3. Adopted Identities: Map-makers, Map Users, and Illustrated Roles
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56 three Adopted Identities Map-makers, Map Users, and Illustrated Roles Both tourists and cartographic illustrators appear in cartographs of Arizona—the former much more frequently than the latter. Many cartographs depict tourists within the mapped spaces. For the vast majority of sightseeing maps, guidebook maps, and postcard maps, tourists are the intended user group. Cartographic illustrators often scatter tourists throughout the landscapes they depict. Activities run the gamut from riding, fishing, hunting, and hiking to skiing, sunbathing, and taking or posing for snapshots. In some instances, the map-maker addresses an invisible, assumed viewer. Secondary players signify the presence of the tourist , either directly or indirectly. Most frequently, Indians offer the implied viewer directions, souvenirs, or a stereotypical greeting—such as, “How.” Map-makers themselves adopt a number of identities as well: tour guide, historian, scientist, booster, and expert/insider. Perhaps most interestingly, map-makers sometimes depict themselves within the mapped space, acting out their roles as artists and cartographers. This chapter examines the mechanics of personal identity—reading it into and writing it onto the mapped Arizona landscape. “Tourists Everywhere”—George Avey’s Arizona Highways Maps George Avey, as the art director of Arizona Highways, illustrated numerous cartoon maps of Arizona. All of these include figures who adopt the identity of the tourist, making his work a useful point of entry into the subject. Avey drew most, but not all, of his images for Arizona Highways, and his colorful characters demonstrate the travel experience in Arizona. His tourists both address the viewer and represent him or her. They act out recreational activities that viewers can pursue, Adopted Identities  •  57 scenic views they should encounter, and local curiosities they might discover. Some characters even speak to the viewer directly. The speech bubbles over their heads offer directions, friendly advice, or bits of historical lore. At the same time that they address the viewer, Avey’s figures symbolize the physical presence of the viewer within the landscape. The illustrations hold the viewers’ places in line, as it were, until they can visit Arizona’s landscapes for themselves. Thus, the tourists on the maps can be read as stand-ins for their intended audience—that is, Arizona Highways readers and anticipated tourists. On his 1958 cartograph of “Tucson: The New Pueblo in the Heart of the Sun Country,” Avey depicts the typical round of Arizona sights (see figure 3.1). Cactus-strewn desert dunes surround Mission Revival architecture and Indian reservations, and the five c’s (cattle, copper, cotton, citrus, and climate) figure prominently. Avey populates the Tucson area with scruffy miners, Catholic missionaries , solitary Indians, and singing cowboys. Tourists, however, overwhelmingly dominate the landscape. Around the outskirts of Tucson, which in Avey’s version of the city extends nearly to the border with Mexico, several motorists drive toward the city center, all of them grinning widely. In Nogales, a border crossing guard assures a woman that “Sí, señorita! You are now an international traveler.” Atop Baboquivari Peak, a boy with a telescope shouts, “Hi, Ma!” Every variety of visitor has found his or her niche. Inside the generously delineated Tucson metro area, tourists lie even thicker on the ground. “Ah, we’re in the sun country!” sighs a group of visitors driving in from southern California. (Presumably, Tucson’s climate out-performs even that of coastal California.) A blonde, bow-legged cowboy hangs onto his bucking bronco for dear life. Despite his bumpy ride, he translates the phrase “La Fiesta de Los Vaqueros” for English-speaking viewers—“That means rodeo.” At Snow Bowl on Mt. Lemmon, a wary skier notes that “It’s a long way down”—9,185 feet, to be precise. At a guest ranch south of Oracle Junction, a busty blonde soaks up the sun’s rays. Nearby, a painter perches atop an electric tower. Amazingly , he appears to be more interested in the local plant life than the buxom blonde. “You find artists everywhere,” Avey tells his viewers in a textual note placed near the electric tower. Meanwhile, the Cleveland Indians—complete with war bonnets—“head for Tucson spring training.” Tourists also golf, hunt, hike in the desert, and ride the Southern Pacific Railroad. Avey arrays his tourists across a landscape layered with cultural meanings. By calling Tucson the “New Pueblo,” he establishes a dense, multitemporal identity for the city. The map’s cartouche explains the explicit meaning of the name, noting that “the ‘Old Pueblo’ was under four flags—Spain, Mexico, [the] Confederacy, and...


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