Featured image credit: Alexander Migl
It’s not quite the Hotel California, but it’s still allegedly quite difficult to check out of the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood. At least if you believe the rumors. The ones about haunting melodies carrying down corridors from unidentifiable sources. Or shadows moving in ways that shadows shouldn’t move. Even the occasional account of incorporeal cads getting a bit handsy. It’s nothing new for haunted Hollywood. But what sets the Roosevelt apart from other alleged hubs of paranormal patronage is that a few of its rumored revenants are quite famous… even decades after their demise.
The Halcyon Days of the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood
In the early 1920s, a group of notable investors including Douglas Fairbanks, Sid Grauman (yeah, the Chinese Theater guy), and Mary Pickford raised $2.5 million to bring Hollywood’s swankiest hotel into being. That figure would be over $45 million today, but these were the Hollywood elite.
On May 15, 1927, their investment opened its doors. Looming 12 stories from its spot at 7000 Hollywood Boulevard, the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood wasn’t just a place to rest your head as you passed through town. Intricately painted ceilings lifted high upon columns of masterfully crafted marble. Wrought-iron chandeliers set light and shadow dancing along its every surface in an endless waltz of excess. Babbling fountains whispered the secrets of the stars in languages too elite for human ears.
By 1929, the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood had already solidified itself as the cushioned seat of Hollywood’s pantheon, commemorated when it hosted the first annual Academy Awards (a.k.a. The Oscars). And though the ceremony lasted a mere five minutes, it imbued the hotel with an immortality that was immediately golden… and eventually grim.
The Roosevelt Hotel’s Brush with the Grave
Over the decades, the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood never died. But time did work its tarnishing curse. Still, the looming hotel remained in perpetual motion. Guests came and went. So did owners. And so too did parts of the hotel itself. By the 1950s, areas were in various states of demolition. Contracted painters obscured the once glorious ceilings with a thick, impenetrable fog of seafoam green. It was like a creeping maritime mist that separated its golden past from its steep decline.
The gilded immortality promised by those early years almost crumbled away in the 1980s when owners considered the demolition of the Roosevelt Hotel. But then, luxury hotel chain Radisson swooped in with a plan… and, more importantly, a $35 million investment. Backed by original blueprints and vintage photographs, a team set to work restoring the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood to its original grandeur. In the wake of the restoration, the grounds were further beautified by a tri-level fountain, and the lobby heralded opulence for the first time in decades.
In 2015, nvestors put another $25 million into renovating the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood, updating its 300 hotel rooms and 63 suites to modern standards of luxury. Though it had spent the ‘80s on the verge of the grave, it rose again with a distinct sparkle that had not glimmered since its genesis. And perhaps the hotel was not the only entity to return from death’s embrace, seeking a second helping of those lustrous years.
Marilyn Monroe’s Mirror
Arguably the most luminous guest of the hotel’s near-century, Marilyn Monroe resided at the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood for two years at the start of her career. She favored a cabana on the second floor, overlooking the sparkling swimming pool. It was on the diving board of this pool that she shot her first magazine ad. As Monroe’s star rose, the Roosevelt furnished the budding icon with a full-length mirror set in a frame of richly stained wood. Owners relegated it to the manager’s office when the starlet tragically died at age 36.
Naturally, Monroe’s former presence makes Suite 1200 a high-demand room at the Roosevelt these days. But talk to certain guests and staff and they’ll tell you that Monroe’s presence may not be former after all. Legend has it that a maid was dusting the mirror when she noticed a woman fitting Monroe’s description, peering forlornly from the glass. Mistaking her for a confused guest, she turned to ask if she could help, only to find no one in the room with her. Since then, the mirror has been moved into the corridor, giving guests equal opportunity to catch a glimpse of the deceased star through the looking glass.
The Life and Death of a Method Actor
In 1953, four-time Academy Award nominee Montgomery Clift holed up in Room 928 of the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood, preparing for his upcoming role as an Army bugle boy in the war drama From Here to Eternity. What could only be to the chagrin of neighboring guests, Clift was taking the role seriously, trying to get into the mind frame of his character by trumpeting melodies of grief and despair. Despite making it into Hollywood legend, the actor lived a rough life. Surviving a disfiguring car accident, struggling with drug addiction, and hiding his attraction to men, Clift died from a heart attack at age 45.
But guests and staff alike suspect that Clift is one of the more active spirits regularly returning to the Roosevelt. Room 928 has more than its fair share of unexplained phenomena: mostly radiators and radios turning on with no earthly prompting. But Clift’s identity is more closely tied to the tragic bugling that can be heard at times howling down the corridors. Some have even claimed to see the actor pacing the halls, lost in tortured thought.
But Clift is also alleged to be one of the few spirits that crosses into the physical realm. Guests of Room 928 have credited his ghost with nudges and caresses. Others have claimed that his apparition has actually forcibly held them down in their beds in the night. It’s worth noting that these accounts mirror the symptoms of sleep paralysis. After all, Clift had a hard enough life without posthumous assault accusations.
The Blossom Ballroom Boo Crew
When the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood hosted the pioneering five-minute-long introductory Academy Awards, the celebration took place in its Blossom Ballroom. You can still visit it today. You just might need to save some room on the dancefloor for the spirits. Monroe is among those from the spectral realm witnesses have seen soft-shoeing her way across the room. But witnesses tend to more frequently spot a couple of sharp-dressed shades loitering in the Blossom Ballroom.
Rumors place the first as a forgotten actor from the 1920s, distinguished by his pure white tuxedo. The numerous psychics visiting the hotel over the decades seized on his presence, claiming he was an Oscar-nominee returning to that evening over and over again. The second Blossom Ballroom regular also dons a white tux, but staff and visitors seem to believe he’s not the same spirit. He can often be seen (and heard) serenading audiences in this plane (or the next) on the ballroom’s piano. If confronted, he simply dematerializes.
Poolside Poltergeist
In 1988, artist David Hockney gave the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood one of its most distinguished attractions by dropping into the drained swimming pool and painting squiggly lines characteristic of his artwork across the bottom. The result is a work of art worth millions of dollars. Oh, and you can swim in it too. When the water ripples, it sets the painting dancing in a hypnotic pattern that we’re sure Monroe would have loved had she lived to see it (though, you could just ask her yourself if you catch her in the mirror).
While no one has spotted Monroe’s ghost around the pool, the area does attract its own special specter. Security staff for the hotel claim that they’ve seen a being swimming in the pool after operating hours. However, when they arrive on the scene, there is no trace of aquatic intrusion. Not even a drop of water.
The Eternally Lost Child of the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood
When psychic Peter James visited the Roosevelt Hotel Hollywood in 1992, he allegedly caught sight of a little girl’s ghost in the Academy Room. He managed to make contact with her in the Penthouse Library, learning that her name was Caroline. Staff and guests alike have claimed to see Caroline, noted for her distinctive pink jacket and denim jeans. Sadly, she seems locked in an eternal quest to find her mother, sometimes communicating that she’s afraid that her mother is hurt.
This doesn’t mean Caroline is averse to playing. A receptionist mistook her for a corporeal guest when she saw her skipping and singing throughout the lobby like any carefree child. She can sometimes be found frolicking in the corridors as well, though often dematerializes when approached.
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