Aggressive Plant Overruns New Library 

J. G. Gresham 

          Library employees arriving for work at the new Desert Broom Library were shocked Tuesday morning with what they discovered. 

          Plant roots twined around the outside bookdrops making them unusable. Librarians peering through the staff door could see bright green foliage and white fluff cramping every open space in the processing areas of the library.

The building had been totally overrun by the Desert Broom plant.

        New Books Infested

          The new Phoenix Public Library branch in northeast Phoenix at Tatum and Cave Creek Roads opened in February 2005.  The design has received architecture and interior design awards for its desert-friendly look and use of reusable materials.

          But employees and customers had never seen anything like this.  On entering the building, staff were speechless.  Some screamed; others fainted. 

          Popular fiction books like Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, as well as children’s picture books, and all adult non-fiction books were wrapped up with plants and roots.  The infestation seemed to be especially cruel to the library’s extensive DVD collection, crushing and destroying many of the feature films. 

          Police Investigation

          Phoenix police were called to the library and responded rapidly.  The police department requested help from Phoenix Hazardous Material crews and from expert botanists.  After a brief investigation, Officer Kenneth Growth reported, “Somehow the plants outside have gotten inside.  The plants have actually mutated here.” 

          Dr. Artemis Fanpalm, with the local agricultural extension service, confirmed the plant is the Desert Broom or baccaharis sarothroides.  “I’ve never seen the desert broom get this aggressive.  The plant doesn’t even normally bloom this time of year.” Fanpalm told the Peak.

        Desert Broom Characteristics

          Many local homeowners and businesses have struggled with the desert broom.  Normally, it is a native shrub which can grow to 6 foot tall and about as wide.  The struggle is due to the root system.  Desert Broom plants are known for growing rapidly where they are unwanted and sinking a root at least as deep as the plant is tall. 

          According to the Desert Foothills Land Trust website, the desert broom grows best on disturbed and cleared desert landscapes. 

          Phoenix branch libraries are often named for desert shrubs.  But when the name “Desert Broom” was selected, nearby resident Pamela Mockweed remembers the reaction.  “Homeowners were unhappy,” she explained.  “Desert Broom!!  That’s a weed for most of us.”

        Re-Opening the Library

          Library managers, Mrs. F. McGregor and Mr. Green Jeans,  said the library will be closed for “broom removal” for an unknown time.  Phoenix will try to get things up and running ASAP. 

          Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon said the city will take whatever actions it can to reopen the library, including using volunteer groups such as the Friends of the Library to clean up the mess.  The Desert Broom Library Friends of the Library group at 250 members, is the largest at any Phoenix branch.  However, Gordon reminded the Peak that like all large cities, the budget is tight.  And this expense comes at a time of belt-tightening for the entire city government.  “This is one contingency no one planned for,” said Gordon.

          Library users, in the meantime, are encouraged to visit the other Phoenix branches.  The Mesquite branch is located directly north of Paradise Valley Mall.

          The original library in the area, Desert Foothills Library in Cave Creek, has never in over 50 years of operation had a plant overgrowth such as this.  The Desert Foothills librarian, Mr. I. Heart-Books, had no comment on the new library’s problems, but did say he would donate gardening gloves and a wheelbarrow to the new library clean up.

          Author’s Note

          To visit the real, beautiful, non-infested Desert Broom Branch of the Phoenix Public Library, go to the library website at www.phxlib.org for address and hours of operation.

Deposit or Withdraw? 

By Ron Tartarella 

The heavy, black smoke was being carried eastward by a hearty wind that morning of November 5th, 2004, as I was driving north on Scottsdale Road toward Carefree to meet clients at 8 a.m. I noticed the smoke before I heard what sounded like an explosion of some magnitude originating perhaps a mile or so from my location, as well as I could estimate at the time; naturally, I assumed that the smoke and explosion "belonged to one another," and as I would eventually learn that would be the case.

My civilian, as well as military experience with explosives convinced me that the noise wasn't caused by Chinese firecrackers, or even dynamite for that matter, but rather by something far more powerful, nitro or "plastic", perhaps. At this juncture, this was total speculation w my part.

Bank of America?

As the Bentley took me closer to Tom Darlington Drive, I began to suspect that the Bank of America, the rendezvous with my clients this morning, might be involved, moreover, my suspicious nature signaled that it could very well be the target for the heavy duty explosives. But then my imagination was galloping away from reality. !t seemed to me that not many banks are robbed these days, and if this were a bank job, why explosives? Why In Carefree?  Why at 8 a.m. on a Friday?

Logically, more cash would be in the vault In the morning, wouldn't it? After all, Friday is a payday for many, if not most people, and a bundle of cash would likely be somewhat depleted in the afternoon; and then, of course, there's the "surprise factor … who would expect a bank job at that time?

Oh, well, so much for playing Dick Tracy or Sam Spade this fine morning.

Too Many Movies?

Now, my mind drifted to Giancario di San Michele di Machiavelli, and his beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed wife, Carina, who is a movie star and well known In Europe, but not yet in this country: these were my most prized clients to whom I had sold numerous investment properties over the years. They were always punctual for all of our meetings, social and business alike, and I was Hoping that their enviable track record for promptness wouldn’t prove to be their undoinge. Had I seen too many movies over the years? Was I being too dramatic? Too pessimistic?

Time was going to tell me, and it did.

Client, Car Concerns

Moments before hearing the blast, I was concerned about having to meet "G.M." and Carina with the Bentley, since they had always preferred the Rolls and all its amenities, but their “last-minute” call to me left precious time to prepare for their arrival, let alone days needed to locate properties that might be of interest to them. Since the Rolls was in for regular maintenance service, I had no vehicle choice remaining that would not insult their sensitivities, except for the Bentley. Here I was worrying about having the “right” car, which now appeared so minor in contrast to being genuinely concerned about my client-friends’ well-being.

My 25 years' real estate experience taught me that wealthy clients are invariably easier to deal with for a number of reasons, numero uno being that they usually know exactly what they want, which of course, facilitates the search for that “perfect property.” I rather enjoy playing the dual rote of realtor/chauffer to some of the wealthiest people in the world, including some of the royals, to which “G.M.” laid some claim from his family. Yeah, I could handle it just fine.

This day, however, would prove to be the most interesting, if not the most bizarre of my career, or of my life. And here I was hoping for "lucrative”! At the moment, I had no clue as to what was to transpire over the ensuing 20 minutes or so.

Were Clients at Bank?

"G.M." and I had agreed to meet at the Bank of America in Carefree at 8 a.m., at which time the bank normally opens for business; “G.M." and Carina were leaving their Villa in Bari, Italy to fly to Phoenix via Rome and New York. In spite of his name, fame, and world-renowned wealth, I did caution Giancario that he'd be wise to bring along a CLA (letter of credit authorization) due to the currently strong sellers’ market. By doing so, this would put him in the position of offering “cleaner” more acceptable deals to prospective sellers. He quickly agreed, and then phoned his New York bank to request that they e-mail a CLA to the Carefree bank, where we were to pick it up prior to staffing our search for property,

Although we've known one another for more than twenty years, Giancario and I aren't always in agreement, but we do enjoy mutual respect as friends, and as professionals,

Hovering Helicopter

As I dosed on the bank, suddenly this familiar THIP, THIP, THIP, THIP sound invaded the Bentley’s interior silence, and I looked skyward to see the grayish blue chopper hovering over the bank with a rope ladder nicely positioned over the bank's rooftop, or what was left of it. I was forced to pull off the road now, several hundred yards from the bank, as the police were beginning to rope off the area,

From my vantage point, I counted three men, all clad in black clothing, probably warm-ups, replete with face masks. They were standing on the bank's rooftop, and had formed a bucket brigade to move the money bags. I figured there had to be another man down below, still inside the building and, of course, the helicopter pilot There was still enough smoke from the explosion to offer them some cover, but not enough to hide them completely as they began to attempt ascending the rope ladder to the chopper’s belly.

Carefree Pandemonium

As I began walking towards the bank, I spotted Giancario and Carina standing about 300 yards or so on the opposite side of the bank, so when we finally got together, they told me that they, too, had suspected that something was askew, so they instructed their driver to lay back until they could ascertain what was happening in downtown Carefree.

Everything was happening so quickly … and there was pandemonium. Police sirens, fire sirens, with the pumpers literally “horning” their way into the bank’s parking area, rubberneckers bumping into one another, and traffic in all directions freezing in place. When the Phoenix Police SWAT Team arrived on the scene, I managed to slip under the police cordon, and approached the team leader, a Captain. This idea jumped into my head about bringing the chopper down with water … and in this fashion ...perhaps we could save some lives and further property damage into the bargain.

Of course, he looked at me askance, probably labeled me a nut case, and kept moving away from me and toward the bank building, “The guy’s got water on the brain,” he likely thought.

Heavenly Money

We overheard someone say that the police were discussing the possibility of using a rocket launcher to bring down the chopper, but they quickly scratched that idea since there was no magician readily available who could tell them if the aircraft would come down In the open desert, or in a populated area. They just couldn't take the risk.

People were gathering as closely as possible just outside of the yellow police- taped perimeter hoping to gain a “ringside seat,” while others seemingly were running home to grab their video cameras, still other resourceful individuals were eyeballing the rogue chopper through their binoculars. The money bags were beginning to ascend into the chopper via what I suspected was a winch and policy arrangement.

Watered Down Solution

“It’s hard to believe," we overheard the police captain say, "that they could penetrate eight inches of concrete and a one inch steel plate" that made up the ceiling over the bank's vault. Hello, what’s this? Hold the phone! The PFD is moving in for the "collar"... they just might take ink from Carefree's finest! We couldn't believe our eyes. Yes, they’re actually throwing some serious water into the chopper through the door opening on the port side. The PFD now had three pumpers on the scene, and with the rooftop fire all but extinguished, they had plenty of "ammo" left for the thieves.

Water weighs approximately 8.31 lbs/gallon, and the PFD, according to the fire chief, was lobbing it into the chopper's belly at the rate of 24 gal/minute, or 6 tons/hour, with all pumpers aiming at the same target. Apparently, the sky bandits were unable to open the door on the starboard side of the aircraft and allow water to pass through - the volume of water being too great. The PFD was just too much for them to handle! This was too much! The would-be bandits would have to abort, with water sloshing around the cockpit; the pilot had no choice since the chopper was now rocking back and forth like a baby cradle. It was finally forced to the ground where the police had formed a human ring, six men deep. It was all over. The five men were cuffed and taken away.

Deposit or Withdraw?

As we turned to walk toward the Bentley, the SWAT Team Captain hollered over to us, asking us to wait. As he approached, he apologized to me, admitting that my idea of bringing them down with water was so common sensical, no one on the force grasped where I was coming from, etc. He went on to say that "I should win the Citizen of the Year" award. I identified myself and introduced the captain to my friends, and then I said, "Well, we found a new way to launder money didn’t we"? Then, the Paparazzi were all over us as we turned to get into the car.

Once Inside, we turned to one another and asked almost in unison, "Whadda ya think, is this a good day to deposit or withdraw"? We agreed on "neither," but did agree that it was a good day to look for some investment property, and that we'd have plenty to talk about as we set about to do just that.

* Note. This article exceeded word length and was "disqualified." Because of its creativity, judges voted to award it a third place finish.

Nick’s Pinnacle 

By Tom Mangelsdorg 

Nicholas Preston came to Arizona in 1965 with a little inheritance money in his pocket, a bulky view camera in the back seat of his van and a burning desire to get the hell away from society. He’d fled the city, a failed marriage and the death of both his parents a year earlier. It was the perfect time to chase a dream.

New Environs

He bought a small adobe home on 5 acres of land at a bankruptcy sale that sprawled well east of Pima Road near Jomax and had been abandoned for over a decade. A kitchen, a bedroom and a living/dining room combination was all that he needed. But, most importantly, there was a large windowless room off the kitchen for his darkroom. He added some plumbing and additional wiring and set up his equipment: enlarger, trays, safe lights, and timers. There was no phone, no television, only a radio as background for the hours he spent in the darkroom.

Nick began to walk through the desert in ever-widening distances away from his house taking pictures of his new world. Each day began at sunrise and ended after dark in his darkroom to develop his film and print his photographs. He loved the isolation and peace of the desert. Every couple of weeks, when necessity demanded it, he ventured south into Scottsdale for groceries and photographic supplies.

Meeting Tate

Over time, a few people got to know him slightly. It wasn’t that Nick was anti-social or a hermit. He was just shy and didn’t think most people cared about him or what he did. The only person who got inside Nick’s world was Tate Buckingham the owner of Scottsdale’s only camera store. Nick and Tate would occasionally talk about where Nick lived and what he was doing.

Tate knew photography and knew the difference between the casual hobbyist and a passionate photographer. Nick, he concluded, was a professional. Tate knew it by looking at Nick’s fingers. His fingers were permanently stained coffee-brown from hours of immersion in photo chemicals. Nick was a purist in the tradition of Ansel Adams or Edward Weston. Precision in focus and tonal range ruled his work. The world of the desert was projected upside down onto his camera’s groundglass. He could labor for hours over a single image and spend many more in the darkroom until he had produced the perfect print. Each photograph captured a moment in the desert; a frozen image that could not be changed.

A New Friend

One day after returning home from a day on the desert, Nick noticed a kitten sitting blissfully in the shade of his carport. The tiny black and white kitten sat casually licking its front paws. As Nick approached, the kitten slowly looked up and simply meowed. A shrill little noise, but friendly. Nick reached down and stroked the kitten’s head. It stood, arched its back and began a little tippy-tapping of its front paws. The cat’s front legs were bowed making it look like a feline version of a bowlegged cowpoke. “Hello Pokey,” Nick said. Pokey meowed and that was that. A bowl of milk and a little tuna fish quickly sealed their mutual adoption.

Pokey followed Nick around the house and into the darkroom. Never in the way. Never a nuisance, but always ready to share some companionship. Anywhere Nick went Pokey went. Except the desert. It was too much to ask of a domestic cat to traipse through the heat, weeds and brush. But, Nick missed his friend on these outings and he also found that lugging his heavy camera equipment was taking its toll on his back.

Nick’s Idea

One evening, an idea struck like summer thunder. He needed a cart like the two-wheeled carts golfers pulled behind them on Scottsdale’s golf courses. He bought one the following day and set it up in his living room to determine how it could be adapted to his needs. Nick eventually sketched his modified design and dropped the cart off at a welder’s shop. A few days later he picked up his contraption.

It barely resembled the traditional golf cart. To cope with the knee-high brush of the desert, Nick designed tall struts above the wheels that raised the main carriage of the cart about two feet higher. He added extensions to the support arms that originally held the golf bag so that they could accommodate his camera case and tripod. A hinged support using an old tripod leg was welded beneath the cart’s handle. It acted like a bicycle’s kick stand to provide an adjustable leg to park the cart on uneven terrain.

More importantly, however, he added a padded perch welded onto the frame just in back of the cart’s handle where the tee and golf ball holder used to be mounted. The oval-shaped bed provided just enough “curl-up” room for Pokey. To finish the design, he also included a raised, fringed canopy over the bed to keep the hot sun off of his pal during their long desert caravans.

Nick watched and waited while Pokey sniffed and surveyed the strange mechanical device. Overcoming his initial caution, Pokey soon jumped into the perch, circled once or twice to test its softness and then plunked himself down for a nap.

Exploring with Pokey

The following day at dawn, Nick strapped down his photographic equipment on the new cart. He lifted the cart’s handle and retracted the kick stand. As he left, Pokey didn’t wait. He jumped into his perch, curled up and off they went. Their daily ramblings continued for the next 18 years. Nick and Pokey roamed the desert around Pinnacle Peak photographing their private world of animals, cacti, clouds and desert vistas. Each night they returned to process the day’s negatives. Their lives were full of one another and the wonders around them. They talked. They laughed. They enjoyed each other’s company. Each was all the other needed.

Encountering Change

Their world was changing however. The once clear vistas of the open desert floor were sprouting red tile roofs. From time to time on their roamings Nick and Pokey would encounter hikers. These increasingly frequent meetings were always affable with friendly people amazed to see a weathered old man lugging a huge camera and tripod around the desert on a golf cart.

And, the hikers were even more stunned when they spotted Pokey. They would pet him and smile at how serene he seemed in his caravan perch. “Does he ever run away?” they would ask. “No,” Nick would reply. “How long have you been taking pictures on the desert?” they would ask. “Almost 20 years,” Nick would say. “Do you live near here?” they would ask. “Yes, just over that hill,” Nick would politely say pointing in the opposite direction of where he actually lived. It was always a pleasant conversation, but it was an ominous intrusion into Nick and Pokey’s lives.

Nick’s Plan

Nick and Pokey would often sit on their front porch in the evening after the day’s photographs had been processed. Nick would talk. Pokey would listen. On one such night in 1983, Nick began laying out a plan to Pokey. The moon was full and bright. So bright the palo verde trees and cacti cast dark shadows. An occasional coyote would wander by in the moonlight pausing briefly to acknowledge Nick and Pokey. Off in the distance, Nick could see automobile headlights going up and down Pima Road. To the south and west, the night time sky glowed above the city lights of Phoenix.

“Are you ready to turn in?” Nick finally asked after discussing his plan. Pokey meowed his approval, jumped off the chair and headed for the bedroom. Nick turned out the lights and got into bed. Pokey kneaded the down-filled pillow for a few minutes until it was just right and then curled up next to Nick’s head. It was an 18-year ritual that never varied. “Goodnight Pokey,” Nick said. Pokey purred softly.

Nick’s Message

Tate Buckingham hadn’t seen Nick for several weeks. He finally got worried enough to drive up Pima to Jomax and turn east trying to recall how Nick had described where he lived. The dirt road became more and more rutted as Tate’s car climbed the hill west of Pinnacle Peak. Finally, he spotted a gate where he parked and walked up the drive. Tate knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. “Nick, it’s Tate. Are you here?” he asked. No answer.

Tate tried the door and it opened. Inside everything seemed in place. On the kitchen table were hundreds of boxes of 8 x 10 black and white photographs and an envelope with Tate’s name neatly printed on it.

“Hi Tate, “I figured you’d be the one to find this. Pokey and I have decided to move on. My photographs are yours to do with as you please. It’s too bad. These images portray what it used to be but will never be again. Nick”

It’s Just Like It Usta Be 

By Ms. Leny J. Williams 

In the mid-50s, my husband and I, along with our nine year old son, moved to Scottsdale to take a job training Arabian horses at the Desert Arabian ranch, located on Cactus Road just west of 56th Street. The ranch was owned by Robert Aste.

Arabian Mecca

At that time Cactus Road, west of 56th Street was dirt and only about a block long, ending at the ranch. During the rainy season it was kind of a quagmire of mud. However, in those years it was rare to have rain after January until the monsoon season in August. Shea Boulevard was only two lanes.

About that time Lasma Arabian Ranch, owned by the LaCroix, was located on Bell Road. Also located there were ranches owned by Mrs. Simnas, wife of the ex governor of New Mexico. Frank McCoy,a famous Arabian horse breeder from California, bought acreage there but never did move to Arizona. Scottsdale was becoming a Mecca for Arabian horse breeders.

Pinnacle Peak Patio Beginnings

About this time Pinnacle Peak Patio was established by Dottie and Bill. (I don't remember their last name).It was up near Pinnacle Peak and was just a small, dilapidated, run down building with a huge fire place in one end. This is not the Pinnacle Peak Steak house that exists now; the old one was further up the road. If I am not mistaken, when the new Pinnacle Peak Patio opened, the Cavelier family opened a restaurant in the old building. The Caveliers were known for the blacksmith shop in downtown Scottsdale.

At the old original Pinnacle Peak Patio, I believe there were only about four or five tables. Only beer was served. Bill was the cook and Dottie was the waitress. They were the ones that established the custom of cutting off the ties of those "city dudes" that came up there to eat. The steaks were huge, hanging over the long edge of a very large serving platter. The steaks were always tender and mouth watering juicy!

Off In a Cloud of Dust

The steaks were served with a huge bowl of "cowboy beans" and a huge salad. At that time, things were kind of tough for Dottie and Bill so they never stocked too many steaks. If they ran out, Bill would just tell everyone to just keep drinking beer and took off for Basha's on Scottsdale Road in Scottsdale. Off he would go in a cloud of dust down the hill.At that time Scottsdale Road was gravel north of Bell Road. Then, turning east onto Dynamite Road off of Scottsdale Road, it was dirt the rest of the way up the hill. Even from there the road took several precarious turns! The going was pretty rough!

Dinner Time Excitement

Bill kind of liked his beer so you were never sure just how the steaks would come out. However, if you ordered a steak well done he would refuse to serve you. The fireplace was huge, as high as Bill's head. He had welded together a grill that was raised and lowered by a crank. At times, Bill got carried away with the fire and it would get out of hand. He would yell for everyone to get out and grab a hose or a bucket. When the fire was out and the excitement died down, we all went back in to eat or drink beer. No one ever got annoyed at this break in the dinner hour; it was just part of the fun.

No Fences, No Lights

Sometimes my husband I and would take off on horseback, my son riding behind his dad, and ride up to Pinnacle Peak for an early dinner. Looking back I can hardly believe that we rode that far! Clear to Pinnacle Peak Patio! We went early so we could ride down the mountain before dark set in. We usually tried to go during the full moon; those days it was like daylight at night There were very few street lights to blot out the moon and stars. Sometimes other trainers or owners would join us on the ride.                                                                                                                          

In those days, you could ride from the ranch all the way to Pinnacle Peak without coming across a fence. There were a few homes or ranches on Bell Road but nothing to stop us from riding up to the peak. It was a wonderful and beautiful trip.

Sorry to Mislead

So you see it ain't “just like it usta be”; this is a really a true story. I am old enough to have seen all the changes and it makes me very unhappy to see all those wonderful days go by; but then, I guess that is progress!

Water Found Worth Millions 

By Crystal Thompson 

This month Tonto Hills property owners Patrick and Susan Friedmen did the equivalent of win the biggest Power Ball lottery in history. While drilling for the well which they hoped would supply their dream home with a dependable water supply, they hit liquid gold.

“It was liked seeing Old Faithful the way it spurted out of the ground,” said Patrick. “We had been so worried because many of our neighbors told us nightmare stories about not finding water at all, or at least not without spending a lot of money to drill really deep, like 1000 feet down.”

Start at the Beginning

When the Friedmens bought their near five acre property last year they paid top dollar for a place to build their retirement home. They did this despite warnings by family and friends, even their realtor, that water was a precious commodity and that they’d have to pay a surcharge to connect to the City of Scottsdale system if they weren’t able to drill a viable well.  In fact, a number of years ago some area residents’ wells did run dry. This caused them to resort to trucking water to their homes to meet their most basic needs.

Longtime Tonto Hills resident Bill Hogan remembers this time, all too clearly. “I just couldn’t believe it. Here you build a multi million dollar home and then can’t flush the toilet. The idea that we would have to pay a company to truck water to our place was so foreign. We thought that only happened in third world countries.”

Many of the residents actually left their homes and lived in nearby hotels. In response to this situation, Hogan and other distraught neighbors decided to take action. They made multiple presentations to the Central Arizona Project Board of Directors, pleading for an allocation of water. CAP is a water provider which carries Colorado River water 336 miles from Lake Havasu, through Phoenix, to south of Tucson.  Unfortunately, the Tonto Hills residents were told that all CAP water was already allocated, so the group turned elsewhere, later negotiating an arrangement with the City of Scottsdale to provide them a dependable supply in the event their wells ran dry again, which they were told was a likely probability.

“We Treat You Well” Helps

The Friedmens knew only a little about this history when they bought their property. It wasn’t until they hired “We Treat You Well” drilling company that they realized the gravity of their situation. Drill operator Don Deepe explained they would need a $5000 deposit before starting work, and that most wells were so deep that the water they tapped into wasn’t a very good quality anyway.

Feeling like they had no other choice, the Friedmens went forward, figuring they could always turn a dry well into an old fashioned yard decoration if it came to that.

On the day the drilling began, Bill just happened to be at the property inspecting the previous day’s electrical installation when he suddenly heard yelling and a swooshing sound he couldn’t identify. Fearing the worst, he ran outside to discover a fountain of water shooting approximately 40 feet in the air.

According to Deepe, “This was a first in my 23 year well drilling career. I’ve never seen anything like it. At first I thought it must be a gas line until I realized it was pure, cold water.” He and his crew were able to cap the flow within 30 minutes.

Enter the Bureaucrats

In the meantime, Bill had called Susan, who rushed to the property just in time to see the cap put in place, effectively stopping the fountain of water. Later they called the Arizona Department of Water Resources which quickly dispatched four hydrologists.  Chief Hydrologist Erika Tompkins explained that they would be using ultrasonic resonance and GIS instruments. This is highly sophisticated equipment regularly used to determine the depth, shape and structure of an underground aquifer. After about three hours of taking measurements throughout the property, they told the Friedmens they needed to review the data and would call them in the morning.

“I was speechless. I was sure our testing equipment wasn’t working right. I kept telling myself ‘This kind of reservoir doesn’t exist in Arizona,’” said Tompkins.  “By the time we reached the office, we’d scheduled a meeting for that afternoon and already started inviting water experts from throughout the area to review the data.”

The next day, Susan received the call from ADWR that the tests were inconclusive but that they should keep the well capped until further notice. The Friedmens were also asked for permission for some aerial tests to be conducted that same day. The more powerful aquifer measuring GIS units reveal better accuracy at a further distance.

 Enough, all data indicated the Friedmens property was on a near two-mile deep, 40,000 foot wide underground reservoir.  There are no known others in the West, and only seven known others in the United States, all located in Florida and Hawaii.

The Law

Strangely enough, it is still unclear as to who owns the water, valued at $700 million. Arizona water law treats groundwater and surface (river or lake) water differently. Because of the location of the Friedmens’ reservoir, so close to the surface, it could be classified as either, depending on who is making the argument.

Surface water law is based on prior appropriation, meaning if another organization, city or individual can demonstrate they, at some time in the past or present, put the water to “beneficial use,” it belongs to them. The groundwater code is a little different, and it tied to the boundary of the property.

The Friedmens have retained renowned water lawyer Harvey Lester to represent them in their future legal battles, which have already begun. Lester expects the Friedmens’ right to ownership will be confirmed in Superior Court by early 2006.

The Future

To date, the Friedmans have been contacted for interviews by news media, including Today Show anchor Katie Couric, as well as many from organizations and governmental agencies involved in water resources.

“Bill and I get a kick out of this because right now it just looks like a manhole cover,” said Susan, who added jokingly, “It is really hard for us to imagine how valuable the water really is. We even got a crazy call from an agency in Las Vegas, who said they could build a pipeline from here to there!” 

Once the legal questions are resolved, Bill and Susan say they plan to finish construction of their house and they maybe spend some time in Europe. Both agree upon their return they will begin to establish contracts to sell some of their liquid gold and will use some profits to start a foundation through which they can support efforts to preserve the state trust land in the north Valley.

For now, however, they are just doing swimmingly.