 By Wesley Treat of Weird Arizona (to be released fall 2006)
Jerome, a former mining town, lies at the northern end of Highway 89A, atop Cleopatra Hill. Well, not so much atop as on the side soothe whole town is on a slope. To get from one block to the next involves a climb up a flight of stairs or a walk down a very steep sidewalk. Just to live there, you have to have the calves of Lance Armstrong.
Houses and businesses began popping up along the peak's steep incline during the late 1800s and early 1900s as nearby mining prospered. As the First World War hit, copper prices soared and Jerome climbed even further. Its population rose to 15,000 and everyone was getting a house with a view. Even if one house had another in front of it, the grade was enough that its owner could see over his neighbor's roof. It was said that residents could lean out their windows and light a match on the chimneys next door.
The property values wouldn't last, though. As underground mining switched to open-pit excavation, miners employed large-scale blasting to move huge sections of the mountain at once. As a result, the town was repeatedly rocked off its foundation. As the stock market slid in 1929, so did Jerome's residents a rate of about three-eighths of an inch every month. Whole blocks slipped slowly earthward. A J.C. Penney store eventually had to build new stairs leading from the sidewalk to its front door, which had moved four feet lower than before. Many buildings simply crumbled or were demolished because they had become too unstable.
The most dramatic shift in location suffered by one structure was that of Jerome's jailhouse. A small, concrete building, roughly 10 feet by 20 feet, it now teeters below a parking area on Hull Avenue. Originally, it was on the other side of the street. As a result of the blasting and the subsequent shift in the underlying fault, Jerome's slammer skated a good 225 feet from where it started.
Strangely, though the town has become a tourist destination in recent years, the Sliding Jail, as it's been named, is practically ignored. You can read about it in plenty of tourism literature, but Jerome doesn't appear to have any signs pointing the way. Instead, you have to ask around for directions. Even then, it's hard to spot, as it's almost completely obscured from view by a basketball court, the foundation of which is nearly level with the jail's roof.
Bars were erected around the jail (to keep people out, ironically), but they've rusted and are starting to collapse. Retaining rods were installed as well, obviously to prevent the structure from collapsing completely, but their effect is diminishing. It's evident the jail is still sliding. In fact, if something isn't done to preserve this local oddity soon, it may just end up as an attraction downhill in Clarkdale.
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