Photo by Douglas Towne

We’ve all heard about the alleged power of the pyramid, but does the hypotenuse leg of a triangle also contain a little magic? The throngs of people who congregate every First Friday of the month at art spaces along Grand Avenue – the lone diagonal in a grid town – would undoubtedly agree there’s a distinctive vibe on this directionally challenged street that can’t be found elsewhere in the Valley.

“I sure do feel that there’s something special about Grand Avenue,” says Jason Nosaj, co-owner of The Trunk Space, one of the oldest art venues on the street. “Artists like things with unique angles,” he says. “If you go to a big metropolitan area like New York City, there are wedge-shaped buildings everywhere, but Grand Avenue has the monopoly on that here.”

Although many people now explore a Downtown stretch of Grand Avenue’s edgy galleries and funky nightspots between Van Buren and Roosevelt streets, few realize the roadway has long throbbed with life.

Originating in Downtown Phoenix at the intersection of Seventh Avenue and Van Buren Street, Grand Avenue bisects the right angle formed by these roads, racing off to the northwest through Glendale, Peoria, Youngtown, El Mirage, Surprise and Sun City all the way to Wickenburg.

Grand Avenue gets its distinctive diagonal route from paralleling the tracks of the Santa Fe, Prescott and Phoenix railways that linked Phoenix and Wickenburg in 1895. Travelers could leave Phoenix on the first-class passenger train at 3:30 a.m. and – after stops in Alhambra, Hespera, Glendale, Peoria, Marnette, Beardsley, Hot Springs Junction and Vulture – they could disembark in Wickenburg at 5:25 a.m. Passenger rail service along Grand Avenue continued until 1969.

In Phoenix, developer W.J. Murphy envisoned Grand Avenue as an elegant street lined with ash trees and expensive homes. In 1890, long before light rail became the public transportation buzzword, there was a Grand Avenue trolley car, albeit one pulled by a mule. The trolley transported passengers from Downtown to the northwestern city limits at McDowell Road. Upgraded to an electric system in 1909, the trolley was packed each fall with passengers on their way to the Arizona State Fair. However, business was so poor at other times that during the 1930s, a conductor reportedly accepted a goat as a passenger since its owner was willing to pay full fare for it. Although other routes of the Phoenix trolley system survived until 1947, the Grand Avenue trolley made its final run in 1934.

As trolley service faded, Grand Avenue became known as “the Western Gateway to Phoenix,” serving concurrently as U.S. Highway 60, 70 and 89 and Arizona State Route 93. Starting with the Model T and running though the muscle cars of the 1970s, Grand Avenue pulsated with 24-hour traffic as the only highway between Phoenix and Los Angeles.

Gas, food and lodging enterprises gradually replaced houses along Grand Avenue, with an especially swank tourist strip near Downtown Phoenix. Before the slogan “the best surprise is no surprise” became the lodging industry’s motto, motels along this diagonal artery attracted motorists by masquerading as exotic outposts. Checking in, guests were transported via the faux ambiance to distant worlds without needing passports or vaccinations. The motels also featured bars and restaurants complementing their exotic themes.

The Egyptian Motor Hotel hyped its Arabian mystique, describing itself as “a mirage on the desert… come true.” Amidst towering palm trees, it boasted of being the most convenient and modern hotel in Phoenix, adding, in an inadvertent double-entendre that Alfred Hitchcock would surely appreciate, that this hotel could be enjoyed “for the rest of your life.”

A few blocks down Grand Avenue – or across the Indian Ocean, depending on your perspective – was the Bali Hi Motor Hotel, an island of Western hospitality. The Bali Hi featured a South Pacific-inspired, tiled lagoon and a cocktail Tabu Room, along with a restaurant that promised “every culinary pleasure in a tropical atmosphere.”

Nearby, the Western Village Motor Hotel billed itself as “The West’s Most Western Hotel,” where Jim Daley served as corral boss at the Trails End Bar and Café.

Winter visitors interested in luxurious recreation were attracted to another Grand Avenue mini-resort, the Hotel Desert Sun. If you felt a tad guilty about relaxing poolside with food and drinks, there were “strenuous” workout options nearby. A brochure touts, “Two large shuffleboards are convenient if you want exercise with your sun fun.”

The idyllic Grand Avenue resort strip would not last forever though. In 1956, construction began on the interstate freeway system. Businesses located along older highways such as Grand Avenue were bypassed and eventually became obsolete. When Interstate 10 connected Phoenix with Los Angeles in 1978, it brought about the demise of many of Grand Avenue’s unique places.

After years of neglect, part of Grand Avenue is emerging as a grassroots arts district. Its abandoned storefronts are transforming into gathering spaces for people seeking options beyond reality TV, spectator sports and franchised mediocrity. Art of every hue, form, sound and genre thrive there.

On the first and third Fridays of each month, its sidewalks brim with urban hipsters and curious suburbanites who bring new vitality to longtime Grand Avenue haunts such as the Bikini Lounge, a classic Tiki-themed bar. A serviceman returning from the South Pacific opened it in 1948.

 It would seem the off-kilter road is building on its past for a distinctive future.

Photo By Douglas Towne When Grand Avenue served as the main connection between Phoenix and Los Angeles, numerous hotels popped up along the roadway to lure travelers.

Photo By Douglas Towne When Grand Avenue served as the main connection between Phoenix and Los Angeles, numerous hotels popped up along the roadway to lure travelers.