Loop Tour

Loop Tour

Eastland Disaster Site
Corner of North LaSalle and West Wacker

Eastland Disaster (July 24, 1915).

On July 24, employees of Western Electric Company were heading to an annual picnic. About 7,300 people arrived at 6 a.m. at the dock between LaSalle and Clark streets to be carried out to the site by five steamers. While bands played, much of the crowd—perhaps even more than the 2,500 people allowed—boarded the Eastland. Some reports indicate that the crowd may also have all gathered on one side of the boat to pose for a photographer, thus creating an imbalance on the boat. In any case, engineer Joseph Erikson opened one of the ballast tanks, which holds water within the boat and stabilizes the ship, and the Eastland began tipping precariously.

Some claim that the crew of the boat jumped back to the dock when they realized what was happening. What is known for sure is that the Eastland capsized right next to the dock, trapping hundreds of people on or underneath the large ship. Rescuers quickly attempted to cut through the hull with torches, allowing them to pull out 40 people alive. More than 800 others perished. Police divers pulled up body after body, causing one diver to break down in a rage. The city sent workers out with a large net to prevent bodies from washing out into the lake. Twenty-two entire families died in the tragedy.

The tragedy itself was over in a matter of minutes, however, the rescue and efforts following the tragedy went on for days, even weeks.  The Western Electric Company and the American Red Cross each responded.

Most of the corpses were taken to the Second Regiment Armory, which is now home to Harpo Studios and The Oprah Winfrey Show. Some of the show’s employees have claimed that the studio is haunted by ghosts of the Eastland disaster.

The Eastland was pulled up from the river, renamed the Willimette and converted into a naval vessel. It was turned into scrap following World War II. All lawsuits against the owners of the Eastland were thrown out by a court of appeals and the exact cause of the tipping and subsequent disaster has never been determined.

Bohemian hired 52 extra men to dig 150 graves, each man working a 12 hour shaft.

An estimated 65 victims are buried in Forest Home Cemetery. Other victims are buried at Concordia Cemetery, Forest Park; Jewish Waldheim, Forest Park; Queen of Heaven, Hillside; Bohemian National Cemetery, Chicago.

6:30 a.m. About 5,000 people arrive for the excursion. Passengers begin boarding the Eastland anticipating a 7:30 a.m. departure.

6:41 to 6:53 a.m. The Eastland begins listing to starboard from the mass of gathered passengers on the wharf side of the ship. It straightens -- momentarily. It then begins listing to port. Orders are placed to put the ship on an even keel and the Eastland is righted again.

7:00 to 7:05 a.m. Passengers board at a rate of about 50 per minute. The count reaches over 1,000. A light list to port occurs once again. The engines start.

7:10 a.m. The Eastland reaches capacity of 2,500 and boarding stops. Preparations begin to bring the gangplank in. Attempts are made to move the passengers to starboard; passengers do not comply.

7:16 to 7:20 a.m. The list to port worsens to an estimated 10 to 15 degrees. Valves are ordered opened to fill the No. 2 and 3 starboard ballast tanks, but no water comes in for seven minutes. The Eastland rights itself, though unstable. The gangplank is drawn in. The ship lists to port, even though most of the passengers are along the starboard rail.

7:20 a.m. The list to port continues. Water enters the main deck through a scupper on the port side, and the engines are ordered stopped. Passenger loading is completed and preparations are made for departure.

7:23 to 7:25 a.m. Passengers on the main deck are instructed to move to the starboard side. The same request is made to the passengers immediately abaft of the engine room. Water enters the Eastland through the port gangways. A Modoc whistle warning signal sounds. The Captain rings a "stand by" on his engine room telegraph. The stern of the Eastland swings out away from the wharf into the river, and the bow swings in slightly to the wharf. As the Eastland moves away from the wharf, passengers on the upper decks drift away from the starboard rail -- their first substantiated move to port. The ship makes its third and last reversal in its list to port.

7:27 a.m. The Eastland resumes its list to port, an estimated 25 to 30 degrees. The stokers and oilers in the boiler room run to the main deck, sensing disaster, not only from the list but also from the water coming into the ship. Passengers on the hurricane deck are asked to move to the starboard side. The angle is too great and the deck is slippery from the rain; passengers do not comply.

7:28 a.m. The angle of the list reaches 45 degrees. Dishes slip off shelves and racks in the pantry. The piano on the promenade deck slides to the port side, almost crushing two women. The refrigerator behind the bar crashes over, alerting passengers that disaster is imminent. One or two women are pinned beneath the refrigerator. Water pours in through the aft port gangway and portholes on the main deck. Passengers on the main deck panic, rushing to the staircases leading up to the 'tween deck -- the worst death trap for passengers in the hull. Panic ensues. Passengers and crew members jump off the ship on the starboard side, landing on the wharf or in the river. The list of the ship to port worsens as water rushes in. As passengers and crew members jump off, the load lightens on the starboard side.

7:28 to 7:30 a.m. The Eastland rolls quietly into the Chicago River and comes to rest in the mud and 20 feet of water. 844 men, women and children tragically perish.

The 102^nd Anniversary Ceremony was Sunday, July 23, 2017.

For a number of years now the area where so many lost their lives has been the scene of strange paranormal activity, namely sights and sounds.  Pedestrians strolling past the site, particularly in the evening, often hear a loud commotion in the water as though a number of people are floundering around.  Screams and splashes are the most often encountered type of sound heard by people near the area.  Of course, when they look from the overlook, they see nothing amiss and the water perfectly calm.

Some have seen a large wash of water suddenly overflow the river walk area of lower Wacker Drive where there are a number of riverside cafes.  Such would have been reminiscent of the water that was thrown on the lower docks when the Eastland rolled over.  Those who have availed themselves an afternoon stroll along the river or have stopped for lunch at one of the many cafes have been shocked to see something actually in the water.  On closer inspection, they have complained of seeing strange reflections of faces, not their own, staring back at them from the depths of the Chicago River.  Obviously victims of the unfortunate accident.

Death Alley
24 West Randolph

On December 30, 1903, a Wednesday, the Iroquois presented a matinee performance of the popular Drury Lane musical Mr. Blue Beard, which had been playing at the Iroquois since opening night. The play, a burlesque of the traditional Bluebeard folk tale, featured Dan McAvoy as Bluebeard and Eddie Foy as Sister Anne, a role that let him showcase his physical comedy skills. Attendance since opening night had been disappointing, people having been driven away by poor weather, labor unrest, and other factors. The December 30 performance drew a much larger sellout audience. Tickets were sold for every seat in the house, plus hundreds more for the "standing room" areas at the back of the theater. Many of the estimated 2,100–2,200 patrons attending the matinee were children. The standing room areas were so crowded that some patrons instead sat in the aisles, blocking the exits.

At about 3:15 that afternoon, shortly after the beginning of the second act, eight men and eight women were performing In the Pale Moonlight. Sparks from an arc light ignited a muslin curtain, probably as a result of an electrical short circuit. A stagehand tried to douse the fire with the Kilfyre canisters provided, but it quickly spread to the fly gallery high above the stage. There, several thousand square feet of highly flammable painted canvas scenery flats were hung. The stage manager tried to lower the asbestos fire curtain, but it snagged. Early reports state that it was stopped by the trolley-wire that carried one of the acrobats over the stage, but later investigation showed that the curtain had been blocked by a light reflector which stuck out under the proscenium arch. A chemist who later tested part of the curtain stated that it was mainly wood pulp mixed with asbestos, and would have been "of no value in a fire".

Foy, who was preparing to go on stage at the time, ran out and attempted to calm the crowd, first making sure that his young son was in the care of a stagehand. He later wrote, "It struck me as I looked out over the crowd during the first act that I had never before seen so many women and children in the audience. Even the gallery was full of mothers and children." Foy was widely seen as a hero after the fire for his courage in remaining on stage and pleading with patrons not to panic even as large chunks of burning scenery landed around him.

By this time, many of the patrons on all levels were quickly attempting to flee the theater. Some had found the fire exits hidden behind draperies on the north side of the building, but found that they could not open the unfamiliar bascule locks. Bar owner Frank Houseman, a former baseball player with the Chicago Colts, defied an usher who refused to open a door. He was able to open the door because his ice box at home had a similar lock. Houseman credited his friend, outfielder Charlie Dexter, who had just quit the Boston Beaneaters, with forcing open another door. A third door was opened either by brute force or by a blast of air, but most of the other doors could not be opened. Some patrons panicked, crushing or trampling others in a desperate attempt to escape from the fire. Many were killed while trapped in dead ends or while trying to open what looked like doors with windows in them but were actually only windows.

The dancers on stage were also forced to flee, along with the performers backstage and in the numerous dressing rooms. When the performers and stagehands went out of the back exit, an icy wind rushed in and made the fire substantially bigger. Many escaped from the theater through the coal hatch and through windows in the dressing rooms, and others tried to escape via the west stage door, which opened inwards and became jammed as actors pressed toward the door frantically trying to get out. By chance a passing railroad agent saw the crowd pressing against the door and unfastened the hinges from the outside using tools that he normally carried with him, allowing the actors and stagehands to escape. Someone else opened the massive double freight doors in the north wall, normally used for scenery, allowing "a cyclonic blast" of cold air to rush into the building and create an enormous fireball. As the vents above the stage were nailed or wired shut, the fireball instead traveled outwards, ducking under the stuck asbestos curtain and streaking toward the vents behind the dress circle and gallery 50 feet (15 m) away. The hot gases and flames passed over the heads of those in the orchestra seats and incinerated everything flammable in the gallery and dress circle levels, including patrons still trapped in those areas.

Those in the orchestra section exited into the foyer and out of the front door, but those in the dress circle and gallery who escaped the fireball could not reach the foyer because the iron grates that barred the stairways were still in place. The largest death toll was at the base of these stairways, where hundreds of people were trampled, crushed, or asphyxiated.

Patrons who were able to escape via the emergency exits on the north side found themselves on the unfinished fire escapes. Many jumped or fell from the icy, narrow fire escapes to their deaths; the bodies of the first jumpers broke the falls of those who followed them.

Students from the Northwestern University building north of the theater tried bridging the gap with a ladder and then with some boards between the rooftops, saving those few able to manage the makeshift cross-over.

The Iroquois had no fire alarm box or telephone. The Chicago Fire Department's Engine 13 was alerted to the fire by a stagehand who had been ordered to run from the burning theater to the nearest firehouse. On the way to the scene, at approximately 3:33 pm, a member of Engine 13 activated an alarm box to call additional units. Initial efforts focused on the people trapped on the fire escapes. The alley to the north of the theater, known as Couch Place, was icy, narrow, and full of smoke. Aerial ladders could not be used in the alley and black nets, concealed by the smoke, proved useless.

The Chicago Police Department became involved when an officer patrolling the theater district saw people emerge from the building in a panic, some with clothing on fire. He called in from a police box on Randolph Street, and police, summoned by whistles, soon converged on the scene to control traffic and aid with the evacuation. Some of the city's thirty uniformed police matrons were called in, because of the number of female casualties.

Corpses were piled ten high around the doors and windows. Many patrons had clambered over piles of bodies only to succumb themselves to the flames, smoke, and gases. It is estimated that 575 people were killed on the day of the fire; at least 30 more died of injuries over the following weeks. (The Great Chicago Fire, by comparison, claimed the lives of approximately 300 people.) Many of the Chicago victims were buried in Montrose, Forest Home, Calvary, Saint Boniface, Oak Woods, Rosehill and Graceland cemeteries.

Of the 300 or so actors, dancers, and stagehands, only five people died: the aerialist (Nellie Reed), an actor in a bit part, an usher, and two female attendants. The aerialist's role was to fly out as a fairy over the audience on a trolley wire, showering them with pink carnations. She was trapped above the stage while waiting for her entrance; during the fire she fell, was gravely injured, and died of burns and internal injuries three days later.

In New York City on New Year's Eve some theaters eliminated standing room. Building and fire codes were subsequently reformed; theaters were closed for retrofitting all around the country and in some cities in Europe. All theater exits had to be clearly marked and the doors configured so that, even if they could not be pulled open from the outside, they could be pushed open from the inside.

After the fire, it was alleged that fire inspectors had been bribed with free tickets to overlook code violations. The mayor ordered all theaters in Chicago closed for six weeks after the fire.

As a result of public outrage, many were charged with crimes, including Mayor Carter Harrison, Jr. Most charges were dismissed three years later, however, because of the delaying tactics of the owners' lawyers and their use of loopholes and inadequacies in the city's building and safety ordinances. Levy Mayer was the defender of the theater and its manager, Will Davis.

The exterior of the Iroquois was largely intact. The building later reopened as the Colonial Theater, which was demolished in 1926 to make way for the Oriental Theater.

Activity "photographic anomalies" such as "ghostlike" images on photos taken in the alley and "shadow people" in the theater proper.

"I've actually seen what appears to be almost like an apparition as real as you or I wandering around the alleyway," Melvoin-Berg said.

Site of Forth Dearborn
360 North Michigan

Chicago began as nothing but empty wilderness and open prairie. It first appeared on maps of the region in 1684 as “Chekagou”, which literally means “wild onion”. Despite these inauspicious beginnings, it became home to a trading post owned by Jean Baptist Point du Sable, a French Canadian trapper in 1779. He stayed along the Chicago River until 1800, before selling the establishment to Jean Lalime. As American’s spread further west, there was talk of a military garrison being established at Chicago as early as 1795. It finally came about in 1803 under the command of Captain John Whistler. He brought with him 40 men and they built Fort Dearborn.

The fort was a simple stockade of logs that were placed on end, sharpened at the top and then planted firmly into the ground. The outer stockade was a solid wall with a gated entrance. There was also a secret underground entrance that led beneath the north wall to the river. Inside of the fort was a parade ground, officer’s quarters, troop’s barracks, a guard house and an ammunition magazine.

In 1804, a man named John Kinzie settled in the region and bought out the property of Jean Lalime. Over the next few years, Kinzie became known as the self-appointed civilian leader of the region, trading and dealing with the local Native American population. He encouraged close ties with the Potawatomi Indians and even sold them liquor, which created tension with the other white settlers. Kinzie would figure prominently in the events that were still to come.

In 1810, Captain Whistler was replaced at Fort Dearborn by Captain Nathan Heald, an experienced soldier, who also brought with him Lieutenant Linus T. Helm, another officer with experience on the frontier. Helm soon married the step-daughter of John Kinzie. In addition to she and Heald’s wife, there were other women now at the fort as well, all wives of the men stationed there. Within two years, there were 12 women and 20 children at Fort Dearborn.

The first threat came to the fort with the War of 1812, a conflict that aroused unrest with the local Indian tribes, namely the Potawatomi and the Wynadot. The effects of the war brought many of the Indian tribes into alliance with the British for they saw the Americans as invaders into their lands. After the British captured the American garrison at Mackinac, Fort Dearborn was in great danger. Orders came from General William Hull that Heald should abandon the fort and leave the contents to the local Indians.

Unfortunately, Heald delayed in carrying out the orders and soon, the American troops had nowhere to go. The unrest among the Indians brought a large contingent of them to the fort and they gathered in an almost siege-like state. The soldiers began to express concern over the growing numbers of Indians outside and Heald realized that he was going to have to bargain with them if the occupants of Fort Dearborn were going to safely reach Fort Wayne.

On August 12, Heald left the fort and held council with the Indians outside. By this time, it was estimated that 500 of them were encamped at the fort. Heald proposed to the chiefs that he would distribute the stores and ammunition in the fort to them in exchange for safe conduct to Fort Wayne. The chiefs quickly agreed and conditions were set to abandon the stockade.

Heald returned to the fort and here, was confronted by his officers. Alarmed, they questioned the wisdom of handing out guns and ammunition that could easily be turned against them. Heald reluctantly agreed with them and the extra weapons and ammunition were broken apart and dumped into an abandoned well. In addition, the stores of whiskey were dumped into the river. Needless to say, this was observed by the Indians outside and they too began making plans that differed from those agreed upon with Captain Heald.

On August 14, a visitor arrived at the fort in the person of Captain William Wells. He and 30 Miami warriors had managed to slip past the throng outside and they appeared at the front gates of the fort. Wells was a frontier legend among early soldiers and settlers in the Illinois territory. Captured by Indians as a child, he was adopted into the family of Little Turtle, the famous war chief of the Miami. Later, Wells served as a scout under General “Mad Anthony” Wayne and was currently serving as an Indian agent at Fort Wayne. He was also the uncle of Captain Heald’s wife and after hearing of the evacuation of Fort Dearborn, and knowing the hostile fervor of the local tribes, headed straight to the fort to assist them in their escape. Unfortunately, he had arrived too late.

Late on the evening of the 14th, another council was held between Heald, Wells and the Indians. Heald was told that, despite the anger over the destruction of the ammunition and the whiskey, the garrison would still be conducted to Fort Wayne. In turn, Heald was told that he had to abandon the fort immediately. By this time, Heald had more than just his men and their families to think of. John Kinzie and the other nearby settlers had also come to the fort for protection. Throughout the night, wagons were loaded for travel and reserve ammunition was distributed, amounting to about 25 rounds per man.

Early the next morning, the procession of soldiers, civilians, women and children left the fort. The infantry soldiers led the way, followed by a caravan of wagons and mounted men. The rear of the column was guarded by a portion of the Miami who had accompanied Wells. They, along with Wells himself, did not believe the promises made by the other tribes and they had their faces painted for war.

The column of soldiers and settlers were escorted by nearly 500 Potawatomi Indians. As they marched southward and into a low range of sand hills that separated the beaches of Lake Michigan from the prairie, the Potawatomi moved silently to the right, placing an elevation of sand between they and the white men. The act was carried out with such subtlety that no one noticed it as the column trudged along the shoreline. A little further down the beach, the sand ridge ended and the two groups would come together again.

The column traveled to an area where 16th Street and Indiana Avenue are now located. There was a sudden milling about of the scouts at the front of the line and suddenly a shout came back from Captain Wells.... the Indians were attacking, he cried! A line of Potawatomi appeared over the edge of the ridge and fired down at the column. Totally surprised, the officers nevertheless managed to rally the men into a battle line, but it was of little use. So many of them fell from immediate wounds that the line collapsed. The Indians overwhelmed them with sheer numbers, flanking the line and snatching the wagons and horses.

What followed was butchery.... officers were slain with tomahawks.. the fort’s surgeon was cut down by gunfire and then literally chopped into pieces ... Mrs. Heald was wounded by gunfire but was spared when she was captured by a sympathetic chief, who spared her life... the wife of one soldier fought so bravely and savagely that she was hacked into pieces before she fell... John Kinzie’s niece was spared but was narrowly wounded by a tomahawk. She was finally spirited away by a Potawotomi named Black Partridge, a childhood friend. In the end, cut down to less than half their original number, the garrison surrendered under the promise of safe conduct. In all, 148 members of the column were killed, 86 of them adults and 12 of them children.

Captain Wells, captured early in the fighting, became so enraged by the slaughter that he managed to escape from his captors. He took a horse and rode furiously into the Potawatomi camp, where their own women and children were hidden. Somehow, the barrage of bullets fired at him missed their mark, but his horse was brought down and he was captured again. Two Indian chiefs interceded to save his life, but Pesotum, a Potawatomi chief, stabbed Wells in the back and killed him. His heart was then cut out and distributed to the other warriors as a token of bravery. The next day, a half-breed Wynadot named Billy Caldwell, gathered the remains of Wells’ mutilated body and buried it in the sand. Wells Street, in Chicago, now bears this brave frontiersman’s name.

In the battle, Captain Heald was wounded twice, while his wife was wounded seven times. They were later released and a St. Joseph Indian named Chaudonaire took them to Mackinac, where they were turned over to the British commander there. He sent them to Detroit and they were exchanged with the American authorities.

John Kinzie and his family were also spared. His friendship with the Potawatomi led to his being taken away from the massacre. He returned to Chicago a year later, but found much had changed by then. He failed to get his business going again and took a position with the American Fur Company, who had once been his largest competitor. In time, the Illinois fur trade came to an end and Kinzie worked as a trader and Indian interpreter until his death in 1828. At that point, thanks to revisionist history books written by his descendants, Kinzie was almost enshrined as a founder of Chicago. Through the 1800’s, history overlooked his questionable business practices, like selling liquor to the Indians and even the murder of a business rival. It would not be until much later that Kinzie’s role in Chicago history would be questioned.

The other survivors from the massacre were taken as prisoners and some of them died soon after. Others were sold to the British as slaves, who quickly freed them, appalled by the carnage they had experienced. For Dearborn itself was burned to the ground by the victorious Indians and the bodies of the massacre victims were left where they had fallen, scattered to decay on the sand dunes of Lake Michigan. When replacement troops arrived at the site of Fort Dearborn a year later, they were greeted with not only the burned-out shell of the fort, but the grinning skeletons of their predecessors and the luckless settlers. The bodies were given proper burials and the fort was rebuilt in 1816, only to be abandoned again in 1836, when the city would be able to fend for itself.

As for the Indians... the Potawatomi soon began denying any responsibility for the massacre and began blaming the Winnebago Indians instead. The price for the massacre would be high for those natives who had existed peacefully with the white settlers before the war. Memories of the slaughter led to the removal of the Indians from the region and by 1833, their forced removal from Chicago was complete.

Not surprisingly, the horrific massacre spawned its share of ghostly tales. For many years, the site of the fort itself was said to be haunted by those who were killed nearby. The now vanished fort was located at the south end of the Michigan Avenue Bridge.

The actual site of the massacre was quiet for many years, long after Chicago grew into a sizable city. However, construction in the early 1980’s unearthed a number of human bones. At first thought to be the victims of a cholera epidemic in the 1840’s, the remains were later dated more closely to the early 1800’s. Thanks to their location, they were believed to be the bones of victims from the massacre. They were reburied elsewhere but within a few weeks, people began to report the semi-transparent figures of people dressed in pioneer clothing and military uniforms. They were seen wandering in a field just north of 16th and while many seemed to run about haphazardly, others appeared to move in slow motion. Many of them reportedly looked very frightened or were screaming in silence.

Perhaps these poor victims do not rest in peace after all.....

Congress Plaza Hotel
520 South Michigan

The Congress Plaza Hotel is located on South Michigan Avenue across from Grant Park in Chicago at 520 South Michigan Avenue. After opening for business in 1893, for the World's Columbian Exposition, the hotel underwent two major expansions and renovations; it now features 871 guest rooms and suites. Its 11 story edifice was originally designed by architect Clinton J. Warren as an annex to the Auditorium Theater across the street. The two buildings were linked by a marble-lined underground passage called Peacock Alley. In 1902 and then in 1907, the firm of Holabird & Roche oversaw the design and construction of two additions, bringing the total complex up to 1 million square feet.

In June, 1912, Theodore Roosevelt stayed at the Congress Plaza when the 1912 Republican National Convention was held in Chicago.  Roosevelt, who at that time was seeking the Republican nomination for President, spoke from the balcony of his room at the hotel to a crowd assembled across the street in Grant Park.

In October 1916, US President Woodrow Wilson passed the hotel as part of his visit to the city. Over a hundred protestors from the National Women's Party demonstrated in favor of women's suffrage with a silent protest. Holding banners such as "Wilson is Against Women," the demonstrators were attacked by a mob and their banners destroyed while police looked on and, in some cases, laughed, according to newspaper reports.

In 1940, Louis Grell (1887-1960), a Chicago-based artist, was commissioned to paint thirteen murals for the lunettes that are an architectural feature surrounding the grand lobby. The murals were various popular scenes around Chicago at the time. Under the Albert Pick Jr ownership in 1952, Grell was again commissioned to paint the same architectural lunettes, this time Grell incorporated Chicago figures into the scenes depicting important trades significant to Chicago's growth and symbolism. Lady Liberty was found in one mural holding the Chicago River "Y" on her lap. Additionally, in 1955 Pick commissioned Grell once again, during one of the many renovations, to paint three walls for the newly decorated Pompeian Room which also had a magnificent Louis Comfort Tiffany glass fountain in the center of the vast room. Today glass covers the thirteen lunettes where the murals could be hiding. Grell also painted a large white Peacock that was mounted above the bar next to Peacock Alley. Each wall had a main central Greek/Roman mural, however, Grell decorated the entire wall with various patterns of flora and custom design.

Taos Society of Artists painter, E. Martin Hennings painted the ceiling murals inside the Florentine Room around 1918.

The hotel closed for a period in World War II and was used as a training school by the U.S. Army Air Forces. It reopened for civilian use in time for the summer political conventions of 1944. At this time, John J. Mack was president of the Michigan-Congress Hotel Corporation.

Events that have been held at the hotel include the 1963 Prohibition Party National Convention August 23, 1963.

The hotel is not affiliated with any national chain. It is owned by a group of investors led by Albert Nasser of Tel-Aviv, Israel, who purchased the property in 1987.

The Congress Plaza Hotel has an unsettling number of rooms which have been permanently closed off from the public due to paranormal activity; The owners have gone so far as to wallpaper over some of them.

The location also served as inspiration for Stephen King’s short story, 1408, which was later adapted into a film. 1408 is the story of a hotel room notorious for the number of suicides which have occurred there. However, the real murders and suicides that took place at the Congress Plaza Hotel are far more disturbing than anything Stephen King could imagine.

The Congress Plaza Hotel was originally built to house visitors to the World’s Columbian Exposition which took place in Chicago in 1893. During this time, notorious serial killer H.H. Holmes was luring multitudes of victims to his ‘Murder Castle’.

While it is unconfirmed, it has been rumored that he occasionally visited the lobby of the Congress Plaza Hotel to find young ladies who were looking for a job in the city. He offered them “work in his pharmacy”, but ultimately, these women would become his victims.

In 1900 Captain Lou Ostheim, a Spanish-American war veteran was staying in the hotel when he committed suicide by a self-inflicted gunshot wound. His death was eventually ruled to be accidental.  This was one of the hotel’s earliest and most bizarre deaths; Allegedly, Ostheim took his own life on a Sunday morning immediately after waking from a nightmare. His family and friends knew of no possible motive and Ostheim was reported to have been in good spirits. In fact, just the day before he had gotten married; That day, he also purchased the revolver he used to take his own life. However, Ostheim had been suffering from severe insomnia and night terrors. It was theorized he must have awoken from one of his vivid and violent dreams, then shot himself without knowing what he was doing.

The South Tower of the hotel was built between 1902-1907. It is rumored that a worker was trapped and died behind the drywall during construction.  People have reported seeing a “Hand of Mystery” emerging from the wall and it is said to belong to this doomed construction worker. However, this is one of the few stories about the Congress Plaza Hotel that is unfounded. The “Hand of Mystery” was originally told as a joke, but over the years it has snowballed.

Construction of the South Tower included the addition of The Gold Room and The Florentine Room.

Supposedly Staff have said The Gold Room is always found to be unlocked, no matter how many times they locked it. Strangely, photographs taken in front of the grand piano in this room usually come out with one or more people missing from the photo. Appliances that are completely disconnected turn on and off in a kitchen located adjacent from The Gold Room.

Guests and staff often hear women whispering, men humming, piano music, organ music, wooden wheels rolling on a wooden floor, gunshots and screaming in The Florentine Room but upon inspection, it is always empty. In this room, Theodore Roosevelt made the announcement that he would leave the Republican Party; His apparition is claimed to have been seen there a handful of times. Women report seeing a female apparition in the ladies’ restroom in the Florentine Room. This apparition is said to sometimes follow women out of the restroom and into the hallway.

 In 1904 hotel guests witnessed an elevator operator fall 70ft. to the bottom of the elevator shaft. He was killed on impact.

In 1908, a frequent visitor to the Congress Plaza named Roy Gormley was in the hotel’s ballroom. Roy is said to have had a spending problem and was quickly approaching bankruptcy. He offered the orchestra $500 to play The Death March from Saul, a melody often played when soldiers are buried at sea. When the conductor told Gormley the orchestra did not know the tune, Gormley hummed it for them and they managed to play it for him. He gave them the $500 and bought a round of drinks for the entire orchestra, and a second round for the following Monday. He then retired to his room and shot himself.  Also in 1908, an attempted murder-suicide occurred directly outside the hotel’s main entrance. Ruby Pishzak and her husband were shot by Ruby’s jealous lover. The couple reconciled as they lay bleeding on the sidewalk. However, they both survived the attack and Ruby filed for divorce soon afterward.

In the summer of 1916, a mining investor named Morse David and his wife formed a suicide pact; They were found in room 312 of The Congress Plaza Hotel, having ingested cyanide capsules. Mrs. Davis was still barely clinging to life and ultimately survived the suicide attempt. She claimed the couple had mistakenly taken the cyanide, believing it to be Epsom salt. She was sent to St. Mary’s Mission Home on Peoria Street in Chicago where she attempted to jump from a 3rd-floor window. Mrs. David was then admitted to a psychiatric hospital.

In 1919, a young woman was poisoned at a party being held in the Congress Plaza Hotel’s Pompeian Room and narrowly survived. In the same year, an opera singer named Charlotte Callies made an unsuccessful attempt to commit suicide by ingesting poison in her room in the hotel.

In 1920, at least one man was poisoned and killed at the hotel by prohibition-era moonshine.

A woman named Harriet Harrison from Galesburg, Illinois was staying at the hotel with her husband in July 1926 when she accidentally fell six stories down the elevator shaft into the basement and was killed on impact.

In 1928, sloganeer G. Herb Palin, who coined the term “safety first” suffered a fatal heart attack in the hotel

During World War I & II, The Congress Plaza Hotel was used to house immigrants and refugees from war-torn countries.

In 1939, a 43-year-old Czech-Jewish woman named Adele Langer was staying at the hotel with her two sons, Jan Misha (4) and Karel Tommy (6). They were in the country on a six-month visa which was about to expire. Her husband was supposed to join them but was delayed and unreachable. Adele was anxious for her husband to arrive and becoming increasingly nervous that they would soon be deported. She fell into a deep depression and eventually suffered a nervous breakdown. On August 4, 1939, she and the children spent the day at the zoo.  When they returned to their room on the 12th floor of The Congress Plaza Hotel, Adele threw her two sons out the window before jumping herself.  She died completely unaware that on that very day, they had received a letter informing the Langer family they had been offered permanent refuge in Canada. When Mr.Langer received the news that his family was dead, he reportedly threatened to commit suicide himself.

Staff and guests say the 12th floor is by far the “spookiest” area in the hotel. People say in the 12th-floor hallways they experience feelings of panic and the sensation that they are being watched or chased. A six-year-old boy, believed to be the spirit of Karel Langer who was thrown out of a twelfth-floor window by his mother, has been spotted in the hall on countless occasions.

Sometime in the 1940s, a long-time resident of the hotel who had a wooden leg was having breakfast in the hotel when he suffered a heart attack and died.

 In many areas of the hotel, guests and staff, including security guards, have reported seeing a man with a wooden leg who appears to be homeless. This ghost, which has been dubbed the nickname “Peg Leg Johnny” is assumed by most to be the spirit of either an unknown homeless man murdered in the hotel, or the homeless man who is known to have been killed in the alleyway outside. He is said to turn lights and appliances on and off.

 In August of 1950, the Credit Manager and Security Manager of the hotel went to the room of 25-year-old John Raymond who had a $104 unpaid bill. Mr. Raymond told the two to wait there for a moment then retrieved a revolver from the room and shot the Congress Plaza Hotel’s Credit Manager before turning the gun on himself.

 In May of 1966 an attorney from Rockford, Illinois named Frederick Haye was found in his hotel room, naked and strangled by his own shirt. His wrists and feet were bound together with his socks.

Sometime in the 1970s, a woman slit her wrists in a bathtub at the hotel. Allegedly, guests who stay in this room have reported seeing her dead body lying in the tub at night.

Additional deaths reported in the hotel include a taxi driver who jumped from the North Tower, a salesman who purposefully threw himself down an elevator shaft and a husband/father who hung himself from a cupboard hook in his room. At one point, a homeless man was reportedly murdered in the alleyway directly behind the hotel, as well.

Possibly the most disturbing event to have occurred in the hotel was an impromptu exorcism. Hotel staff supposedly confirmed an exorcism was at one time performed there, but refuse to reveal which room it occurred in.

While there have been countless deaths in the hotel itself, The Congress Plaza Hotel has also had a connection with deaths that have occurred outside its walls. Although some people say Al Capone lived in the hotel or even owned it at one point, these reports are not based in fact. He did, however, have a strong connection to the location. Jake “Greasy Thumb” Guzik called Al Capone from a phone in the hotel just before, and after, The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre took place.

Several members from Capone’s gang did live in the hotel in the 1920s and reportedly, held at least one man captive there on Capone’s orders.

Al Capone’s ghost has been reported in the hotel bar and lobby for decades now, and he was known to frequent the hotel in his life. Some of his earliest, “business meetings” took place at the Congress, and the formerly marble-lined corridors beneath the hotel were used for all kinds of “transporting” (cough smuggling cough) of goods.

 Andrew Mack, an insurance salesman, stopped by the hotel to visit a friend. Afterward, he walked to Lake Michigan and drown himself at the foot of VanBuren Street.

James Kennedy from New York checked into the hotel where he cut all the dry cleaner ID tags out of his clothes and burned all his identifying papers. He then walked down to the lake where he shot himself.

Unsurprisingly, many of the 871 rooms in the Congress Plaza Hotel are considered to be haunted. The 4th and 12th floors reportedly have the most activity.

No deaths have occurred in room 441, but this room has been responsible for more terrified calls to the front desk and security than any other. Guests report being kicked awake by a “shadow woman”, strange noises, the bed shaking and other objects moving on their own. Staff admit all the experiences in this room have been eerily similar. In room 474, the television channels change constantly on their own. It is believed to be haunted by the spirit of a judge who resided in the hotel until his death.

In room 759, the door is allegedly pulled shut from the inside when guests try to enter the room. Allegedly, an elderly man resided in that room years ago. One day, his son came to take him to a nursing home. The man wanted to stay so badly, he managed to muster the strength to prevent his son and hotel security from entering for quite some time.

The South Tower is said to only have one guest room which is haunted: Room 905. The phone in this room has not been functional for decades, emitting constant static. However, there are additional reports of paranormal activities in the hallway where a boy, approximately ten-years-old has been seen running up and down the hallways in knee breeches and high button-up boots. Outside the elevator on the 5th floor of the South Tower, people report hearing moaning.

This 12^th floor is also home to one of the many rooms that has been permanently sealed off. Staff revealed the reasoning behind closing this particular room is that it was, “too horrible”.

Rather recently, room 209 was the subject of a viral video: A woman staying in another room of the hotel called the front desk when she heard a female screaming in room 209. Although staff was quite sure no one was checked into the room, they sent a security to investigate. He confirmed there was screaming and eventually decided to enter the room. Inside, he found no one; However, all the furniture had been turned upside down, the carpet was ripped up and the shower was running. He immediately left and the police were called.

One room, which staff members refuse to name, has photos hanging on the wall which many guests have witnessed rotate 360 degrees.

In 1989, two terrified marines fled the hotel at 3:00AM in their underwear; They claimed a towering black figure came out of the closet and approached the bed. Even hotel security has witnessed one of the hotel’s “shadow people”, once chasing a shadowy figure through the halls and up to the roof where they discovered nothing.

Over the years, The Congress Plaza Hotel has turned many die-hard skeptics into believers. Countless guests, from all walks of life, have checked in only to end up fleeing in the middle of the night due to frightening paranormal experiences. In 2014, celebrity chef Pete Evans joined this group after leaving in the middle of the night and hailing a cab to take him to a different hotel. He said staying at the Congress was “one of the weirdest experiences of his life”.