Entertainment possibilities diminish from there.
After Myers built the sprawling, two-story inn, he contracted with APS to manage the facility.
Myers intended the building to last a long time. He hoped to get it back from APS after the nuclear plant was built, but a bitter contract dispute erupted. He and APS ended up in court. Myers won, but hasn't collected, a $1.8 million judgment from APS, which the utility has appealed. Myers also was ordered to sell the inn to APS, which he did in 1991.
APS then let the inn fall into disrepair, opting to use it as a storage facility for discarded office furniture. APS spokesman Fallon says the utility moved nearly 1,200 pieces of furniture into the building in 1992 after a new office complex was completed at the power plant.
Fallon says APS employees were supposed to remove important files from their offices before the file cabinets and desks were transferred to the inn for storage.
"We didn't intend to leave documents in the Palo Verde Inn," he says.
Nevertheless, reams of internal plant documents were left in the numerous files and slowly were scattered about the inn. The files even survived a mysterious fire that erupted near the administrative offices of the inn last fall.
Late last year, APS finally sold the building to a group of Texas investors for $57,000. The sales documents included an unusual provision that "buyer and seller acknowledge and understand that the personal property currently stored within the building on the sale property shall be conveyed to buyer as part of the transaction."
The documents at the inn would never have come to the attention of New Times if it hadn't been for Myers' bitter battle with APS. Myers, who owns property surrounding the inn, kept a close eye on the building, noticing all the documents scattered about.
He described his feud with APS, and the bizarre collection of records left inside the inn, to an elected official during a discussion at the Phoenix Country Club. That official called New Times. The new owners of the inn gave the paper access to the records.
The Palo Verde Papers contain information APS obviously didn't want in the public domain.
APS historically has kept a tight lid on the internal operations at Palo Verde. The company's public relations office carefully spins news releases to downplay any mishap at the plant. Coverage by local daily newspapers of the numerous foul-ups at the plant have been, to speak charitably, timid.
The company is so obsessed with keeping tight control on information released from the plant that it has publicly acknowledged retaliating against employees who lodged safety complaints with the NRC. The commission is currently conducting an investigation into APS treatment of whistle-blowers, several of whom say a federal grand jury will convene on the matter later this year.
Staying true to form, Fallon initially downplayed the significance of the document cache, saying they were unimportant records. But he also made it clear the company would like the records back.
"Although the documents are nothing more than personal files of current and past employees, we feel it would be prudent to recover them," the APS spokesman said Thursday.
By Friday, APS had decided that recovery would be prudent, indeed.
Fallon called an owner of the Palo Verde Inn, asking that the documents in New Times' hands be returned to him, so he could release them to APS. Then Fallon called New Times, asking when the documents would be returned.
And then he phoned again, suggesting that publication of the Palo Verde Papers might have legal repercussions.
