The little jail that could

In 1952, Albuquerque City Manager Edmund Engel was poking around a city-owned scrapyard looking for saleable pieces of metal when he made an interesting discovery—an old prefabricated iron jail, apparently dating from the late 1800s. It was 20 feet long and weighed several tons, but no one was really sure where it came from or when it was last used.¹ It didn't take long for local historians to solve the mystery—only three former jails were known to have existed, and only one of those matched the manufacturer of the one in the scrapyard. But the story of this Wild West relic was far from over. In fact, it has continued on its long, strange journey right up to the present.

Like Engel, I also stumbled across the story by accident, while researching something unrelated in an old newspaper. I was intrigued by the mystery of a historic jail I had never heard about before and naturally had to get to the bottom of it. So after many hours of research, I am now able to share a story I don't think has ever been told in its entirety before—the story of one surprisingly persistent piece of history, too ugly to live but too stubborn to die.

A piece of history is uncovered in the city scrapyard, 1952. Albuquerque Journal via Newspapers.com.

To trace how the jail ended up in that scrapyard, we need to travel back about 70 more years to 1882. At the time, the Bernalillo County jail was in a dire state. Located in the center of Old Town Plaza, it was a poorly built adobe building with only two rooms (one each for male and female prisoners) and a single small window. County inspectors that year reported that the jail was "dark, ill-ventilated, and noisome, as well as unsafe, it being notorious that any prisoner can escape by making very little effort."² Security at the jail was so bad that it operated more or less on the honor system. After one of many escapes, the Democrat wrote, "It makes little difference how competent or how watchful the jailor may be, if a prisoner gets it into his head that he wants to be free, no work on the part of the prison official is of any avail. Connors escaped simply because he wanted to, as did Frank Golden, Hazard, Billy Nuttall, and a dozen others, and the best that can now be said is to express a wish that they are so far away as to never return."³

Needless to say, the county officials wanted something sturdier and more up-to-date. At the time, the best known manufacturer of such equipment was the Pauly Jail Building and Manufacturing Co. of St. Louis, which promised that "the security afforded against escapes from our improved cells is as perfect as human skill can invent". In keeping with the reform-minded spirit of the day, Pauly's "scientific" jails were also intended to contribute to the "advancement of the prisoner, morally, mentally and physically."⁴ In 1885, Bernalillo County ordered a new three-cell jail unit from Pauly for the not-insignificant price of $5,250 (over $140,000 in current dollars).⁵ It was evidently a standard design, as it appears almost identical to the one shown in a c. 1890 catalog available on the company's website (somewhat unbelievably, it is still in business as of 2020). The unit was equipped with advanced features like a lever to open the cells from the outside, protecting the jailer from attack, and built-in sanitary facilities.⁴

Illustration from the Pauly Jail Building and Manufacturing Co. catalog, c. 1890. Via Pauly Jail.

To house their fancy new jail cells, the county commissioned a two-story stone building which was built by one of the state's most notable masonry firms, Berardinelli and Palladino of Las Vegas.⁵ It was located at the corner of Railroad Ave. and Main St. (now Central and Rio Grande), a short distance to the west of the county courthouse. A Pauly representative traveled to Albuquerque in February 1886 to install the jail unit⁶ and it was accepted by the county commissioners the following month.⁷ On April 30, the 14 prisoners currently in custody were moved to the new jail, though conditions at the old jail were so squalid that the sheriff had to take up a collection to buy them new clothes first.^8,9 A reporter for the Democrat visited the jail shortly after it opened and wrote that "The building is very comfortably arranged, and the prisoners are very much pleased with the change from the old hog pen."¹⁰

Bernalillo County Jail, c. 1910. Via City of Albuquerque.

The Bernalillo County Jail as depicted on the 1898 Sanborn Fire Insurance Map. Via Wikimedia Commons, full sheet
 available.

Despite the enhanced security, the jail still saw its share of escapes. One of the most notable occurred in 1914 when Mexican revolutionary General José Inés Salazar was being held there while awaiting trial for perjury. On the night of November 20, two masked men overpowered the lone guard on duty and freed Salazar from his cell, where he was waiting with a packed suitcase.¹¹ The general drove away in a waiting buggy and succeeded in escaping back to Mexico, though he ended up being recaptured, tried, and acquitted a year later. Salazar's attorney, famed lawman and gunfighter Elfego Baca, was the only person who had been allowed to talk to the general in jail and was therefore unsurprisingly accused of masterminding the escape, though his involvement was never proven.¹²

Gen. José Inés Salazar (right) with Elfego Baca. Via Santa Fe New Mexican.

In another incident, a group of prisoners armed with spoons almost succeeded in digging their way out of the jail in 1921. They had been allowed to stay outside the cells overnight due to crowded conditions, but quickly found that the crumbling mortar and stone of the outer wall would not stand up to a determined assault. The near-escape really highlighted the deterioration and overcrowding of the jail, making it clear that the facility was due for replacement.¹³ The county courthouse was getting old too, and its location in Old Town had become inconvenient with the city's nucleus of activity now firmly located downtown. County leaders decided to solve all these problems at once with a new combined courthouse and jail at Fourth and Tijeras, which was dedicated in 1926.¹⁴

The old jail remained in place for some time, including being used for a while as a barber shop,¹⁵ but it was ultimately torn down in 1933 to make room for a paving project on Central Avenue.¹⁶ The iron cell block, too substantial to be easily disposed of, ended up being used for storage at a city-owned machine shop. In 1942 it was rounded up in a city-wide scrap metal drive to aid the war effort, though it evidently made it no further than the junkpile where Engel found it ten years later.¹⁷

The jail had its biggest moment in the spotlight in 1956, when someone had the bright idea of moving it to Old Town Plaza for Albuquerque's 250th anniversary. With support from the Plaza Business Men's Association and the Lions Club, the jail was unveiled there on May 30 at a special "Pioneer Day" celebration. Pete Duran, of Duran's Pharmacy fame, gave a dedicatory speech recounting the history of the jail, some of which he probably remembered firsthand as the former Old Town postmaster. After this came the main event of the day, a mock stagecoach robbery, trial, and hanging, which I'm sure was both tasteful and historically accurate.^18,19 The jail had its own role to play in the performance; a photo in the next day's Tribune showed the "bandit" attempting to stage a dramatic jailbreak, though apparently with less success than Salazar or other real-life escapees.²⁰

Probably the jail's silliest moment, 1956. Albuquerque Tribune via Newspaper Archive.

Residents of Old Town were under the impression that the jail was just a temporary installation for Pioneer Day, but when the event was over, it soon became evident that the Plaza business owners were angling to keep it there permanently. Battle lines were quickly drawn. For their part, the businessmen saw the jail as a tourist attraction which would bring some much-needed authenticity to the Wild West aesthetic they were trying to cultivate. On the other side were the local residents, many with deep roots in the community, who felt it was an eyesore, a slight to the historic San Felipe de Neri Church, and a troubling sign of Old Town's over-commercialization. A group of long-time residents led by Mary Moya issued a statement that read in part, "We consider this unsightly piece of iron junk, which looks and smells like a latrine or a pig sty, offensive in the extreme. ...We don't like for a few Johnny-come-lately businessmen to drag in an eyesore like this." They also pointed out, correctly, that the jail had no historical connection to the Plaza as its original location was a few blocks away.²¹

Old Town businessmen hoping to sway public opinion give the old jail a fresh coat of green paint, 1956. Albuquerque Journal via Newspapers.com.

Moya's protesters held a nightly picket of the jail and circulated a petition calling for its removal.²² Perhaps unsurprisingly, an effort by the businessmen to spruce up the jail by painting it green did not help.²³ After about a week, the City Commission ordered it back into storage, diplomatically acknowledging that "different people feel differently about jails".²⁴ Later it was suggested that the jail be placed in Coronado Park instead, though this plan failed to materialize after the parties involved could not agree on whether the placement would be temporary or permanent, or who would pay for it. John Hueter, the chairman of the Parks Board, predicted that if no agreement was reached, "the jail will probably stay in the shops for another fifty years".²⁵ He turned out to be more or less correct—the jail has not been on public display since—but the story does not end there.

In the 1960s, the jail strangely made a return to the field of corrections when it was moved to the Police Honor Farm, a minimum-security detention facility located south of the airport. The farm operated on a shoestring budget using as many donations and salvaged materials as possible. Walter Coleman, the farm's supervisor, came across the old jail in the scrapyard just as Engel had and concluded that the sturdy and well-ventilated structure would make a great place to store the farm's corn harvest. Given a jaunty turquoise and silver paint job, it was in use for that purpose when Albuquerque Journal reporters toured the facility in 1961.²⁶

A new life as a corn crib, 1961. Albuquerque Journal via Newspapers.com.

The police department decided to give the honor farm an upgrade and opened the new Montessa Park Detention Center there in 1969. Much like the old county jail decades earlier, the new $475,000 building was said to reflect "the latest concepts in prisoner detention and rehabilitation facilities."²⁷ But despite 83 years of improvement in materials and technology, the walls of Montessa Park cracked and crumbled just as badly as the old jail's had. In fact, it was much worse: while the old jail had a respectable 40-year career, Montessa Park was noticeably falling apart after only a few months. Security doors could not be shut; holes large enough to smuggle weapons through opened in the outer walls. Just nine years after it opened, the building was completely unusable.²⁸ Meanwhile, a humble corn crib continued on resolutely.

The jail heads to the Albuquerque Museum, 1975. Albuquerque Tribune via Newspaper Archive.

In 1975, county voters passed a bond issue funding a new city-county jail, which would allow Montessa Park to be put out of its misery.^29,30 A week later, with the closure of the facility assured, the police department donated the old county jail to the Albuquerque Museum. (Presumably there was no longer a pressing need for corn storage by that point.) At the time, the museum was still located in the old airport terminal, but in 1979 it moved to its current home in Old Town, bringing the jail back to within a quarter mile of its original location.

The jail as depicted in the catalog of the Albuquerque Museum. Via Albuquerque Museum.

It remains in the museum's permanent collection today, though not on view. The museum catalog describes it as "A welded and riveted and painted iron Bernalillo County jail, with 3 interior cells. One interior door is missing. Two patent date tags on the jail; 1878 and 1877. Inner walls are white, exterior is light blue shading to green." It seems to have held up pretty well considering it spent more than 40 years exposed to the elements, but then it was clearly built to last. What will be the next chapter in the history of the 134-year-old jail? Only time will tell, but it would be great to see it return to public display. It has a lot of stories to tell, and probably a few more yet to be written.

Sources

1. "Old Jail in Scrap Yard Starts History Sleuthing." Albuquerque Journal, January 30, 1952. Via Newspapers.com.

2. "Report of the Bernalillo County Jail, by the Grand Jury of Bernalillo County." Albuquerque Journal, May 12, 1882. Via Newspapers.com.

3. "Escaped From Jail." Albuquerque Evening Democrat, January 24, 1885. Via Newspapers.com.

4. Illustrated Descriptive Catalogue of Steel Jail Cells and Other Steel and Iron Work, for County Jails and Other Prisons. The Pauly Jail Building and Manufacturing Co., c. 1890. Via Pauly Jail.

5. [The contract for the new jail.] Albuquerque Journal, September 20, 1885. Via Newspapers.com.

6. [Mr. J. F. Short will place the iron cells in the new jail.] Albuquerque Journal, February 9, 1886. Via Newspapers.com.

7. "County Commissioners: Proceedings of the Board from March 1st to 10th." Albuquerque Journal, June 4, 1886. Via Newspapers.com.

8. [Sheriff Baca inaugurated a subscription paper.] Albuquerque Journal, April 30, 1886. Via Newspapers.com.

9. [Sixteen prisoners now in county jail.] Albuquerque Morning Democrat, May 1, 1886. Via Newspapers.com.

10. [Visit to the new jail.] Albuquerque Morning Democrat, May 11, 1886. Via Newspapers.com.

11. "Gen. Salazar Is Released from County Jail by 2 Masked Men." Albuquerque Journal, November 21, 1914. Via Newspapers.com.

12. Simmons, Marc. "Trail Dust: Elfego Baca was quirky, crafty figure in New Mexico history." Santa Fe New Mexican, September 7, 2012.

13. "Teaspoons Big Enough to Dig Out Jail Wall." Albuquerque Journal, July 17, 1921. Via Newspapers.com.

14. "Bernalillo County Court House Dedication Today." Albuquerque Journal, May 12, 1926. Via Newspapers.com.

15. "Thieves Break into Jail, Oft Broken Out Of." Albuquerque Journal, December 15, 1931. Via Newspapers.com.

16. "Historic Old Town Jail Is Being Torn Down." Albuquerque Journal, December 9, 1933. Via Newspapers.com.

17. "Scrap-Spotters, Telephone 'Requesters' Put on Trail of All County's Old Metal." Albuquerque Journal, October 8, 1942. Via Newspapers.com.

18. "Mock Stagecoach Holdup And Hanging Scheduled." Albuquerque Tribune, May 3, 1956. Via Newspaper Archive.

19. "Mock Holdup, Hanging Feature Old Town Event." Albuquerque Journal, May 31, 1956. Via Newspapers.com.

20. "Shades of the Past." Albuquerque Tribune, May 31, 1956. Via Newspaper Archive.

21. "Sharp Protest Made Against Jail On Plaza." Albuquerque Tribune, June 2, 1956. Via Newspaper Archive.

22. "Plaza Jail Opponents Will Ask City to Act." Albuquerque Tribune, June 5, 1956. Via Newspaper Archive.

23. "Controversial Old City Jail in Old Town Takes on New Look; Pickets Unimpressed." Albuquerque Journal, June 5, 1956. Via Newspapers.com.

24. "City Board Directs Engel To Remove Old Town Jail." Albuquerque Journal, June 6, 1956. Via Newspapers.com.

25. "Jail Placement Hits Snag Even Without Real Protest." Albuquerque Journal, June 26, 1956. Via Newspapers.com.

26. "City Honor Farm Flourishes as Prisoners Discover New Life." Albuquerque Journal, July 2, 1961. Via Newspapers.com.

27. Padget, Mike. "Detention Complex Dedication Today." Albuquerque Journal, March 15, 1969. Via Newspapers.com.

28. Sanchez, Arley. "Old Work Farm Haunts Plans for New." Albuquerque Journal, October 23, 1985. Via Newspapers.com.

29. Stamper, Janelle. "New Jail Termed a Must." Albuquerque Journal, June 8, 1975. Via Newspapers.com.

30. Stamper, Janelle. "Three Bond Issues OK'd." Albuquerque Journal, June 18, 1975. Via Newspapers.com.

31. "Jail." Albuquerque Museum Collection.