Tales From the Outskirts: Arivaca

To reach Arivaca, you take Interstate 19 south and hang a sharp right
at the tiny burg of Amado. From there, you’ll follow a winding road
through history, controversy and camaraderie to this tight-knit town,
hunkered alongside the Atascosa Mountains.

On most mornings, you’ll find Roger Beal chatting folks up in his
neat and lively Arivaca Mercantile, just as he’s been doing for the
last 30 years. Over that time, says Beal, this sprawling village of
some 1,000 souls has seen a few changes. Sure, he says, Arivaca remains
a swell place. But the outside world’s problems have elbowed in
a bit.

In particular, a huge influx of illegal immigration through these
parts—and the accompanying contingent of Border Patrol
agents—has made everyone a little more edgy.

“But our relationship with the Border Patrol is frustrating rather
than adversarial,” he says. “We support the Border Patrol, and yet you
hate having to pass through a checkpoint. You used to go out there in
the hills all day long and not run into anybody, and just appreciate
the vastness of this place. Now you get questioned as to why you’re
there.”

His point is driven home by the steady parade of Border Patrol rigs
rumbling past on Arivaca’s main drag. Still, the agency and the
community have shared growing pains, Beal says, and have learned how to
cohabitate a little bit better. “They’ve really smoothed things out
quite a bit. These days, they’re certainly more sensitive to people in
the community and their issues.”

Those issues include a serious shortage of gainful employment, and
the concurrent lack of funds for such things as utility bills, food and
medical care. That’s where the Arivaca Coordinating Council Human
Resources Group comes into play.

Today, Tom Hafford is jawboning in the dining room of this cheery
social-services outpost, surrounded by a photo gallery of past
supporters, and several current ones who are here in the flesh. Among
other things, this bustling hub provides meals for hungry area
residents, transportation to important appointments, and help keeping
the lights on. “If you have an appointment in Green Valley or Tucson or
something, we have volunteer drivers who can drive you in,” Hafford
says. “I’m one of the drivers, so that’s how I know.”

Down the table, 83-year-old J.J. Johnson says he used to be a
circulation manager for the Arizona Daily Star, before retiring
to Arivaca. Now his likeness as a chipper young chap hangs on the wall.
But that was J.J. before this human-resources bunch got hold of him. “I
signed on here to help out,” he says with a grin, “and before I knew
it, they had me cooking for 50 people. I was a one-man show.”

Donna Sala directs the social-services center, and at the moment,
she’s outside examining a huge stack of lush, donated tomatoes. She
explains that such donations—and the help of volunteers like Tom
and J.J.—are vital to keeping Arivaca afloat. “This is a very
poverty-stricken area,” she says. “Our office alone serves 200 to 300
people.”

“And don’t forget to mention how much the Border Patrol helps our
community,” somebody else chuckles.

That good-natured sarcasm belies a fundamental truth: Arivaca has
outlasted more than one bright idea. Indeed, this town’s roots reach
back at least to the 17th century, when Father Eusebio Kino, the
pre-eminent Jesuit missionary, listed it as “Aribac” on his maps.

These hills were later noted for opulent veins of silver; one strike
in the 1730s turned up nearly 3,000 pounds of the precious metal.
Originally part of an 18th-century Spanish land grant, much of this
area was purchased in 1856 by influential territorial entrepreneur
Charles Poston, who commenced an ultimately unsuccessful mining
operation.

By 1917, Arivaca had become an outpost for the U.S. Army’s famed
black 10th Cavalry, better known as the Buffalo Soldiers. These
enlistees patrolled the border during the Mexican revolution, and their
presence eventually prompted a parade grounds, a shooting range and a
permanent set of officers’ barracks across from the mercantile. The
camp was finally disbanded in 1920.

Arivaca took another turn in the 1970s with the arrival of
free-wheeling bohemians. Perhaps not universally loved when they landed
in this traditional ranching community, many of those hippies started
businesses or went on to run government offices here, and now
constitute the community core.

This town also boasts a stubborn reputation for narco activity. That
image was hardly diminished last month, when an alleged dealer and his
daughter were murdered in their home, in what appears to have been a
drug rip-off. To some, that simply underscores Arivaca’s perceived
apathy.

“I think the majority of the people there are sympathetic and
tolerant of the trafficking that goes on,” one Drug Enforcement Agency
official told the Arizona Daily Star.

But others believe that overall, this community is returning to
less-troublesome times. Among them is Mike Geib, an Arivaca native who
lives with his lively family in a former dance hall on the corner of
Fifth Street and Fifth Avenue. “And before this was a dance hall, it
was part of the Buffalo Soldiers’ barracks,” he says, proudly.

Geib himself returned here after 23 years away. What brought him
back?

“This is home,” he says. “It’s quiet, and everybody is tight. Used
to be tighter before than it is now, because of all the illegals. But
still, your kids can run up and down the street, and you don’t have to
worry about it, because if they get in trouble, Mom and Dad will
know.”

He adjusts his glasses and leans against a rail running along the
deep old porch. “We’ve had our problems, but we’re bringing it back to
where it’s a quiet little hole in the wall,” he says. “More Border
Patrol is bringing her back to where she should be.”

This article appears in Jul 16-22, 2009.