Public Opinion

I realize that public opinion doesn’t really matter.

I run a Web site called wickenburg-az.com. Its primary purpose is to provide information about Wickenburg, including things to do and see and businesses that operate here in town. I built the Web site because there was no non-commercial Web site about the town. Basically, if you wanted your business on the Web, you had to cough up big bucks to get it on one of the commercial sites in town — sites that weren’t even updated on a regular basis. I didn’t think that was fair. I also didn’t think any of those sites provided useful information for residents or visitors.

Over the years, the site has become quite a forum for voicing opinions about the way things are going here in town. I admit that I started it. Then John started adding his two cents and since what he submitted was well-written and well-reasoned out, I couldn’t help but publish it online. Along the way, a handful of other people submitted articles and I published them. I felt that these opinion pieces helped round out the site.

Recently, I’ve gotten quite a few opinion pieces from people I’ve never heard from before. I’ve been publishing most of them. Others are a bit over the top, even for me. What amazes me, however, is how many people have written to say they agree with much of what appears on the site — even though these opinions aren’t what’s reflected in the local newspaper or among local politicians.

In other words, the town’s government is pushing one way on many issues and the newspaper is rubber-stamping their decisions. In the meantime, many people don’t agree with or even like what’s going on.

This has me a bit baffled. My understanding is that in a democracy, when the people vote, they are choosing the elected officials that stand the same way they do on most issues. When they vote on a proposition, they’re telling their elected officials that they either want it to pass or they don’t. It seems to make sense that the elected officials would do the things that their constituents expect them to, based on popular opinion. It also seems to make sense that if a proposition fails, it would simply fade away into obscurity — not be put up for another vote when a different collection of people were around to vote on it.

Sadly, that’s not the way democracy works in Wickenburg. Majority public opinion seems to have little or no bearing on what actually happens in town. Elected officials do whatever they want to, for whatever reasons strike their fancy. I still haven’t decided if they’re motivated by greed — money under the table and other reward promises — or stupidity — being led around by the nose by smooth-talking developers.

The bypass issue is a perfect example. This has been going on for years. The route 93 and 60 corridor has become a major thoroughfare for traffic between Phoenix and Las Vegas and will be part of the Canamex highway that will link NAFTA members Canada and Mexico. As a result, there is a huge amount of truck traffic going right through town.

ADOT brought consultants into town on a regular basis to meet with the public and gain their opinions on the dozen or so options. The public clearly favored an out-of-town bypass that would keep all those trucks south and west of town. Yet the local government and chamber of commerce favored a route that would put the traffic right through town. (I guess it was important to them for McDonald’s and Circle-K to keep selling burgers, coffee, and gas to the drive-through crowd.)

As a result, the “interim bypass” was developed. This monstrosity would put four lanes of traffic along the riverbed near the existing bridge — it isn’t clear yet whether they’ll build another bridge, too — and route that traffic right past the Community Center and Coffinger Park, through a neighborhood and a ranch (thus displacing dozens of people and destroying the values of the remaining homes), and deposit it back on 93 right where a local developer is attempting to build a high-priced housing development. (It will be interesting to see how many people will pay $800K+ for a house overlooking 4 lanes of truck traffic.) Along the way, this crazy plan calls for two “roundabouts” — the old-style traffic circles that are being dismantled throughout the east — so that our “winter visitors” (most of whom are in the 65+ age bracket) can merge with the trucks on their way to and from Wal-Mart in Surprise. (It might be a good idea to move the ambulance base to that intersection, since that’s where it’ll be spending a lot of time.)

All this is completely against the majority public opinion. People who live in Wickenburg year-round care about the town and its atmosphere. We don’t want highways in the riverbed where exhaust fumes will settle and noise will destroy the quality of life and whatever downtown ambiance we still have.

We also don’t want high-density housing, especially when there aren’t enough high-paying jobs to fill those homes with year-round residents. We don’t want an economy that centers around winter visitors who don’t even like to spend their money in town. We don’t want two Dollar Stores or two check cashing places or a pawn shop. We want businesses that will provide good jobs and the goods and services we need.

But in Wickenburg, public opinion doesn’t matter.

A Birthday Flight

I take a 90-year-old woman, her 88-year-old brother, and her son on a helicopter tour.

I’ve been getting a lot of calls lately from people in Scottsdale, interested in helicopter tours. There’s a charter company down there named Westcor Aviation (associated with the Westcor malls and other real estate ventures) and my very first flight instructor, Paul, works for them as a pilot. They occasionally get calls from people who want to charter a helicopter and get “sticker shock” when they hear the rate: $1,500 per hour. So when asked to recommend other operators in the area, Westcor has begun recommending me, along with the others.

Doing flights out of Scottsdale isn’t exactly good for me. I ask $495 per hour for flights originating in the valley, with a one-hour minimum. But I don’t charge people for the amount of time it takes me to get from Wickenburg to the valley and back again. So I don’t really make much money on these flights. But they’re good experience and they do help pay for the helicopter. And they give me an excuse to fly.

I did one of these flights on Sunday. I’d gotten a call during the week and made arrangements with someone named Brad to fly his grandmother on a tour of the area for her 90th birthday. He’d fill the other two seats, too, and he’d make sure the total weight was below 650 for the three passengers. I just had to meet him at Scottsdale Airport at 10:00 AM.

This worked out well for Mike and I. Mike had gotten Greyhawk Members Club tickets to see the FBR US Open in Scottsdale, which wasn’t far from the airport. The tickets got us entrance to the event as well as entrance to hospitality tents scattered around the course. We could eat and watch the golfing from comfortable, shaded seats — all for free. We figured we’d head over to the course when my flight was finished.

We arrived at Scottsdale Airport about 40 minutes early and got a great parking spot right out in front of the terminal. We went into the restaurant for some weak coffee and a bite to eat and I spent some time reviewing the Phoenix Terminal Area Chart to see where I could take them. At 9:50, I headed out to the lobby to wait for my passengers. There were three young people there and one of them approached me. It was Brad.

I looked at him and his two companions. “I thought you said it was for your grandmother.”

“She’s on her way,” he said.

I tried to review the route I’d planned with him, hoping it would meet his approval. He didn’t seem to care. “She wants to see the Superstition Mountains,” he said.

I wanted to take her up the Salt River, which would take us near the Superstitions but not over them. I didn’t want to fly over or around the Superstitions. It’s rocky, dangerous terrain and I didn’t think it would make for an interesting or comfortable one-hour flight, given the wind conditions and the descending clouds out that way.

“She doesn’t know she’s doing this,” he added.

A while later, his grandmother arrived. With about twenty other people. She was a petite 90-year-old woman. They escorted her up to the window where she could see Zero-Mike-Lima parked on the ramp. “That’s your birthday present,” someone told her.

She was thrilled. They quickly sorted out who would be flying with her: her brother, who I can accurately describe as a little old man, and her son, who was considerably larger. I don’t think their total weight even reached 500 pounds. I escorted them outside to the security door and told them that only one person could accompany us through the gate to take photos. Out at the helicopter, I gave them the safety briefing. I put the birthday girl in the front, her brother behind her, and her son behind me. As I warmed up Zero-Mike-Lima, my passenger’s entourage watched from behind the glass partition.

We departed to the southwest to remain west of Runway 21. Although the controller told me he’d call my turn to the east, he was so busy with other traffic that I was clear of his airspace before he had a chance to. I passed north of Camelback, then headed east toward the Salt River. I skirted the north edge of Falcon Field’s airspace, then continued up the Salt River Canyon.

The desert was absolutely beautiful. I’d never seen it so green. And all the lakes we flew over — Saguaro, Canyon, Apache — were completely filled with water. The sunlight through the low clouds made a patchwork of shade over the entire scene, illuminating some hillsides and rock formations and shadowing others. The Superstitions were clearly visible, just below the clouds, to the south of us, so my passengers got to see what they wanted to, and so much more.

About 0.6 hours out, I made the turn to come back, using my GPS to give me a more direct route. The goal was to make the flight exactly 1.0 hours. Soon we were heading toward Fountain Hills. I looked at the clock on my instrument panel. It was nearly 11 AM. Is it possible that I’d overfly Fountain Hills just as they turned on the fountain? It was. We were still about three miles out when the water started to rise. It was an added bonus for my passengers to see it from the air.

We approached Scottsdale Airport from the west. Fortunately, the controller wasn’t nearly as busy as he’d been when we left and we had no trouble approaching the airport, crossing the runway, and landing right where we’d begun.

My passengers were very pleased with the flight. I was too.

And when the woman’s daughter handed me a check, a little voice in the back of my head reminded me, “And they pay you to do great stuff like this, too.”