Every once in a while an artist comes along who manages to introduce entirely new ways of thinking about the world. James Turrell is one such artist. In 1974, Turrell discovered the crater as he was looking for a place to build a naked-eye observatory. A few years later, Turell purchased the land surrounding the crater and has made it his life's mission to transform its interior into a piece of public artwork where the “cycles of geologic and celestial time can be directly experienced.” Turrell designed the crater to give viewers a “transformative sensory experience.” In 1986, the Arizona Daily Star described the project as "transforming an extinct volcano into a techno-artistic Stonehenge."

The crater is nestled within an extinct volcano that spans two miles and rises 580 feet above the desert. The interior eventually will have a labyrinth of 24 viewing spaces and six tunnels, each with a distinctive view of the sky. One of the tunnels, a staggering 854 feet long, is nearly the length of three football fields. The artworks within are shrouded by the crater's natural exterior that seamlessly blends into the landscape.

Turrell's installation seeks to encourage viewers to contemplate light, time, the landscape through providing ways of seeing each and their interplay over time. It also serves as a naked-eye observatory for looking at the sky. Each of the vantage points is aligned with celestial bodies to create various light patterns and view specific astronomical phenomena. Unlike traditional architectural spaces, the tunnels and spaces within the Roden Crater are designed to manipulate, display, and ultimately be concealed by light and shadow. According to Turrell, light itself is his medium of choice.

Turrell's vision for Roden Crater includes creating an ecosystem for artists, astronomers, and visionaries to congregate, share ideas, and collaborate. To allow people to have extended visits, Turrell plans to build over thirty lodges near the crater. The installation is designed and built to last for thousands of years for countless generations to enjoy.

The crater remains incomplete and is only occasionally opened to the public, but its completion remains elusive. Gobbling millions of dollars from foundations and donors, the project may soon reach completion. In recent years, Kanye West who has donated ten million dollars to fund the project, and Arizona State University has taken an active role in providing funding and supporting the craters completion.

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The Eisdendrath House, managed by the Tempe History Museum, is one of the best examples of Arizona's Pueblo Revival style of architecture. It was built in 1930 by a wealthy Chicago widow, Rose Eisendrath. At the time, many affluent Northerners flocked to the Southwest to escape the ice and snow, and Mrs. Eisendrath was no exception. However, she was refused accommodations at a valley resort due to her Jewish heritage.

Undeterred, Rose Eisendrath purchased enough land to construct her own winter refuge. She acquired a 44-acre parcel in the hills above the Salt River on on April 23, 1930. The home was designed and built by architect Robert T. Evans, a family friend.

As materials were scarce - and costly - during the Great Depression, Evans relied on mud adobe blocks sourced from the nearby Salt River. The two-story structure is the largest and best-preserved example of Pueblo Revival architecture in Tempe.

After Mrs. Eisdendrath died in 1936, the home passed through several hands. It fell into disrepair before the City of Tempe acquired it in the early 2000s. The house has since been restored and renamed the Eisdendrath Center for Water Conservation. The property has become a focal point for water conservation efforts. An onsite Water Education Facility provides a free meeting space for water conservation classes.

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The City of Phoenix was incorporated in 1881 and became the territorial capital of Arizona in 1889. In the twelfth United States Census of 1890, the city of Phoenix had 3,152 residents. The burgeoning railroad system revolutionized the economy of the American West, bringing trade and tourists. The increase in travel meant increased demand for hotels, and Phoenix was more than happy to accommodate.

The 6th Avenue Hotel, as the Hotel Windsor was originally called, was built by A.D. Walsh in 1893 at the corner of 6th and Adams Street. It was initially a two-story Victorian building, which changed its name to the Hotel Windsor in 1925. By that time, the population of Phoenix had risen to 29,053 residents. It was the largest hotel in Phoenix, boasting forty rooms at the time. The 1930s brought more growth, visitors, and competition, like the newly built Westward Ho. In just ten years, Phoenix's population rose by sixty-five percent. In order to keep up with their competitors, a stucco and brick third story was subsequently added to the building.

The hotel was remodeled in the 1950s and given another name change: it became the New Windsor Hotel. While it remains the only operating nineteenth-century hotel in Phoenix, it doesn't have the same draw as it did in its heydey. Today, the clientele are often older men who rent the austere rooms on a nightly, weekly, or monthly basis. The New Windsor Hotel remains one of the only single-room-occupancy, or SRO, hotels in Phoenix.

While the hotel's interior doesn't have as many visitors as it did in the twentieth century, the outside still sees its fair share of tourists. Its Art Deco facade and colorful neon sign are the perfect backdrops for an Instagram selfie: as of 2022, it's been tagged 386 times on the social photo-sharing platform. The hotel has also developed a cult following of Wes Anderson fans, who look for locations reminiscent of the filmmaker's distinctive style.

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Within the midst of the urban sprawl of Phoenix lies a sanctuary of forward-thinking architectural innovation. One of the few surviving remnants of the late Italian architect and philosopher Paolo Soleri, Cosanti is a significant landmark in ecological design and 20th-century architecture. Cosanti is a portmanteau of the Italian words cosa, meaning things, and anti, meaning against. Cosanti, by its very name, is intended to represent the idea that nature is the best habitat for humanity. Paolo Soleri briefly studied under renowned architect Frank Lloyd Wright. He entered Wright's tutelage the first time he came to America in 1947, at the end of World War II. It is no coincidence that the property is only a few miles away from Taliesin West, Wright's winter home and desert laboratory. Consanti's construction began upon Soleri's return to the States after being commissioned to build a ceramics factory along the Amalfi coast in his native Italy. The grounds served as his home and design studio until he died in 2013. At Cosanti, Soleri conducted countless experiments to expand the current view of architecture during his time. He believed the isolated and expansive suburban communities, which were on the rise, lacked many of the most essential elements of building cohesive and prosperous communities.

Having worked under Frank Lloyd Wright for almost two years, it is no surprise that Soleri was inspired by Wright's blending of indoor and outdoor spaces. This theme laid the groundwork for many of his future projects. All of Soleri's architecture is deeply intertwined with his personal philosophy, based on the writings of the Jesuit priest and paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. He believed that life is beautiful. "There is an inherent logic in the structure and nature of organisms that have grown on this planet." Life on any scale consumes matter and makes it live; thus "matter becomes spirit." The human spirit, or consciousness, can mold matter outside of itself, allowing consciousness to bring beauty into the world. By taking what is internal and making it external, civilization is built through our physical creations and societal relations with each other. Soleri concluded that there is no distinction between city and civilization, as both come from the Latin root civis, and as in evolution, form becomes function.

Soleri was not against industrialization and believed it to be a good thing, but he thought that we were allowing technology to become our masters instead of the other way around. Soleri's architecture draws upon nature, conservation, and change motifs. Cosanti is a precursor to Arcosanti, an experimental vertical city located due north of Phoenix. The goal of these prototype buildings was for Soleri to put his philosophy into practice and craft sanctuaries that would bring people closer to nature rather than bulldoze it.

Cosanti takes advantage of Arizona's favorable living conditions and plentiful sunlight. Many of its formations are demarcated by their distinctive half-dome shape, which serves the purpose of passive climate control via solar dispersion. The buildings are also oriented to the south to reduce the effect of direct sunlight entering the dome. Much of Cosanti's anatomy is additionally located below the desert's surface to utilize the natural insulative properties of the Earth. While the small urban estate contains many structures, it is most notable for one of the first experimental structures built by Soleri on the premises. The Earth House is named for the early use of Soleri's variations of earth-casting techniques. Earth-casting is a process that molds its ensemble from the roof down to the ground by pouring cement over an earthen skeleton, followed by the hollowing of the framework after it sets. Soleri's earth-casting styles are better known for their use in the fashioning of his famous bells.

After returning from his foray into Italy, he was inspired by ceramic manufacturing and decided to pursue the art form himself. By using earth-casting, Soleri began to originate ceramic bells laced with distinct tribal patterns and animal figures in styles resonant to the Native Americans of the Southwest. Only a few years later, after the arrival of a skilled bronze caster around the 1960s, did Soleri's bells come into their modern incarnation. Still using the same earth-casting techniques, these bronze bells are like their ceramic cousins but come in a plethora of tortuous designs, animate textures, and bewildering patinas. To this day, Soleri bells are still handcrafted by many skilled in-house artisans and coveted by their owners worldwide. Suppose you plan on grabbing one of these but can't make the trip to Cosanti proper. In that case, you can head over to the Cosanti website, where you can peruse a library of bell sounds before making a purchase. Since its inception, Cosanti was designed to be a multi-purpose property where people could live and work within its confines, emphasizing community and nature. For Soleri and his students, it was a haven to assess new techniques in construction and design. Over the last half-century, thousands have contributed to the Cosanti property, making it one of the longest-lasting and most elaborate collaborative projects continuing to this day. In 2020, what was formerly known as the School of Architecture at Taliesin formally dropped the Taliesin component and moved its campuses from both the Taliesin houses in Arizona and Wisconsin to the sites of Cosanti and Arcosanti, respectively. This move has not gone unnoticed. It shows Soleri's impact on the architectural community as his mentor and producer of Taliesin, Frank Lloyd Wright, is considered the most prolific American architect of all time. But since the future of architecture is trending towards an emphasis on ecological synergy, it's no wonder that the School of Architecture has initiated this transition to a new era. With this move, new life has been breathed into Cosanti as it continues to thrive as a hub of design, ecology, and architecture.

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When walking through downtown Mesa, the relatively small-scale streets and buildings have a quaint feeling that does not hint at Arizona's largest arts center sitting squarely downtown on Main and Center Street.  However, once you get within a block of the Mesa Arts Center, the site becomes apparent from any direction.  With tall glass canopies, blue border walls, rows of trees, and large theaters standing at its heart, the Mesa Arts Center cannot be missed.  Aside from its architecture, the art banners, show advertisements, and people milling about are sure to garner any attention the complex may not have gathered on its own.  The Mesa Arts Center is a massive complex covering seven acres, with four theaters, five galleries, and fourteen art studios.  The center is 212, 755 square feet encompassing all of the theaters and studios, with about 5,500 square feet of art exhibit space.  The five galleries compose the Mesa Contemporary Arts (MCA) Museum.  The four theaters are the Ikeda Theater, the Virginia G. Piper Repertory Theater, the Nesbitt/Elliott Playhouse Theater, and the Anita Cox Farnsworth Studio Theater.  The Mesa Arts Center hosts various events, from classical music concerts to art classes, lectures, and cultural celebrations, across their campus. The presence of the Mesa Arts Center in the middle of downtown Mesa is not by convenience or happenstance; it was chosen to be an integral part of creating a new Mesa.  The term 'revitalization' frequently appears in discussions about the city's changes, and it has for the past two decades.  Mesa was once one of the most successful downtowns in Arizona.  It hosted the largest movie palace in Arizona just down the street, a plethora of businesses and restaurants, and more and more people every year.  However, after the Second World War, the population growth that brought the city more people also brought those people further out.  The historical boundaries of downtown Mesa are relatively small, only about a mile each.  After World War II, the proliferation of suburbs pushed people further and further away from the city's center.  The effect on downtown Mesa was devastating.  By the 1950s and 1960s, businesses had closed, and shopping centers designed for the newly thriving suburbs threatened most businesses that had managed to stay afloat.  These effects changed the culture and reputation of Mesa for decades, and only recently have they begun to see change.  The implementation of the Mesa Arts Center was designed to bring people, life, and activity back into the city.  It was strategically placed at the exact place people get off the light rail, and it is accessible from every side of the street.  It not only plays a dominant role in its immediate surrounding landscape but has also shaped the changing dynamics between the people of Mesa and the idea of what the city should be.  The Mesa Arts Center does an undeniably excellent job of advertising itself.  The center is a work of art that is evident from the street.  This is not by accident.  Every aspect of the arts center was designed to be inviting, artistic, and stimulating.  Martha Schwartz's idea for the landscape was a shadow walk, "a place where the rich interplay of overlapping shadows, trees, and architectural canopies creates a cool and inviting environment." Colored glass canopies, boulders, a water system mimicking southwest waterways, banquet tables, textured trees, and other features were chosen to make the arts center not only accessible but intriguing.  Just walking the grounds without ever going into any of the buildings that make up the complex becomes an artistic experience.  Designing the entirety of the Mesa Arts Center was a major artistic project, combining the work of Auerbach Pollock Friedlander, McKay Conant Brook Inc., Paragon Structural Design, Martha Schwartz Inc., and Lowry Sorenson Wilcoxson. The entirety of the complex was designed with the goals of accessibility, functionality, and sustainability.  The art galleries and studios were placed around the edges of the center to put activity on the main streets, and the theaters were placed at the heart of the campus to draw people into the center.  The Mesa Arts Center was also designed to be as sustainable as possible, using thick walls, solar shading, placing the museum below grade, and even the exterior water feature reminiscent of arroyos works to temper the climate.  The center took inspiration from several natural features to become a more sustainable complex, from the arroyos cooling component to using angles of the buildings to mimic the cooling characteristics of desert canyons and shade canopies.  Even within the buildings, like in the ceramic studios where artist Jeff Reich helped to design a sloped studio floor to trench drain and shade sails to protect the kilns to create state of the art facilities and a modern, efficient, and sustainable complex. It is not only the physical aspects of the center that make it accessible but how it interacts with its community, which has become one of the central focuses of the center.  Executive Director of the Mesa Arts Center, Cindy Ornstein, described this, saying "My view of the arts is that it is fantastic to offer exhibitions and performances... but that if you don't look to figure out how you create accessible points for all different people, if you don't figure out how to welcome the community in and give them ownership over some of the programming, if you don't make sure there are different ways for people from different ways and walks of life than you end up not serving the community needs as you should." The center's interaction with the community has significantly increased in the last eleven years, going from limited interactions of community engagement to a thriving dynamic of programs, festivals, and classes designed to give the people of the city ownership of the Mesa Arts Center.  Building this complex was a vast project and required funding of about 90.8 million in construction costs and about 95 million total, a massive expense with what should be an even greater payout.  The Mesa Arts Center is an intelligently constructed and booming art complex.  Still, it represents something even bigger, a rebirth of Mesa, with arts at the center.  One of the architects of the project, Michael Tingley, explains the larger implications of the center, "A fundamental strategy for the Mesa Arts Center project was to create a new image and identity for the city of Mesa in the twenty-first century that would spur economic investment in the downtown core.  Transitioning this suburban community into a sustainable city for a new millennium requires establishing a sense of place, pride, and identity".  The Mesa Arts Center is the culmination of this idea for a new Mesa, an economic and cultural renovation designed to reinvent the city's image and reputation.  A project this significant physically and economically always has conflict.  Still, it took almost no time for the center's impact to become apparent.  From 2000 to 2005, the local economic impact of arts and culture went from 18.1 million to more than 47.57 million.  In five years, the event-related spending from visitors outside of Maricopa County grew tenfold. The Mesa Arts Center is clearly one of a kind, utterly unique in its design and architecture, and impact on the surrounding landscape.  Unlike other cities in the valley, the face of downtown Mesa has not been dominated by skyscrapers and office buildings.   Mesa has a complicated history, a once thriving downtown slowly dying down as suburbanization pushed people outwards.  As people return, the downtown is reminiscent of the old-timey downtown.  Still, it has begun to see the changes of urbanization.  The Mesa Arts Center is a part of this phenomenon of returning life to downtown, but rather than overwhelm its landscape; the center is designed to add to it.  The center looks incredibly different from its surrounding buildings, but rather than look out of place, it appears as a focal point.  Its wide breadth and posture over its neighbors are eye-catching but not so large that it seems out of scale.  Whereas the opaque glass of the rectangle buildings that dominate other downtowns are uninviting, every possible entrance to the Mesa Arts Center is designed to bring people in, with pathways to guide you and colorful panels to beckon you forward from the streets of Mesa and into its immersive experience of art and culture. 

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The first president of the Phoenix Parks and Recreation Board, William Hartranft, modeled the city's Encanto Park after San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. In so doing, Hartranft channeled the vision of Frederick Law Olmsted, an American landscape architect who helped design Central Park in New York and Golden Gate Park in San Francisco--both of which became models for urban parks nationwide. An early parks commissioner in Phoenix, Hartranft obtained funding for the parks from New Deal programs, the Works Progress Administration (WPA), and the Public Works Administration (PWA). New Deal infrastructure projects, meant to provide Americans relief from the Depression, played an important role in transforming America's infrastructure, including its parks. The WPA sought to expand employment opportunities by providing jobs to Americans to help build infrastructure projects that improved the overall quality of America's public facilities. The PWA provided funding and loans to construct local and state projects. Parks throughout the United States, including San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, Phoenix's Encanto Park, and New York's Central Park, received support from these agencies.  In Phoenix, Hartranft received a handsome grant in 1934 that expanded the boundaries of Encanto Park beyond the 20 acres Phoenix had set aside for what was then known as Dorris-Norton Park. The Works Progress Administration (WPA) granted $900,000 to begin the park expansion. The WPA supervised the work, including projects such as constructing the two-mile-long lagoon. Encanto Park received additional assistance to build amenities in the park. For example, the Public Works Administration (PWA) and WPA supervised, funded, and constructed the "Encanto Clubhouse," which accentuated the existing nine-hole golf course. The large dining room, living room, and lunchroom made Encanto a more luxurious place, and the clubhouse also blended into the native foliage. In 1937, the Encanto Band Shell was completed as a place of performance for orchestras and bands. The developing Encanto Park drew upon competing aesthetics in the American park movement. Features like the lagoon expressed the romanticism favored by influential nineteenth-century park designers. For example, Frederick Law Olmsted's development of Central Park became a model for parks throughout the nation during the nineteenth century, with its emphasis on naturalistic, English-style parks. Landscape architects such as Olmsted argued that such naturalism helped bring urban residents--often living in cities with squalid living conditions--closer to nature and helped to civilize them. The lagoon emphasized this natural aesthetic because water meant more species of fish, ducks, and turtles. More broadly, the park's new name expressed the wonders of nature--Encanto means "enchanted" in Spanish. Not all of the features added by the New Deal support neatly fit the naturalistic park model. The Band Shell, for example, expressed a more rationalistic approach that emphasized parks as functional places for the many diverse communities living in cities. The Band Shell, and even the practical emphasis on fishing and canoeing in the lagoon, welcomed residents to the park as an entertainment space. And indeed, much of twentieth-century park design in the United States favored the functionality of the rationalistic approach, especially with amenities that appealed to children. Encanto Park continued in this direction in 1946 when it added an amusement park that would become one of the park's most prominent features. Kiddieland featured amusement rides that included a train and a carousel. 

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William Hartranft founded Encanto Park in 1934, seeking to create a park for Phoenix that was like San Francisco's Golden Gate Park or San Diego's Balboa Park. William Hartranft emulated parks inspired by Frederick Law Olmsted, the founder of Central Park, whose plan shaped urban parks across the United States, including Golden Gate Park. Hartranft's inspiration tells us how Americans living in the 1920s imagined what a park should look like. Olmsted imagined parks as public places where men could escape the dirt and noise of the city and find natural, uplifting spaces. Olmsted romanticized nature and sought to improve it by designing viewsheds, hills, and lakes. His vision permeated San Francisco's planning for Golden Gate Park. However, he recommended a different location and a design more in keeping with California's unique landscapes. Olmsted argued for a similar park to promote civility and grant a meeting place for all classes in San Francisco. Likewise, New Yorkers wanted Central Park opened to all classes of society. Hartranft duplicated that inclusiveness with family-oriented recreational areas for all ages. Such ideals influenced parks across the United States, including those in Encanto, Golden Gate, and Central Park.  Early designs for Encanto Park promoted a naturalistic style that drew upon both the design and organic materials used on the East coast. Not surprisingly, this preference for lawns and shade trees proliferated in Phoenix as it grew in the desert. Photographs and drawings demonstrate how Phoenix's early residents replaced the natural Sonoran Desert with lawns and trees, though often with palm and other desert-hardy trees, such as willows.  If claims about the public good motivated Hatranft's rhetoric, his motives surely included the desire to build an amenity that would enhance his own economic interests. Hartranft and business partner Dwight Heard began to develop property in the nearby Palmcroft plat in 1927. They sought to build a neighborhood that would appeal to well-heeled middle-class residents and planned amenities accordingly. These eventually included Encanto Park, complete with a nine-hole golf course, tennis courts, and a swimming pool.  The Park's orientation toward elite residents (and new development) was evident in its location. In fact, residents originally called Encanto Park Dorris-Norton Park, with a nod to the nearby residents and developers who sold the land to Phoenix for the Park. James C. Norton and James W. Dorris had large estates on the land. The impressive Norton House abutted Encanto Park, as did Dorris's estate, Casa de Rojas (which later became Encanto Community Church). In the context of Phoenix's development, locating Encanto Park at the lightly populated northern edge of the city, where city elites lived and/or were moving, indicates that Hartranft and his peers imagined an amenity that would serve the well-heeled residents of the Encanto Palmcroft district. And more broadly, Phoenix remained a primarily agricultural settlement, except for its multi-ethnic neighborhoods immediately south of the central business district. Moreover, prior to the city's purchase, the land for Encanto Park had been vacant property primarily for agriculture, especially grazing animals. In letters to nearby property owners after the sale, the Phoenix City Manager informed them that "you are herewith notified that in allowing stock to graze on this land you are trespassing upon Private Property, and unless you immediately cease this trespass the City of Phoenix proposes to take the necessary legal steps to evict you."  Over time the relationship between the Park and its surrounding community changed, growing increasingly contentious as the years wore on. After World War II, the connections between the Park and the nearby neighborhood remained close, and families continued to flock to the Encanto-Palmcroft neighborhood. In 1946, Kiddieland opened on an island in the Park's lagoon. The new addition drew neighborhood children and tourists to its eleven amusement park rides, including a now-famous carousel. However, the community gradually became more middle class, adopting the inexpensive ranch-style houses often characteristic of the post-war American West. This was partly related to cost; creating custom homes became cost prohibitive, and the ranch style emerged as an affordable and respectable style of architecture. Still, the Encanto-Palmcroft neighborhood remained relatively exclusive. Its post-war housing boom was characterized by more elaborate and sometimes custom-built, rambling ranch-style homes.  By the 1960s, however, tensions emerged between the users of Encanto Park and its neighbors, setting off a twenty-five-year struggle over the soul of the Park. Though newspapers reported almost daily on the positive activities happening in the Park, those news reports were sprinkled with concerns by the latter half of the decade. Through the summer of 1968, the Arizona Republic reported on the lagoon's pollution and overgrown weeds, confirmed by the operators of Kiddieland. At the same time, the Arizona Republic noted that a "cold war erupted this week into open battle" between 'hippies' and the police who were defending "adult society." The newspaper opined on the importance of "law and order" and worried that Phoenix "won't remain a choice place if Encanto Park is made into a Western version of Central Park in New York." By the mid-1980s, park leaders in Phoenix sought to restore Encanto Park's aging infrastructure and update its amenities, including Kiddieland. A public debate ensued on a variety of park features: the future of Kiddieland (it was closed) and the fate of its carousel (a citizens' group preserved it), whether to buy "natural" boulders for the lagoon or manufacture them from concrete and how to best preserve public safety. The bandshell was lost to fire in 1987, though planners had intended to demolish it anyway. Civic leaders claimed that removing the bandshell was a safety issue as its construction was substandard. Still, one wonders whether evening concerts had produced too much tension between residents and park users over the years. By 1991, the Park had been rehabilitated, now serving a neighborhood that had become less exclusive from Phoenix and its surrounding communities.   Even so, the Park itself remained an expression of the same park ideas that shaped the growth of urban parks throughout the United States in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It reflected the romantic ideals of 19th-century landscape designers with its open spaces, artificial lagoons, and use of grass and trees to frame views and experience. In some respects, it may have become even more important as an oasis from the vicissitudes of urban life as Phoenix expanded around it. At the same time, the continued emphasis on amenities--whether in the form of golf, swimming, tennis, or the amusements of Kiddieland--suited the more rationalistic urban planners of the 20th century. They wanted to create functional spaces that drew visitors not just for contemplation but for recreation, especially children and families. Like other American parks, Encanto Park combined romantic and rationalistic perspectives. It had broad landscapes to complement romantics and unique attractions to suit more rational planners.

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Until 2012, the Alpha Drive fraternity community occupied this campus district, with thirteen houses (ten occupied) providing a unique gathering place for men affiliated with the University's fraternity community. For better or worse, Alpha Drive represented something much bigger than just a simple series of homes--it reflected the University's commitment to signature architecture and fraternity life. Looking carefully at the history of the lost fraternity houses also reveals much about the changing University - and even the changing place of the University in Tempe.

In the 1950s, the University began exploring the possibility of building a housing community for male students involved in fraternities, comprising about 18 percent of male undergraduates. As enrollments increased dramatically in the post-war boom, fraternity membership also grew at Arizona State University (formerly known as Arizona Teachers College.) Fraternity life also had outgrown the Adelphi complex. The much smaller Adelphi complex had represented the University's first attempts at housing five of the most prominent Greek organizations. Housing demand was not the only factor in deciding to build fraternity housing. School officials also wanted to maintain control and supervision over the sometimes unruly and rowdy fraternities that hosted functions at private, off-campus locations. Thus, in 1962, Arizona State University greenlit and financed plans of several very prominent local architects to put to construction.

When completed in 1963, Alpha Drive dwarfed the nearby dorms in size and architectural style. Imagined by several groups of prominent Arizona-based mid-century architectural firms and created under the guidance of nine different contractors--all of whom were given a limited selection of materials to keep costs to a minimum--the buildings of Alpha Drive nonetheless displayed a common architectural and stylistic language. They showcased the distinctive sleek geometries, contrasting materials, minimal ornament, and functional forms that characterized mid-century architecture. This modern style emerged across the American west in the 1950s. It served as a defining characteristic for many buildings in Tempe.

For example, the Phi Sigma Kappa house displays an excellent instance of the mid-century modernist style found along Alpha Drive. Aside from the general designs of the structure, the homes' entrance featured the fraternity's letters cemented onto a porch-like concrete overhang commonly referred to as a "porte-cochere," which was a functional reinterpretation of a feature in many of the extravagant modernist homes in the 18th and 19th century. Elements such as the porte-cochere existed to create a much more dramatic entrance to the building, which exemplifies the architectural direction the creators of the Phi Sigma Kappa houses' designs decided to embark upon.

Prominent local architect Kemper Goodwin designed this very same building. Goodwin (and his son, Michael) designed many signature buildings across the region as part of the larger mid-century architectural movement. Arizona natives, Goodwin's family solidified itself prominently in the history of the University when the first football stadium was named after Goodwin's father, Garfield, a former Mayor of Tempe. The Goodwins' work would include municipal buildings in Tempe and West, Memorial, and Wilson Halls (among other notable buildings) on the Tempe campus. Kemper and his son Michael also created the Tempe Municipal Building in 1970, with its unconventional inverted pyramid design.

Kemper Goodwin's work on the Phi Sigma Kappa house and his fellow architects lent Arizona State a modernist sensibility during the building boom of the 1950s and 1960s, which more than doubled the size of the campus. Alpha Drive reflected the aspirations of the University as it sought to grow from a regional teacher's college into a national University. Through its innovative use of design in designing Alpha Drive, ASU had begun to reimagine itself using the idiom of the distinctive mid-century architectural style that emerged following World War II. Likewise, it represented an expansion of the University's physical plant that included construction across campus and the creation of a new sports stadium nearby, straddling Hayden Butte. Even so, the buildings never achieved wide use, even as ASU expanded. However, Alpha Rows' low-density feel--two stories, with thirteen buildings on a broad open space involving a little over 13 acres--was appropriate to Tempe's relatively sparsely populated areas and ASU of the 1950s. But as the city and University continued to expand, the Alpha Drive community became an ever-more attractive option for a different use that would meet the demands of the campus.

For more than forty years, Alpha Drive served as a hub for fraternity functions. Still, development and maintenance pressures, as well as skepticism about the role of fraternities at ASU and on college campuses in general, worked against these historic buildings. Alpha Drive gradually fell into disuse, demolishing its last building in 2012. Even so, Alpha Drive reveals the history of the campus and community, its architecture and ambitions--even as the site of the fraternities is re-purposed toward another grand vision for ASU's growth in the 21st century.

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It all began with two men. One, is a master architect. The other, is a university president leading a small school toward becoming a major university. Gammage Auditorium resulted from that collaboration--becoming a symbol for ASU and Tempe and emerging as a representation of Wright's enduring late-career ideas and influence. Frank Lloyd Wright is arguably the greatest (or at least most influential) American architect. His impact is visible everywhere in the United States. Not just evident in his artistic master creations such as Taliesin or Falling Water, Wright's influence extends to the ranch-style homes ubiquitous across American suburbs and the midwestern and western United States landscapes, especially in Phoenix and the southwest. 

Charles Trumbull Hayden was born in 1825 in Hartford County, Connecticut. After moving from Connecticut to Missouri, he began working with a freighting business and traveled to Arizona frequently. In 1870, Charles Hayden and his business associates laid claim to part of the Salt River, which resides in Yavapai County. This land would eventually become the community known as Hayden's Ferry, and in 1879, the community became the city of Tempe.

Throughout Charles Hayden's life, he remained a proponent of education, assisted in acquiring funds from external sources, and even donated personal funds to create the Tempe Normal School in 1885. The Tempe Normal School was renamed the Arizona State Teacher's College in 1928, and in 1958 the college was officially recognized as Arizona State University. Due to Charles Hayden's significant impact on the university and his continued endeavors in Arizona's educational funding and legislature, Arizona State University named the central library on campus after him.

Charles Hayden did not live long enough to see the library dedicated in his name. Still, his son, Senator Carl Hayden, was present. Senator Hayden joined 1,500 spectators packed onto Hayden Lawn on November 22, 1966. During the library dedication, Carl Hayden had the opportunity to speak about his father and the legacy he left behind at Arizona State University and the city of Tempe. He stated, "By these remarks, I'd softly indicate the manner of man my father was, and I am proud to be his son."

During the library's construction in the 1960s, the architects created an office for Carl Hayden, tucked away on the fifth floor. While he did not need this office during his tenure as a Senator, Carl was an avid student and used his office frequently for research. Today, the office has been turned into a museum to honor Hayden and his family. The most significant piece of living history in this space is his Senate desk, donated to Arizona State University by Congress in 1968. Other items in this museum are paintings of Carl, photographs, and some of the books that Hayden himself used.

Today the Hayden Library welcomes approximately 1.5 million visitors annually through the underground entrance. Many of these visitors are students of Arizona State University, seeking refuge in a quiet place to study or digging for course materials in the stacks. What many of these patrons may not know, however, is that the Hayden Library is more than just a space to hold books. In 2016, Hayden Library announced plans to renovate the library and bring it into the 21st century. Since many students have stopped using tangible books in favor of online databases, ASU is adopting a new method of digital curation. Another major project during the remodel is to realign the library's volume collections into student view, allowing for the 4.5 million books to be better utilized.

In 2018, a multi-year renovation of Hayden Library began, seeking to give the library a renewed sense of identity while also hearkening back to some of its original design elements.

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The Hayden House, or La Casa Vieja as it came to be known, is the longest-standing Mexican-adobe structure in Arizona. It was originally constructed in 1873 near the South bend of the Salt River by local Mexican and indigenous craftsmen for Charles Trumbull Hayden. "The original house was a single-story row house constructed of adobe in the Sonoran style," according to the City of Tempe. With an "L" shape, the house fronted Mill Avenue for 80 feet and First Street (now Rio Salado Parkway) for 120 feet.

Charles Hayden settled in Tempe after he relocated his freighting business and implemented plans to build a flour mill. In 1877, Carl Trumbull Hayden was born inside the Hayden House, where he and his two sisters, Sally and Mary, grew up. The Hayden House was refurbished throughout 1876-1883 by adding three more rooms to the west side and a second story of adobe on the north end. Throughout the life of the old house, it has always served as an epicenter for the growing community.

In 1889, when the Hayden family moved to a larger ranch north of the Salt River, they added a wood-framed second floor to the simple adobe structure. The former Hayden residence became a boarding house and general store and remained so for more than thirty-five years. Recognizing the structure's historical importance, Sally and Mary Hayden commissioned what was arguably the first historic restoration and preservation project in Arizona. Hoping to maintain the original adobe design, they hired noted local architect Robert T. Evans, who often worked in building and renovating adobe buildings, to restore the property. The Haydens converted the house into a restaurant that became known as La Casa Vieja: "the old house."

In 1954 Leonard Monti purchased La Casa Vieja from Sally and Mary Hayden, who were forced to sell due to debts accrued during the Great Depression. Leonard Monti understood the importance of the old house to the area and kept the name. The Monti family operated the restaurant from 1956 until 2016. The family honored the house's history and incorporated pictures from 1920 into the menu. Monti also gave historical tours of the Hayden House. The house's location was significant because of the amount of traffic that flowed through Downtown Tempe, where Federal Highways 60-70-80-89 converged to cross the Salt River at the Mill Avenue Bridge. In 1979, La Casa Vieja continued to expand on the southern end of the building. Eventually, though, the interstate highway, suburban expansion, and rising land values in downtown Tempe created economic pressures that led the Monti family to sell La Casa Vieja in 2014.

Current plans call for a new multipurpose office and lifestyle hotel at the location, with plans to save the original Hayden House and incorporate it into the facility.

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In 2004, a defining piece of Frank Lloyd Wright's 1957 state capitol design rose in the Promenade shopping center in Scottsdale, Arizona. The shopping center desperately needed a focal point, and Frank Lloyd Wright's protégé, Arnold Roy, was happy to oblige. Wright's original design never graced the Capitol but Roy, who was Wright's apprentice during the controversial Oasis project, suggested it for the Promenade.

The 125-foot turquoise spire boasts 1,700 pieces of steel and weighs over 75,000 pounds. Its glowing, electric blue point can be seen in the distance across the North Valley. The corner of Scottsdale Road and Frank Lloyd Wright was the perfect spot for the piece to debut. The spire's hue is true to Wright's consistent use of natural colors that relate to the surrounding landscape and is unmistakenly an ode to Arizona's ubiquitous and world-renowned turquoise.

The Frank Lloyd Wright Spire is a tribute to the renowned architect's influence on the Valley of the Sun and the Capitol that never was.

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Architect Frank Lloyd Wright saw great potential within the vast Sonoran Desert. The designer had just finished the designs of his renowned Usonian homes when he found himself deep within the McDowell Mountains of Arizona. In 1937, after ten years of exploring what architectural historian Edgar Kaufmann refers to as "his Arizona desert experiments," Wright constructed the National Historic Landmark Taliesin West.  Wright's passion for the desert landscape continued to influence the surrounding area beyond Taliesin West. Sixteen years after the winter home's inception, in February of 1953, American Institute of Architects Phoenix division speaker and architect Fred M. Guirey shared his desire to modernize the Arizona State Capitol by moving to Papago Park in Tempe, Arizona, during a Valley of the Sun Kiwanis Club's Hotel Westward Ho luncheon. That same month, Wright shared his agreement with the move at another meeting and in March of 1955 -- over two years later -- spoke again during a Phoenix Press Club meeting.  On January 25, 1957, the Arizona Republic carried a photograph of a new state capitol proposition. Lloyd Clark, a Phoenix Gazette reporter, shared the 20-story building design with Wright in an interview a month later. So dissatisfied with the initial design's "commonplace nature," Wright sketched the coup de grâce of organic, modern architecture without hesitation: The Oasis. Wright, typically outspoken, stated that "The cramped urban accommodations of the Nineteenth Century as now seen in the officially approved Capitol for Arizona should not be allowed to date the State. That design for the proposed Capitol is completely out of date in the middle of the Twentieth Century." By the end of the month, Wright submitted his offer to design the Capitol and prepared 20,000 promotional fliers, distributing them to over 91 high schools in the surrounding area.  Wright described his $5 million design as,  "A high, wide, sheltering crenellated-canopy of modern structure - like a great tree, filtering sunlight over subordinate but beautiful buildings and gardens standing together beneath the canopy in harmonious relation to this hexagonal domed shelter and to each other. All stand beneath and together in green gardens, fountains playing, pools reflecting. Great vistas of beauty are everywhere: useful function perfected no less – but more so when thus sheltered and standing high and wide in Arizona landscape out in the Valley of the Sun."  Regardless of Wright's intentions, the public pushed back against the highly modern design and move to Papago Park, noting that "Mr. Wright can take no credit for pioneering in this state, nor helping to bring civilization to Arizona. Just because Mr. Wright and his friends have seen fit to invest in this Valley does not give them a license to remake the Valley just to suit them." The Arizona Republic ran an opinion column in July stating, "almost no one outside of the legislature favors the two-wing plan." Ultimately, Wright's two-wing capitol plan lost the bid, and in late August, the Capitol Building and Planning Commission broke ground on the vastly different design present today.  Although the Oasis lost its public campaign, Wright's desire for authentic regional modern architecture continued in the Valley with the production of Grady Gammage Memorial Auditorium in Tempe, Arizona -- Wright's last large, nonresidential project before his death on April 9, 1959 in Phoenix, Arizona. In 2004, a defining piece of the Wright's state capitol rose in the Promenade shopping center in Scottsdale, Arizona: a 125-foot tall glowing turquoise spire. With the inclusion of the Frank Lloyd Wright Spire in the local framework, the architect's legacy no longer only resides in the McDowell Mountains. Including a tangible piece of the architect's magnum opus anchors Wright to the Valley and emphasizes how truly monumental his presence was in the historical record.

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The rise of Arizona and the 59th Avenue Residential Historic District in Glendale run within the same train station but on different tracks. The rise and stumbles of both state and street can be better looked at through a timeline rather than a picture. The homes built within the soil of the state hold with them the highs of a new state and the struggles of becoming a new state. The homes did not only hold a place for families and communities to grow but also the history of what the state went through to become what it is today.

The beginning of the 59th Avenue Residential Historic District was marked by Isaac Eyer planting the famous row of palm trees on his North Central Avenue property in 1895. However, the ground broke for 59th Avenue earlier in 1887, which was before Arizona was a state, when W.J. Murphy and other local pioneers knew they had something special. These men created the Arizona Improvement Company to provide water and land to settlers in Glendale, allowing for the area to become more livable. This development for settlement in Arizona, however, was only possible with the establishment of canals, like the Arizona Canal, and much like 59th Avenue, Arizona had help in its infancy to allow people to settle here. The Hohokam people used a vast number of complex water canals that birthed life into the Valley. This would be the ground work that was needed to allow people to settle within the desert. Just as the canals were important to Arizona’s future, they also played an integral part of 59th Avenue's history. Without the water south side of the Valley, it would have been a tremendously difficult time getting a reliable source of water.

The water that breathed life into the future of the state allowed for a rich soil to be used by cotton famers who first occupied the land that would become 59th Avenue. It was through the homes they built that gave way to the timeline of the state's history. From the first Bungalow style home built in 1923 to the last Ranch style home built in the 1950s, the homes told a story that reflected what Arizona went through to become what it is today. The early years of the state relied on cotton and cattle farming, so much so that at one point Arizona was home to the largest cattle purchase the West Coast had seen to drive most of the economic demand (The Copper Era. Page 1 Volume 9).

This was the aspect that, from the onset, enticed the farmers who settled on Lot 16 which later became 59th Avenue. This influx in settlement was short lived, however, as the Great Depression hit once settlers started to build homes; thus, the growth in population slid off during the late '20s and early '30s. This marked the rise of the Bungalow style home within these properties that, in a way, represent the lives of the residents. Bungalow style homes hit their peak in the late 1910s and went out of style by 1919. The odd part is how many were built within Arizona in the 1920s. Bungalow style homes were clean and simple, which was a turn away from the gaudy Victorian style in the late 1890s that reflected the people and the young state. Life in Arizona for cotton and cattle farmers at the time was simple until the Depression. The other style at the time was the Period Revival Homes that popped up during the mid-1920s. This reflected a scar that was left by WWI and the influences that Europe brought over.

Once the dust settled, the next boom in both state population and 59th Avenue population was in the 1950s. At this point, two major army bases had been placed within ten miles of the residents' homes. The Ranch style home would represent the start of a decline in home individuality, and with that, the individuality of Arizona went with it. Ranch style homes were the first step in what would lead to the cookie cutter homes, and it represented a time when Arizona jumped into the major city ranks. The layouts of the surrounding neighborhoods changed from there on out. The times reflected periods in Arizona that shaped both community and state.

The 59th Avenue Residential Historic District is notable for Eyer's line of palm trees that extended along the street for about one-third of the district's length. In a way, the palm trees resemble the entity of Arizona as they were present before the people, cars, and homes. With all the change that happened around the trees, they still hold roots in what 59th Avenue and Arizona were in the beginning, but they are still the defining factor in the face of the future.

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Valley National Bank served the Valley from its founding in 1900 through 1992. During this time, the Bank's distinctive logo was a common sight throughout the Valley. Its branches often had an iconic architectural design.

Located at the corner of Apache and Rural, the Tempe branch was constructed in 1962 by local architects Weaver & Drover. Many people remember this particular location for the unique design of the building's roof: a gold geodesic dome that R. Buckminster Fuller designed. This unique design choice by the Valley National Bank was a response to the changing architectural trends in the Phoenix Metro Area.

The Bank sought to adopt a retail image centered on consumer services. The location on Apache Boulevard also adopted many new strategies to become a successful bank. The progression of automobile culture in the mid-20th century set the path for some of these strategies used by the Valley National Bank. The Bank's location was essential to its success; it allowed easy automobile access by being located on the corner of Apache Boulevard and Rural Road. This type of auto-friendly access right off the road was an uncommon feature in most urban banks at the time. Another innovation resulting from the expansive automotive culture of the mid-20th century was the introduction of television bank tellers. Now, customers could quickly turn off the road and into the Bank's parking lot to complete their banking business - without leaving the car.

Valley National Bank was very successful and opened several other branches in the Tempe area. However, in the early 1990s, Valley National Bank was purchased by BankOne, and the Apache Boulevard location was subsequently transformed into a visitor center for Arizona State University. The bank building continued to be used by ASU for the next two decades. However, in 2007 the University began construction on the Hassayampa Academic Village on the site of the former Valley National branch. The unique geodesic dome had become a well-known and popular landmark in Tempe. Unfortunately, the building was ultimately deemed unsalvageable after an intense fight by the Tempe Historic Preservation Commission. The plan to demolish the building inspired the local community, with the help of historical preservationists, to fight to save the Bank from the wrecking ball.

Still, the University attempted to save the famous dome, even if they couldn't preserve the building. After two years of hibernation in ASU's surplus yard, the golden dome was re-erected in 2009 at Vista del Sol, a student housing complex across the street from the original Valley Bank site. Some might argue, however, that relocating the dome diminished its uniqueness. Even so, Tempe's now iconic dome still lights the surrounding desert sky, a memory of a bygone age.

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The Mesa Temple is decorated on its corners with frieze panels that depict the Latter-Day Saint beliefs about the gathering of Israel from the four corners of the earth, as prophesied by Isaiah in the Old Testament of the Bible.

A.B. Wright crafted the original design of the scenes. Torlief Knapphus sculpted models in plaster of Paris, which were then sent to the California Faience Company in Oakland, California, where the friezes were cast before their Temple installation. Each panel is three feet, six inches tall, and sixteen feet wide.

Begin on the East Corner of the North Side and walk counter-clockwise for a description of each panel.

North side of the Temple, east corner: This panel depicts Dutch and German Latter-day Saints entering their ship bound for America. Note the wooden shoes of the Dutch people and the windmill in the background. The German Saints are packing away bedding and entering the ship.

North side of the Temple, west corner: Here, the Mormon pioneers are depicted crossing the Great Plains and within sight of the Rocky Mountains. To Mormons, this fulfills the prophesy found in Micah 4:1-2: "But in the last days it shall come to pass, that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established in the top of the mountains ... and many nations shall come ..."

West side of the Temple, north corner: Depicted here is the landing of a ship in America carrying Saints from the British Isles. The leader is English, followed by Welsh people in their traditional attire. Irish and Scottish pioneers are on the boat.

West side of the Temple, south corner: This scene depicts the first parties of Saints who, in 1846, were driven from their homes in Nauvoo, IL, and crossed the plains traveling the 1,400-mile journey from the Mississippi River to Salt Lake City. The couple pulling the handcart represents the approximately 4,000 Saints who used a handcart rather than a traditional wagon pulled by oxen to carry their belongings to Salt Lake.

South side of the Temple, west corner: This panel depicts the Hispanic people. They, too, are leaving their homes and gathering with the Saints.

South side of the Temple, east corner: This panel represents the Native American people traveling to unite with the Church. The scene depicts the chief leading his people.

East side of the Temple, south corner: This panel depicts Pacific Islanders (Hawaiians and others). Note that this is the only panel where people are not traveling. While the Temple in Mesa was under construction, a similar temple was being constructed in Laie, Oahu, Hawaii, enabling the Hawaiian Saints to gather there.

East side of the Temple, north corner: Represented here are the Swiss and French people on their way to Holland, where they will embark for America. Those in the rear are Italians. Notice the wife is anxious to join the Saints in America, while the husband is unwilling to go. Some Saints, in addition to leaving their homes, also left family and friends to gather with the Saints.

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Many of the oldest remaining buildings constructed in the City of Scottsdale reside within the downtown area known to locals as “Old Town.” With a population of just over 2,000 residents, the city itself was incorporated in 1951. While several of the oldest structures remain and are represented within the 5 square miles which constituted this city at its inception, much of the development is far newer. Many of the newer constructions appear much older than they are, as they were designed with an Old Western aesthetic to match the city’s slogan: “[The] West’s Most Western Town”. The development within the area known as the Civic Center Mall is a prime example of this.

Adopting the slogan “West’s Most Western Town” reflected its roots and efforts to attract tourism, though the self-designated moniker has some historical basis. The earliest residents, arriving in 1888, were cattle ranchers. The community gradually grew and developed around a market constructed to aid with local agriculture and cattle drives. As with much of the American West, Scottsdale had a diverse population that included Mexican American migrants and settlers (some of whose presence may have predated the city's origins) and Native Americans (Yaqui Indians). Indeed, Mexican-American laborers performed much of that agricultural labor in Scottsdale and nearby towns, and Yaqui Indians served as water masters along the canals. The neighborhood stretched from Brown Avenue to the West to 75th Street to the East, and from Indian School to the North and 2nd Street to the South. The barrio was among the city's oldest neighborhoods.

As late as the 1960s, the city's Mexican-American barrio stood where the Civic Center Mall was constructed; it boasted a rich commercial and cultural life. All that remains to indicate those origins are the Little Red Schoolhouse (Scottsdale Historical Society), Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Los Olivos restaurant. However, the city razed the neighborhood using eminent domain federal urban renewal funds. The rationale was, of course, to create a city center and to replace a blighted neighborhood. However, the city also was engaged in relocating Mexican-American residents from the center of the town in much the same way that urban renewal efforts across Maricopa County, Arizona, and the United States used urban renewal to remake downtowns and disperse non-whites from those areas.

While some of this area remains untouched, much more changed. Major changes and construction began here in 1973. As part of a $5.2 million Neighborhood Redevelopment Program, the city acquired 18 acres of land, including the barrio, for the new construction. The new developments of the 1970’s were primarily commercial and oriented around building a public space at the heart of Scottsdale.

The City of Scottsdale originally budgeted only $400,000 for the construction, but a $7 million hotel, a $3 million performing arts center, 3 restaurants, and 55,000 square feet of retail shopping space known colloquially as a “mercado” replaced existing structures and homes. One of the architects spoke to the “critical need for [a] cultural meeting place” designed to represent the Old West but with a contemporary flair. Additionally, national Housing and Urban Development (HUD) funds were used to develop modern residences in the immediately adjacent communities, now a white majority, in what would become one of the wealthiest cities in the state.

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Prior to the construction of the Mesa Arizona Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, church members wishing to marry in a temple were required to make the grueling journey on the "Honeymoon Trail." The trail was named "Honeymoon" because, after marrying civilly in Mesa, the couple then spent their honeymoon traversing old wagon trails across northern Arizona, crossing the Colorado River at Lee's Ferry, and north though the "Arizona strip. Alternatively,they traveled via railroad to California, and then north, to St. George, Utah, the site of the nearest temple, to be "sealed" together in a temple ordinance. Members of the Church believe that in the temple, they are married not just until death but for all eternity.

Because of the distance and great effort required to reach the temple, especially in Mesa's earliest days before the advent of automobiles and graded roads, church leaders in Mesa began almost immediately to petition Church leadership in Salt Lake City to construct a temple in Mesa. Finally, in 1920, church president Heber J. Grant announced the construction of a temple in Mesa. The Mesa temple was the Church's ninth temple and Arizona's first (it has since been joined by temples in Snowflake, the Gila Valley, Gilbert, Phoenix, and Tucson). The temple was completed in 1927 at the cost of $800,000. After significant expansion and remodeling, the temple was rededicated in 1975 by then-president, and Arizona native, Spencer W. Kimball.

The temple was again closed for a major renovation in 2018 and is scheduled to reopen in 2020.

The temple's design was meant to reflect the Temple of Herod and ancient religious structures found on the American continent. The temple is only one of three built by the Church that does not have a spire topped by an angel.

Reflecting the pioneer heritage of the LDS community in Mesa, the eight friezes on the corners of the temple's roof depict various peoples gathering of Israel, or into the Lord's Church—from natives of the British Isles, and other various European nations, to the Native Americans and Pacific Islanders. For more detailed information, see the entry "Mesa Arizona Temple Friezes."

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The railroad changed the West and the world in many different ways. In the mid 19th Century, the US expanded its rail lines west. The railroad made it much faster to travel across the American West.

Phoenix grew from railroad expansion. The city became the trade hub of Arizona, and the state capitol moved from Prescott to Phoenix.

The population and business growth demanded more hotels for visitors. A.D. Walsh built a hotel on the corner of 6th Avenue in Adams Street in downtown Phoenix to accommodate government officials and tourists visiting the valley. The hotel changed its name in 1925 and added a third story. It has since gone through a renovation in the 1950s and is no longer a hotel but a home for older adults.

The Hotel Windsor is one of several historic hotels in downtown Phoenix.

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Adobe has served as an inexpensive and reliable building material for cultures across the globe for several millennia. Although ancient in origin, the use of adobe boasts thoroughly modern advantages such as renewability and energy efficiency, making brown adobe walls very green indeed.

The 1939 Webster Auditorium, a National Register-listed building on the grounds of the Desert Botanical Garden, is an example of a Phoenix-area adobe structure erected during the last great adobe boom. The period stretching across the Great Depression saw many such projects constructed. The rationale for the construction of many notable adobe buildings, including Tempe's Eisendrath House, ASU's Moeur Building, and Phoenix's Jokake Inn, was not sustainability but rather affordability or a desire to replicate widely-held perceptions of how the state once looked.

Curiously, just decades prior, Phoenicians worked tirelessly to replace the unpopular adobe structures found throughout the town with what they regarded as more respectable brick buildings. However, the ancient tradition of combining clay, straw, and sand with water to form a natural and durable construction material refused to be consigned to the ages, instead resurfacing periodically as succeeding generations recognized its many benefits. Today's environmentally-minded adobe adapters are the most recent, although likely not the last, group of desert dwellers to see the value in adobe - an ancient, albeit adaptable, architectural material once again en vogue.

edited 12/23/2019:wt

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Built in 1956, the Hotel Valley Ho never had time for its original grand opening. The rooms filled up far too quickly to bother. The hotel thrived as tourists were drawn to Scottsdale's burgeoning arts and culture district; the industrial giant, Motorola, arranged to temporarily house its relocated employees in the hotel's graceful poolside rooms. Not only was the Valley Ho fully air conditioned, but it was open year round--an early innovator in this respect among Valley's hotels and resorts.

The hotel bridged competing trends that emerged in post-war Scottsdale between the Chamber of Commerce's "West's Most Western Town" branding and an emerging emphasis on high-end art and design.

Renowned architect Edward Varney joined these traditions through his design, melding organic southwestern architecture with the sleek, angular lines of mid-century modernism. Likewise, hotel operators, Bob and Evelyn Foehl, selected a name for the modernist design that resulted from a contest that asked the community to find a moniker that conveyed the appropriate "westward flavor." In bridging the nostalgic and the modern, the Valley Ho became an important symbol of 1950s Scottsdale's development. The postwar economic boom bred a host of luxury accommodations and tourist amenities in Scottsdale, and because travel and recreation, if only for a few weeks a year, were now within reach for many more Americans, Scottsdale quickly lured flocks of vacationers and seasonal residents. Scottsdale was forging its identity and aimed at glamor and glitz but differentiated itself by celebrating local southwestern aesthetics and traditions.

In 1973, the Ramada Inn Hotel chain, which owned an adjacent motel, acquired the hotel as part of a larger conference center. The new conference center and hotel took the name Ramada Valley Ho, although the new owners covered much of the mid-century architectural features that many viewed as outdated. The hotel continued to serve conference goers and tourists alike, but an aging infrastructure and increasingly competitive hotel market eroded its economic viability. In 2001, as Ramada Inn closed the hotel, local preservationists worried that the hotel might be bulldozed. Indeed, preservation reports noted that "with the Safari Hotel's demolition in the late 1990s, the Hotel Valley Ho is the only remaining postwar resort or hotel in the Valley, and conceivably, in Arizona, that has not had substantial changes to design, materials or architectural features. Of the major examples of motor hotels published in the architectural journals of the 1950s, none with the prototypical nature of the Hotel Valley Ho remain today."

Westroc Hotels & Resorts purchased the property--which had been placed on the Scottsdale Historic Register--in 2002, and invested more than $80 million in its rehabilitation. Reopened in 2005, the renovated hotel retained its original character. Westroc salvaged existing wings and the courtyard., as well as original brick walls, concrete railings, and fascia. It also preserved the custom steel open stairs of triangular patterns. New additions included a conference center and recreating Trader Vic's Restaurant, and additional levels were provided using the original 1956 drawings as inspiration. Allen & Phillip Architects led the renovation project.

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Scottsdale's first Catholic church had somewhat of a miraculous delivery. Initially conceived in the late 1920s, the construction plans for the old adobe mission church hit a major roadblock in 1929 when the stock market crashed, and the Great Depression hit. During its six-year building project, constant aid in the form of favorable sponsors, hard-working volunteers, steady commitment, and donations paved the way for the church's completion in 1933.

The mission church, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, earned every bit of its name. The scarcity and economic uncertainty of the Depression era challenged fundraising efforts in the early 1930s. Still, local and distant calls for help were answered. Scottsdale businessman Robert Evans supplied the building designs, equipment, and tools. Donations from Catholic communities in Scottsdale, Tempe, and even as far away as Chicago provided building materials. Teams of volunteer parishioners and Yaqui neighbors crafted adobe bricks and erected the church walls. Adobe construction, formed of natural materials, was relatively inexpensive and practical. Still, at fifty pounds per brick, it made for back-breaking work. Scottsdale tinsmith Bernabe Herrera added the finishing touch: stained-glass windows that retold the Miracle of the Roses story, an inspiration for the church project.

Nothing short of a minor miracle, Our Lady of Perpetual Help is a structural reminder of the incredible feats a community can accomplish when it comes together, even in the face of insurmountable difficulties. Local Anglo and Hispanic businessmen, Hispanic and Yaqui workers, and Catholic parishioners near and far played meaningful roles in the local labor of love that built Scottsdale's first mission church.

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Large crowds gathered at Scottsdale Grammar School #2 when it opened in October 1928, just in time for the fall school term. It was an event that deserved a celebration as Scottsdale was quickly growing, and the new school was a symbol of the community's progress. During the first academic year, 594 children enrolled. Yet, only five months earlier, the Little Red Schoolhouse had been the only grade school in town. Scottsdale's population was steadily increasing. A 1920 census reported 1,047 Scottsdale inhabitants, but by the middle of the decade, that number had doubled. This was made possible by the availability of a reliable water supply, thanks to the construction of the Roosevelt Dam in the 1911, and the 1924 completion of a main line rail connection to the national rail system. But this growth was not limited to Scottsdale; rather it was a phenomenon that was transforming the Salt River Valley during the 1910s and 1920s.

Changes were afoot in Scottsdale—electricity came in, a local bank opened, and the town even got its own standalone post office. The larger population that came along with these amenities meant the tiny Little Red Schoolhouse was bursting at the seams. A new school was in order, and this school had to reflect Scottsdale's rising stature. The town—though still unincorporated—passed a bond to raise $50,000 for a brand new K-8 school. This not only showed the solidity of the community and its ability to work together to advance itself, but it also showed that it was prospering and was committed to its future growth. The school's popular Spanish Colonial Revival style is a testament to this belief. At the time, school buildings were a major point of pride for developing Western towns and were the products of significant resources. Even today you can see that the stately lines of the Scottsdale Grammar School #2 represented a big change from the small, red brick Little Red Schoolhouse, which is emblematic of common frontier town schools. Scottsdale was beginning to mature.

Though it opened with a luxurious-for-the-time 8 classrooms, an administrative office, and a nurse and teacher's room (thankfully for the students, a cafeteria was added in 1936), the school has undergone numerous changes and expansions over the decades. In the 1950s, even its name changed. It became Loloma School when the rapidly expanding school district decided to give its flourishing schools American Indian names—a move that was certainly in keeping with the creation of Scottsdale as "the West's most Western town." Despite all these changes and the fact that Loloma School no longer serves the community as a public K-8 school (but is instead now the renowned Scottsdale Artists' School), it continues to symbolize the confidence of and the burgeoning possibilities that opened up for the Salt River Valley during the 1920s.

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Scotty's Blacksmith Shop, established in the late 1920s by E. G. Scott, once stood on the land now occupied by the Sugar Bowl. It was here that the gate to Frank Lloyd Wright's iconic winter home and school, Taliesin West, was forged. As the story goes, Wright swept into the shop trailed by a group of adoring protégées and enumerated at great length, and much to Scott's chagrin, the exacting specifications for his project. This small anecdote speaks to a deeper connection between the Valley and Frank Lloyd Wright.

Wright first arrived here in 1927 to assist on a project in Chandler that never came to fruition. He returned in 1929 to help Charles MacArthur design the Arizona Biltmore. Still, Taliesin West, nestled in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains, best exemplifies Wright's relationship with the Valley--a relationship in which the Valley's natural landscape functioned as his muse. In 1937, after purchasing the land on which Taliesin West Sits, Wright exuberantly deemed it to be "the top of the world." His keen appreciation of the beauty of the Arizona landscape provided a framework for his architectural endeavors here.

Taliesin West, in particular, is a monument to Wright's signature philosophy of organic architecture—architecture that does not sit conspicuously, obtusely, on the landscape but becomes a part of the landscape, works in harmony with its surroundings and nourishes the lives of its inhabitants. It symbolizes Wright's belief in the beauty of Arizona: "Arizona needs its own architecture . . . Surface patterned after such abstraction in line and color as find' realism' in the patterns of the rattlesnake, the Gila monster, the chameleon, and the saguaro, cholla or staghorn--or is it the other way around--are inspiration enough." Wright sought to be eminently respectful to the desert environment and natural land features as he judiciously managed Taliesin West's forms, materials, palette, and use of light. In this way, he attempted to develop a uniquely Arizonan architecture. In developing this architectural vocabulary, Wright left his greatest mark on the Valley. Today, numerous buildings, both those designed by him and those created by his admirers, mutely testify to his aesthetic influence and the inspiration that the built environment can derive from the natural landscape.

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