19 Sep, 2012
by Shaun McKinnon - Sept. 18, 2012 09:30 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
CAVE CREEK - The metal box hanging from the window of the white trailer glows deep-orange, its flames fed by a hose that snakes back to a propane tank.
Shaun Woodsum ducks into the trailer, a workshop on wheels hitched to his pickup. He opens the glowing box and uses tongs to pluck out a horseshoe. It pulses white heat as Woodsum places it on an anvil and inspects it, studying its shape for flaws.
He picks up his hammer and pounds the shoe, once, twice, three times, each strike producing a dull metallic ring. He works the shoe some more, then carries it to the shoeing stall. Jagger, a dark-brown horse, waits.
Woodsum squats, lifts Jagger's left-front leg back and presses the shoe against the horse's hoof. It sizzles and smokes, and the air fills with an acrid smell. Jagger never flinches. Woodsum pulls the shoe back, studies the hoof and returns to the rig.
"Not all farriers hot-shoe anymore, but it's the only way I do it," Woodsum says as he hammers the steel shoe. "It's more of the traditional way, but you know you're getting a good fit. The smallest little corrections can be huge."
Woodsum, who is 44, has worked as a farrier for about 22 years, shoeing horses in stables as far away as England, where he worked as an apprentice. He set up his own business two years ago in Chino Valley and now traverses northern and central Arizona plying a trade with practices and lore that span centuries. His work is part blacksmith, part animal expert, part salesman building a stable of horses and customers.
The job of shoeing horses has evolved. Time was, riders took their horses to a blacksmith's forge, often the only one in riding distance. Now, most farriers travel to clients -- Woodsum's glowing-metal box is a propane-fired forge that lets him run a blacksmith shop out of the trailer, which also hauls his anvil and tools.
Rather than forging shoes from scratch, some farriers purchase them from a supply store. Many don't even use forges, relying on the hammer to adjust the fit.
But the basic tools of the job-- hammer, anvil, shoes and nails -- have changed little since farriers worked in the blacksmith shops of Old West towns. And there is one unchanging part of the job: the horse. It's all about the horse.
CoCo, a dappled white-and-gray mare, stands still as Woodsum clips one end of a strap to her harness and the other to a ring on a post at the front of the stall. He attaches a similar strap to the other side, though CoCo shows no signs that she would attempt to bolt.
"I've been lucky today," Woodsum says. "They're not always as calm as this. Sometimes, they can be so calm they fall asleep while I'm working on them."
He lifts the front left leg and checks CoCo's hoof. She wore a shoe and a plastic pad that protected sensitive areas on the bottom of her foot. Not all horses need the pad, but if the horse is to carry a rider or pull a wagon, it needs shoes, he says.
"We've been putting shoes on horses for thousands of years," Woodsum says. "They haven't always looked like this, but if you want to keep the horses working day after day, you've got to protect their feet. Wars have been lost because shoes were lost."
Blacksmiths and farriers know the proverb, repeated in one version or another for centuries:
"For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;
"For want of a shoe, the horse was lost;
"For want of a horse, a rider was lost;
"For want of a rider... the battle was lost;
"For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost."
As prospectors and ranchers and settlers spread across the Western frontier, they brought their horses, for travel and for work. And where there were horses in those days, there were farriers and blacksmiths.
"The job was one and the same for a long time," says Barry Denton, another northern-Arizona farrier who has shod horses for 35 years. "When I worked with my grandfather, we did the blacksmithing, made all our own shoes. And we'd do decorative things for houses sometimes. I can still make whatever you need out of steel in my shop."
Today, many blacksmiths work as artists and craftsmen and never see a horse's hoof. Some produce household items like fireplace tools or door hardware, while others create works of art.
In the Old West, the blacksmith repaired wagon wheels, forged tools and hinges, shaped horseshoes and put them on the horse. The smith worked long hours, and his customers came to him. He worked to perfect his methods, and then he told no one how he did it.
"The men of my grandfather's era grew up in the Depression, and their trade secrets were closely guarded," Denton says. "I worked for one guy, an old-time shoer. He would back his truck up to a barn and have me take rolls of brown paper and thumbtacks and cover the windows while he worked."
Today, farriers are more likely to share information, and their methods are often on display at blacksmithing competitions. They prove their worth now in the way they keep a horse healthy and on the trail.
"Our tools are probably better today than they've ever been," Denton says. "But the process hasn't changed. It's something that can't really be done by a machine."
Woodsum grew up around horses and got to know the farrier who took care of his family's animals, a longtime shoer named Bob James. One day, James planted a seed.
"He told me, 'You would make a good horseshoer. You have the right build for it.'" Woodsum says. "At first, I said, 'Oh, I'll keep paying you.' But then one day, I decided to give it try."
In June 1990, Woodsum enrolled in a Phoenix horseshoeing school, and when he completed the training, he decided the job was right for him. The iron and the heat of the forge were in his blood.
"It's a craft, an art," he says. "It's not just nailing on shoes. The guys who make things on an anvil, they're like an artist with his paint brushes or a guy with his guitar. The blacksmith has his hammer and anvil."
It's also an act of trust. The farrier is working at ground level with an animal that can weigh more than 1,000 pounds and whose legs can exert power enough to injure or kill.
"When I got under a horse the first time, I was feeling everything," Woodsum says. "I was feeling his heart beat. I was feeling him breathe. Trust is so important. You have to be cool. Don't lose your temper. If you lose your cool, they will, too."
Woodsum lives in Chino Valley, but many of his clients live and keep horses in the Phoenix area, so he travels constantly. He also shares a workshop space, where he keeps a coal-fired forge, but he does most of his regular farrier work out of the mobile rig. Working out of a shop, he says, "is every blacksmith's dream."
Inside his rig are several metal tool and supply chests, a drill press, a grinder, the anvil and the forge, which is attached to an arm that swings outward to keep the heat and fire away from the workspace.
Woodsum prefers working with a coal forge for its heat and, he admits, for the tradition. But on the road, the only practical option, and the safest, is propane.
Once a horse is secured in the shoeing stall, Woodsum removes the old shoes, using pincers to pull the nails. Sometimes, the shoes can be reset and reused, but often, he will replace them. A horse needs reshoeing about every six weeks to keep the hoof and foot healthy.
He scrapes out debris from the hoof and trims it, not unlike the way a human trims toenails. Trimming a hoof precisely is critical for the health of the horse and the safety of the rider. A poorly trimmed hoof can lead to the loss of a shoe.
A farrier has to know the physiology of a horse and its feet. Most farriers work with a veterinarian to watch for infections or injuries. Woodsum says modern shoers know enough to keep a horse healthy and working. In the Old West, a lame horse was more likely put down.
"You're doing it for the betterment of these guys," Woodsum says, patting Jagger on the neck. "It's all about the horse."
On routine jobs, Woodsum now uses preshaped shoes, although he can make his own from steel bars. He inspects the hoof, chooses the right shoe size and puts the shoe in the forge to heat up.
Woodsum wears a heavy-leather apron around his waist and safety glasses when he smooths a shoe's edges on the grinder, but he does not wear gloves, even working as closely as he does to a forge that produces temperatures higher than 1,500 degrees.
"I like to be able to feel what I'm doing," he says.
Once the shoe is hot, Woodsum can hammer it into shape on the anvil. For a farrier, the hammer and anvil are among the most important tools, carefully chosen for their size and weight.
Woodsum then places the hot shoe on the hoof. It burns its shape into the hoof, which allows Woodsum to see where each surface meets. A shoe needs to fit snugly to protect the foot. If the fit isn't right, Woodsum hammers it again and grinds away errant edges.
Once he's satisfied with the fit, he taps special nails through the shoe and into the hoof. The nail emerges from the outer edge of the hoof. Woodsum bends the nail flush with the hoof and uses a rasp to remove any sharp edges. The horse feels nothing, standing calmly through the heat and the tap-tapping.
After the shoe is securely attached, Woodsum repeats the process three more times.
Denton, the longtime farrier, rarely travels to see clients anymore. He considers himself semiretired and takes work when he wants to in his shop at the Bar U Bar Ranch in Skull Valley, where he lives with his wife.
He also tests farriers for certification, a voluntary step that some tradesman take in order to prove their mettle and attract better business. Neither Arizona nor the federal government requires farriers to become certified, and neither enforces standards. The farriers who take that step set themselves apart and, Denton believes, demonstrate a respect for the craft.
"I think it's a good personal goal, to get certified," he says. "It certainly shows people that you're serious. I think there's too many horseshoers out there and not enough good ones. The good ones are so busy they can't stand it."
Woodsum went further than voluntary certification. In 1997, he moved to England and served as an apprentice for part of a year, a necessary step in that country to obtain a license to shoe horses.
The experience improved his skills and gave him a new perspective on his craft. Feeling more confident, he began competing in blacksmithing contests and won a fair share.
Woodsum relies on word-of-mouth referrals to build his business. His clients come to him based on those referrals, and he can seal a deal with his certification and his awards. A basic shoeing job starts at about $150, a price based in part on Woodsum's experience and training, as well as the market. In California, he says, a good farrier can charge $200 or more.
These days, more of his regulars own horses for show or jumping competitions than for work on a ranch herding cattle. Some clients ride for pleasure, climbing the trails and foothills on the edges of the suburbs. Woodsum has learned to shoe the horse based on what it does.
Farriers who last in the job become attached to the craft, to the independence of the work and to the horses.
"I wouldn't know what to do if I got up in the morning and didn't see a horse," says Denton, the Skull Valley ranch owner. "Horses are some of my best friends. To me, the best thing in the world is seeing a horse that maybe I put the first shoes on and he's still out there competing when he's 20. I've helped keep that horse sound for 20 years. It's wonderful."
In Cave Creek, Woodsum finishes shoeing Jagger and pats him gently.
"You've been a good boy today," he says in a low voice.
He leads the horse back to its stable and then cleans up the shoeing stall, readying it for the next horse.
"Sometimes, I try to imagine what it would be like to have an office job where someone bosses me around," Woodsum says, sweeping up the hoof trimmings. "I can't. I enjoy this more than when I started. A well-fit shoe, a sound horse, things you see that one one else does ... it's a lot of hard work, but it's extremely satisfying."
19 Sep, 2012
by Laurie Merrill - Sept. 18, 2012 05:27 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
Patrick Nissley of Paradise Valley lost control of his BMW and killed a prominent plastic surgeon in 2010 because he was high on heroin and methamphetamine, not because he was suffering from a seizure, the lead prosecutor argued Tuesday.
Maricopa County Deputy Attorney S. Lee White argued during Nissley's trial that his erratic driving before the fatal accident, and his shouting, cussing and spitting after it, are symptoms consistent with methamphetamine abuse.
If the 27-year-old Nissley had a seizure "he would have crashed long before" he hit a Lincoln Town Car nearly head-on on the 5100 block of North Invergordon Road, White said. Nissley is diabetic.
The crash caused Nissley's BMW to flip over and strike Paradise Valley plastic surgeon Richard Pavese, 62, who was out for a stroll. Pavese died 45 minutes later, according to police and court records.
Nissley faces 10 to 37 3/4 years in prison if convicted on all counts, said Jerry Cobb, spokesman for the Maricopa County Prosecutor's Office. His trial before Maricopa County Superior Court Judge Bruce Cohen began last month.
For minutes before the crash, witnesses observed Nissley swerving in and out of traffic, jumping curbs and speeding, White said.
"It appears the car was under control just going too fast," White said.
The jury was expected to began deliberating after closing arguments.
Though charged with 2nd degree murder, the state conceded Nissley did not "knowingly cause the death" of Pavese. But he did show extreme indifference and act recklessly, she argued.
Nissley was also charged with endangerment imminent death and possession or use of a dangerous drug or narcotic.
The Arizona Department of Public Safety tested blood drawn from Nissley and determined that he was under the influence of heroin and methamphetamine at the time of the accident, Paradise Valley police said.
A hypodermic syringe filled with heroin was in Nissley's car, police said, along with a spoon, cotton, and a baggie containing residue.
Nissley is a type-1 diabetic, according to police and court records. The defense theory is that low blood sugar can lead to a physical condition that can cause accidents, according to court records.
The judge ruled last month that the defense can present testimony about hypoglycemia, according to records.
"It's a claim people have made before," Cobb said. "It's rare because these circumstances are rare."
Defense attorney Larry Kazan did not respond to a request for an interview.
19 Sep, 2012
by Domenico Nicosia - Sept. 18, 2012 06:38 PM
The Arizona Republic- 12 News Breaking News Team
East and westbound traffic was cleared after a collision involving three vehicles on the Westbound portion of the Loop 202 near 24th Street in Phoenix blocked lanes and slowed traffic heading in both directions, Arizona Department of Public Safety officials said.
Vehicles and debris including a truck trailer hauling oil tanks containing used motor oil that overturned blocked the two center lanes, officials said.
19 Sep, 2012
by Chris Williams - Sept. 18, 2012 10:07 PM
12 News | azcentral.com
Johnny Rosen looked up at the burning cargo containers teetering from the 1,000-foot freighter. Flaming debris rained into the Atlantic Ocean. Smoke poured into the sky.
From a seat in a lifeboat, Rosen wondered if this adventure would be his last.
Instead, home in Phoenix months later, he can pull out the photos he took from his trans-Atlantic trip and tell the tale.
Rosen, born in South Africa, is a 66-year-old with stories to tell. He said he's been a journalist, a soldier and a car salesman. Today, he said, he runs a business reselling parts for classic Chryslers out of his house off Cave Creek Road.
But this tale starts with a ticket for passage on a highly unusual cruise. Rosen said he had business in Sweden -- he's vague about the details -- and going by plane would have been too easy.
Instead, he booked a spot aboard a cargo ship, which would leave from Charleston, S.C., bound for Antwerp, Belgium.
Travel by cargo ship is a real, if unusual, way to tour the globe. Passengers can book a limited number of berths on many ships. They eat with the ships' officers or crew, and the rest of the time, they simply keep themselves occupied as they cross the open ocean.
An e-mail to the shipping company was not returned, and much of Rosen's experience can't be corroborated. But he has the ticket and the incredible photographs from on board.
Rosen's ship was the MSC Flaminia, owned by a German shipping firm. The massive ship was hauling an extensive variety of chemicals, according to later European-media reports.
The 11-day voyage began typically enough. He even snapped pictures of the sunset at sea. But on July 14, he awoke to a strange smell, he said, then saw smoke from his porthole.
The crew battled the flare-up for more than an hour, Rosen said, before a call to man the lifeboats.
The captain ordered the orange vessel toward the flames, Rosen said, rescuing two men trapped fighting the fire.
Rosen described the ordeal: "As the lifeboat was maneuvering up to the Flaminia, there were several burning containers, damaged containers, teetering on the edge of the ship. They had been blown out of the hold. They hadn't gone into the water. And as I looked up, they were right over me and at any second any one of those might have bust loose.
"It would have been curtains for everybody in that lifeboat. We would have been squashed like a bug."
Instead, the boat made the rescue, steering away from the smoking ship.
Several crew members were hurt in the fire. One died, and another is still missing.
A Russian cargo ship rushed to help the survivors, who were taken on to Germany.
The Flaminia, unmanned, continued to drift as European countries struggled with how to handle the hazardous cargo, according to the BBC. Finally, early this month, it was inspected and towed into a German port for salvage. Investigators are still looking into the cause of the explosion.
Rosen, meanwhile, completed his European trip and booked another passage home. "They call me 'Close Call Johnny," Rosen said, recounting the voyage at his Phoenix home.
19 Sep, 2012
by JJ Hensley - Sept. 18, 2012 10:07 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
A recently concluded undercover sting started simply enough: A Maricopa County sheriff's detective conducting surveillance on a drug operation noticed odd activities going on at a central Tempe motel.
Detectives commented on their radios about a woman they saw going from one room to another and, later, a man who stood outside several rooms and appeared to be "keeping time."
The operation soon transitioned from drug surveillance to a prostitution sting. Over the course of a month, detectives made nearly 40 arrests for prostitution-related crimes, drug possession and unlawful-weapon possession in an unincorporated area of the county tucked between Tempe and Guadalupe. The investigation led detectives to east Mesa and south Tempe before the operation was complete.
"It's not just the county island, we've done this in other hotels," Sheriff Joe Arpaio said. "I'm sure you're not going to stop this type of activity. Some media attention ... might act as a deterrent to others getting involved in this type of thing."
The operation had the familiar feel of any sting, with detectives making contact with suspects who came to a designated hotel. There, the suspects made contact with an undercover deputy, who secured an offer of sex for money and then used a code word as a signal for other deputies to storm the hotel room.
On a recent weeknight, a half-dozen detectives crowded into a Tempe hotel room to run the sting. Two deputies were assigned to contact women advertising as escorts on the Internet. Within 30 minutes, two women had agreed to spend an hour with the undercover detectives in exchange for $200.
Samantha Siqueiros, 24, was arrested soon after she arrived. She discussed the fetishes of some of her clients and noted that she had been in the hotel room before.
Detectives searching her purse found a medical-marijuana card, a switchblade and paperwork indicating she had attended a prostitution-diversion class earlier in the day in an effort to avoid prosecution for an August arrest in Phoenix.
"I like sex," Siqueiros said when detectives asked how she got involved in prostitution. "It's just easy."
In the ongoing battle between Valley police and prostitution rings, Internet sites advertising adult services have become a valuable tool for police. The sites feature photos of women typically wearing little more than lingerie offering body rubs, massages, escorts and companionship. Police use those ads to generate investigative leads.
Backpage.com, an online-classified site owned by alternative-media conglomerate Village Voice Media, whose holdings include the PhoenixNew Times, has garnered national attention for publishing such ads. In response, groups from around the country have protested and encouraged boycotts of businesses that advertise with the media company.
A law was passed in Washington state this spring that threatened five years in prison and a $10,000 fine for anyone who knowingly or indirectly displays content that offers sexual contact for something of value, if the content includes an image of a minor. A federal judge in July issued an injunction to prevent the law from taking effect.
Liz McDougall, an attorney representing Backpage.com, has said the company will not remove the site. It instead wants to create a framework for adult advertising that can be implemented throughout the industry. It would allow cooperation with local law-enforcement agencies to fight human trafficking while developing a comprehensive approach to adult-services advertisements. The concern, according to Backpage supporters, is that shutting down the site might drive the content to offshore networks outside the reach of American law-enforcement agencies.
McDougall said there is another reason Backpage does not intend to shut down: There is minimal likelihood that any of the women are advertising exclusively on its pages.
"When you talk with people who have used Backpage for prostitution, they will tell you you can't make a living with one Internet resource," she said. "I would be shocked if Backpage is their only source of advertising."
McDougall also said the company has worked with law-enforcement agencies to seek out women police have brought to their attention and provided information from other websites.
"We've found a victim on up to 13 other sites," she said.
Sheriff's deputies did not consult with Backpage's monitors for their operation, instead trolling the site for women who advertised services in an unincorporated area of Tempe near Baseline Road and Priest Drive. The area is outside the jurisdiction of surrounding police agencies and not subject to local zoning laws and restrictions.
The sheriff's deputies also did not identify any minors during the monthlong operation that took place near the Arizona Mills mall. But working through Backpage allowed detectives to contact the women, leading to 10 arrests on suspicion of prostitution, five for solicitation and three for allegedly receiving the earnings of a prostitute.
On the night they arrested Siqueiros, detectives arrested another woman and her alleged pimp, a 20-year-old who told deputies that he had picked up the woman, a friend, earlier in the day at a bus station and used his brother's Mercedes to drive her to appointments around the Valley.
The suspect, James King, was carrying a 9mm gun and ammunition in the car. The $960 he had in his wallet was from work at a local record studio, supplemented by gas money from his companion, he said.
The discovery was indicative of what detectives found in the operation, Arpaio said.
"It's not just prostitution," he said.
19 Sep, 2012
by Eugene Scott - Sept. 18, 2012 07:40 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
Arizona State University enrolled its largest number of students this fall at its downtown Phoenix campus. And although some area businesses are excited at the potential for new business, some residents say they would like to see more community engagement from those connected to the campus.
Nearly 10,000 students enrolled at ASU's downtown Phoenix campus this fall compared with 9,367 students last fall. The campus has grown each year since opening with 3,059 students in 2006.
Because enrollment numbers change daily with new students signing on and others withdrawing, campus officials said official enrollment numbers won't be available for weeks.
Chris Callahan, vice provost of the downtown campus, said he is amazed at how fast the campus has grown in such a short time.
"It's remarkable," he said. "I'm looking out my window at a campus that didn't exist six years ago."
Downtown enrollment could have been larger if so many people weren't still affected by the economy, said Patrick Panetta, associate director of ASU's Real Estate Development Office.
" We were actually expecting a larger bump last year, but I think the economy put a damper on the enrollment a little bit. Folks chose not to go back to school and spend the money," he said. "I think with the economy recovering a little better, we're going to see sort of a return to the previous growth trajectory we've been on."
ASU plans to expand its downtown presence more by bringing another college to the campus and increasing its relationship with the Phoenix Biomedical Campus, the downtown Phoenix campus that includes the University of Arizona College of Medicine and programs from Northern Arizona University.
Enrollment at the youngest ASU campus already is higher than both the West and Polytechnic campuses.
ASU is converting the U.S. post office at 522 N. Central Ave. into a student union. Phoenix purchased the building and leases it to the university.
ASU is expanding the downtown Phoenix YMCA, as well. The project will add 75,000 square feet to the existing YMCA. The renovation will be completed before the fall 2013 semester.
Both students and community members will share the newly renovated spaces, but some areas, such as classroom space, will be reserved for ASU students.
"Both facilities will be essentially treated as one, so (students and YMCA members) have access to both buildings. There are only a couple of exclusive areas in the new building," Panetta said.
University officials hope to bring the Sandra Day O'Connor College of Law to Phoenix from the Tempe campus in the next several years.
"I don't believe there's a specific timetable for it other than it's a high priority for President (Michael) Crow -- having a world-class law school in the middle of a major metropolitan area," Callahan said.
Many downtown Phoenix businesses had hoped to see significant bumps in customers with the infusion of students, but some have fared better than others.
"The food and things have done really well. Some of the direct services are doing well. The apartments are doing very well, but not every business has seen the same level of increase in business ," said David Roderique, president and CEO of Downtown Phoenix Partnership, a tax-funded non-profit . "There are some service providers like dentists or doctors that may not have seen that same level of pickup ."
Some downtown businesses have struggled to partner with the university, particularly with the Sun Card, a university-issued student-identification card often used to make off-campus purchases.
"It's not widely accepted around local businesses, and one of the reasons is that there are a lot of fees that are placed on the Sun Card," Roderique said. "We've brought that to their attention."
In its infant stages, the downtown campus boasted that students would serve the community and build relationships with residents.
Callahan said campus officials are still working on ways to get students off the campus to volunteer and take advantage of arts and cultural opportunities.
"What we've been focusing on a lot is how we can even better connect our students with the downtown Phoenix community," he said.
But some community members think ASU officials need to work harder. Steve Weiss, founding member of the Downtown Voices Coalition, said ASU's commitment to reach out to the community has wavered over the years.
"During and right after the (2006) bond election, the attitude of the campus changed from community engagement and outreach to 'If you want to come to us, we're here,'" said Weiss, an ASU alumnus. "We're having a hard time trying to figure out how to get our students out of the gated community that is ASU downtown."
Weiss acknowledged that some local business owners have benefited from ASU's downtown presence.
Callahan said most of the people are pleased with ASU's engagement.
19 Sep, 2012
by Michael Clancy - Sept. 18, 2012 10:16 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
It wasn't terribly hot, not especially cool, not too wet but not super dry. Arizona's summer was not very distinguished at all, even though in the first half of August it felt extra hot and possibly endless.
The National Climatic Data Center has put out its statistics on the months it classifies as summer: June, July and August.
Using those guidelines, Arizona had its:
12th-warmest summer, averaging 74.41 degrees. Phoenix's average for the whole year has been higher than that since 2000, according to the National Weather Service.
Eighth-wettest summer, with total rainfall of 5.37 inches. Phoenix has seen less rain annually in four of the last 11 years.
The data center bases its figures on averages of seven climate divisions around the state.
Such numbers seem positively heavenly to a resident of the Phoenix area. The temperature dropped to 74 degrees only once in each of the data center's summer months.
But the official numbers for Phoenix do not show any standout figures either. The average temperature was about 94.3 degrees, and the total rainfall was 2.41 inches -- neither figure especially high or low.
Phoenix had 85 days of temperatures over 100 during the three-month period and 108 so far this year, perfectly average. But the area had more than its fair share of 110-degree days so far this year -- 23 of them, more than the average of 18 but 10 fewer than in 2011.
Both summer and the monsoon continued well past the national data center's end-of-August cutoff. Summer ends on Friday, and the average temperature for the month through Monday was 88.4, or 2.2 degrees below normal. The addition of the September temperatures, along with the deletion of the first three weeks of June, would knock the summer temperature average down even further.
September also added 0.59 inch of rain, contributing to a total of 3 inches of rain during Phoenix's 2012 monsoon, a bit above average. No rain is forecast through next Tuesday, and the monsoon ends on Sept. 30.
19 Sep, 2012
by Paul Maryniak - Sept. 18, 2012 11:06 PM
Southeast Valley Communities editor
The evolution of the southeast Valley since I moved here from Philadelphia in 1999 has been nothing short of astonishing.
Mesa is popping with the vitality of its arts center and Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport. Gilbert is home to four hospitals, a regional mall and burgeoning high-tech center.
Buoyed by Intel, Chandler exudes a vibe that beckons all generations. And while Ahwatukee Foothills, Queen Creek and Apache Junction don't have the same resources, each has taken steps to help make the area vibrant.
From our Mesa office, we've charted these developments and more in our Community newspapers, The Arizona Republic, and community sites on azcentral.com. We continue to pay unparalleled attention to the area's local governments, school districts, neighborhoods, businesses and people.
Most of us live in the region and cover the good and the bad with the commitment you would expect from a good neighbor, as demonstrated by today's Valley & State story on Tempe's move to edit public comment out of its public- access channel.
We'll continue to demonstrate that dedication.
E-mail: paul.maryniak@arizonarepublic.com.
19 Sep, 2012
by Jackee Coe - Sept. 18, 2012 07:51 PM
The Republic | azcentral.com
Southeast Valley police are on the lookout for underage drinkers and for those who drink and drive near schools.
Wise decision-making about alcohol use is an annual back-to-school theme by law enforcement, and this year, southeast Valley police departments are partnering with the Governor's Office of Highway Safety to conduct saturation DUI patrols the first few weeks of school. Police are joining with Arizona State University, schools, businesses and community groups to reach students.
Officers are reminding minors to not drink and those who are at least 21 to drink in moderation in an effort to cut back on sexual assaults. They also are urging people to not get behind the wheel while intoxicated.
"It's really an opportunity for us to reach out to the students while we have their ear because we want them to be safe," Tempe police Lt. Kerby Rapp said. "We don't want the unfortunate incidents to happen, and every student that we can reach out to is potentially a crime that's not going to happen."
Officers want to make sure that returning community-college and ASU students are aware of "the realistic dangers out there" and that good decision making can enhance their personal safety, Tempe police Lt. Scott Smith said.
Drinking too much alcohol can lead to many issues, including DUI-related collisions and fatalities, criminal damage, disorderly conduct, fights and rapes, Chandler Detective Seth Tyler said.
Sexual assaults in the region have risen slightly in recent years, and police say the majority involve acquaintances and alcohol. Most take place between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. on weekends, when people are out with friends.
Tempe officers arrested a man recently who they believe was drunk and who they suspect attempted to rape a woman near Mill Avenue, police said. The woman had had a few drinks while out with friends but was not intoxicated, police say. She had been walking alone about 3 a.m. after being separated from her friends when the man is suspected of attacking her.
In Mesa, there have been incidents of people passing out after drinking too much alcohol and waking up while an assault was occurring, police Sgt. Tony Landato said.
Tempe school-resource Sgt. Josie Montenegro said resource officers have seen an increase in teen-dating violence, which is "a vicious cycle that can lead to sexual assaults." School-resource officers will be teaching classes on the subject.
Officers from ASU, Tempe, Chandler, Gilbert and Mesa will conduct saturation patrols during the first few weeks of school.
Underage DUI citations have decreased in the southeast Valley since 2010. Chandler, which had the fewest, dropped from 18 in 2010 to 14 in 2011. Gilbert decreased from 447 to 307, and Mesa from 355 to 338 during the same time. Tempe was the only city with an increase, from 171 in 2010 to 253 in 2011.
Southeast Valley cities have several programs targeting underage drinking.
Tempe's social-host ordinance holds responsible those who provide alcohol to a minor.
The first offense carries a $250 fine that could be reduced if the person completes an education class. A second offense is a $1,000 fine, and third and subsequent offenses are $1,500 each.
19 Sep, 2012
