.
"Whiskers"
Not Here Much Longer
Plan of Attack