The
hotels construction started in the summer of 1895 and was completed
in only two years. At that time there was not a lot of development in
the coastal town of Belleair, Florida and the building proved to be a
Victorian gem of architecture. The hotel itself is 842,000 square
feet with a basement, five floors, and three wings. She was built
from Florida Yellow Pine and painted white with a green shingled
roof. Huge porches line the exterior of each wing and are the only
place to sit and watch storms roll in over the Gulf. The beauty of
the exterior reflects the beauty and design of the interior. The
basement is a series of tunnels that travel beneath the entire
structure with small, narrow staircases only a few feet wide that go
all the way up to the top floor in each wing. These tunnels and tiny
stairwells were used by servants and those lucky to be employed at
the grand Belleview Biltmore Hotel. Until 1940 these servants and
employees were only allowed to travel through out the hotel using
these avenues as they were not allowed to accompany guests in the
main hallways.
The
first floor is most grand with hallways fifteen feet wide so the
ladies of the time would be able to freely pass each other in the
halls without their dresses touching. The ceiling is fifty feet high
on the first floor with vents above each room to allow plentiful
airflow. Only the wealthiest could afford to stay on the first floor.
The year she opened, a room on the first floor cost between four and
six dollars. The first floor in the main promenade held three
ballrooms, the Tiffany, the Starlight, and the Candlelight. The
Tiffany by far is the most grand with a ceiling a hundred feet high,
chandeliers made of glass and crystal, and enough room for a thousand
people to dine and dance. The Candlelight ballroom was half the size
and holds golden candle chandeliers and wall fixtures with a wall of
windows looking out over a courtyard to the Gulf of Mexico. The
Starlight was dark, with a stage and a rounded ceiling. Within the
ceiling are tiny lights giving the illusion of looking into space at
the infinite clusters of stars. Further down the hall is a grand
ballroom with luxury furniture, priceless art and a grand staircase
comparable to the Titanic's.
From
the first floor to the fifth, the ceilings get shorter and shorter.
The fifth floor has air vents only inches high and were used for only
for the nannies and servants of those wealthy staying on the first
floor. The rooms up there housed many and they shared the few
bathrooms that were in each wing. The lower four floors had various
sized rooms and suites, but the first floor south wing had the most
luxurious sun parlors. Opening the door to a sun parlor is a long
hallway, about twenty feet, that opened into a bright living space
with windows ten feet high. The sleeping quarters could be accessed
by french doors on either the living room side or the hallway. These
rooms make it easy to forget anywhere else exists.
The
petite queen rooms neighbored the larger two bedroom suites and were
only meant for nannies or servants that were needed close by at all
times, the rooms never changed after over a hundred years. The
Belleview Biltmore holds thousands of memories within its walls –
some more mysterious than others.
During
its construction it has been said that a man fell from the fourth
floor to his death down the elevator shaft. This
elevator was operated manually by a large lever and the door is an
iron accordion and behind that door is another. Ten years
later, in 1906, a wealthy man and his family came to the Belleview
Biltmore on holiday. This man also brought with him another woman.
Rumors change over the years, but from what I know, jealousy overcame
her and she poisoned his wife and his two daughters. Either way, they
never made it home to the Carolina's. Years passed without a
tragedy, but then in 1940 the Belleview Biltmore was transformed from
a place of escape, fine dining, and relaxation. World War II
interrupted her peaceful landscape. The hotel became a military
base, housing more than 3,000 military personnel. The hotel is large,
but even for this amount of people it can seem very small.
For
five years the hotel was a place of sadness, a place of loss, and a
place to die. The fourth floor in the east wing became the medical
ward. Many died from injuries suffered over seas, but even more died
from tuberculosis. In the final year of the war, a nurse, perhaps
overcome by tragedy, hanged herself on the fifth floor in the south
wing. Standing in that window she looked out to the Gulf searching
desperately for a soldier and the father of her unborn child. The
horizon tormented her and that was the end, or at least that is how
the story goes.
Over
the next forty to fifty years a few old souls succumbed to nature and
passed away warm in their rented beds, however in 1974 another broken
heart took her own life. Her name was Sharon, she was 27 years old
and to be married. The ceremony was going to be on the west lawn, the
bridesmaids dresses were yellow, and the cake was red velvet. Sharon
was marrying Greg in May on a Saturday afternoon. Sadly, the car Greg
and his best man were riding in blew a tire and slammed into a palm
tree. Greg died on impact just hours before the ceremony. Before
hearing the news, Sharon was sitting the presidential suite getting a
few more curls ironed into her hair. After receiving the tragic
news, Sharon leaped from her fourth floor balcony to the flagstone
walkway below, also dying on impact.
These
were the stories that were running through my mind as I laid in my
bed watching TV on a set that was going on two decades old
technology. The TV was drowning out the noise of settling wood and
dripping water from the sink. I stared at my closet door wondering if
recent guests stories were true. Some checked out in the middle of
the night because they claimed a man was sitting in the chair near
their closet and he would occasionally open and close the door. “He
would just sit there and watch me,” one guest said. She stayed for
two nights out of a five night stay and was nearly in tears when
telling me she had to go before a piece of her could never leave.
Another guest claimed that
every morning their closet door would be opened wide, but each night
they had closed it so tight that the swelling wood would keep it from
opening for anything other than an aggressive pull.
I
had never been alone in any of the rooms before. Before I worked for
the Belleview Biltmore, I would stay there with my mom for a week
every summer for six years. Although we only lived a few miles away,
the Biltmore let us feel as if we were on the other side of the world
. I rarely felt fear when I had company behind those doors, though I
had my suspicions.
I
chose to ignore the fear and I left my room to make some tea, I
thought it would help me sleep. I opened the door to my room and the
hallway was surprisingly quiet, even the sound of my own breath sent
a chill down my spine. I walked slowly down the hallway looking up to
the plumbing that ran along the ceiling. I opened the employee door
to the old hidden stairwell to take me to the basement. That is where
the employee lounge was and the only place to get anything to drink
after 2 am. As I approached the basement lounge I searched for the
light switch, but the darkness didn't allow me to find it. I felt
along the wall with both of my hands, one foot stepping over the
other and started to feel like I no longer needed any hot tea, but it
was too late to turn around now. When I finally entered the lounge,
the only light came from the fountain machine and it was duller than
a small candle. I approached the tables against the long wall to my
right and picked up a foam cup to fill with hot water. For the first
time I felt that I was really being watched by unknown eyes. I could
see to my left a shape blacker than the darkness moving painfully
slow along the adjacent wall , to the wall behind me, and then to the
wall on my right. I froze completely and I thought if I stayed still
it wouldn't know I was watching him - watching me. I picked up a
Lipton tea packet and struggled to open it as I held my cup with my
left hand. As I pulled the tab and string, my hands shook
uncontrollably and I felt the pressure on the right side of my face.
It was right next me, I felt my neck pulse and I froze again. I
prayed to God and counted to three when I turned to face what was
tormenting me. Like the haze generated from overwhelming heat it
slowly vanished and I ran. I went through a tunnel over a fifty yards
long with one 60 watt light bulb and headed for the exit. I lost half
my tea in the run and pushed the door open with incredible force. It
took me to the back of the hotel and I walked nearly a quarter of a
mile around the property to enter back through the front lobby. I
returned to my room shaken and laid in my bed. The settling wood
started to have a pattern in its noise, like footsteps pacing from
one side of my bed to the other. I reached to my end table and
grabbed a few tissues to stuff in my ears. The temporary deafness and
hiding beneath my sheets allowed me to fall asleep. When the sun came
through my window I felt the fear disappear and prepared for another
shift downstairs. I didn't tell anyone for weeks, until I assured
myself it really happened and I wasn't crazy.
A
few months later a guest from the fourth floor called down to the
front desk around 10 pm and asked if we could send someone up to the
fifth floor to ask if they could quiet down. They claimed that it
sounded like someone was moving furniture around and talking loudly.
I apologized and informed the guest that the fifth floor has been
closed down since 1983, more than 20 years ago. In addition to it
being closed and locked off, there was no furniture, no carpet, no
electricity, and no people. I offered to move them to a lower floor
and they more than gladly accepted. At the end of my shift I asked
Butch the security guard to come with me to check out the fifth
floor. We took the old elevator, the original one. The newer
elevators only go to the fourth floor. When we opened the doors and
looked out in the emptiness, each of us had a hard time sticking our
heads out. The hallway was more than two hundred yards of opened
doors and empty rooms. We quickly shut the doors and headed back
downstairs. I didn't go back up there for almost six months.
About
a year after I started working there, myself and another coworker
went up to the presidential suite when we got off work. Some rich guy
checked out that afternoon and he had left all the complimentary
booze in the refrigerator. This suite is 1600 square feet with four
bedrooms, four bathrooms, a full kitchen, formal dining room, and
huge living room and balcony. The same balcony Sharon had jumped
from. We flipped on the TV and it was not long before we both heard
the sound of furniture being dragged across the wooden floor beams
and large foot steps directly above us. We both abandoned our drinks
and nearly tripped over each other running down the hallway to the
staircase. As I walked to my car that night I turned back to look at
the window above the presidential suite. The darkness seemed opaque
and it was like something was hiding behind the clear glass, peering
down at me.
I
eventually got used to the feeling of being watched, they never hurt
me, though some nights I would return home feeling as if I still was
not alone. I found myself recalling memories I had never created
myself. I started to frequent the fifth floor more often, and the
fourth floor east wing. The entire floor of that wing had also been
closed since the 1980's and the eerie silence and the mystery of that
silence intrigued me. I wanted to know more about those who perished
within these walls. I was told by the bartenders that some nights
when they were closing down, when their backs were turned, bottles of
booze would be moved to their shelves and glasses seemed to clean
themselves.
After
the many years of being attached to the hotel, I felt like I was a
part of it and it was absolutely a part of me. The hotel was
eventually sold to a real estate tycoon from California who wanted to
level the place and turn it into condos. Fortunately, the historical
society of Belleair kept him from tearing it down. It closed after
being open for 112 years.
I
went back for the first time after a year of it being abandoned.
Butch still worked there as the only employee. He stood watch alone
in that giant building and I swear he had gone mad. At the least he
was disconnected from the living world. He allowed me and one of our
old co-workers to return and look around. It was sad, the whole place
looked dead. The carpet had been removed, the art was gone, and the
chandeliers had all been sold in an auction. The hotel was scary
enough in the summer months when occupancy was next to nothing. Now
it was truly a place to learn fear and mortality. Butch walked us
around and told us about a little girl. She was no longer shy and
came out every night to play. Butch said he would sit in the halls in
the dark just observing the movements and the whispers. He said there
was more of them than anyone had originally thought.
Every
hall of every wing on every floor was gray, black, and devoid of
life. We walked down these halls searching for something, but praying
we would find nothing. I entered a room while Butch followed and when
we came out every door in the long hallway was opened. Frightened I
turned to go back, but I could not go alone. I didn't know if I would
make it out with my sanity. Butch called out a name, and another. I
witnessed three round shapes, one on top the other, peering out from
behind a door frame and then they all started appearing, door after
door they stepped out. I took a step back and felt my heart beating
faster and faster. I turned to find my old co- worker and she was no
where in sight and I was too scared to call out her name. I turned
back to grab Butch and get the hell out of there, but he was gone. I
panicked and ran to the old elevator. I felt temporary relief when I
closed the elevator doors, but feared having to reopen them.
When
I reached the first floor and I opened the doors, I was greeted by
lights and clean carpets. A man stood there and he seemed pleasant
enough. He asked me if I was alright and I can't remember if I
responded. Confused, I walked down the hall towards the exit.
Everything looked new and the sun was shining through the window in
the door ahead. I turned back to look at the man from the elevator
and the hall grew black and the floor was bare. I ran out the door
and remembered it was midnight now, the sun had been down for hours.
I saw my old co-worker standing by the car and she asked me what it
was like up there. I didn't know what to say, I thought she was
there. I told her I left Butch up there and she asked me “who is
Butch?”
