The 2006 Disney-Pixar motion picture Cars placed the storied history of the northern Arizona corridor of old Route 66 on the map, so to speak–if only in the minds of those familiar with some of the film’s Holbrook-inspired landmarks and characters. The film’s plot centered on a fictional forgotten town situated on the Old Mother Road, but for newly elected city mayor Bobby Tyler, Holbrook is as alive and well–and relevant–as it ever was.
Tyler is no stranger to the northern Arizona landscape, or to the City of Holbrook. Mayor Tyler was sworn in to his current position on May 26, but he traces his lineage to Holbrook through three generations, who initially settled in northeast Arizona in the early 1900s.
“I grew up in Holbrook across the river. There were two men by the name of McNary and Cady, sawmill owners in the South. They brought a lot of black families out to the West, employing them in their sawmills all the way up the coast, from Albuquerque to Holbrook, to San Francisco, all the way to Seattle. My great-grandmother, grandfather, grandmother and her sisters were in the McNary area, which is located near Pinetop-Lakeside on the Apache Reservation. But when my dad got out of the military, he used his G.I. benefits to move my grandmother to Holbrook. I was 18 months old.”
According to historical records, Tom Pollock, a Flagstaff businessman, built the Apache Lumber Company on land surrounded by the Apache Indian Reservation in 1916. Despite Pollock’s early success, his business floundered and he decided to sell his mill, eventually to W.M. Cady and James G. McNary, co-owners of a McNary, La., lumber mill. McNary and Cady moved their mill westward to Cooley, Ariz., subsequently renaming the town McNary.
Tyler is the third of six children born to Don and Jonnie Tyler, both of whom served the public, in law enforcement and health worker capacities, respectively. He affectionately describes his father as “a big drink of water,” and smiles as he refers to his mother as “the boss.” Tyler says his parents were lovingly “hard” on him and his siblings, but that he’s grateful for and sobered by their attentive guidance. “There’s no telling what we would’ve done, what we would’ve become,” he said.
On how his deep emotional connection to the city developed, Tyler recounts that it was the neighborly efforts of Holbrook’s citizens during his childhood that impacted him most. “This community has given so much. My mother developed breast cancer when I was 6 years old, so during her treatment my siblings Don, Deborah, and Jeff stayed with our relatives, while a family here in town, the Mitchells, took care of Michael, Lyn and myself. For the community to reach out in that way… persons like that have tied me to this town,” said the mayor.
Reflecting fondly on the Holbrook of his youth, Tyler describes his hometown as “a booming little community.” He candidly recalls the general mindset of the community as Holbrook and its surrounding infrastructure grew, particularly during construction of the coal-powered Cholla Power Plant in Joseph City, which was commissioned in 1962, and the construction of the new Interstate 40 that followed. “In the ‘70s, Cholla was being built, and at the time we had an ‘I don’t care’ attitude due to the job security. And they were building the freeway to go through,” said Tyler.
As part of the federal construction project, I-40 in Arizona directly replaced the Mother Road, U.S. 66, which was decommissioned in 1985 after the last section of I-40 opened on Oct. 13, 1984. Flagstaff was the first town bypassed, in 1968, and the reported loss of business was so great that the Arizona Department of Transportation (ADOT) closed the freeway from Oct. 12 until Oct. 28, when new signs could be posted to direct traffic into Flagstaff.
Speaking on the long-term impact of how the Holbrook community interpreted the changes of that era, Tyler says, “We sat back and watched people come and then start leaving, and really were not proactive about what’s going to affect us now. We didn’t complete the freeway until the ‘80s by the time it was up and running, so it was like a slow death for the local economy.”
Still, as the number of Holbrook residents and businesses began to decline in the ensuing years from its bustling heyday, for Tyler, remaining dedicated to the city was a choice he’d made early on. “To stay in Holbrook, you had to work at one of two places; Arizona Public Service Co. (APS) or Santa Fe Railway (now BNSF), which were the big money-makers at that time. You also had state (government) jobs. Other than that, there were no jobs here for anybody, and everybody was leaving. If you didn’t know somebody, you left because you weren’t able to find a job,” he recalled.
Tyler began work driving trucks for the Holbrook City Street Department. He later worked at the APS Cholla Power Plant in Joseph City and Tucson Electric Power in Springerville. During a span of five years, Tyler worked a grueling 3 a.m. to 8 p.m. shift for the utility companies. “I could have lived anywhere I wanted to, but I chose to live in Holbrook,” he said.
As the Interstate Highway System irreversibly altered Holbrook and its surrounding landscape, Tyler says that another significant change impacted his hometown with far-reaching effects that affect Holbrook residents even today. Pointing toward the Apache Avenue bridge while standing near the banks of the Little Colorado river in the Lewis Subdivision of South Holbrook, Tyler relates, “If you look at the pillars of the bridge, where the fourth pillar is, that at one time was called the Back Street. There were houses down this side of the river where minorities lived.”
According to geological records, because of its isolation, most of the Little Colorado has remained free of human development. However, in addition to being dammed at four locations within or near the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest, the river is confined at very few points by levees–one of which happens to be the 2,300-foot floodwall located in Holbrook. Installation of the levee was completed under the direction of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in the late 1990s.
“Once the levee was installed, they relocated these people into mobile homes. At that time, a lot of people could not really afford these (mortgaged) mobile homes and a lot of people lost their homes, as their previous homes were paid for,” he said.
Tyler, who lived and grew up in the Lewis Subdivision from childhood, relates that following the levee construction Holbrook city officials proposed to revitalize the affected neighborhood and surrounding shoreline to include installation of community recreation features, such as a park, exercise trails and maintained green space. This initial initiative was presented to residents to be completed within two years following the levee’s completion.
Lizzie Davis, a resident of South Holbrook’s Lewis area for more than 40 years, explains that while Holbrook officials made incremental strides in improving the city in the years following the levee’s installation, the proposed plans to revitalize the Lewis neighborhood didn’t pan out as expected. “It didn’t go very well, we didn’t get that much help. The city would get (government) grants and they came and put in stop signs to indicate that was an improvement to the neighborhood. With the money they would get, they would do a little building up, but it wasn’t necessarily over here. We all lived on this side (of the river) when they had the old bridge, down on Garcia Street,” she said. Davis worked as a teacher’s aide in the Holbrook Unified School District for 21 years. When asked what her ideal request of the city would be moving forward, she simply spoke to the sense of solidarity she feels toward Holbrook. “You know, really, I don’t want to see it split. I just want to see, if it’s going good over there, just let it go good over here. It’s just one little bitty town, you know, so why should we split it up and say ‘on the South side we’ll put this in, and on the North we’ll put this in?’ Just fix up whatever’s sitting here, that’s the way I look at it,” Davis said.
Objectively, Davis’ sentiments seem to echo the passion that Mayor Tyler says he feels toward the city as a whole. Observing the neighborhood’s Lewis Park that faces Ms Davis’ home in the subdivision, with its lush green lawn and colorful playground equipment, Tyler notes that the modest park ironically highlights a glaring underservice to South Holbrook’s residents. “This park doesn’t just serve the Lewis Subdivision. The kids in the areas along McLaws Road have no place to play. It’s a blatant neglect of the community,” he says.
Tyler says he’s committed to what he calls a “total picture philosophy” for the city. He feels that the city’s existing and underused features and resources can be utilized to serve all city residents and visitors, perhaps using the South Holbrook flood plain area as a starting point. “What some may call Holbrook’s flood zone, other cities refer to as a ‘green belt,’” he noted. Portions of the Lewis Subdivision’s decommissioned streets remain intact throughout the backshore areas where homes once stood, including select narrow asphalt paths and plots previously paved by ADOT. In lockstep with the vision he initially proposed in July 2014 during his tenure as Holbrook city councilman, Tyler’s plan for the zone would include repurposing these areas as a community green space with walking/biking paths, a dog park and recreation features, such as Frisbee golf. He says that the proposed walking/biking path could be easily designed to connect to the recently completed 2.3-mile Nizhoni Community Walking Path, which encircles the Navajo County Complex, to provide safe walking access to county healthcare and other services from the North side of the city.
Mayor Tyler believes that Holbrook still possesses a strong and enduring tourism appeal, and he is confident that revitalizing the existing natural habitat of the Holbrook flood plain would provide prime advertisement and promotion for the city, as it serves as a well-traveled gateway to the Petrified Forest and the White Mountains along the I-40 corridor. To Tyler, frequent sightings of out-of-state vehicles with a bike rack in tow, as well as dog lovers he’s spotted stopping to exercise their pets at the Holbrook Kiwanis Dog Park in the city’s west end, are good signs. He says enthusiastically, “I have always believed in Holbrook; I still do. Holbrook has untapped potential. We as a community need to capitalize on the rich history of our town. This is ‘it’… this is the Wild West. I feel we need to embrace it. Don’t get me wrong, we are one Holbrook; but it’s obvious that we need to spread the love. We all have room for growth, I just want to see that growth. I want just a dollar from each car that passes through our town.”
As for how Holbrook can most effectively accommodate and sustain the swell of its growth potential in harmony with its outlying populace–specifically, the Navajo community–Tyler acknowledges, “We are a border town. To be in partnership with the Navajo Reservation is a must for our community. So much is happening on the reservation that is right at our doorstep.”
He says further, “When you look at Holbrook today and its history, we are seeking economic growth, but are not in a position to achieve our goals. Our city’s current infrastructure is not compatible with where we would like to go. How do we stay together and do this? How do we get there?”
Answering his own question with a smile, he says: “We are a destination. We are the county seat. Holbrook will survive. We have always maintained, now it is time to kick into gear. Let’s move!”
Tyler explains his full commitment to his aforementioned “total picture philosophy” with a simpler analogy, one he calls Ham & Eggs, “A chicken is a participant in the process. The pig is committed from day one.” Tyler elaborates that he approached his candidacy for mayor with a different mentality from when he vied for his seat on the city council. In hindsight he admits, “I was hesitant. I’m going to make mistakes. I have a right to make a mistake, that’s what makes us human.” At the end of the day, he reflects, “Maybe it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m not a politician. I’m still a citizen.”
