Deserted Company Town Tries to Lure Retirees
Half the residents of Ajo have moved away since the copper mine shut, and scores of homes stand empty in this isolated town less than 40 miles from Mexico.
Ajo--which means garlic in Spanish--is a company town without a company. Phelps Dodge Corp. closed its mining operations in April, 1985, after cheaper foreign imports pushed down the price of copper.
But the folks who are left are quick to tell you that Ajo intends to survive. And those empty homes are one of the reasons they think it will. Ajo is counting on affordable housing and its mild winters to attract a new breed of residents--retirees.
“This town is going to survive,” said Pima County Sheriff’s Lt. Jack Garchow, a resident since 1959. “It won’t be a ghost town.
“We’ve never had anything but the copper industry, but people are moving in to take advantage of Ajo’s winters. They’re where it’s at. They’ve got new ideas. Our town is going to develop an altogether different personality.”
Once Employed 1,174
In 1981, when Phelps Dodge’s New Cornelia mine, mill, concentrator and smelter were at peak operations, the company employed 1,174 of the unincorporated community’s 5,000 to 6,000 residents.
Today, with all its operations halted and after a long and bitter strike that left hundreds permanently out of work, Phelps Dodge has 25 employees here.
James L. Armstrong, Phelps Dodge plant superintendent, said company employees in 1981 had $22 million to spend in the community. Today the figure is more like $500,000.
“So you can imagine what’s happening to the economy and why so many businesses have failed,” Armstrong said.
He said that the mine will not reopen before copper prices climb to more than $1 a pound and that the possibility of that happening “is probably pretty remote” over the next few years.
Small Town Center
Ajo’s town center still stands--an arched, mission-style covered plaza around three sides of a small tree-lined park. But some of its stores and the movie theater are closed, and the railroad ticket office houses the Chamber of Commerce.
Residents still are drawn to Ajo’s sole grocery store, the pharmacy, post office or park.
Paul P. Vasquez, branch manager of the Valley National Bank, is another who said he has no doubt that the town will survive. He calls it “a ready-made town” with clean air and quiet streets.
Increasingly, Ajo’s new residents are seeking the one commodity Ajo has in abundance--empty houses.
In 1981, most of the Phelps Dodge workers lived in company housing: about 700 of an estimated 1,900 homes in the area.
Today, the town’s population has shrunk to about 3,000 as people have drifted off to Phoenix or Tucson or elsewhere to find work. About 40 commute to work at a door factory in Gila Bend, 40 miles away.
Homes for $20,000
In the last 1 1/2 years, nearly 150 of Phelps Dodge’s 700 homes have been sold. Most have been bought by retirees, from Iowa, Washington, Minnesota, New York, Montana and Alaska. Prices for the homes, 50 to 60 years old, have averaged about $20,000.
An additional 500 have been awaiting state real estate board approval of zoning, assured water supply and sewage disposal before being marketed.
Betty Topping, who with her retired husband bought a Phelps Dodge home in May, 1985, and moved to Ajo from Iowa, echoes a common belief. “I think, as more retirees come in, businesses will pick up--and that in turn will bring in young people,” she said.
“Our biggest concern should be keeping the businesses here to provide services if and when the houses are sold,” said Chamber of Commerce Manager Jeannie Morago.
Other Concerns
But there are numerous other concerns:
- Health service. A clinic staffed by two doctors and a nurse offers the only medical care for Ajo residents short of Phoenix or Tucson. Phelps Dodge closed its hospital last year but will subsidize the clinic, managed by Samaritan Health Service, until next year. In the November election, residents of Ajo and Lukeville, a tiny community less than 40 miles south at the Mexican border, overwhelmingly approved creation of the state’s first health service district to take it over. But there is no nursing home.
- School enrollment. It has dropped from 1,396 to 666 students in the last four years.
- Shopping. It’s limited at best, though at least 80 people still have ongoing business operations. The sole grocery is part of the Phelps Dodge Mercantile Store, which Armstrong said will stay open as long as it remains profitable.
- Entertainment. There is virtually none. The Ajo Country Club has a nine-hole golf course and there are park district, church and school recreational programs. But there is no movie theater or bowling alley.
- Food service. There are just three functioning restaurants and, as Topping said, “Senior citizens or retired people love to eat out.”
And there are still other problems. In the absence of jobs, much of the labor supply has left, meaning there aren’t many workers around for any potential industrial development.
There also are no full-amenity, modern parks for mobile homes or recreational vehicles, a must to attract winter visitors and tourists and to whet their interest in Ajo as a possible home.
And, though Garchow cites Ajo’s location as one of its strong points, it’s a two-edged sword: Its distance from interstate highway and rail service deters potential new industry.
In addition, Ajo is landlocked, with little land available for any new major development. It is bounded by an Air Force gunnery range, the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge and the Tohono O’odham Indian Reservation.
‘Can Only Get So Large’
But, Garchow said, “Some view as a real plus that we’re landlocked; the town can only get so large. And if you’re sick and tired of being in a big city, it’s a big plus.”
There are other pluses.
Ajo’s warm, dry winters, with practically guaranteed sunny days, are an attraction for visitors. The air generally is clean, unpolluted and pollen-free, though strong winds in dry weather can dust the town with an irritating powdery residue from copper tailings.
“It’s quiet and peaceful here, no rat race,” said Leo C. Williams, 69, a 40-year resident who runs one of the town’s three motels. “Anybody can drive to work in three minutes and not have to hurry.”
The crime rate is small by big-city standards and has been lowered dramatically, Garchow said: Burglaries dropped from 124 to 36 over nine months, property loss from $71,000 to $4,700.
