Tag: Lowell

Shell Station Lowell Arizona

Shell Station - A small Shell gas station is located at the north end of Erie Street in Lowell, Arizona.
Shell Station – A small Shell gas station is located at the north end of Erie Street in Lowell, Arizona. The 51 Chevy parked out front was a nice touch. The pumps are priced at 41 cents per gallon if you’re interested.

Maybe I’m doing this wrong, but I’m a photographer first and a storyteller second. When I’m out taking pictures in the field, I don’t have a story in mind that I have to illustrate. My stories come after I’m at my desk trying to explain why I bothered to snap the shutter. Some weeks, I struggle to put together two pages of sensible words; other times, my thoughts fly at my keyboard, and my fingers seem to move barely.

When Queen Anne and I happened upon Lowell and made our unplanned stop, I hopped out of the car and started snapping pictures down one side of Erie Street and up the other. When I returned home and processed the images, it was like there was a story in me begging to be told—and these were the perfect pictures to hang it. Like the rest of February, this week’s featured image, Shell Station, has a built-in untold story about my first real job.

I never got an allowance when I was in high school. My dad paid me to work at his drapery factory after school and on weekends. It should have been the perfect arrangement because I was mostly alone. I hated it because it was repetitive work, and it had nothing to do with cars or girls—besides, Dad always thought I was goofing off, which I was.

The summer of my graduation, Dave—a good friend of mine—asked if I’d be interested in working evenings at his brother’s gas station. George—the owner—was short a person and needed someone dependable. I went for an interview, and George wanted me to start that very Saturday so that he could teach me how to pump gas. On Saturday, I was still in bed when the phone rang, and I vaguely remember driving to Van Nuys half-dressed.

George’s station was an Atlantic-Richfield (ARCO now) on the northeast corner of Van Nuys and Magnolia Boulevards. It was about three times the size of the Shell Station in this week’s picture. He had three gas islands and two service bays, open 24 hours daily. My salary was only 1.65/hr, but because it was a service station, we got a commission on everything but gas. That’s why we were so happy to wash your windows (blades), check your oil (air filter), and your tire pressure (if you sold a set of tires, you were golden). Although it was common then, we didn’t pressure the customers to buy anything—we’d show them the evidence and let them decide. It worked for me, and I could make an extra $5.00 weekly.

There was another significant aspect of George’s station. I don’t know if you did this in your part of the country when you were a teenager, but cruising was extensive on the west coast. Every Friday night, pimpled face adolescents from across the valley would pile into shiny cars and drive up and down Van Nuys Boulevard. The guys paired up in someone’s hot rod, and the girls rode around in Daddy’s T-Bird. Our traffic pattern started in Panorama City, south through Bob’s Big Boy, a turn around at Magnolia, and drove back to the beginning. There wasn’t any point to it other than to see and be seen (and it annoyed older people). If you need an example, run to Blockbuster Video and check out the movie American Graffiti—that was us.

Our station was at the loop’s south end (less than a mile from Bob’s), and we’d have more traffic driving behind the gas station every Friday night than we did out front the rest of the week. Since we were convenient, the kids took advantage of our restrooms. From the horror stories I heard, I’m glad I wasn’t part of the Saturday morning crew that had to clean them.

As you’ve heard, everything shall pass, which also happened with George’s station. As property values rose in the San Fernando Valley, the gas station’s land was so expensive that Atlantic Richfield sold the land to a developer who built a high rise. George got an amicable settlement and a much smaller station in Reseda, which closed at 9:00 pm each day and didn’t open on Sundays and holidays. I worked at that station until I got drafted. Besides getting my first drag racing ticket on my way home, I don’t have any interesting stories from there.

Click here to see a larger version of Shell Station on its website. This completes our February visit to Lowell, so we’ll move on next week. Come back and find out where the road led us—won’t you?

Till next time
jw

BTW:

Did you work at a gas station? How do you think they compare to the self-service ones we have today? Do you feel the cars get as much care as they need?

Lowell Theater Lowell, Arizona

Lowell Theater - A Chevy flatbed truck parked at the Lowell Theater in southern Arizona.
Lowell Theater – A Chevy flatbed truck is parked outside the Lowell Theater in southern Arizona.

It was already well past lunch as we drove up Highway 80. Queen Anne’s all too familiar whining had begun, “I only had one meal today.” We were heading to Bisbee’s Copper Queen Hotel, where we could satiate our hunger. As we approached the Lavender Pit, I noticed an old Shell gas station in my peripheral vision. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that—not only was it real, but an old car was parked outside. That was enough catnip for me to slow the Buick and make a U-turn across four lanes of traffic. Lunch could wait.

When I turned onto Erie Street, I was surprised to see an entire block of old buildings with vehicles of the same period parked out front. Was I on a movie set, or had I died and gone to some photographer’s idea of heaven? I decided it had to be the former because I still heard Anne’s food grumbling in my ear. I was further confused by a wall sign saying, “Welcome to Lowell, Arizona.” I turned to Anne and announced, “We’re not in Bisbee anymore.”

Lowell is to Bisbee as Tempe is to Phoenix—a cling-on. Bisbee and Lowell were founded in the late 1800s as mining claims—Bisbee in the 1870s and Lowell in 1899. As the mines grew, they needed men to work them. Like every other mining town, the population lived first in tents, shacks, and finally, proper homes. Unlike the Tombstone mine, the ore at the Copper Queen Mine and Lowell Mine was so abundant that it supported the towns for over fifty years. That’s why these southern Arizona towns have masonry buildings instead of the rickety shanties of most ghost towns. Bisbee reminds me of the coal-mine towns in Pennsylvania or West Virginia.

As time passed, the Copper Queen (and Phelps Dodge) took over the operation of the Lowell Company. Underground mines are inherently dangerous, and there was so much copper ore still buried there that during the World Wars, it became economically feasible to build giant machines to scrape away mountains and dig big pits to extract the copper. Bisbee’s renowned scab in the ground is called the Lavender Pit—named for Harrison Horton Lavender (the mine superintendent). As the abyss grew, it took parts of Lowell with it. All that remains of Lowell today is Erie Street which runs from the traffic circle in the south and the pit’s edge on the north side.

Lavender Pit - The famous Lavender Pit mine where tons of copper ore was dug from the ground. The pit is so vast I couldn't fit it all in the frame, even with my wide angle lens.
Lavender Pit – The famous Lavender Pit mine where Phelps-Dodge dug tons of copper ore from the ground. The pit is so vast I couldn’t fit it all in the frame, even with my wide-angle lens.

A group of volunteers banded together and formed the Lowell Americana Project. They worked hard to restore and enhance the quarter-mile street and transform it into an open-air museum. Their hard work got them international attention for their cultural preservation. They have turned Erie street into one of the most photographed streets in the West. Like me, you’ve probably seen some of those pictures in magazines and films without knowing the location.

We’ll explore Lowell’s Erie Street in February, hopefully, to delight my car friends. I consider this week’s photo the foundation shot. It was taken at the north-end parking lot where I left Anne to starve while I skipped up and down the street taking pictures. In this shot, I wanted to show the theater marquee, the Gulf, and the Lowell welcome sign. As an additional no-extra-cost bonus, the town thru in a Chevrolet flatbed truck. I don’t know what year it is, so perhaps one of you gearheads can tell us. I also have no idea about the flying saucers. I didn’t find a reference to any abductions in the area, although more aliens visit Arizona than any other place. They like the weather here—especially at Bisbee’s mile-high altitude. Maybe the spaceships are a warning that you’re about to enter The Twilight Zone.

You can see a larger version of Lowell Theater on its Webpage by clicking here. We’ll begin our walk down Erie Street next week to see what we can find. Be sure to come back then.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

No Queen Annes were harmed in the making of this article. She finally got her lunch and a glass of wine before she fell asleep as we drove back to the motel.