The Pittsburgh Press (February 14, 1942)
Rambling Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
GOLD HILL, Oregon – For several years travelers have been writing me that the next time I passed through southern Oregon I must stop and see the “House of Mystery,” in which everything leans to the north.
So this time I did. I explored it, I sniffed, peeked, measured, balanced and sighted – and everything does lean to the north, including people.
This “House of Mystery” is about half-way between Grant’s Pass and Medford, and four miles off U.S. Highway 99. It is operated as a tourist attraction. They charge 30 cents a person.
Trappers and prospectors have known for a long time there was something screwballish about this little patch of ground. But nobody ever did much about it until 12 years ago when John Litster, a chemical engineer, advertising writer and what not, retired because of ill health, moved up here and devoted his talents to getting this spooky phenomenon in shape for public presentation.
Litster now lives a few miles farther up the creek. He keeps a guide and caretaker here beside the House of Mystery – in an unmysterious cabin of his own – to guide tourists.
The House of Mystery is an old frame building that was once an assay office. Some 30 years ago it sort of leaned over and slid part way down the hillside.
The building sits in the center of a 125-foot circle, and anywhere within this circle everything acts funny. Trees lean north, bubble-levels won’t work, plum-lines don’t hang straight, people’s heights aren’t the same. It’s enough to drive a man nuts.
Not done by mirrors either
They never did get it over to me exactly what causes it all. You’d assume there was a body of ore directly underneath that exerted a strong magnetic pull; but they say that isn’t it. So I’ll have to skip the scientific part, and just tell you what you see.
Our young guide, named Charles Taylor, started us out by putting my friend and me on opposite ends of a level concrete slab. My friend was considerably shorter than I, and my eye level rested just on top of his hat.
Then the guide had us change places – and I’m telling you my friend was about six inches taller than he was before, and my eye-level was on his chin. He said I looked shorter.
It was the same every time we tried it. When facing north, you seem about six inches taller than when facing south. Undoubtedly this is an optical illusion, yet you can’t photograph an illusion, and this can be photographed. We certainly got off to a spooky start.
After that the guide took us up the hill a little way. He stopped to talk a moment, and I realized he was leaning way over, although quite relaxed. I looked at my friend, and he was leaning over, too. There was also a mighty silly look on his face.
The guide said I was leaning just as they were. It seemed to me I was standing naturally. So the guide had me face one direction, then look down at my shoes. I could see the tips sticking about two inches beyond the edge of my overcoat. Then I turned in the other direction, relaxed, looked down, and couldn’t see my shoes at all. I WAS leaning.
Then we went into the Mystery House itself. The floor is very slanting. Of course that gives you a sense of unbalance. But furthermore, you get the sensation that the whole place is moving. Tourists actually get seasick standing perfectly still in there.
Further, you can stand on boards sloping sharply either to the north or south, and no matter which slope you stand on, you lean to the north when you’re balanced.
There was a heavy weight suspended from the ceiling on a chain. The guide had us push it back and forth. It takes more strength to push it one direction than the other, although the weight is swinging free. I’m so confused by now I forget which direction was hardest.
Everything leans 7½ degrees
Then our guide took an old broom, and kept balancing it until it finally stood there all by itself. And do you think that freely balanced broom was standing straight up and down? It was not. It was leaning over at an angle! Everything in the circle leans at 7½ degrees.
Outside again, our guide took some golf balls out of his pocket and threw one up in the air, slightly away from him. Instead of going on away in the natural arc of its descent, the ball came right back toward him.
“Let me have that ball,” I said, figuring he was giving it the old English or something. But it came right back to me, too. And I sure don’t know any tricks.
The guide says lots of scientists come here for a look. He says big scientists are easy to deal with, and are grave about it. He says it’s usually high-school science teachers who are so smart and yell it’s all done with mirrors.