Saturday, February 10, 2317

    The Torture Castle - 1893


    March 27th, 1893
    K. Shaw
    World's Fair Hotel
    Chicago, Illinois


    This is my fifth jump to the World's Fair Hotel, and I am growing tired of landing in this miserable closet.  It is tiny and dark, and it reeks of chemicals.  In a few months, as the body count rises, it will reek of something far worse.  Inconveniences aside, this horrid little hole provides excellent access to the site of one of the most horrific and mysterious murder sprees in American history. Hopefully after today I can move on to something a bit less gruesome.


    World's Fair Hotel
    The World's Fair Hotel, at 701 Sixty-Third Street, looks much the same as any of the other hotels that were hastily constructed or remodeled during the past few months by enterprising businessmen eager to cash in on the millions of tourists that will soon pour into Chicago for the 1893 Columbian Exposition. The lower floor of this building, which neighbors have dubbed The Castle, is taken up by several small businesses, including a restaurant and a pharmacy owned by Dr. H. H. Holmes, who designed the building himself.


    Those familiar with the history of Chicago will no doubt recognize the name, as H.H. Holmes ranks among the most notorious serial killers in American history.  No one is quite sure how many lives Holmes ended.  A modest appraisal would put the total around fifty, but the remains that police will discover throughout the hotel  when the case breaks in 1895 are so numerous and so unidentifiable that others estimate the body count as closer to 200.  

    Although he committed several murders elsewhere, the Chicago killings accounted for the vast majority of Holmes's victims.  Most seem to have disappeared from his hotel during the six months of the World's Fair, but several women who were known or suspected to have had romantic relationships with Holmes in 1891 and 1892 were found among the bodies, so it's almost certain that there are several bodies in the building now. Chambermaids, janitors and even a few guests have commented on the pervasive smell of decay on this side of the second floor.  


    The structure of the hotel plays a central role in the mystery surrounding Holmes, with many hidden rooms designed solely for killing, an asphyxiation chamber, and a basement outfitted with a lime-pit and a small crematorium for disposing of bodies. (Holmes has also been known to raise a little extra cash by selling fully-articulated skeletons to local medical schools.) The foul little closet I arrived in (marked on the map below by a red arrow) was set as a stable point to allow CHRONOS researchers to get in and out with minimal risk of discovery, especially when dressed as I am, in full 1890s chambermaid regalia.  With a cloth and bucket in hand to provide cover, I open the closet door and step into the "Five Door Room."  

    Holmes targets women
    Map of the Castle - 2nd Floor
    and the hotel has provided him an unparalleled opportunity to lure victims who might not be missed for several months.     Transient laborers often disappear, and by the end of 1893, the Chicago police will have lists of several hundred missing persons. A severely depressed economy has flooded the city with thousands of job-seekers, many of them female, since Chicago, with the upcoming Exposition, is one of the few places in the country where work can still be found.  

    At least some members of the Chicago police force will soon become aware of the odd design of Holmes's building, due to ongoing complaints by several local companies.  Holmes furnished this building on credit, and having failed to make the agreed-upon payments, his creditors are trying to repossess the numerous beds and other items of furniture that Holmes has acquired.  Agents hired by the company and the sheriff's office have all failed to locate the goods.  

    Despite several charges pending against him, police seem inclined to give Holmes the benefit of the doubt.  This could be attributable in part to his renowned charisma, but I suspect it is due more to the fact that the policemen in this part of town are always treated to free coffee and food in Holmes's restaurant.  The complaints against him have, however, reached a crescendo and an investigation is now unavoidable.  One of the largest creditors, the Tobey Company, bribed an employee who was angry at Holmes for failing to pay wages and the worker revealed that some of the missing furniture is stashed in one of many secret rooms scattered throughout the building.   

    After a few minutes on my knees pretending to clean the baseboards, I heard footsteps in the hallway.  Holmes and four other men entered the room.  Two were in police uniforms, looking a bit uncomfortable.  I recognized them from my previous jumps as frequent patrons of the restaurant downstairs.

    The younger, thinner cop wrinkled his nose as entered, sniffing a few times as he glanced around the room.  He leaned down toward me and whispered, "Don't want to get you in bad with your boss, Miss, but I think you have a dead mouse somewhere in here."

    I glanced up.  He had earnest gray eyes and looked to be in his early twenties, with red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. I had a fleeting urge to punch a hole in the fake wall in front of me, so that he could see that the problem was far bigger than a dead mouse, but I fought it down.   

    "Yessir," I said softly. "Could be we do." 


    H. H. Holmes
    Holmes took a few steps back toward the hallway. "You are perfectly welcome to check in any of these rooms, Officers.  As you can see, this one is empty."  He pointed behind him to a room on his right.  "As is this one.  If you'll follow me through here, I can show you the second-hand furniture in my reception room, but it certainly doesn't meet the description these gentlemen have given you.  It belonged to my mother-in-law. My partner has assured me that he delivered payment in advance, per my instructions, for our purchases from your company, but as you can see, the merchandise was never delivered.  Now our cash is tied up in this matter and we're having a devil of a time locating suitable replacem—"

    A rumbling noise emerged from the dumbwaiter behind me.  The shaft runs from the restaurant to the other floors of the building and it's larger than most conveyances of its type. This isn't surprising since it was designed for double duty—it transports dishes and food between the various floors of the hotel during the day, but Holmes also uses it after-hours to move dead bodies from this floor to the basement. 

    The body inside the dumbwaiter today was very much alive, however. He pushed open the door with one dark hand and motioned to one of the men standing near the doorway with Holmes.   "Mr. Tobey, I found it, sir.  It's just where my friend said it would be.  If you can just come over here, I'll show you."

    I kept rubbing the cloth along the baseboards, but glanced back over my shoulder as Holmes and the men moved toward the dumbwaiter.  There was another brief grinding of gears and the young black man dipped downward.  Only the top of his head was visible, and then I could no longer see even that, since the door was blocked by five men who were all attempting to peer through the elevator door.  

    Holmes was the first to speak.  "Well, I'll be damned.  Is that a room?  It's just hanging there, halfway between this floor and the next!  How on earth is something like that even constructed?"

    The older, chubbier cop shook his head.  "I have no idea, Dr. Holmes.  Never seen anything like it.  Looks like it is full of the missing mattresses and other furniture, however."

    "Gentlemen, you must believe me.  I had no idea this room was here.  I purchased this building a few years ago and one of my partners—he's currently in New Jersey—oversaw the renovations."  Holmes pushed a stray piece of hair back from his forehead and then looked in my direction.  "How long have you been with us, Miss—?"  

    "It's Alice, sir," I answered, my head low and my eyes glued to the floor.  "Only two weeks.   Your wife hired—"

    He waved a hand dismissively and turned back to the men.  "She wouldn't remember Campbell, then. He was in charge of the renovations.  As the officers can tell you, Mr. Tobey, I travel a great deal and my partner fills in for me while I am away.  I would never have believed him capable of this kind of treachery.  Clearly Campbell was planning to sell these goods behind my back.  He's probably pocketed the money he was entrusted with for these purchases as well." 

    Campbell is the latest in a string of fictional characters Holmes has created to hide his business transactions.  Even knowing this, however, I found myself understanding how so many people were taken in by Holmes.  His voice was filled with such conviction that I half expected Campbell to materialize out of thin air.   

    He took a few steps back, moving toward the door, and leaned against the wall for support.  I pulled in a sharp breath.  Six inches to the right and his elbow would have gone through the wallpaper and into the hidden room where police detectives will find three mangled and badly decomposed corpses.  


    Chicago Daily Tribune, March 31, 1893.
    Holmes slid downward slowly and sat, shaking his head, a few yards away from me. Tobey was the only one of the bunch who clearly doubted the story.  He gave Holmes one last look of contempt and turned his attention to his two employees, who were trying to figure out how they were going to remove the furniture that was wedged into the hidden room.  Tobey will take his case to the media, and the Chicago Daily Tribune will run an interesting investigative piece next week that pokes multiple holes in Holmes's claim about Campbell and the missing goods, but no official action will be taken.

    The older of the two policemen walked over to Holmes and offered him a hand up.  "If you can provide us with a description and his last known address, Dr. Holmes, perhaps we can help you locate your partner.  I know you'd like to get this matter cleared up as soon as possible."

    Holmes took the cop's hand and pulled himself to his feet, giving him a grateful smile.  "I most certainly would, Officer Bailey.  Matters like this can take such a dreadful toll on a man's reputation, and in my line of work, reputation is everything.  Let me get my papers and I'll meet you in the restaurant.  I understand Daisy has an excellent apple cake on the menu today..."

    The younger cop glanced back over his shoulder, his nose twitching, before following his partner and Holmes, whose voices trailed off as they headed back toward the stairs.  I dropped the cloth into the bucket and went back into the small, dark closet for the return jump to HQ.  

    I know that things must occur in their own time, and I am just here to observe, but sometimes that job is difficult to reconcile with my conscience.  The police walked right past the truth today but were too focused on missing furniture and free apple cake to pay attention. Who knows how many lives might have been saved if the younger cop had followed his nose instead of his partner?  Or if I had yielded to that brief desire and pointed him in the right direction?

    Learn more about the World's Fair Hotel and H.H. Holmes:
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