Sunday, August 26, 2018

THE DEVIL CAME TO FORT WORTH


If you've read Erik Larson's The Devil in The White City, then you need no introduction to the monster that was "Doctor" Henry Howard Holmes, an alias for Herman Webster Mudgett, who in the 1890s murdered many men, women, and children in his building in Chicago that became known as The Murder Castle. However, you might not know that Holmes also built a second such building in Fort Worth, TX.
As pressure mounted in Chicago for his various criminal schemes and suspicions of foul play, Holmes relocated to Fort Worth in July 1894 under the pseudonym O. C. Pratt. There, he and a criminal compatriot of his by the name of Benjamin Pitezel (using the alias Benton T. Lyman) undertook construction on another mixed-use building like one in Chicago on property willed to him by the Williams sisters, two real estate heiresses from the Dallas-Fort Worth area.  Holmes had met Minnie Williams the year before when the one-time actress had moved to Chicago.  The serial bigamist offered her a job as a stenographer before going to work on her affections as well. However, once he used his charms to gain ownership of her property, Holmes had little use for her or her sister and neither was seen again after July of 1893.

In Fort Worth, Holmes went about constructing his new building at the corner of 2nd and Rusk (later renamed Commerce*) in the same manner in which he had built his castle in Chicago. He would hire workers to begin construction and then suddenly fire them without payment, citing shoddy workmanship as his reason. Then another crew would be brought in to continue. In this way, not only did he erect a building cheaply, but it would be constructed in such a way that no one but Holmes would fully understand its secrets. The three story wooden structure resembled his Chicago abode in many respects and we can only assume it had the same deadly features as well.
 
But time was running out for Holmes. Unlike in Chicago, Texans weren't putting up with this business of not paying the workmen. Furthermore, Holmes wasn't having much luck with his schemes and it would be a charge of horse theft in Texas that would finally seal his fate.
Holmes was only in Fort Worth for four months before he was off again with a scheme to bilk insurance companies by first faking his own death (a plan that didn't pan out) and then actually collecting on Benjamin Pitezel's life insurance—by killing him.

Eventually, the law caught up with him in November 1894 when Pinkerton agents tracked him down as he was preparing to flee the country from Boston. He was arrested on an outstanding warrant for horse theft in Texas.  Over the next few months, his secrets became unraveled and by October 1895, Holmes was being charged for the murder of Benjamin Pietzel. It was only during the process of the trial that the full scope of his crimes came to light. Holmes confessed to 27 murders in total. Some believe he was being modest and the number was much higher. However, there are critics who charge that he was being boastful, and that in fact he didn't kill nearly as many people as he claimed.

Meanwhile the property in Fort Worth, which the Fort Worth Gazette called "the Rusk Street fire trap" was auctioned off to pay back creditors. After his trial, the Pratt Building (as it was usually termed) was even advertised as Holmes' Castle. It continued to serve as a cheap hotel for years afterward before eventually being torn down at some undetermined point. It periodically shows up in newspaper advertisements under various names, such as St. Elmo Hotel, but by the 1930s the property is no longer mentioned. It may have been demolished around this time, sat abandoned, or was simply such an abysmal flop house that advertising was no longer warranted. The area in which it stood was located had changed into one of automobile sales and service businesses.

The site of the hotel is now occupied by a small single story 1981 brick addition to the historic Plaza Hotel building next door, as well as a portion of the Flying Saucer pub's outdoor patio. Not much of the area looks as it did in Holmes' day. Fire station No. 1 still stands since its construction in 1907 and the Plaza Hotel began as the Inman Hotel in 1908, but there's hardly any trace of the buildings that stood there only 10 years prior.

Rumor was that there were strange chutes built throughout the building that led to the basement. Perhaps these were merely laundry chutes, but it's also true that in the years after Holmes' execution, subsequent newspaper accounts would confuse what happened in Chicago and what never had a chance to happen in Fort Worth. Still, there were rumors of strange smells coming from the alley side of the building at the time. Some believed his death trap had already claimed victims.

One can't help but wonder what ghosts stalk these bricked streets when the susurrus of restaurants and bars quiets in the deep hours of night.

*In Holmes' day, Commerce Street was Rusk Street after Thomas Jefferson Rusk (1803-1857), a famous general at the Battle of San Jacinto, signatory of the Texas Declaration of Independence, and later the new Republic's commander-in-chief and first chief justice prior to moving on to the US Senate. In all, Rusk was a seemingly ideal candidate to join the ranks of other notable men for whom the north-south streets in downtown Fort Worth are name. However, in 1909, business leaders were requesting a name change to Commerce Street. The reasons for this aren't clear. It could be that Rusk Street, being the heart of Hell's Half-Acre (a term many communities had for the area in which brothels and saloons were located) was becoming synonymous with vice, corruption, and murder. Over the years, three police officers were gunned down on Rusk Street. Given this atmosphere, it comes as no surprise that Holmes' would have chosen the location for his hotel of horror.



 

No comments: