a seemingly mundane key fob tied to a richly historic demolished chicago hotel

fifty years ago a sunset pink structure with towering stepped profile crumbled to the ground beside lake michigan. under pressure of bankruptcy and the promise of new development, the edgewater beach hotel abruptly closed its doors in the far northern neighborhood of chicago, only to succumb to the wrecking ball soon after.

while a centennial just this year brought together remnants of the old business, it seems that significant artifacts pertaining to the architecture are seldom circulated in the world. within the bldg. 51 collection the only item pointing to the building's long-vanished existence is a small faded green art deco style keyfob and yale & towne cylinder key that once unlocked room 709 on the 7^th floor (in 1937, the edgewood beach hotel converted its entire seventh floor to apartment units, furnished with a modern motif). the fob is a green composite piece in the shape of the building’s footprint, and emblazoned with the hotel name. though a key to those units is perhaps a mundane object, it is still one weighted with symbolism, having been carried by the inhabitant of this opulent architecture.at 5439 sheridan road, just 20 feet from lake michigan, the architects marshall &  fox designed the edgewater beach hotel, which was constructed in two phases between 1916 and 1924. john and james connery, the businessmen behind the hotel itself, hired ben marshall to design the spanish-style stucco building in the form of a maltese or “forked cross.” at its opening in 1916, the hotel had nearly 400 rooms, the majority of which faced the lake. by 1924, a $3 million addition created the adjacent tower building, and added another 600 rooms. in its first decades of existence, the edgewater beach became an icon-- a mainstay for prestigious guests, including actors, musicians and sports stars. during the depression era, the hotel’s long-standing manager booked big bands that solidified the hotel’s iconic stature, as the music was broadcast on the hotel's on radio station from the live performance in its marine dining room. other than vibrant musical acts, celebrities flocked to the illustrious hotel for a reason—it contained such luxurious amenities as a 1200-foot private beach, seaplane service to downtown chicago, a chocolate factory and a print shop.

even as the hotel maintained its stature among well-to-do chicagoans and visitors, a look back at the 1934 chicago tribune reveals that the area was not immune to trials of the time. on august 15th, a dynamite bomb was exploded in the hotel's print shop, injuring several union picketers who claimed the hotel was unfair to organized labor. the blast apparently shattered windows on three floors, and was felt throughout the building. edgewater beach's manager, mr. dewey, charged that the bombing was the work of racketeers. several days later a suspect was apprehended after an anonymous caller warned police to "lay off the waiters' union or get bumped off," and though the identified suspect was a 28-year old former bus boy of the hotel, the nature of the incident seems to be broader in scope. as it turns out, the president of the local of the waiters' union (mentioned in the 1934 article announcing the bombing) was max caldwell--a cohort of al capone. years later, an august 1941 tribune exposé on al capone's "men who prey on labor," names caldwell explicitly as having been arrested for questioning in the bombing of the edgewater beach hotel. max caldwell was known in the union organizing business, and frequently came up in connection to the slugging and intimidation of waiters. it's interesting, amid the grandiose interiors, to discover that even an idyllic hotel complex would have its brush with chicago's notorious mobsters.

leading up to its demolition, in the early years of the 1950’s, lake shore drive was extended so as to cut off the hotel’s access to lake michigan, sounding a death knell for the "beach" hotel. surely, no one foresaw this turn of events, but unhinging shoreline access aggravated financial troubles the business was already experiencing. a single image of the demolition is captioned quite appropriately, "in her death throes, the grand dame of chicago's sheridan road. the edgwater beach hotel is revealed as solidly built. clinging to existence with a vengeance..."