Wilhelms

Last week I stayed at the Grand Canyon Hotel in Williams, Arizona.  Built in 1891, it is allegedly the oldest functioning hotel in Arizona.  It was the only place I could find with a room to let, and I am so glad.  I love it.  John Muir stayed there many times; I wonder if he ever stayed in my room?

As I have said, I prefer historic buildings to be a little threadbare, a little dirty, a little unrenovated.  I have a very Grey Gardens aesthetic, minus the cat pee.  This place ran through the 1970s, went out of business, and sat empty for almost 40 years (a "home for pigeons," they said) before the current management bought and "renovated" it.  By renovated, they mean they fixed the sewer, water lines, some electricity, and painted.  The wood floors are still 1891, almost completely worn of finish.  They didn't refinish the floors!  They are so creaky.  The banister is chipped and worn and you can see at least 4 different paint colors on it.  The rooms are furnished with all period furniture, including antique books on the bedside for casual perusal (I did, and was offended!).

I wrote this at the time and never posted it:

I am sitting on a small, squeaky brass bed, looking at a primitive walnut dresser/vanity on which is a 19th century vanity kit complete with hair-receiver and boot button hook!  A BUTTON HOOK.  The hotel is filled with early photographic portraits, some of which have faded so much that they may not be visible in another 25 years.  Needless to say, I am much pleased.  If my next door neighbor didn't have tuberculosis (not Doc Holliday or Val Kilmer so fuck them), this would be perfect.

People hate old portraits of babies and kids.  Why?  Because they look like killer dolls?  I'm over it.

Copyright: the twenties

The only time that "bathroom down the hall" thing sucks is when you're walking through this darkened area at 4 am with your hands out in front of you thinking, now is seriously not the time for any paranormal shit, plz/thx.

When I was a child, I read a weird horror story called "The Newel Post" about a newel post that anthropomorphized at night and, I don't remember, scared people.  Every time I see any class of a banister post, I think of the story.

Peeling mirrors, I prefer them

*Button hooks were necessary in Victoriana when super tight, heavily buttoned garments were en vogue.  A woman's boot could have up to 24 tiny buttons to fasten.  The buttons were small and the material was quite stiff, so the slender hook was used to reach into the button hole, grab that button, and pull it through.  Same with gloves and some men's items.  They must be a collector favorite, because I never see them around anywhere.

Happy Birthday, Bitch

Yes, today is Arizona's 100th anniversary of statehood. It's also Selma Goldberg's 100 year wedding anniversary as the first bride of statehood. Repeat readers might remember a post a while back in which I found her circa-1900 signature scrawled inside a closet in her childhood home - cute.

But wait, is there another anniversary today?

Heck yeah there is! Arizona proudly celebrates its 150th anniversary of being admitted to the Confederacy as a territory. HEYO. Unfortunately, the state never really left.

Doesn't Arizona know that it's tacky to set special events on holidays? Joining the Klan, getting married, and becoming a state all on Valentine's Day? Christ, you guys.

See the Maddow Blog for some enjoyably bitchy felicitations. I like "Putting the 'AZ' back in 'crazy'."

Anyway. The museum put together a giant birthday card for the centennial for which weekend visitors were able to inscribe 3x5 index cards (and a merry recession to you) with their birthday wishes, which were then affixed to the giant card. Here are my favorites:

A sneering zombie, flying hearts, and a rainbow over a cactus? This kid is awesome.

Ooooh, in your face Jan Brewer! You got dissed on a birthday card. I pointed this out all day.

For my card, I drew a picture of a cow, a cotton boll, an orange, a chunk of copper, and the sun. It was the only card in hundreds to depict the 5 C's. That's how you know who attended 4th grade in Arizona and who didn't.

Speaking of the Confederacy, did you know that Arizona was the site of the westernmost battle (skirmish) of the Civil War? You probably did, but listen to the way I tell it! It happened at Picacho (Peak) Peak. The Union won. There are two ways to look at it: irrelevant, or hell of relevant. I don't care about Civil War battles, but my understanding is thus: had the south managed to get to the west coast and have access to ports, they would have been a lot harder to beat, since they would have had more, like, stuff. This was in 1862, when I assume it was still anyone's game. With southern Arizona having a decent amount of Confederate sympathizers, a patrol was put together to head to southern California and see about making a path to the ocean, but the patrol was slapped down by a Union cavalry at Peak Peak, with the Confederacy never to rise again here or in the southwest in general. The end. Oh wait, not really, because you can see reenactments of this event annually at Picacho.

What is MOST important about Picacho Peak is that the Arizona poppy proliferates at its base every spring. They only grow in certain areas, so it's special.

Weird Arizona Highways commemorative video, I guess very early 80s. Ever-fantastical, magical!



Interesting for the Goldwater photography stories. Although Dolan Ellis really, really makes me want to kill myself. I had a weird flashback of 80s/90s Nickelodeon and that Fred Penner show. Terrible!

Camping this weekend was fun, and ridiculous. I need to make a note to not wander aimlessly in the woods by myself (this time the phone could not have helped me) but I survived yet again.

I lost my fucking mind staring at the stars in a clearing at midnight. I can't remember having seen them so clearly ever in my life, and it was the most amazing thing. I couldn't even take it all in. There were too many places to look. Lost my fucking MIND.

Being "in nature" is always very thrilling for me and I turn into a very excited child, perhaps one at Disneyland. Screaming and carrying on when I see animals. etc.


One day I'll use one of the cameras collecting dust in drawers and on shelves instead of my phone.

I saw a bald eagle!

(not pictured)

Oh,

Would that it weren't so deathful hot in the lowlying deserts. I should like to take a road-trip in my carre.

God I really need to stop even paying attention to the 16th century.

Anyway, I am currently enrolled in a totally lovely class about Arizona history in which I have learned all manner of fascinating things that I did not know. It made me dig out photos of yore as we discuss various monuments and sites, and these photos made me sigh for multiple reasons, firstly that I haven't gone anywhere in a while and secondly, that I never did fix that Olympus.

Montezuma's Castle, patched in like an ancient wasp's nest. Oh I hope that doesn't set the curse on me. I'm pretty sure there's a curse, not unlike the mummy's curse, in the general spirit of "seriously fuck off you guys!" Anyway, it is a large multiple dwelling built by the Sinaguas. This is as close as anyone gets. There is no rear entrance!


Arizona Sequoias looking like a paint-by-number scene.

Oak Creek Canyon, full of slippery rocks and blackberry brambles. Well not full of, but if you're clever, you can find them, and if you're cleverer, you can make blackberry vanilla vodka with them.


Apple trees at Oak Creek, and a downpour.

The Arizona Republican, Apr 19, 1901

"Miscellaneous Items"

- In very clear water, sunlight penetrates to a depth of over 1500 ft.

- At banquets during Elizabeth's time, every guest came with his spoon in his pocket.

- There is no truth whatever in the belief that anyone falling into the sea necessarily rises and sinks three times before drowning.

- An extremely useful clock has been invented by Thomas W. Hunt, of Macon, GA. At any moment at which the alarm is set - say at 5 am - it arouses the sleeper, lights a candle and kindles a fire in the range.

- A society for the education of cats has been organized in Pittsburgh. The president of this society declares: "We feel assured that under our process of culture, many hidden and unsuspected good qualities in the nature of the cat will be brought to the surface."

- Two athletic young men in Passaic, NJ fought a duel with pillows. It lasted 37 minutes, when a vigorous swing across the neck with the five pound pillow floored one of the contestants, and for five minutes he lay senseless.

--

Just some useful facts printed for the edification of the Victorian Phoenix forebears. I like that they refer to Elizabeth I by first name only. She needs no introduction or explanation, even in a dusty arm of the Sonoran desert.

Speaking of the Arizona Territory, my research ( = reading the one page biography provided by the Rosson) has revealed that Aaron Goldberg, the man whose family I am interpreting through 1915, was greatly responsible for and wrote the bill that moved the capital from Prescott to Phoenix.

To that I say, thanks guy. No, thanks. No thanks. Wouldn't our lives be so much easier if the sprawl was located two hours north? There would have been sacrifices, and I can just imagine Prescott Valley turning into Paradise Valley, but we would be able to step outdoors between the hours of 11 am and 7 pm without immediately being plagued by dehydration and death, and wouldn't that be nice?

Good job, Aaron.

AG circa 1900, from the Phoenix Public Library's Arizona Collection.

Not to be too much of a bitch, though, as he was rather philanthropic and dedicated his time and efforts to make this city more habitable to the miserable bastards who saw fit to stay year round in the days before swamp coolers, such as providing the first unemployment service for men finding themselves unable to work the mines or whatever was the greatest employer here at the time.

www.chroniclingamerica.com has provided decent scans of newspapers across the country from the 1860s to 1920s. They have lots of Arizona papers.

No homework Sunday

the desert is beyond beautiful today. rain always does this. the air is fresh and cold and everything is in technicolor. i practiced trying to walk silently, disturbing nothing, but it was difficult. so i laid myself down on fractured pieces of green shale that looked like tile on the desert floor and thought about absolutely nothing, and it was incredible.

blogger is acting all crazy with photos. i can't deal with it because i've already forgotten how to use the internet and i don't have the patience to fuck around with this stuff. the cool thing about being newly unused to reading blogs and other internet randomness for hours at a time is when i do try to now, i'm immediately disinterested. i just want to spy on/pick on friends and look for zuni rings on fuckin' ebay, DAMN.

i'm going to go get lost in the desert again. i'm not a very good outdoorsman because i do things like wander for an hour from one trail to the next or off trails until i realize that i will need to figure out where i started at some point. luckily i happened to walk in a giant circle today. i guess i could have used google maps to save myself! the internet vindicates itself once again.

Notes

ACLU fact sheet: myths about immigrants - In case you were wondering.

But let me move to more enjoyable things, like George Harrison. Specifically, George Harrison on Dick Cavett. It's been a while since I've mentioned Dick. I wonder what he's doing right now. I think he is reading a book.

These are a must-watch. There are more parts on youtube.

I love how terribly normal and uncomfortable he seems. He doesn't necessarily want to be there, but the magic of Cavett evidently lured him. If he can get Hepburn he can get Harrison. George has a very subtle and dry sense of humor, dry so that it probably made most people a little uncomfortable, wondering if he was serious, what he meant.

The citrus trees are blooming. My favorite smell ever, it gives me a few final moments of happiness in the land of the Five C's before the fireball descends and burns everything away.

From my little tree out back. Having a personal lemon tree is basically the highest form of luxury that I can possibly imagine. All the low hanging fruit is gone and I can't get at the higher stuff, which means I end up spending lots of time with the handle of an old swiffer sweeper, pathetically beating at the tree like a pinata, cursing and panting like the pissed-off geriatric that I am. But I enjoy it, of course. Including the cursing and panting.

This is my favorite time of year, and it only lasts about a week to 10 days. Micro-spring.

Also in the yard is a 50 year old grapefruit tree. I carry them inside in my shirt and juice them, glass bottles all in a row in the fridge. I am so impressed with this tree because it's never seen a day of pesticide and don't even mention genetic modification. Sad that this is a novelty? I've always been fascinated with growing, fruiting things, blooming and producing the way nature and Teddy Roosevelt intended. Maybe I can advertise those seeds on the internet to amateur citrus farmers who want to party like it's 1949.

Fuck yeah! Trees!

I enjoy that high winds and a full day of steady rain = STATE OF EMERGENCY!!!! in Arizona. Again, I am disappointed in how put out I am by weather, but I lost power at 8:30 which more or less ended my night, abbreviating the already extremely limited personal time I have in life!

I tried to imagine what it was like without electricity, when nightfall meant wrap it up and get to bed, not get dressed up and go carousing. It is interesting how bright the night is even with no electric lights burning for a mile. Even brighter with clouds, which seem to conduct the light of the moon all through them so they sort of glow. Was that a no-brainer? I'm sorry, I have been in the center of a 500 square mile megalometropolis for the last 20 years. I don't know what things actually look like! Losing power is kind of a peaceful, strange, fascinating experience, but I have to admit that I'd rather be showering when I want to and watching the Tudors.

Cindy McCain! Scary wife of John McCain comes out for the gays. Article. Unusual for a republican to give a shit about civil rights, but then I guess almost anyone can admit (when there's nothing to be gained by placating hysterical religious people) that taxpaying citizens should be able to submit to the same absurd rituals as everyone else if they want to. I wish I could remember Bill Maher's remark on gay marriage, which basically consisted of, "If they want to be miserable, let them!"

And that's how I feel about that.