travel

Mining For History AT Jerome's Douglas Mansion

When introduced to Jerome, I had no idea I would find a bordello turned restaurant, steep steps worthy of any fitness guru, or a gargoyle guarding not a church but the billiard room once used by the old copper min-ing town's namesake family. I mined for history on the main streets while wandering through tourist shops filled with hand-made artworks, quilts, and fudge. I struck it rich at my last stop, the whitewashed adobe mansion of James S. "Rawhide Jimmy" Douglas, now a museum and part of Jerome State Historic Park. The mansion's slanted dead-end parking lot surveys the green expanse of the Verde Valley.

The turn-of-the-century mine owner's mansion overlooks the workings of the Audrey and Edith shafts of his Little Daisy Mine.

Built in 1916, using more than 80,000 adobe blocks, the mansion cost $150,000. The 8,700-square-foot structure now houses displays chronicling Jerome's raucous past - including historical photographs, mining artifacts, and a 3-D model of the two mines and surrounding faults.

Inside, the smooth floor and high ceiling enhanced the timbre of my voice as I chatted with the park ranger manning the entrance. On his advice, I rushed down the wide hallway to the back bedroom where a 15-minute video had just begun. The narrator, in a ghostly guise, told tales of bordellos and their famous madams, the repeated ravages of the town by fire, and even Elvis' visit there in January of 1957. He described the evolution of a boomtown that was once called "the wickedest town in the West" but which also boasted a library, hospitals, and a post office. At its peak in 1929, Jerome had 15,000 residents, but with the decline of the mines came a plunge in population. It was down to 100 in 1955. Today, thanks to the mining of a new kind of paydirt - visitors like me - Jerome supports a population of about 470 and a tourist influx of 90,000 each year.

Walking through the mansion's other bedrooms and the kitchen, I was fascinated by exhibits of mining life in Jerome, especially the large samples of azurite, malachite, and other gems and metals lin-ing the walls of one of the rooms. A black curtain in the corner drew my attention. Slipping inside to view the display, I pulled the light switch as directed and found myself under the glow of fluorescent lights. The case that had only moments earlier contained ordinary rocks of brown and gray was now filled with brilliantly colored stones of purple, red, and green.In the refurbished library, the elegant yet seemingly fragile furnishings looked as though they had been enlarged from an intricate dollhouse. And the books! I wondered how many lovers of musty knowledge have been tempted to hurdle the barriers to feel those worn covers.

A massive gargoyle stood guard in the adjoining billiard room. Its eyes watched me as surely as the original at Notre Dame observes those who come and go from its protected realm. This gray gargoyle embodied Douglas' passion for French culture and gothic beauty. The billiard room and the living room are only partially restored, leaving room to wander.Upstairs, a loft houses a large 3-D map of the mines that riddle the mountainside and the faults responsible for the shifting and destruction of many sections of the town. The Little Daisy Mine, bought by Douglas in 1910, returned $125 million to its investors before playing out in 1938. These shafts are mapped to a depth of more than 1,600 feet.

Outside, other visitors snacked at the park's picnic benches, shaded by the dark gnarled branches of chinaberry trees. Hummingbird feeders hung invitingly in their branches, but the tiny birds were absent on that sunny afternoon. Mining machinery, such as the large stamp mill and the wooden arrastra once operated by mules and water to crush ore, decorates the paths. Along the perimeter of the grounds, interpretive signs describe historical events and identify buildings like the Verde Hospital, which has been transformed into a hotel, and the Powder Box Church constructed from old dynamite boxes now a private home.

An outcropping hovers above the Little Daisy Mine. From this lofty overlook, paved with native rock and surrounded by irises gone wild, I marveled at the glistening jeweled window panes of the city that clung to the steep mountainside. The warmth of the beautiful day and the history that surrounded me seeped into my skin, leaving me with memories of a ghost town that has beaten the odds. Author's Note: The museum is open daily except Christmas from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M. Admission is $2.50, age 14 and up; $1, seven through 13; free for under seven. Call (520) 634-5381.