In this six-part series of videos by UA School of Journalism Blair Kurland, Old Time Artisans resident storyteller Eddie Gallego recounts spooky tales of unearthly happenings at the old downtown shop.

The Stake in the Desk

Here's a short piece by Blair Kurland.

From a rich past comes a haunting present—or at least that’s what the shopkeepers tell me. The structure that is now Old Town Artisans has passed through many hands since its historic beginnings as a Spanish fort. Now it's an artisan’s marketplace.

Different sources remember the history differently. One fact remains irrefutable though; the building was once part of a Spanish fort called El Presidio San Agustin del Tucson, and it was built in 1775. The Tucson Tourism Update, a quarterly newsletter, says the adobe structure that remains today was built in 1850.

In 1888 the land fell into the hands of liquor salesman Julius Goldbaum, who used it for

Tom McCollum, the director of the Southern Arizona Transportation Museum, talks about the impact of the railroads onTucson and Southern Arizona. McCollum discusses fun, facts and history in this multimedia video and photo slideshow by UA School of Journalism student Takatoshi Kato.

A funny thing happened on the way to the colosseum ... it blew up.

Texas Stadium was imploded on Sunday. Going the way of so many other American structures deemed useless—casinos, department stores, housing projects and even the Yankees' old haunt—the former home of the Dallas Cowboys ("God's favorite team") is now rubble. An 11-year-old got the thrill of pushing the detonation button by winning an essay contest. I wondered what his prize essay was titled: "Why I Should get to Blow Up Some History, Too." Or maybe, "I was Born to Push Buttons."

Naturally, the truth is way zanier. Turns out the essay contest was sponsored by Kraft, and was part of their "Cheddar Explosion" campaign, whereby the Velveeta-making leviathan (according to its Web site) asked "dynamite" kids to recount something "explosive" they did in their community. Good thing they didn't hold this contest in Nogales! I imagine that after yesterday's destructive festivities, it rained macaroni and cheese over the greater Dallas area, and Texans inverted their umbrellas to catch the windfall.

Although the former stadium was pushing 40, it was still in use, playing host to

While I watched Joey Burns of Calexico spit gritas into the microphone at yesterday's Festival en el Barrio Viejo, I couldn't help but think that he was finishing an exorcism of Tucson's demons—an exorcism long overdue—that started back when the festival gates off Cushing Street opened a little before 1 p.m. yesterday, April 3.

Why an exorcism? All last month I spent two Sundays going to the Fox Theatre with my mom to catch the El Cine Plaza series, a wonderful community event that practically filled the Fox with people like my mom, people who grew up in Tucson's barrios and regularly went to the old movie theater—El Cine Plaza—for Spanish-language offerings. The afternoons at the Fox featured clips and movies with old-time Mexican films stars that my mom grew up with at El Cine Plaza ... now a memory, a ghost.

Before each movie began at the Fox, they showed a three-part documentary made by Daniel Buckley with interviews of older Tucsonans, including some of my mom's high school and nursing school classmates. The documentary, Cine Plaza and Downtown Barrios, showed interviews about barrio life and the old theater, and especially focused on when the theater was torn down, along with a major portion of Barrio Viejo. The demolition occurred in the late 1960s, all in the name of downtown redevelopment. They would have torn down more, if not for the work of several activists, who finally figured out a way to slow "redevelopment" down.

During the documentary, I heard a few tears, and I saw many people in disbelief remembering what happened. I thought about an interview I did not long ago with a local architect who complained about how people constantly remember the destruction of Barrio Viejo and use it as an excuse to not move forward.

I doubt that those people who complain about the destruction of Barrio Viejo have any power to keep Rio Nuevo from moving along. They certainly aren't the people who have collected the millions of dollars handed out in this latest round of downtown redevelopment.

Jim Caple at ESPN gets it right about Hi Corbett:

Hi Corbett feels more like the way spring training once was, when a team's objective was to get overweight players back in shape after a winter peddling insurance rather than to sell $30 "premium date" tickets, $8.50 beers and $40 souvenir shirts to wealthy fans vacationing from Chicago. Don't get me wrong — spring training still is a wonderful time, and every fan should enjoy its many pleasures at least once (every date is a "premium date" when you're layering on sunscreen while watching a Cactus or Grapefruit League game instead of shoveling snow). But as teams gouge taxpayers to build ever more lavish new "complexes," spring training not only becomes a little more big league; it becomes a little less personable and a little less accessible.

Hi Corbett, however, is as old-school as a flannel uniform. Set amid Tucson's Gene C. Reid Park, the stadium is surrounded by a golf course (the Braves really should have trained here), a zoo (the only one in baseball outside of the bleachers at Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park), picnic areas, walking paths, ponds and very public spaces. On a recent Sunday, you could see the Rockies warming up on one field, a dozen or so people performing Tai Chi beneath a small grove of trees a few yards away and a father and son playing catch just behind them.

It was so wonderfully pastoral that Georges Seurat should have painted the scene — "Sunday in the Park with Jorge De La Rosa."

"You don't feel like it's a moneymaking venture here," said former pitcher Roy Smith, who trained at Hi Corbett in the 1980s with Cleveland. "The guys are getting ready. You're close [to players]. It's more like a park over there instead of a complex. The fans can get close. That's why I always liked it. It was like that at Vero Beach [Fla.]. It has some of the aspects of the Vero Beach when the Dodgers were there."

Spring training changed a lot when the Indians left Tucson and MLB started to milk it for every buck. Maybe a crazy new Japanese league is just what we need to bring back some of the magic we've lost.

Jason Giambi came up to bat for Colorado Rockies with the bases loaded during the last day of spring training at Hi Corbett Field on Wednesday, March 31.

A handful of fans called out “Steroids!” I reckon that’s a big part of Giambi’s legacy, but I thought back to another time that that I watched Giambi come up to bat with bases loaded. It was a late night in the Bronx and the Yankees were down three runs to the Minnesota Twins in the 14th inning way back in May of 2002.

Giambi hit a monster shot to right-center that gave the Yanks the win with a walk-off grand slam.

At Hi Corbett, it wasn't quite as dramatic; Giambi just drew a walk. As he took his base, I thought about how baseball is all about those moments we remember that may or may not make the record books—and how we may not have any of those moments left here in Tucson.

I have a lot of fond memories of watching spring-training games at Hi Corbett, but the major leagues have given up on Tucson, which became birthplace

"Woman with Crown of Flowers," ca. 2006-2008, acrylic on canvas, by David Tineo, is among the works in ¡Viva David Tineo!, at the Tucson Museum of Art, 140 N. Main Ave. From the collection of Donna Al-Ghurab, Tucson, Ariz.

Twenty-five years ago in the Tucson Weekly:

While Tineo sees himself as a teacher, he also sees himself as a life-long student.

"There is so much I don't know yet. Right now I am getting to a point where there's not much more I can show the kids here."

He is contemplating basic educational courses at Pima and plans to eventually get an advanced degree in art education at the University of Arizona so he can teach. Course work all depends on time and money available. "I wasn't born into a rich family," he says with a short laugh.

He also wants to "go back" and learn the art of mural painting from the master muralists of Mexico. The history and tradition of mural painters goes back to the Aztec and Mayan Indians and Tineo feels it is imperative to study the art in Mexico.

"I am at the point where I have to go back, go with some instructor over there … that really has kept up with the traditional methods of mural painting. I need to capture more of that technique and take it with me, apply that knowledge here with my creativity, to organize better mural projects in the United States. That's what we need now," he says.

Borderbeat.net reporters Amanda Portillo and Lauren Adams have a little fun with educational first-aid videos when out in the desert.

Photographs by John deDios

The giant tiki head (pictured here at its former location at the now defunct Magic Carpet Golf) has been set in place in front of its new home, The Hut, the infamous tropical drink watering hole at 305 N. Fourth Avenue.

The monolith, which some reports say was the tallest sculpture in town, fits right in along funky and hip Fourth Avenue. And if The Hut makes the head accessible to patrons like it was over at Magic Carpet Golf, it'll allow for some wonderful nighttime viewing of the Fourth Avenue area.

In other Magic Carpet news, the giant bull has also found a home. I was hoping they'd paint it blue and place it next to the giant Paul Bunyon over on Stone Avenue, but it'll be just as awesome at its new home outside the The Maverick King of Clubs (6622 E. Tanque Verde Road).

Tiger, the daytime bartender at the Tap Room at Hotel Congress and an all around nice guy, celebrated 50 years of working at the downtown mainstay with a celebration last night.

That's right, a half century.

For those of us who have spent a notable amount of time on the business end of Tucson bars, Tiger is the gold standard when it comes to the art of bartending.

To say Tiger is adored and respected by his patrons barely scratches the surface, and the hotel is marking the anniversary by taking 50 cents off any draft beers ordered during his shift through the end of the year. You’re the man, Tiger. Hotel Congress is located at 311 E. Congress St.; 622-8848.