Ethan Epstein is an assistant editor at The Weekly Standard.

“The Republican Party is, more than ever before in its history, an anti-urban party,” the New York Times op-ed page declared after the 2012 elections, a contest that saw the GOP trounced in city after blue-tinged city—and not just at the top of the ballot. Last year, Politico’s Alexander Burns dubbed urban Republicans “perhaps the nation’s most severely endangered political species,” and noted that the largest America city to elect one of these rare creatures recently was Indianapolis, Indiana—all the way down at 13th on the population charts. Cities have long been Democratic Party strongholds, but in recent years Democrats have run up the score to an unprecedented degree, posting lopsided results that almost make Bashar al-Assad’s or Kim Jong Un’s numbers look bad.

It’s enough to make one wonder: In the year 2014, can a major American city be—gasp—conservative? If you believe the results of a recent study from a couple of academic researchers at MIT and UCLA, you’d do well to look to the Southwest to find out. Mesa, Arizona, the researchers found, after analyzing more than a decade’s worth of public opinion surveys, is the most conservative American city of more than 250,000 residents, more conservative than such famously right-wing bastions as Oklahoma City and Colorado Springs. “On an overall basis,” says the boisterous Scott Smith, who was mayor of Mesa from 2008 until early this year, “there’s no doubt it’s extremely conservative.”


It might also be a glimpse of the GOP’s coming urban revival.

Squint, and you can see that Mesa is just one of several places where Republicans are creating a new model of conservatism for the post-Tea Party era, through an appealing blend of fiscal pragmatism and no-nonsense competence. Across the country, Republican cities are building new infrastructure and even embracing trendy liberal ideas like “new urbanism”—all while managing to keep costs in line and municipal workforces small and cost-effective. As the great, Democratic-run cities across the country—Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles—face fiscal calamity, America’s conservative cities are showing that there’s another way.

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Most of Mesa, despite its growing population of more than 450,000 (making it more populous than Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Miami and Minneapolis) hardly feels like a city at all. Located some 20 miles east of Phoenix, Mesa sprawls in every direction; at nearly 140 square miles, it covers roughly twice the area of Washington, D.C.

A line of low-slung ranch houses fans out along a road in Mesa, Arizona. Because it experienced most of its growth in the 1940s and '50s, the city represents the typical postwar neighborhood of wide roads and single-family subdivision homes. | Mark Peterson/Redux

Essentially a Phoenix bedroom community (though some larger employers, notably Apple, have recently moved into Mesa itself), Mesa consists of endless miles of strip malls and subdivisions filled with squat ranch houses, all connected by six-lane roads where people regularly zip by at 60 miles an hour. There are also numerous mobile home communities, open only to those 55 and older—retirees apparently enjoy living in a city where summer temperatures regularly top 107 degrees. It’s hardly, in other words, an urbanist’s paradise: Shortly after I arrived at my hotel south of downtown, I took a mile or so walk. I saw only two other pedestrians on my constitutional—both, apparently, homeless.

Mesa’s sprawling layout owes much to its history. The area began its modern existence as a Mormon settlement in the late 19th century, and it remained a small frontier community for much of its early years. The town’s population only broke into five digits in the 1940s, when fighter pilots began training for World War II combat at Mesa’s Falcon Field and the Williams Air Force Base—and, equally crucial, when air conditioning became widely available. Because it only really began to grow quickly in the 1940s and ’50s, Mesa followed the classic postwar development pattern most famously embodied by Levittown, New York: miles of modest, single family homes in subdivisions, wide boulevards meant for speedy driving and shopping centers boasting ample parking. In sum, the bulk of Mesa is quintessentially suburban. As former mayor Smith puts it, Mesa attracts those who think “being boring is OK.”

Open In New Window OPTICS: A Nowhere Trying to Become a Somewhere: Photos of Mesa, Arizona. | Mark Peterson/Redux

Mesa’s religious roots continue to influence the city heavily today. Mormons, though they now constitute only 13 percent of its population (the Catholic population is twice as large, owing to the sizable Hispanic population, with the remaining balance mostly Evangelical Christian), hold three of seven City Council seats (down from four in the last term). Smith is a Mormon, and the incoming mayor is an LDS member, as well. The spectacular Mesa Arizona Temple dominates much of central Mesa, and one of the city’s (admittedly few) iconic restaurants, The Landmark, is in a building that began life as a Mormon church. America’s most famous Mormon has a Mesa connection as well—Mitt Romney’s cousin Bill Romney lives there. Smith says that the strong Mormon influence in town has attracted other religious people, too. “Mesa is a city of churches,” he says, adding that the Mormonism has attracted spiritually inclined people of all faiths to settle there.

While Mesa has long pursued the lightly regulated development patterns that one would expect from the wellspring of Goldwater Republicanism, change is afoot. Over the past several years, the city has begun embracing development that’s downright trendy, and implementing policies that will make it more like Portland, Oregon, than Orange County, California.

“Mesa is discovering what it wants to be what it is when it grows up,” says City Councilman Dave Richins over an afternoon snack of tacos, chips and salsa at Matta’s, a Mesa institution that’s been serving up Mexican food for some 61 years. Though Mesa’s city government is officially non-partisan, Richins happily volunteers that he’s a Republican—albeit a moderate one. We’re holed up in the air-conditioned restaurant, taking shelter from the sweltering 103-degree heat outside. Matta’s has just moved to a new location in a brand new shopping center, just around the corner from a branch of Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar & Grill.

“Everybody [in Mesa] is going, ‘We don’t just want to be a big suburb,’” Richins says. That’s most apparent in the city’s squat downtown, essentially one long drag, which is being re-born. “We’re going through the same evolution as every other town in America: revitalizing downtown, adding transportation and pedestrian and street options, looking at compact development,” he says. The centerpiece of Mesa’s developing downtown is the strikingly post-modern Arts Center, opened in 2005, which is home to four performing arts venues, making it the largest such complex in the state of Arizona. Light rail, which will connect Mesa to Tempe, downtown Phoenix and beyond, is wending its way into downtown Mesa now as well—a new station is slated to start operating there next year. “Transit-oriented development” of the new urbanism school (which promotes walkable communities and population density) is already taking place. A five-story, income-restricted senior citizen apartment building recently opened downtown—a far cry from the seniors-only trailer parks that stretch out across much of eastern Mesa.

Mesa’s robust public investments have apparently succeeded in their goal of luring private development. In the trough of the recession, the city successfully lured five liberal arts colleges to set up campuses downtown, an initiative spearheaded by then-mayor Smith. A local hospital also moved downtown in 2011. That’s not to say the shopping district downtown doesn’t display a strain of Arizona conservatism. The used bookstore on Main Street doesn’t display the predictable tracts from Michael Moore or Noam Chomsky in its window, but instead trumpets its collection of military-themed works. (And not far from downtown, I witnessed a pickup truck rolling coal as it cruised down a busy thoroughfare.)

A new light rail project, which is slated to open next year, is just one part of a transit- and pedestrian-friendly development push in Mesa. | Mark Peterson/Redux

The flair for new, pedestrian- and transit-friendly development extends beyond downtown. All through the city, Mesa is pursuing development policies that are downright crunchy. The city is undergoing a “road diet,” cutting one six-lane road to two, expanding sidewalks and adding bike lanes. “[We’re] trying to set the table for a more pedestrian-friendly environment,” says Richins, who has served on the City Council since 2008. A sprawling new park, adjacent to where the Chicago Cubs are building a new spring training stadium (another development that Smith spearheaded), has recently opened.

Manhattan, it’s not—but a garden-variety transplant from Burlington, Vermont, would likely be pleased with some the changes that are occurring here, though she might be taken aback by the political signs for candidates that plaster each street corner, blaring messages like FIGHT COMMON CORE and FIGHTING OBAMA. (This is still Arizona, after all, where the state House passed a “birther” bill in 2011, where the president’s approval rating stands at just 38 percent, and where a Democratic presidential candidate hasn’t carried the state since Bill Clinton in 1996.) But Smith cautions that we shouldn’t be too surprised at the environmentalist feints, despite Mesa’s conservative reputation. He claims that Mesa was the first city in America to have citywide, curbside recycling, some 30 years ago, adding that this makes perfect sense: “[It’s conservative] to conserve things,” he says.

As former mayor Smith puts it, Mesa attracts those who think “being boring is OK.”

Notably, Mesa’s generally tightwad electorate—it rejected imposing a primary property tax in 2011, by a vote of 60 to 40 percent—has been repeatedly willing to open its wallet to finance these developments. The arts center was partially paid for thanks to a 1998 bond issue to the tune of nearly $100 million. It passed with 56 percent support. Ten years later, 67 percent of Mesa voters approved a $170 million bond package for new public safety facilities and street repairs. More recently, in 2012, Mesa residents agreed to a $70 million bond for parks, which even included a secondary property tax. And last year, Mesa voters approved more public safety and street bonds at a cost of $130 million.

Conservative political signs dot Mesa's wide boulevards. | Mark Peterson/Redux

So what accounts for Goldwater Country’s willingness to pony up for these projects? After all, “you would think a truly conservative city would never tax itself on anything,” says Councilman Richins. “But … folks that live in Mesa want a high quality of life.” Vice Mayor Chris Glover, whose City Hall office is festooned with a Ronald Reagan bust and Barry Goldwater paraphernalia, agrees. “We are conservative, but we are also pragmatic,” he says. “We want to have a very aesthetically pleasing downtown.”

It also helps that bond issues go to specific projects, and cover only a specific amount of money. That’s different from funding a social program, or simply forking over higher taxes and hoping that the extra funds go where the government says they’re going. “People are OK with investing in their communities,” says Smith. “People don’t trust programs. They trust … tangible results.” And because the bonds are earmarked to specific projects, even skinflint Mesa residents feel OK about voting yes. Glover also thinks the referendum process itself leads to more support for infrastructure projects. “We look to the voters to say what [they would] like to see done in the city. We try to have them be more engaged,” he says.

While it’s willing to make investments, Mesa is also lean in ways that more bloated liberal cities can’t boast. Take the City Council. Despite Mesa’s hefty population, council members are part-timers who have day jobs in fields from education to copper mining. City leaders also pay themselves considerably less than those in other cities do. Mesa City Council members make only $33,000 a year, and the mayor is paid only $73,000. (And those salaries represent the fruits of a big raise: Before last year, city councilmembers made less than $20,000 a year and the mayor earned only $36,000.) By contrast, as of 2012, in similarly sized Fresno, the mayor made $126,000; city council members brought home nearly $65,000. In neighboring Phoenix, meanwhile, the mayor makes $88,000 and city councilmen earn more than $61,000.

In fact, Mesa is lean all around. The entire municipal workforce stands at only about 3,200 people, down from approximately 3,600 before the recession, and only the firefighters and police officers are unionized. (The school district is separate from the city.) The city doesn’t hand out the fat union contracts that make infrastructure projects in blue states so outlandishly expensive (and thereby reduce support for infrastructure spending, period). During the Great Recession, when area construction companies were reeling and desperate for business after housing starts had fallen off a cliff, the city inked a number of extremely cost-efficient deals—literally building three firehouses for the price of four.

The looming Mesa Arizona Temple. While Mormons now make up only 13 percent of Mesa, three of seven City Council seats are occupied by Mormons. | Mark Peterson/Redux

City leaders also trumpet their relatively benign relations with the public safety unions—unlike in, say, heavily Democratic Providence, Rhode Island, where public safety unions are currently suing the city in a dispute over overtime pay. During the recession, Mesa’s police and firefighters agreed to a 2 percent pay cut across the board for three years. (“In a lot of places, police and fire are untouchable,” notes Richins.) Glover, while saying he appreciates the cooperative nature of the unions, also credits their humility with Arizona being a right-to-work state (meaning, among other things, that workers cannot be compelled to join unions as a condition of employment, greatly weakening organized labor).

As a result of its efficient government, Mesa is not only able to invest in infrastructure, but also has the distinction of being the only municipality in the area with no primary property tax—any property taxes are tied to specific bond issuances. Mesa instead relies heavily on a 1.75 percent consumption tax on everything purchased in the city—your average Cato Institute economist’s dream—to fund its everyday operations.

Mesa’s traditional fiscal rectitude, coupled with its new interest in smart development, seems to be paying dividends. From the liberal arts colleges to the new Cubs stadium, the city can point to some real successes in recent years. Still, Arizona’s GOP is as much the party of Barry Goldwater and Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the famously anti-immigrant lawman whose county includes Mesa, as it is of Sen. John McCain and the uber-pragmatic Scott Smith, who has been known to say things like “ideologues can’t govern.” And so, there’s been an inevitable backlash here against the allegedly liberal leanings of the mayor and city council.

While in Mesa, photographer Mark Peterson attended an event thrown by IAmAmerican.org, a conservative grassroots group. The event rallied supporters around a call for the ratification of a Balanced Budget Amendment in Arizona. | Mark Peterson/Redux

In January, when Scott announced his candidacy for governor, he planned to use his record as Mesa mayor as his springboard. Not all residents agreed that his mayoralty was worth celebrating, however; one aggrieved Mesa denizen wrote, “Arizona Republicans will be asked again this year to ‘hold our noses’ and vote for another ‘centrist, compassionate’ (could that possibly mean R.I.N.O.) Republican.” Tracy Langston, a local conservative activist affiliated with the Center for Self Governance, which teaches classes in conservative political philosophy, last year penned a missive charging, “A decade ago, Mesa was a model of fiscal conservatism. However, since 2005, the city’s budget has almost doubled, from $720 million to $1.33 billion … it is time for Mesa residents to state loudly and clearly that we want City Council to put the brakes on out-of-control government spending and simply live within their means.”

Contractor Danny Ray tried to capitalize on that disaffection earlier this year, when Smith resigned from Mesa’s mayoralty to run for governor. Ray, a 36-year-old father of six, ran as the “true conservative” candidate. He’s livid at what he considers to be Mesa’s leftward drift, arguing that the formerly conservative city is moving in “more of a big-government direction” and “mimicking the federal government”—them’s fightin’ words in anti-Obama Arizona!—on spending. He points to Mesa’s nearly $1.5 billion in public debt. That’s a lot of money, to be sure—but it pales in comparison to Portland, Oregon’s nearly $7 billion in bond and unfunded retirement debt, let alone the more than $18 billion that Detroit owed to creditors when it entered bankruptcy last year. And Moody’s still gives Mesa a very good Aa2 credit rating.

But Ray’s critique extends beyond fiduciary matters; he rejects the new styles of development as well. Pointing to greater population density, he says he doesn’t “know anyone who wants to live that way.” People in Mesa, he says, when they become successful, “want a 4,000 square foot apartment with a yard,” not “1,000 square feet on top of a building.”

Perhaps. But while Smith came in second in a six-way race for the GOP gubernatorial nomination earlier this year, losing by 15 points, Danny Ray did even worse in his race. He got clobbered late last month in the Mesa mayor’s race, 73-27 percent, by the attorney John Giles. Giles, who will be sworn in later this month, essentially promises to continue Smith’s policies. “I’m not running because I think the city of Mesa has been managed poorly,” he said during the campaign. “Quite the opposite. I’m very excited at the great things we’ve seen happening in recent years in the city of Mesa … [I have] the desire to keep that momentum going.” Evidently, the bulk of Mesa’s voters agreed with him.

But Mesa isn’t the only big city embracing conservative policies on a municipal level. Across the country, innovative mayors are showing that Republicans can govern urban areas effectively and innovatively—and indeed, that oftentimes they can execute traditionally “liberal” policies with greater discipline and efficacy than Democratic-run cities can manage.

Oklahoma City is probably most similar to Mesa. It too has Republican leadership—yet it too has been making serious capital investments. Since 1993, the city’s voters have agreed to hike sales taxes three times, at a total cost of $1.8 billion. Those funds have been plowed into major projects, including new schools and a shiny downtown entertainment district geared toward pedestrians. City leaders credit those public investments with attracting private dollars, particularly the downtown development that brought the Seattle Supersonics to Oklahoma City and re-christened them the Thunder.

Mark Peterson/Redux

“I think the citizens of Oklahoma City have begun to differentiate between the type of government they don’t mind paying for and the type they don’t like to pay for,” the city’s mayor, Republican Mick Cornett, said on a recent edition of Meet the Press, “I think they like capital projects that they can go up and touch and feel and they know they’re going to be long-lasting.” Sounds a lot like Mesa. And as in Mesa, the only unionized workers in OKC are in public safety—that helped in keeping construction costs reasonable.

Indianapolis is a similar case. From 2010 to 2013, under the leadership of Republican mayor Greg Ballard’s RebuildIndy campaign, the city made more than $500 million worth of infrastructure repairs. Ballard funded these projects not through the traditional liberal route—raising taxes—but by selling the city’s water and sewer systems. He recently proposed a $300 million RebuildIndy 2—though it relies heavily on borrowing. Ballard also created the city’s first Office of Sustainability, charged with greening city operations and encouraging eco-friendly development, though Indianapolis still ranks low on walkability.

Colorado Springs, the famously conservative redoubt that is home to the U.S. Air Force Academy and Focus on the Family, is arguably be the city that went too far, offering the most radically libertarian version of city governance seen in recent times. In late 2009 and early 2010, as the recession hammered the sales tax receipts that were used to fund most government operations (the city’s property taxes are some of the lowest in the nation), Colorado Springs was forced to drastically cut its operations. Pools were closed. Trashcans were removed from parks. Bus service was gutted. A third of the city’s streetlights were turned off. When the city’s voters rejected an initiative in 2010 that would have hiked taxes to restore many services, Colorado Springs embarked on a remarkable experiment in fee-for-service government. Instead, of paying taxes, residents could elect to have their streetlights turned back on—if they were willing to pay $100. This model didn’t stop at streetlights: One group of neighbors pooled $2,500 to “adopt” their local park. Once the city received the cash, the trashcans and sprinklers were returned. Colorado Springs remains very libertarian—bus service, for example, has never really recovered. The lights are back on, however, a seeming admission from city government that the initial cuts might have gone too far.

On the left, Erin O'Banner and his girlfriend Brooke English pose for a picture. They're both comic book writers, but O'Banner has had trouble finding full-time work after moving to Mesa from Chicago to be with Brooke. On the right: Howard and Joan Stapleton have lived in Mesa for 35 years. | Mark Peterson/Redux

But if Mesa’s die-hard conservatives get fed up with their city’s newly spendthrift ways, they don’t need to move all the way to Colorado to find a respite. After all, they can always move just a couple of miles south to Gilbert, a town of 220,000, which has a strong Tea Party influence on its city council and recently rejected standardized building codes on the argument that they were a case of big government run amok. As Glover, Mesa’s vice mayor, says, “If Gilbert were a city, it would definitely beat out Mesa for the most conservative city in America.”