“Sometimes places create inhuman monsters.”
–The Shining (Stephen King)
This is the balcony of the Gold Ballroom. If you want to have your wedding reception here, it’s a cool $30,000. Our group had to be let in by a security guard, who has had objects thrown at him and has heard his name called in his ear when doing rounds. The room is vast, the carpet is ugly, and the whole deal gives you the vibe that the room is actually sentient. If only one place in the Congress is actually haunted, I would bet money that the Gold Room is it. Just entering it makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.
A recent episode of Empire filmed here. As one of the actresses sat at these tables during a scene, her body language became tense. After the scene cut, she left the ballroom abruptly and refused to return. When asked what it was that startled her, she said that someone had begun violently tugging on her hair. Allegedly, she is still on the show, but her contract now specifies that she will not re-enter the Gold Room under any circumstances.
A similar story surrounding celebrities revolves around the Congress as a whole. In the early 90’s, the slasher Candyman was being filmed in the Chicago area. One of the top-billed cast, perhaps Tony Todd, was supposed to stay at the Congress during shooting. According to our security guard, the actor spent no more than ten minutes in his room before fleeing back downstairs with his bags. The security guard asked him why he no longer wished to stay there, offering to move him rooms (publicity was understandably important). Visibly frightened, the actor leaned in and told our guide, “What you got here … it ain’t for me.” He would never return to the hotel.
Another of the fascinating rooms we were able to view was this nondescript upstairs banquet hall where Al Capone used to play cards. Capone had a well-known fear of being shot from behind, so his favorite seat in this room was up against the wall, which he knew had three inches of concrete behind it. The door to this room is very oddly placed; when you enter, your tendency is to turn to the left to face the majority of the rectangular space. If you were entering with the intent of doing harm to Capone, you would likely have your back turned to him, at which point it would probably be too late for you. That is, if you made it that far. The room also has several large windows with a balcony where Capone’s men would look out on the street to warn him of approacing danger.
I believe the ghost stories surrounding Capone the least. The Windy City already has a sizeable claim to the gangster, but he died in Miami Beach from refusing to take his syphillis medication. Is it logical that Capone would return to– well, haunt– his favorite haunts? Maybe. Although I highly doubt it, this was a unique piece of history without the ghost lore.
So, too, was the nearby Florentine room, where Capone had his parties. I confess that it was around one in the morning by the time we reached our last stop and I was more interested in starting the three-hour drive home than I was in a piano that allegedly plays by itself. At this point I had been awake for almost 20 hours, so if I’d heard the laughter of any drunk flappers, I might have had to put it down to sleep deprivation.
Did I see or hear any ghosts at the Congress hotel? No. Did I see lights go off by themselves and experience some heightened alertness in rooms that contain a lot of history? Yes. I remain firm in my assertion that things have a logical explanation most of the time. But what we can’t explain is how drastically we are affected by the stories of those who have come before us. I think that’s what I’m into the ghost hunt for.
Perhaps the last thing you’re wondering is if I’ll stay at the Congress next time I’m in Chicago. The answer is HELL NO.
-N
The Macabre Librarian 