H.H. Holmes’ Murder Castle: Terror at the 1893 World’s Fair

Inside the Murder Castle

Herman Webster Mudgett, operating under the alias Dr. H.H. Holmes, dabbled in various dubious ventures such as real estate and promotions. His insatiable greed would catalyze one of the most gruesome episodes of serial killing to date. Holmes holds the grim distinction of being the inaugural serial killer in American chronicles.

On May 16, 1861, in the quaint town of Gilmanton, New Hampshire, a baby boy was born to Levi Horton Mudgett and his wife Theodate Page Price. This child brought joy to their faces and was named Herman Webster Mudgett. His father was known for his stern discipline while his mother appeared cold and unaffectionate. As a young boy, Herman often faced bullying from others. At the age of five, he had an encounter with a skeleton at a doctor’s office due to some classmates exploiting his fear of such places. Despite being terrified initially upon touching it, this experience sparked an enduring fascination with skeletons that would stay with him throughout his life.

“It was a wicked and dangerous thing to do to a child of tender years and health…”

Holmes recollected of the experience years later.

Herman exhibited an early predilection for science; evidence lies in his construction of a wind machine designed to emit noise potent enough to deter birds from invading family fields. His ambitions didn’t stop there – he harbored aspirations to create a perpetual wind machine.

His passion lay not just within the realm of ideation but also implementation; witnessing his concepts come alive thrilled him immensely. The mere knowledge that he possessed such capability instilled in him profound self-assurance.

In his early years, Herman had a single confidant, a boy by the name of Tom. Their childhood was marked by countless hours spent in innocent play. However, one fateful day while exploring an old dilapidated farmhouse alone, disaster struck. The rotting floorboards on the second story gave way beneath Tom’s weight and he plummeted to his untimely death.

Herman stood over Tom’s lifeless body for a moment, taking in the chilling stillness that had replaced his friend’s vibrant energy. Overwhelmed with shock and fear, Herman fled back home without uttering a word about what transpired at the abandoned farmhouse.

As inquiries about Tom’s sudden disappearance began to circulate among their community members, Herman remained tight-lipped about the incident. His only response was cryptic: “He just fell.” From then on out, Herman never spoke of it again nor did he form any close friendships after this tragic event – an eerie silence that continues to shroud this childhood tragedy in mystery.

Herman Mudgett, a charismatic and strikingly handsome individual, was known for his sharp wit that endeared him to many. His intelligence was not just superficial charm; he proved it by graduating with honors from Gilmanton Academy at the tender age of 16. Not long after this academic achievement, Herman embarked on a career in teaching.

On July 4th, 1978 – two years post-graduation and at only 18 years old – Herman married Clara Lovering, his high school sweetheart. The initial years of their marriage were marked by happiness and the birth of their son. However, beneath this seemingly idyllic family life lurked an undercurrent of discontentment.

In 1886, unable to bear the constraints of domesticity any longer, Herman abandoned Clara and their young son without warning or explanation. He vanished into the bustling cityscape of Chicago leaving behind a bewildered wife who would never lay eyes on her husband again.

Herman’s academic journey led him to the University of Michigan Medical School in Ann Arbor, a prestigious institution from which he would eventually graduate. However, his time there was marked not only by medical studies but also by an intricate and macabre plot that unfolded within the school’s morgue.

In this chilling setting where cadavers were stored for educational purposes, Herman hatched a devious plan. He began pilfering these lifeless bodies with an intent far removed from any scholarly pursuit. His objective? To take out life insurance policies on each stolen corpse.

The scheme involved disfiguring the corpses beyond recognition and then asserting they had met their end in gruesome accidents. Mudgett would subsequently claim the insurance money he had cunningly secured on each individual body.

However, his nefarious activities did not remain hidden for long. The university administration soon became aware of his actions when a vigilant night watchman apprehended him while attempting to remove a female corpse one fateful evening.

This shocking discovery led to immediate repercussions – Herman was expelled from the school permanently, marking an abrupt end to his medical education at Michigan.

In the pursuit of his medical career, Herman relocated to Chicago and secured employment at a local pharmacy. The narrative takes us back to a summer day in 1886 when he stepped into Dr. E.S Holton’s drugstore, strategically positioned at the intersection of Wallace and 63rd in Englewood. At this time, Dr. Holton was grappling with cancer while his anxious wife single-handedly managed the store.

Under the alias of Dr. Henry Howard Holmes, Mudgett presented himself and graciously proposed to assist in managing the establishment’s operations. Without any further inquiries or background checks, Mudgett found himself employed – an event that would set off a chain reaction affecting everyone involved.

Shortly after Mudgett’s hiring, Dr. Holton succumbed to his illness; however, business appeared to thrive rather than falter as one might expect under such circumstances. Local women began frequenting the store more often than before – their visits seemingly motivated by curiosity towards its new handsome druggist.

As time passed and grief continued to consume her life, Mrs. Holton gradually entrusted Holmes with increasing responsibilities within the store until eventually he made an offer she couldn’t refuse: buying out her late husband’s beloved drugstore.

The widow agreed to live upstairs and receive payment. However, Holmes failed to compensate her, prompting Mrs. Holton to seek legal assistance. Shortly thereafter, she vanished without a trace. Concerned friends inquired about her at the store, only to be told by Holmes that she had left for California due to her solitude. Unbeknownst to them, Holmes had swiftly taken over the store, claiming ownership of all its assets.

His success in the pharmacy business and various side ventures enabled him to purchase a three-story house directly opposite his current location. He started designing plans to convert it into a multi-purpose building with a pharmacy on the ground floor, a furnace room in the basement, and guest rooms upstairs for rent. The first floor also housed boutiques and shops while his personal offices and living quarters were located on the third floor. However, what was planned for the second floor would turn out to be one of the most horrifying real-life houses of terror conceivable.

With over 100 rooms in total, he wasted no time in commencing construction. Employing a contractor and a workforce of over 800 men, he set out to complete what would later be hailed as The Mansion. Holmes, in his own parlance, referred to the edifice as his murder castle. Spanning three stories, this labyrinthine hotel served as the heinous abode where he inflicted unspeakable torment and perpetrated countless murders. Shortly after the murder castle’s completion, the contractor and the individual responsible for assembling the nine-room furnace/basement mysteriously vanished.

The castle’s middle floor contained perplexing features such as doors opening to brick walls, stairways to unknown destinations, concealed gas jets, discreet peepholes, and covert alarm systems triggered by opening apartment doors. Notable elements included concealed passageways, kilns, trap doors, a glass bending furnace, an unaccompanied elevator, and an elevator void. Additionally, it held an impervious and noise-resistant vault, chambers of torture, tables for dissection, a crematory, vats of chemicals, pits of quicklime, and slick, human-sized chutes connecting guest rooms to the basement.

Dr. Holmes was rumored to possess a peculiar contraption called the “Elasticity Determinator.” He claimed it could extend test subjects to twice their usual length, with the intention of creating a race of giants. Witnesses who saw it (and survived) likened it to a medieval torture device. It is worth noting that this structure was constructed during the same era as the Chicago fair and exhibition. Numerous individuals had rented accommodations from Holmes.

In a curious turn of events, Holmes had once leased an extensive array of new furniture but found himself in financial straits, unable to settle the bill. When bailiffs arrived at his murder castle to reclaim the items, they were met with empty rooms and no trace of their merchandise. It was only after greasing the palm of Holmes’ janitor that they discovered the missing goods.

The furniture was ingeniously hidden away in an unoccupied room which had been cleverly camouflaged by wallpapering over it – a masterstroke that made it blend seamlessly into its surroundings. The concealed cache was eventually unearthed and reclaimed.

However, another company who had rented a safe to Holmes wasn’t as fortunate. In what can only be described as audacious cunningness, Holmes constructed a room around the safe making its doorway too narrow for removal. Threatening legal action if any damage befell his hotel during repossession attempts, he effectively deterred them from pursuing further recovery efforts. Consequently, this left the safe company with no choice but to abandon their pursuit entirely.

After completing the Murder Castle, numerous guests, mainly women, started arriving from various locations. Many of these were travelers, exquisite individuals who placed their trust in Holmes and vanished forever. Once Holmes had settled his guests in their rooms, he would initiate plans for their demise. As soon as they were inside, the deadbolts would lock and the gas jets activate. Within minutes, most would succumb to their fate. Holmes had installed glass peepholes to observe their suffering. Their lifeless bodies were then disposed of through chutes leading to the basement, where they were incinerated or had their skin removed for the purposes of selling the skeletons. Shockingly, some of Holmes’ victims were innocent children.

After years of getting away with it, detectives began to catch on to Holmes’ scheme. Once arrested, the police were astounded by what they had stumbled upon. Hidden chambers, decaying corpses, and plans only a deranged mind could conceive. Holmes received the death penalty by hanging. On May 7, 1896, Holmes stood on the platform, the trap door awaiting beneath him.

Despite not breaking a sweat, he pleaded with the crowd, denying any involvement in the deaths of his friend and their children. The chief warden then placed the noose around his neck. Holmes calmly remarked, “Don’t bungle the rope and make it quick.” His request was heeded. The trap door opened, and he plummeted six feet. His head tilted to the side, his body spun, and his legs thrashed for a few moments before finally becoming still.

While in prison awaiting his execution, Holmes made a peculiar request – he wanted his body to be buried 10 feet deep and encased in cement. The aim was to prevent any grave robbers from snatching his prized body parts. Strangely enough, his wish was granted, and his final resting place remains unmarked. It’s a baffling twist of irony – a man who inflicted immense pain and torment on others was ultimately terrified of suffering the same fate.