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The morning sun casts long shadows across weathered asphalt as it climbs over the Superstition Mountains. Here, along a quiet stretch of road between Apache Junction and Globe, time seems suspended between eras. Faded Burma-Shave signs, crumbling motor courts, and abandoned service stations punctuate the landscape—silent witnesses to the golden age of American highway travel. This is U.S. Route 60, once a vital artery connecting Arizona to the nation, now largely bypassed and forgotten in the shadow of interstate highways. Yet in its weathered remains lies a rich tapestry of Arizona’s transportation history, economic development, and the dramatic story of how changing travel patterns created and then abandoned communities along its path.
Behind the engineering specifications, economic statistics, and political decisions that shaped Route 60 were countless human stories—the highway workers who physically built the road, the business owners who staked their livelihoods on its traffic, and the travelers who experienced Arizona through its corridor.
The construction of Route 60, particularly during its major improvement phases in the 1930s, provided crucial employment during the Great Depression. Work crews, often organized through New Deal programs like the Works Progress Administration, included a diverse workforce drawing from local communities along the route.
| Aspect | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | U.S. Route 60 (Route 60) |
| Established | 1926 |
| Purpose | To provide a major east-west highway connecting the Atlantic Coast with the Southwest and West, facilitating trade, travel, and economic development. |
| Route | – Originally planned as a coast-to-coast highway, it now runs from Virginia Beach, Virginia, to Brenda, Arizona. |
| – Passes through 9 states: Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri, Illinois, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. | |
| Length | Approximately 2,670 miles |
| Eastern Terminus | Virginia Beach, Virginia |
| Western Terminus | Brenda, Arizona (near Interstate 10) |
| Major Cities Along Route | – Virginia Beach, VA |
| – Richmond, VA | |
| – Charleston, WV | |
| – Lexington, KY | |
| – Amarillo, TX | |
| – Globe, AZ | |
| Historical Significance | – Originally part of the U.S. Highway System created in 1926 to standardize and connect major roads across the country. |
| – Played a vital role in early east-west travel before the Interstate Highway System. | |
| Terrain | – Passes through diverse terrains, including Appalachian Mountains, Midwestern plains, deserts, and Southwest plateaus. |
| Changes to Route | – Extended into Arizona in 1931 and later reached California; the section west of Brenda was dropped in 1982 after Interstate 10 replaced it. |
| – Now ends in Arizona, becoming less significant in the West due to Interstate highways. | |
| Modern Role | – Still serves as a major regional highway for many areas, particularly in the eastern and central portions of its route. |
| Connection to Arizona | – In Arizona, Route 60 runs westward from Springerville through towns such as Globe, Superior, and Wickenburg, ending at Brenda. |
| – Provides access to scenic areas, such as the Salt River Canyon and the Tonto National Forest. | |
| Cultural Impact | – Boosted local economies by connecting rural towns to larger cities. |
| – Inspired roadside businesses and attractions during its peak years. | |
| Modern Status | – Still in use, though much of its original importance has been supplanted by the Interstate Highway System (e.g., I-40 and I-10). |
| – Portions of Route 60 are designated as scenic routes and are popular with tourists and travelers. |
Long before asphalt and concrete carved through Arizona’s diverse landscapes, indigenous peoples established intricate trail networks connecting settlements, water sources, and trading partners across the region. Many of these ancient pathways followed natural contours and water courses that would, centuries later, influence the routing of modern transportation corridors including what became U.S. Route 60.
The formal beginnings of Route 60 emerged from the early 20th century Good Roads Movement, when automobile advocacy groups and local governments began pushing for improved highways to connect America’s growing population of motorists. In 1926, when the U.S. Highway System was officially established, Route 60 was designated as an east-west corridor from Virginia to Springfield, Missouri; it was extended west into Arizona in 1931.
However, political disputes complicated the highway’s development, particularly in the western states. Originally, the number 60 was assigned to what is now largely U.S. 66, but Kentucky representatives successfully argued that their state deserved a “0” route. In Arizona, the corridor was a patchwork of earlier routes, including State Route 74, U.S. 89, U.S. 80, U.S. 180 and U.S. 70, until U.S. 60 was extended into the state in 1931.
Within Arizona, the fully realized Route 60 ultimately stretched from the New Mexico border near Springerville to the California state line at Ehrenberg (today’s route ends near Brenda after about 369 miles), traversing an impressive range of the state’s diverse environments. From the pine forests of the White Mountains, through the Sonoran Desert surrounding Phoenix, across the expanse of the western desert, the highway provided one of the most scenically varied drives in the national highway system.
What distinguished Route 60 from other early highways was its unusual diversity of purposes. While roads like Route 66 served primarily as long-distance transportation corridors, Route 60 functioned simultaneously as a transcontinental route, a mining access road connecting Globe and Superior to broader markets, a gateway to recreational areas in the Tonto National Forest, and an essential connection between agricultural communities in central Arizona. This multifaceted role gave the highway a distinctive character that can still be sensed in its remaining original segments.
Today’s traveler seeking the ghost of historic Route 60 will find a highway that exists in multiple states of preservation and transformation. Unlike Route 66, which was largely decommissioned within Arizona, significant portions of Route 60 remain part of the active state highway system, though often in widened, realigned, or substantially modified form.
The most authentic segments of original Route 60 can be found in eastern Arizona between Springerville and Show Low, where the road retains much of its historical character as a two-lane highway winding through small communities and forests. Several sections feature the distinctive concrete paving with expansion joints placed at regular intervals—a construction style typical of 1930s highway engineering that creates the rhythmic thump-thump familiar to generations of road travelers.
Between Miami and Superior, the highway traverses the dramatic Devil’s Canyon, where engineering necessities created one of the route’s most impressive sections. Here, the road clings to steep mountainsides, crossing numerous bridges and offering spectacular views. The original 1920s alignment, known locally as the “Claypool-Miami Highway,” included hair-raising switchbacks and narrow passages that tested early motorists’ courage and vehicles’ capabilities. Modern improvements have straightened many curves, but observant travelers can still spot segments of the original roadbed below the current alignment, abandoned to erosion and desert vegetation.
Physical infrastructure from the highway’s heyday remains scattered along the route in various states of preservation. The Salt River Canyon Bridge, completed in 1934, stands as perhaps the most impressive engineering feature. This steel arch structure spans the dramatic canyon above the Salt River, connecting the Fort Apache Reservation to the mining communities beyond. Recognized on the National Register of Historic Places, the bridge exemplifies the ambitious engineering that transformed Arizona’s transportation landscape during the Great Depression, when many highway improvements were constructed through public works programs.
Perhaps most evocative are the roadside ruins—abandoned businesses that once served Route 60 travelers but couldn’t survive changing traffic patterns. The skeletal remains of service stations, their pumps long removed and canopies collapsed, stand as silent sentinels along rural stretches. Former motor courts, with their distinctive cabin layouts and parking configurations, hint at an era when cross-country travel necessitated frequent overnight stops. Many have been repurposed as long-term residency motels or abandoned entirely, their swimming pools filled with sand and neon signs dark for half a century.
The relationship between Route 60 and the communities it served reveals a complex story of economic opportunity, adaptation, and in some cases, abandonment. Unlike some highways that generated entirely new settlements, Route 60 primarily connected existing communities established during Arizona’s territorial mining and agricultural development. Its arrival, however, transformed these places by connecting them to the emerging automotive transportation network.
Superior provides a particularly compelling example of a mining community whose relationship with Route 60 evolved dramatically over time. Originally developed around the Magma Copper Mine, the town’s economy centered on resource extraction rather than highway commerce. When the original Route 60 was routed directly through Superior’s downtown in the 1920s, local businesses adapted to serve passing motorists while maintaining their primary focus on the mining population.
The construction of the Queen Creek Tunnel and a new highway alignment in 1952, however, allowed through traffic to bypass Superior’s business district. This realignment, though only shifting the highway a few blocks, had devastating economic consequences for downtown establishments that had come to depend on tourist traffic. Today, the contrast between the abandoned storefronts along the original route and newer businesses clustered around the current alignment illustrates how even minor highway adjustments could fundamentally reshape community fortunes.
The communities that successfully weathered highway transitions typically shared key characteristics: economic diversity beyond road services, adaptation to changing traveler expectations, and eventual proximity to interstate interchanges. Those that failed generally suffered from over-dependence on through traffic, inability to relocate when alignments changed, or economic foundations that were already weakening when highway patterns shifted.
The evolution of roadside services along Route 60 mirrors the broader development of American road culture throughout the 20th century. From the primitive beginnings when cross-country travelers carried their own gasoline in metal cans and camped alongside the road, to the sophisticated service plazas of the mid-century, the highway’s amenities reflected changing traveler expectations and technological capabilities.
Early services were typically simple and locally owned, often operated as sidelines to other businesses. A general store might add a single gas pump, a ranch house could spare a room for overnight travelers, and a local cafe might extend hours to serve motorists passing through. These improvised services gradually evolved into purpose-built establishments designed specifically for the highway trade.
By the 1930s, specialized roadside architecture had emerged along Route 60, with distinctive building forms that communicated their functions to approaching motorists. Gas stations adopted standardized layouts with prominent canopies visible from a distance, often incorporating regional architectural elements like adobe construction or Western motifs to create a sense of place. Motor courts—the predecessors to modern motels—replaced informal tourist camps, offering individual cabins arranged in U or L configurations around central parking areas.
The roadside dining landscape similarly evolved from local cafes to establishments catering specifically to motorist preferences.
The most distinctive services developed in response to Route 60’s unique environmental challenges. The highway’s dramatic elevation changes—from the high country around Springerville down to the Colorado River at Ehrenberg—created exceptional demands on early vehicles. Specialized radiator service stations emerged at the bases of steep grades, offering cooling water and repair services for overheated engines. Auto repair garages near mountain passages stocked specific parts known to fail on the demanding terrain, creating a specialized service economy responding directly to the highway’s particular challenges.
Contemporary newspaper coverage provides invaluable insights into how Route 60 transformed Arizona communities and connected previously isolated regions. The highway’s development, ongoing improvements, and role in both daily life and emergency situations received extensive attention in publications both local and national.
Highway dangers and disasters received particularly detailed coverage. The White Mountain Independent provided extensive reporting on the challenges of winter travel through the mountain sections, with vivid accounts of stranded motorists, heroic rescues, and the gradual improvements in snow removal techniques that made year-round travel increasingly reliable.
The development of the Interstate Highway System beginning in the late 1950s fundamentally altered Route 60’s role in Arizona’s transportation network. As higher-speed, limited-access highways paralleled portions of the historic route, traffic patterns shifted dramatically, initiating a gradual decline in the highway’s prominence and economic impact.
Interstate 10 delivered the first major blow, providing a faster alternative between Phoenix and California that diverted much of the through traffic that had previously followed Route 60 through Wickenburg and western Arizona.
Even where direct interstate competition didn’t exist, modernization efforts often bypassed historic alignments. The construction of the Superstition Freeway (now part of U.S. 60 but built to interstate standards) between Phoenix and Apache Junction created a high-speed alternative to the original two-lane highway, leaving the historic “Main Street” alignment through communities like Mesa and Apache Junction with drastically reduced traffic. Businesses along these bypassed segments faced difficult choices: relocate to the new alignment, adapt to serve local rather than through traffic, or close entirely.
The human and community impacts of these transitions were profound. Census data reveals population declines in several small communities along bypassed segments during the 1970s and 1980s, while newspaper accounts document the closure of iconic businesses that had served highway travelers for generations.
Physical evidence of this decline remains visible in the commercial landscapes of bypassed sections. Along the original alignment through Apache Junction, a series of mid-century motels and restaurants sit vacant or repurposed, their distinctive architecture—designed specifically for highway visibility—now incongruous with current land uses. Signs advertising services to travelers who no longer pass by gradually weathered and faded, creating the visual archaeology of transportation evolution that characterizes ghost highways throughout the American West.
Not all communities suffered equally from these transitions. Those with diverse economic foundations beyond highway services, like Globe with its continued mining operations, weathered the changes more successfully. Others effectively reinvented themselves—Superior has gradually developed a heritage tourism economy capitalizing on both its mining history and its location as a gateway to the Boyce Thompson Arboretum State Park, transforming from a highway service town to a destination in its own right.
While Route 60 lacks the organized preservation movement and popular recognition enjoyed by Route 66, growing awareness of historic highways has sparked efforts to document, commemorate, and in some cases preserve segments of this important transportation corridor before they disappear entirely.
The most comprehensive documentation comes from the Historic American Engineering Record (HAER), which has recorded significant engineering features along Route 60, including detailed documentation of the Salt River Canyon Bridge. These records, maintained by the Library of Congress, provide precise architectural and engineering information about key structures, creating a permanent archive even for features that may not physically survive.
At the state level, the Arizona Department of Transportation has incorporated historic highway documentation into cultural resource management practices, particularly when modern transportation projects impact original alignments or associated structures.
Several communities have embraced their Route 60 heritage as part of local identity and tourism development. Miami and Globe highlight their historic main streets—once the primary Route 60 alignment—through heritage tourism initiatives that emphasize both mining history and transportation heritage.
For contemporary explorers interested in experiencing the ghost of historic Route 60, several approaches offer meaningful connections to this transportation heritage. While the highway remains an active route across much of Arizona, the character and historical integrity of different segments vary dramatically, requiring strategic exploration to engage with its most significant aspects.
Eastern Arizona presents the most authentic experience of the historic highway. Between Springerville and Show Low, Route 60 retains its character as a two-lane road winding through small communities and forests, with physical infrastructure including bridges, culverts, and roadside features dating to the 1930s improvement campaigns. The Salt River Canyon segment offers not only spectacular scenery but also important engineering features including the 1934 bridge and original stone guardrails that demonstrate early highway safety designs.
The central section between Superior and Phoenix presents a study in contrasts between preserved segments and modernized corridors. The Queen Creek-Superior segment maintains much of its historic character, with the road following natural contours through dramatic terrain. Travelers can still experience the narrow passages and sweeping vistas that challenged and delighted earlier generations, though safety improvements have softened some of the most dangerous curves. By contrast, the segment between Apache Junction and Phoenix has been completely transformed into a modern freeway, though observant travelers can spot the original alignment running parallel as a local service road in some sections.
Western Arizona offers perhaps the most poignant ghost highway experience, as much of historic Route 60 between Wickenburg and the Colorado River has been superseded by Interstate 10. Travelers following the original alignment will find themselves on what are now secondary highways and county roads, passing through communities that have significantly contracted after being bypassed. In this section, abandonment and repurposing of highway-oriented businesses creates the characteristic landscape of ghost transportation corridors.
Several museums along the route offer exhibits specifically addressing highway heritage. The Arizona History Museum in Tucson maintains an extensive collection of photographs, maps, and ephemera related to early highway travel, including material documenting Route 60.
The ghost of U.S. Route 60—whether existing as an active modern highway, a repurposed local road, or merely a memory marked by abandoned businesses—continues to influence Arizona’s landscape and communities. Though overshadowed in popular culture by its more famous sibling Route 66, this significant transportation corridor played an equally important role in connecting Arizona to the nation and shaping development patterns that persist into the present.
The highway’s legacy extends far beyond its physical infrastructure. Route 60 fundamentally altered settlement patterns, strengthening existing communities while enabling new developments predicated on automotive mobility. The corridor it established continues to influence transportation planning, with modern improvements often following alignments pioneered by early highway engineers who worked with limited technology but intimate knowledge of the landscape.
For communities along the former route, Route 60 represents both historical heritage and ongoing economic opportunity. Towns that successfully adapted to changing transportation patterns have incorporated their highway heritage into contemporary identity, using historic main streets and restored roadside architecture to attract heritage tourism while serving modern travelers. Others continue to struggle with the consequences of bypassing, their commercial landscapes featuring the characteristic abandoned motels and repurposed gas stations that testify to transportation’s economic impermanence.
Perhaps most significantly, Route 60 offers perspective on our contemporary transportation networks. Today’s high-speed corridors may eventually face similar obsolescence as technologies and travel patterns continue to evolve. The repurposed segments and abandoned roadside businesses of Route 60 remind us that even the most essential infrastructure eventually becomes historical artifact—a humbling lesson in the transience of what we create.
As the desert sun sets over the scattered remnants of this historic transportation corridor, we’re reminded that highways, like the civilizations that build them, leave traces that long outlast their practical function. The ghost of Route 60 continues to whisper its stories to those who pause to listen—tales of ambitious engineering, roadside entrepreneurship, cross-country adventure, and the transformative power of enhanced mobility in reshaping both landscape and society.