The day I moved to Phoenix, Arizona, August of 1977
I rolled into Phoenix, Arizona in August of 1977. The exact date I don't recall, but it was definitely August, and it was 1977. I remember it all too well. It was HOT, and I was all alone in a place that was so strange, and alien from where I'd lived up until I was 19, Minneapolis, that to this day I'm still trying to get used to it. I guess you never really do. I will always be a stranger in a strange land.
If you're wondering why I moved to Phoenix, I really didn't. I just left Minneapolis, with the snow and cold. Anywhere that wasn't cold and snowy would have been fine with me. As it turned out, I had a lucky break in that the company that I was working for in Minneapolis had an office in Phoenix. One day I just asked my boss to transfer me, and he did. I can still see him hanging up the phone and telling me that they would be expecting me. It was only a part-time minimum wage job, but at least it was something!
I had a car, I could read a map, I knew which way was west, and so I went, arriving in the heat of the summer in Phoenix, Arizona. Of course my car didn't have air conditioning! In fact, for a long time even my apartment didn't have any - it just had a thing in the wall that rattled, which I tried for months to get fixed.
The apartment complex, which is still there by the way (although it has a different name now), was called the Saguaro Apartments. The address was (and is) 4201-4205 N. 9th Street. If you know the area, about a block from Lopers, near 7th Street and Indian School Road, not far from the VA Hospital. And I had no idea what kind of neighborhood it was, I just looked at the price, and it seemed right. It was the first place I looked at, and while I made a half-hearted attempt to look for another place, the sun was going down and I needed a place to sleep that night.
I decide to go back to the Saguaro Apartments that night, and for whatever reason I had cash on me (I must have been more mature than I had thought!). But the manager wasn't there when I got back, only who I presumed to be her daughter, who couldn't have been much more than twelve or thirteen. She had been told to give me the key and accept the money if I came back, but I wasn't about to hand over a big wad of cash to some kid! So she gave me the key, I slept in my apartment, and went over in the morning and paid the manager.
By the way, if you're a regular reader of this blog, you may be surprised that Bob wasn't the original manager. You know, the guy who called his car "Big Red". This was before Bob. But Bob took over not long after that, probably because he was more responsible. It was one of those places where you walked over to the manager's office every month and paid the rent. I always paid my rent on time, and I think that's why Bob liked me. Not everybody could do that, this wasn't the Ritz, you know!
I'd like to go on and on, and I probably will later, but mostly that's how I ended up at the Saguaro Apartments. The neighborhood was, and is, uh, "less than fashionable", and I know some people who are absolutely shocked that I lived in such a place. But it was exactly what I needed, and that wasn't much.
When I left my home and my family,
I was no more than a boy.
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of the railway station,
Running scared.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters,
Where the ragged people go.
Looking for the places only they would know.
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I like this part of Phoenix history, as I was also there, earlier in the summer, in 1977. However, I was visiting my grandparents, so it was a little different, but I can relate to the alienness of it all.
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