THING 1: The Grand Staircase at the Hotel Gadsden.
The lobby of the Hotel Gadsden in Douglas is grand in a way you don’t expect. Marble, columns, a sweep of stairs that feels like it belongs in New York City and not an Arizona border town. You walk in off the street and it’s like stepping into a different version of the town. They’ll tell you Pancho Villa once rode his horse up those stairs to look out the window. Whether that’s true or not almost doesn’t matter. The story fits the space. (They’ll also tell you Wyatt Earp was “running wild” around the same time; he was, in fact, sitting on a Hollywood movie set advising Tom Mix.) What caught me, though, were the telephone booths along the wall. Still there. And inside, the vintage ads—printed and still as new (I actually thought about stealing them)—advising you to use the Yellow Pages to find what you need. The lobby is grand. The booths are, too. Because It all feels like stepping out of our times, which is exactly why you should visit. You know…the next time you find yourself in Douglas Arizona.
THING 2: The Booksellers.
This is my second time watching The Booksellers, currently streaming free on YouTube. The first time was when it initially dropped a few years ago. First time I just took it all in—the faces, the shops, all those amazing books and the stories behind them, the whole world of it. Second time I came away a bit more reassured, for lack of a better term. After everything—Amazon, the Kindle, shifting entertainment habits—the book is still standing. Still being bought, sold, argued over, collected, and rediscovered. It’s easy to say reading isn’t what it was 50 years ago. Of course it isn’t. Nothing is. Look at everything competing for attention now that didn’t exist then. And still, books are holding their ground. Not dominant, maybe—but persistent. Durable. I’ve decided my favorite bookseller in the film is Rebecca Romney. She’s working hard to bring book collecting to a younger audience. While The Old Duffers whine about its decline, Ms. Romney makes a simple point: there are plenty of ways to reinvent the business if you’re willing to adapt. I love that.
THING 3: Eric Kroll.
I’ll start kinda Wiki-ish: Eric Kroll (born 1946) is an American photographer, writer, and curator known for his work exploring fetish, eroticism, and subcultural imagery. He has collaborated with numerous artists and models across decades. Kroll’s photographs and publications have become an important record of late 20th-century counterculture. Here’s my story: I met Eric in Los Angeles around 2007, after blowing out a Norman flash pack—something I managed to do more than once back in the day. You blow a pack by shooting too fast, which was a bad habit. When you blow a Norman pack, they make a loud pop and flames would actually emit from their outlets. Kinda crazy! Anyways, I was working with a model who knew Kroll. She invited me to dinner with him after we wrapped our work day. As we grubbed, she mentioned my gear problem to Kroll, and without hesitation—without even really knowing me—he offered to loan me his flash pack. Which is like walking onto a construction site without your tool belt and expecting someone to loan you theirs. We’ve been friends ever since.
THING 4: Mississippi Records.
If I were really collecting records again, I’d just buy everything Mississippi Records issues. Period. Based in Portland—I was in their shop years ago—they’ve built a whole label around reissuing music you’ve never heard of… but should have. Blues, gospel, international records, private press stuff—things that somehow slipped through the cracks. Actually, I take that back. These records are so obscure they never had a crack to slip through. If that makes sense. Michael Hurley. A soundtrack by Yo La Tengo from a movie you didn’t know existed. Alan Lomax’s field recordings of Fred McDowell! All very affordable. The packaging is simple. They don’t sell you what you want in as much as they sell you something you didn’t know even existed. And half the time, it ends up being better than most of the records you’ve been listening to lately. Certainly more interesting. And If I’m not careful, this is how I end up, again, with way too many records.
THING 5: La Indita.
Speaking of Kroll, this is where we dined. If you can count on Kroll for one thing (besides great photos), it’s great food. La Indita bills itself as “Native American and Regional Mexican Food”—specifically Tohono O’Odham and Purépecha style. I’m no expert, but I do consider myself a bit of a “foodie”. I learned the Tohono O’Odham side leans desert—simple, direct, built around what grows there. Tepary beans, squash, corn. Food which grows where most food can’t. The Purépecha influence (from Michoacán) brings in another layer—more masa-based dishes, different textures, a little more structure to the plate. You start getting handmade corn preparations that feel closer to central Mexican cooking, but still distinct from what most of us think of as “Mexican food.” Anyways, I just ordered, ate, and figured it out as I went. It’s not fancy. It’s just really good. Which is what dinner should be.
