Searching for something in small-town America
Gillian works at Scoops, an old-fashioned ice cream shop on Lake Havasu's main street. She's a 20-something in a town where less than 10% of the population is in its 20s. The median age is 53. She's studying liberal arts at the community college and is on her way to an associate's degree, something few people have here. Gillian says she'll probably go on to get her bachelor's degree. "But I don't know what I want to do," she adds. Peace Corps is a possibility.
Like many young people in Havasu, Gillian is eager to leave. She says it's a strange place to grow up being so far from any major towns or cities. It's a stop on a highway that runs north to south along the border with California, where many of the tourists that feed the economy come in from on the weekends. It's fairly religious, says Gillian, so few things are open on Sundays. Except the bars, that is. And even those close by 10pm.
Community college is okay for now. It's affordable and Gillian can live with her parents. But there aren't many jobs for people with more advanced degrees. The retail sector is the top employer, followed by health care and social services. The median household income is $46,166, 22% below the national average.
In some ways it was built to be like this. Lake Havasu grew up around the McCulloch chainsaw factory in the 1960s. It saw a boom in its first decade, as residents poured in from California and the midwest to fill jobs and bask in the so-called “dry heat.” It later earned a reputation as a spring break hotspot when university students discovered the giant blue reservoir the city hugs was an ideal place to drink beer and get rowdy for a blissful week in March.
But those halcyon days of picnics and little leagues sponsored by a company that purported to care about the community are gone. McCulloch shut its doors in 1999 and laid off 2,000 employees. The city streets are now lined with realty offices, medical facilities, auto body stores, vape shops and gun emporiums (at one called Sam’s you can rent machine guns).
The Sterillite company came in to replace McCulloch, but the town has grown by leaps and bound since the factory first started. A decade ago Havasu made a list of America's top 100 places to live. Then the housing bubble burst and homes went for a song. It's rebounded strongly since but people still talk about the high turnover rate among bars and restaurants. A pizza place in one day and gone the next. During the summer months when temperatures reach extremes, many limit their hours or shut altogether.
There is still affluence. Giant homes with expensive SUVs line the golf course, in striking contrast to the trailer parks down by the lake. The wealth gap is stark and obvious.
"Havasu has $1 stores and $100 shops," I overhear an employee at a gourmet store selling $10 dips and flavored olive oil tell a customer. It's an apt description for many towns across America where the middle class has been hollowed out.
And this is where Gillian and the hundreds of others in her graduating class find themselves -- bored, in search of jobs and stuck in a town filled with bars and guns and increasingly less affordable housing. But like many American youth, also with no idea what they want to do or how to go about it.
