What Do You Get . . .

when the worlds of rock music and sports collide? You get Alice Cooper’stown, that’s what.

This sports-bar-meets-rock-hall was opened by shock rocker and Phoenix resident Alice Cooper in 1998 and is located across the street from the US Airways arena, home to the Phoenix Suns pro basketball team. The dining room boasts sixteen mega televisions which show nothing but sports.

The day we arrived for lunch with Chuck’s aunt Evelyn and cousin Raina, the courtyard patio was filled with small children and women dressed live elves (see the elf ears on the women in the red and white striped shirts, left). Wait a minute!! I thought that this was a sports/rock bar. It seems that Cooper’stown was hosting a children’s Christmas party complete with a visit by Santa.

Now Alice Cooper hasn’t just put his name on the menu. The day we were there, he could be seen standing behind the merchandise counter with a microphone and camera in his face and, later, walking through the restaurant talking with the staff. This appears to be more hands on than I anticipated.

Now I have to admit that the menu is rather hokey with most of the food items being named for either sports or rock stars/bands. We have your Ryne Sandburger, a half pound burger named for the Chicago Cubs Hall of Fame second baseman; the Connie Hawkins Hot Ham & Cheese named after the Harlem Globetrotter and Phoenix Suns basketball star; the Shaq Stack burger, a mushroom swiss burger set on top of a bacon cheese burger (a full pound of beef); or Megadeth Meatloaf named for a heavy metal band.

We heard about this place on an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations on the Travel Channel and decided that a visit while in Phoenix was mandatory. It was on this segment that Alice served up one of the house “specialties” – the Big Unit Hot Dog (“More Meat than You Can Eat”) named for Randy “The Big Unit” Johnson, the former pitcher for the Arizona Diamondbacks. This is a twenty-two inch long one pound Vienna Beef hot dog served on a baguette. Enough food to feed the entire table? You would be wrong. Chuck ordered this for himself.

Anticipating that I would share a significant portion of the Big Unit, I decided on a ten-piece order of the spicy wings.


Evelyn opted for the chicken quesadilla,

while Raina chose the tuna casserole.

Whenever a customer orders the Big Unit, buzzers buzz, bells ring, and your server calls out “Serving a Big Unit” when the food comes to the table. Heads turned in Chuck’s direction. Finishing this by himself now became a manly challenge, and I was only allowed a small taste for literary purposes. The hot dog was close to an inch in diameter and had been grilled rather than steamed or boiled. With the dog came a side of good crispy fries and a cup of not so good cole slaw.

My very meaty wings were excellent. The kitchen had tossed the deep fried wings in just enough sauce to coat but not so much sauce that the crisp skin became flabby. (There is nothing worse than flabby chicken skin.) And while the sauce packed a punch, it was not so hot to be painful.

Alice Cooper’stown is more of an experience destination for sports and rock fans and shoppers than a fine dining destination. Still, the food was good enough to warrant a 4.0 Addie score.

To family, friends, and drop-in readers, we wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Healthy and Happy 2010.

"A Ghostly Place"

The words "gold mine" in any brochure get my attention, so when the opportunity to visit the area of the Lost Dutchman's Gold Mine presented itself, we were there.

"There" is the Lost Dutchman State Park, about 50 miles east of Phoenix and 3 miles north of Apache Junction, AZ. The focus of the Park and the legend is Superstition Mountain (left) in the Sonoran Desert. It was unusually cloudy and "uncomfortable" the morning we visited the park.

When Francisco Vasquez de Coronado reached this area in 1540 seeking the legendary “Seven Golden Cities of Cibola," the local Indians told him that the mountain held much gold, although they refused to help the Spaniard explore it. They feared the “Thunder God”, who was said to dwell there and who would destroy them if they dared to trespass upon his sacred ground.

When the Spaniards tried to explore the mountain on their own, they discovered that men began to vanish mysteriously. It was said that if one of them strayed more than a few feet from his companions, he was never seen alive again. The bodies of the men who were found were mutilated and with their heads cut off. The terrified survivors refused to return to the mountain and so Coronado dubbed the collection of peaks, Monte Superstition, which explains the origin of the infamous name.

The mountain became a legendary spot to the Spanish explorers who followed and was regarded as an evil place.

Don Miguel Peralta discovered a vein of rich gold here in 1845 while searching for the treasure described to Coronado. As his mining operation increased, the Apache grew angry over the Spanish presence on the mountain and in 1848, raised a large force to drive Peralta and his men from the area. Peralta learned of an impending attack and prepared to move out. But they were taken by surprise, and the Apache warriors massacred the entire company of Spaniards.

The pack mules carrying sacks of gold scattered throughout the surrounding desert. The last case of anyone finding the bones of a Peralta mule was in 1914. A man named C.H. Silverlocke showed up in Phoenix one day with a few pieces of badly decayed leather and about $18,000 in gold concentrate.

In 1870, Dr. Abraham Thorne, who was considered a good man and a friend of the Apache, was blindfolded by the Apache and taken to a place where he could find gold. When they reached a canyon, Dr. Thorne saw a stack of almost pure gold nuggets. He later sold the ore for $6,000.

The "Dutchman," Jacob Walz (or Waltz), who was actually from Germany, was mining in the area from 1868 to 1888. During this time, he met and worked with Jacob Weiser. Both would periodically appear in Phoenix with some of the purest gold nuggets townspeople had ever seen. Walz would give conflicting stories about where his mine was located and was able to elude those who would try to follow him.

The Dutchman died on October 25, 1891 with a sack of rich gold ore beneath his deathbed.

Over the next century, several unexplained deaths of those searching for the mine have been reported. That information coupled with this advice given to those searching for the Lost Dutchman gives one pause:
"Do not go onto the mountain alone. Go in pairs at least and go armed. Shoot only to protect your life.

The Lost Dutchman Mine is still out there somewhere in the rugged hills of Arizona, just waiting for someone to return and claim its prize.

But is something else waiting out there, too? Perhaps the prospector named Joe Dearing said it best when he described the general area of the mine as 'the most God-awful rough place you can imagine . . . a ghostly place'.”

Morning in the Desert

Earlier this week, I picked up my camera and took a walk around the desert surrounding our RV site.

Even though we are less than one mile north of the last east-west highway of Phoenix, the RV Resort is surrounded by desert, which is another way of saying metropolitan Phoenix was once desert and is gradually spreading further into the desert.

We often comment that we want to be here in the spring to witness the colors of the desert. However, the cacti and grasses, even in winter, have a beauty that draws us closer to these plants.

Walking among these plants shown here, I focused on the space in a three-foot circle around my feet. This focus had a two-fold purpose: to be on the lookout for any small critters that might not welcome intruders and to look out for the small plants that would have been missed with a "horizon focus."

The lighter colors and arrangement of other cacti drew my eyes to them as they meandered toward the horizon.

I was still surprised at the range of shades within the limited number of colors in some of the plants.

The early morning sun highlighted the lighter portions of some of the cacti, creating the appearance of a glow around them.

Today was a day to enjoy the different vareties of cactus, so I have not taken the time to research the identity of all cacti shown here. However, I have learned that the saguaro (pronounced se-WAR-oh) is shown on the left of the barrel cactus in the photo on the right.

The church shown in the distance is part of the Pioneer Village attraction adjacent to the RV Resort.

When my brother Ed and his wife Sharry were living in Arizona, they sent us copies of Arizona Highways, which introduced us to some beautiful photography and the majestic saguaro cactus.

The desert is a beautiful place.

Where Summer Spends the Winter

Dr. Alexander “A.J.” Chandler founded the city of Chandler, AZ in 1912. He established a canal company to bring irrigation to the area and envisioned a town formed under the “City Beautiful” movement, which emphasized the placement of parks surrounded by monumental public buildings.

The showpiece of Dr. Chandler’s “City Beautiful” was the magnificent Hotel San Marcos, which he envisioned as a great desert winter resort.

Soon after opening in 1913, the San Marcos quickly established a reputation as one of the most luxurious resorts in the country, billed as the place “where the summer spends the winter.”

The hotel recently completed several renovations to the exterior, and the main part of the hotel has been repainted. As we walked around the Hotel's courtyard, we could not imagine it looking more elegant and inviting than it does today.

The lobby was renovated as well. The sign on the piano asks visitors not to play the historic piano.

The main courtyard was also relandscaped.

Dr. Chandler named the Hotel after Fray Marcos De Niza, the Franciscan friar believed to have been the first European to explore the Salt River Valley.

No longer the Hotel San Marcos, the name is now the Crowne Plaza San Marcos Golf Resort to emphasize its status as the first golf resort in Arizona when construction was completed.

Chandler, Arizona's booming growth (from 30,000 in 1980 to nearly 250,000 today) has enabled owners of downtown storefronts to restore their businesses to a modern version of their original turn-of-the-century look.

Near the San Marcos was this housing unit. I liked the colors and architecture of this grouping and just wanted to add this photo to today's entry.

When the World Gives You Tumbleweeds . . .

make a Tumbleweed Tree (to paraphrase what to do with lemons). But more on this philosophical aphorism in a bit.

We would not expect that traveling from our RV Park just north of Phoenix to Chandler, AZ, just south of Phoenix, would mean covering a distance of 60+ miles, but we’re learning that there are very few short trips in this area.

In 1891, Dr. Alexander John Chandler, the first veterinary surgeon for the territory of Arizona, bought 80 acres of land from the federal government south of Mesa in the Salt River Valley. By the turn of the century, he owned an 18,000 acre ranch. After Dr. Chandler subdivided his ranch, he drew up a townsite map. He then advertised nationally the sale of Chandler Ranch sites.

He envisioned a landscaped central park that would be surrounded by businesses. The walkways in front of the buildings would be covered by a trellis-like roof, supported by colonnades.

Today, the results of that vision are still present in the historic downtown of Chandler (pop. 250,000+). Desert Flower VII, a metal and mirror sculpture by Arizona artist Gary Slater, is at one corner of the A. J. Chandler Park.

Just across the street to the west of the Slater sculpture is the former Chandler Hotel.

The Hotel and the other buildings along this street still reflect Chandler's vision for the covered walkways with colonnades.

All buildings have housed a variety of businesses between 1912 and the present. One of the buildings is known as the Monroe Building. The first floor of the two-story building (in the photo on the left) housed the Monroe Hardware Company, Chandler’s first hardware company. In 1915, the top floor space was converted into Chandler’s first movie theater, where silent pictures were shown.

Over the years, some of the tenants were attorneys and the Pay-N-Takit and Piggly-Wiggly grocery stores. It was a recreation center for servicemen. Then, another movie theater. Today it is the home of El Zocalo Mexican Grille.

These tables and table settings outside the Kokopelli Winery and Bistro (the former First National Bank building, built in 1920) caught our attention, but only briefly.

We returned to A. J. Chandler Park to see the bronze sculpture entitled "The Rosales Family--Pioneer Fountain" by Emanuel Martinez. It commemorate one of the city's pioneering Hispanic families who settled in Chandler before 1910. The intent was to have water flowing from the container (left side of the photo, right), but rust became a problem, so the water was discontinued.

Then we saw the Park's main attraction. Since 1957, Chandler has had a lighted Tumbleweed Tree as its Christmas Tree. This year nearly 2000 tumbleweeds have been secured to form a 35-foot tree. Some 25 gallons of white paint have been sprayed on the tumbleweeds, along with 20 gallons of fire retardant chemicals and 65 pounds of glitter. Then 1200 lights are added.

Seeing all these tumbleweeds made me think of the song "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" sung by the Sons of the Pioneers. One of the original members of the group, formed in the 1930's was Leonard Slye.

The Sons sang in some Gene Autry movies and Slye had played some minor roles in some of these movies. So when Autry was suspended by the studio over some contractual matters, Slye auditioned for his replacement in a movie.

So when this former gravel truck driver turned fruit picker for Del Monte in California’s Central Valley and member of the Sons of the Pioneers won the part,
Leonard Slye was given a new name for his first starring film: Roy Rogers.

Pretty interesting.

"An Ambiance Event"

We continued our leisurely walk (see yesterday's entry) through Las Noches de las Luminarias at the Botanical Garden in Phoenix.

We found this handbell choir in Webster Auditorium. "These are called English bells," explained the conductor before beginning the concert, "unless you're in Scotland. Then they are called Scottish bells."

She then demonstrated the difference between American bell ringing (snapping your wrist as you move your hand forward) and English bell ringing (snapping your wrist as you move your hand backward).

But, more importantly, the music produced by these skillful ringers was beautiful.

The glow of the luminarias seemed to encourage a slow stroll through the 1.5 miles of paths. As one writer put it: "It's more of an ambiance event than an activity event" (Judy Hedding, About.com).

Finding this section of a path open was unusual. As we walked along the paths we could hear music from the Bad Cactus Brass Band, the Dickens Carolers, the Mariachi Corazón de Phoenix, and the jitterbugging tunes of The Swingtips.

We also heard songs from The Hey Boyz, a quartet who not only sang like cowboys around a campfire but also looked as though they had just been herding cattle on the plains. I was impressed with the sounds from the bass (inverted washtub) played by the second person from the left in the photo above.

But the sound that reflected the evening's mood most vividly was that from Native American Cedar Flutist Anthony Wakeman. His soft, slow musical expressions with just a hint of an echo produced by his sound board matched the mood of his surroundings perfectly. The sound and pace of his voice as he told the story behind one selection entitled "Butterfly" (the English translation of the Navajo name of his daughter) seemed to unite him and his music with the desert.

These few minutes with Anthony were memorable.

From certain viewpoints, we imagined looking over the lights from more than 7,000 homes represented by the hand-lit luminarias.

Highlighted groupings of cacti and other plants revealed the beauty of the desert and served to remind us to visit the Botanical Garden in the daylight.

The evening was cool; the camaraderie warm. We were composing this scene and noticed that several other groups were following suit. Participants in one photo traded responsibilities of photographer with those in other shots. The "Lumi" was closing, but the evening's fun continued.

The funsters are: Standing (l. to r.): Jesse, Kate, Chuck, Evelyn; kneeling: Raina.