ALONG THE WAY

If You Can Live Anywhere and Make a Living, You're a Candidate for Sedona's Red Rock Fever

Around Sedona they call it Red Rock Fever, and it's not a joke. It begins as an eerie shiver near the apex of the spine and then migrates upward to the cortex, where it shuts down the Rational Judgment Department and blossoms into an irresistible urge to drop everything and move here. This all may occur within a few hours of the victim's first sight of Sedona, or it may happen gradually over years. Because job opportunities in Sedona are, to put it as gracefully as possible, limited, a case of Red Rock Fever traditionally has meant a career mutation. A New York stockbroker moved to Sedona and bought a cowboy bar. A lawyer opened a cozy Greek restaurant. A South African urban planner hitchhiked in and knew instantly that he had to stay, but there wasn't much urban planning going on in the unincorporated town. "So I waltzed into one of the Jeep tour companies and said, 'I'm a great tour guide.'" They hired him.

But I heard all these Sedona biographies a decade or two ago, which is ancient history at the rate patterns of work and technology are changing. As we become a nation of people who move electrons around, we're increasingly free to move around ourselves. The last time I was in Sedona, I found a growing community of professional people commuting 30 feet from bedroom to office and staring out their windows at glorious red sandstone skyscrapers. Thank the personal computer, fax, and Internet.

Ed Southwell has run his national market research business from his Sedona home since 1992. He didn't exactly catch Red Rock Fever; he just knew he wanted something other than the city life his family had in Albuquerque. They plotted out their requirements for an exurban homestead: high desert, good schools, good restaurants, no crime, no interstate. Sedona clicked.

"There are a few disadvantages," Southwell says, not sounding too annoyed. It's two hours to a major airport, and Sedona's communications services are not cutting-edge. But business is fine, and clients drip envy. "They're always trying to come up with reasons to have meetings here. When I'm making a presentation, I'll throw in a slide of Sedona, and someone will always say, 'Oh, wow, that is such a cool place.'"

The digital revolution has reshaped Richard Drayton's Sedona life. In the 1980s, he had a classic attack of the Fever, so he bolted his Los Angeles commercial art business to come to Sedona and paint. He had success, but then came scanners and high-speed modems and software that lets artists create every kind of image imaginable on the computer. Drayton restarted his commercial business in Sedona and now wires his work to clients around the country.

"My studio looks more and more like a computer room than an art studio," he says, a little sadly. "I keep a stack of colored pencils on a desk so I can look at them once in a while and remind myself of what I am."

All this is changing Sedona. Richard Dahl, a real estate broker who keeps his eye on local trends, says Sedonas median age has dropped from about 60 to 50 in the last two decades. "I think it's becoming a more diverse community, younger and less dependent on tourism," he says. Fuller Barnes, a Sedona sculptor who revels in the weird and whimsical, such as a scrap-metal dragon that snorts actual fire, is enjoying the clients of his dreams. "They've been people of all ages, definitely not classic retirees," he says. "They're very receptive to new ideas."

It's a liberating new idea that many of us now can live anywhere and make a living. We don't have to throw away two hours daily on commuting, fight for parking, and breathe phlegmy urban air. And as more professional people disperse to small towns around the country, prosperity spreads. People with money to spend on art move to Sedona, so Fuller Barnes eats better. Service industries that never before existed in small towns arise. Someone has to fix those computers. The tax base rises, so schools and public services, at least in theory, improve.

Exurbanites often find their creativity blossoms in a quiet place of great natural beauty. "I like to think that this place produces a deeper look into oneself," photographer Lou DeSerio says. "Sedona provides an environment where I can hear myself better, where I can connect, where I can evolve."

There is just one thing wrong here, terribly wrong. Last I asked, the median sale price of a house in Sedona was $285,000. If I catch Red Rock Fever, all I'm going to be able to buy for it is aspirin.

Editor's Note: Lawrence W. Cheek's knowledge of Sedona has resulted in his writing a guidebook titled Sedona Calling. Published by Arizona Highways, the book tells readers how to connect with the red rock country's extravagant landscape, from sight-seeing, hiking, and photography to meditation and exploration of the area's vortexes. Besides guiding visitors through Sedona, the book lays out day and overnight trips to Oak Creek Canyon, ruins of ancient dwelling sites, Jerome, Cottonwood, and other parts of the Verde Valley, the Grand Canyon, Mogollon Rim, and Navajoland. The 96-page softcover book costs $12.95 plus shipping and handling. To order, call toll-free (800) 5435432. From the Phoenix area, call (602) 258-1000.