The state of Arizona received national press on Monday when it appeared in a somewhat lengthy article in The New York Times. The coverage must have been about the newly elected Gov. Janet Napolitano and her crusade against underfunded mandates. No?
Well then it had to be about Arizona's substantial contributions to homeland security efforts. Strike two.
The Grand Canyon? Sorry, that's the third strike and you, my friend, are out.
The Times piece was about motor homes: RVs, double-wides and just about any square object you can pull on wheels.
Arizona is home to what some estimate as the nation's largest RV haven, known to you and me as Quartzsite, Ariz. Or maybe you have no idea where the hell Quartzsite is. That's OK. It's easy to miss.
If you happen to drive by this city, the only thing you might notice is the government-standard green highway sign just before you cross into California.
In the summer, Quartzsite boasts about 3,000 residents. But come winter, the snowbirds flock like the swallows in San Capistrano. Only the swallows are old, wrinkly and slightly nuts. And San Capistrano is actually a big pile of sand. But one thing's for sure: They make a trailer park that would make Kid Rock's eyes to twinkle with wonder.
During January and February, as many as 175,000 RVs can be parked at Quartzsite, each carrying at least a pair of retirees itching for adventure. That takes a town of 3,000 and turns it into the size of Mesa, all in a season. Quartzsite is equidistant from all the state's epicenters of activity such as Lake Havasu, Parker and Yuma. Right. These people are nuts.
Only in Arizona. Living in trailers all the time for God's sake! The funny part is, most of these crazies aren't even from here.
The flight of the snowbirds is an annual tradition in Arizona. It's the time of year when our state becomes heavily concentrated with golden-age fervor. I would posit that no one else in the nation realizes what it's like to live with this many old people. After all, for the rest of the year they're proportionally spread across the rest of the country. Arizona has a critical mass of grandparents.
This is why Quartzsite is a phenomenon peculiar to our state. While a description of a community such as Quartzsite should by all rights seem odd, Arizonans tend to think it's not all that strange.
No other state in the nation has the kind of optimal conditions required to spawn a community of transient geriatrics. First, there must be ideal weather conditions. Second, you need a sizeable chunk of undeveloped space large enough to accommodate 175,000 RVs. Third, the government must be willing to let it happen.
The town of Quartzsite is possibly the most loosely regulated municipality ever conceived. There are no property taxes because there is no property. The town's practical boundaries shift and change like the sands of time. The area outside the official town limits is owned, for the most part, by the federal government. Therefore, the only cost to park your RV there is a fee from the Bureau of Reclamation and Land management.
There is not an extensive water, power or sewer system. Sewage is self-contained, and owners use propane for cooking and generators for power. There is a thriving market for the drivers of the "honey trucks" that will pump out your RV's sewage tanks for a nominal fee.
The town's economy is an entirely free market. Campers just set up shop in tents outside their motor homes and deal in whatever they want. This is truly the most spectacularly successful failure of a municipality ever.
The town only works because it's required to provide services to a very small number of permanent residents. Everyone else swoops in, infuses the economy with monster loads of cash without taxing the local infrastructure - because there is none - and then takes off.
Did I mention there's a nudist colony? And why not? After all, nothing says that someone who has no home and parks in the middle of the desert for months on end can't have an alternative lifestyle.
But even here, the entrepreneurial spirit survives. One Quartzsite resident left his home in Eugene, Ore., to make his riches in town. He bought an old coin laundry and put in a smoked meat deli and a propane dealership. Yessir, he went ahead and sprung for the double-wide out around back, and now he makes his fortune selling sausage, propane and propane accessories.
Only in Arizona.
Chris Kotterman is a journalism and political science senior. Reach him at chris.kotterman@asu.edu.
