Jerome, AZ

Jerome, Ariz., (pop. 436) is much like the mythical phoenix which rose from the ashes to fly again. But in Jerome’s case it happened five times, and the town’s doing better than ever today.

Founded in 1876 in the shadow of the Mingus and Woodchute Mountains of central Arizona’s Verde Valley, Jerome soon became a boisterous copper mining town filled with miners out to make their stake. Most buildings and homes were of pine and canvas, some merely tents, clustered together using kerosene for light and wood heat with clay and wood chimneys. That, combined with wind and a lack of water, was a recipe for disaster.

The first fire, in 1894, burned out two downtown blocks. The town rebuilt, but three times in the next five years much of Jerome burned to the ground again. The last blaze, in 1899, claimed 24 saloons, 15 restaurants, and many homes. The mining town promptly incorporated and raised taxes for a fire station, equipment, and water lines.

Copper—more than $800 million worth of it—kept Jerome alive for another 50 years. Population peaked at 15,000 in the 1920s but dwindled when copper production slowed after World War II. By 1953, when all mining ceased, only about 50 people still lived in town.

“The history of Jerome is tied up with the history of mining in Arizona,” says Mayor Jay Kinsella. “After the mines closed, it looked like Jerome would become an abandoned ghost town.”

Longtimer Jerry Vojnic, owner of Paul and Jerry’s Saloon, remembers what it was like after the mining stopped. “My grandfather first came here to work the mines,” he says, “and so did my father. He and I opened the saloon and now my son runs it. It was lean times after the mines closed, but I never thought of leaving. I always felt that Jerome wouldn’t die out.”

Indeed, Jerome wouldn’t be burned out and hasn’t died out. In the 1960s, an influx of artists and craftspeople, including musicians and writers, began to arrive in what Jerome now calls “the mile-high town with 50-mile views.” Before long, an artist’s colony developed, with painters and potters predominating.

“I came here in the 1960s because it was a quiet place with cheap rents and beautiful views,” says David Hall, owner of a local pottery shop along the winding, side-of-the-mountain road that enters and exits Jerome from the east. “Others felt the same way, and over the years artists and craftspeople flocked to Jerome.”

The town began a revitalization. Jerome’s mining history and newfound artists’ enclave attracted tourists, and longtime residents and business owners began to capitalize on the growing number of visitors.

“Last year almost 2 million tourists from all over the United States and Europe come through here,” Kinsella says. “The numbers keep rising. What we’re trying to do is show them the history of Jerome and provide a place where they can eat and drink and maybe buy artwork and pottery—and also keep the town small enough, so that they can leisurely walk to all the shops and restaurants and not feel rushed.”

Most buildings in town are built of masonry now, and that’s helped prevent fire destruction but not other changes. During the 1930s, dynamite blasts from the mines caused parts of Jerome to crack or slide downhill—including the town jail, which wound up a block downhill from where it started. The structure, still intact, is now a tourist attraction known as the “sliding jail.”

Another attraction is the Douglas Mansion, now a museum and part of the Jerome State Historic Park. Built in 1916 by “Rawhide Jimmy” Douglas, onetime owner of the Little Daisy Mine, it was and still is a showplace, complete with wine cellar, marble showers, and a central vacuuming system. It currently houses displays of Jerome photographs, minerals, and mining artifacts.

One other building also stands out—the Powderbox Church, a private residence today after many years of service as a church. It was built out of powderboxes by Mexican miners and then stuccoed over.

Walking the streets of Jerome, one can’t help but feel surrounded by history. And it’s all encased by otherworldly scenic views, especially the view of the Mogollon Rim from the “sliding jail.” The air is clean and encourages a slow, deep breath—and perhaps a reverent pause for those who kept lifting the town out of its ashes.

David Ortiz is a freelance writer from Flagstaff, Ariz.

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