In the shadow of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago—a glittering celebration of human achievement that drew 27 million visitors—stood a building that locals would come to call the “Murder Castle.” Within its walls, a charming pharmacist named Dr. H.H. Holmes was constructing something far darker than anyone could imagine: a three-story hotel specifically designed to trap, torture, and kill his victims. This is the true story of America’s first documented serial killer and the house of horrors he built in plain sight.
The World’s Fair and a City Transformed
Chicago in the early 1890s was a city of boundless ambition. Having risen from the ashes of the Great Fire of 1871, the city was determined to prove itself on the world stage. When Chicago won the bid to host the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition—commemorating the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s arrival in the Americas—the city embarked on an unprecedented construction frenzy.
The exposition would cover 690 acres and feature the first Ferris wheel, electric lights illuminating entire buildings, and architectural marvels that seemed to defy gravity. The “White City,” as it was called for its gleaming neoclassical buildings, represented humanity’s triumphant march toward the 20th century. It was a testament to progress, enlightenment, and civilization.
But while the city prepared to showcase the best of human achievement, something monstrous was taking shape just a few miles away in the Englewood neighborhood.
Herman Webster Mudgett Becomes H.H. Holmes
The man who would become known as H.H. Holmes was born Herman Webster Mudgett on May 16, 1861, in Gilmanton, New Hampshire. His childhood, by most accounts, was relatively normal—though later psychologists would note troubling signs. As a boy, Mudgett reportedly showed fascination with death and was known to trap and kill animals, conducting crude dissections.
Mudgett was intelligent, charming, and ambitious. He studied medicine at the University of Michigan, where he had access to cadavers and developed an intimate knowledge of human anatomy. It was also where he began his criminal career, stealing corpses, disfiguring them, and claiming life insurance policies by pretending the bodies were those of accident victims.
After graduating in 1884, Mudgett moved through various cities, leaving behind a trail of debts, abandoned wives, and suspicious circumstances. By 1886, he had arrived in Chicago, adopted the alias “Dr. H.H. Holmes,” and reinvented himself as a respectable pharmacist.
The Castle Rises
In 1887, Holmes found employment at a drugstore in Englewood owned by a widow named Mrs. E.S. Holton. When Mrs. Holton mysteriously disappeared shortly after Holmes’s arrival, he claimed she had moved to California for health reasons and that she’d sold him the business. Neighbors found this sudden departure suspicious, but no investigation followed. Mrs. Holton was never seen again.
Now established as a legitimate businessman, Holmes began his most ambitious project. In 1888, he purchased an empty lot across the street from the drugstore and began construction on a three-story mixed-use building. The ground floor would house shops and his pharmacy; the upper floors would be a hotel—perfectly positioned to capture the flood of visitors expected for the upcoming World’s Fair.
But Holmes had designed something far more sinister than a simple hotel.
Holmes constantly changed contractors during construction, hiring and firing workers before they could understand the building’s complete layout. No single builder ever saw the full plans. This ensured that only Holmes knew the true nature of what was being built.
The building that rose on the corner of 63rd and Wallace Streets was a labyrinth of horror:
Secret Passages and Hidden Doors: Numerous doorways opened to brick walls or led to narrow crawl spaces. Secret passageways connected rooms in illogical patterns, creating a maze that disoriented visitors.
Soundproof Rooms: Several rooms on the second floor were lined with asbestos and had no windows. The doors could only be locked from the outside. Gas lines ran into these chambers, allowing Holmes to asphyxiate occupants at will.
Trapdoors and Chutes: Greased chutes ran from the second floor to the basement, designed to slide bodies down quickly. Some rooms had trapdoors that opened to long drops.
The Basement Chamber of Horrors: The basement contained a dissection table, a surgical area, and vats of acid and lime. A massive furnace, supposedly for heating but large enough to incinerate a human body, dominated one corner. There were also large pits for disposing of remains.
Alarm System: An elaborate alarm system allowed Holmes to track movement throughout the building from his private office. He would know instantly when someone entered or left any room.
Airtight Vault: One room was constructed as a massive, airtight vault where victims could be locked inside to suffocate slowly.
The building was completed in 1890, three years before the World’s Fair opened. Holmes advertised rooms at reasonable rates, targeting the young, single women flocking to Chicago for work—women whose disappearances might not be immediately noticed.
The Victims
Determining the exact number of Holmes’s victims is impossible. He himself claimed to have killed 27 people, though he later recanted. Investigators suspect the true number could be as high as 200. What is certain is that numerous people who entered Holmes’s “hotel” were never seen again.
Holmes’s victims followed patterns. Many were young women seeking employment, drawn by Holmes’s newspaper advertisements for secretarial positions. Others were female guests at the hotel during the World’s Fair. Some were his own employees. A few were his fiancées or wives—Holmes married at least three women simultaneously, none aware of the others.
One documented victim was Emeline Cigrand, a beautiful 24-year-old stenographer who began working for Holmes in 1892. She wrote enthusiastic letters to her family about her new position and her charming employer. Then her letters stopped. Holmes told inquirers she had eloped with a wealthy man and moved to Europe. Her body was never found, but her clothes were later discovered in the basement of the castle.
Julia Smythe was the wife of one of Holmes’s employees. She began an affair with Holmes and eventually moved into the castle with her daughter, Pearl. Both mother and child vanished. Holmes claimed Julia had moved to Iowa. Neighbors heard Pearl calling for her mother one night, then silence. Neither was seen again.
The Williams sisters, Minnie and Nannie, also fell victim to Holmes’s charm. Minnie, wealthy and naive, became engaged to Holmes. Her sister Nannie came to visit and to question Holmes’s intentions. All of Minnie’s property was soon transferred to Holmes’s control. Both sisters disappeared, their trunks later found in the castle basement.
The World’s Fair Opens
On May 1, 1893, President Grover Cleveland pressed a button that sent power surging through the White City. The World’s Columbian Exposition officially opened to the public, and over the next six months, it would attract visitors from around the globe.
People came by the millions to see the wonders of the modern age: the first moving walkway, the debut of products like Juicy Fruit gum and Cracker Jack, spectacular performances and exhibits from dozens of countries. At night, the buildings illuminated by thousands of electric lights seemed to glow with otherworldly beauty.
And just a few miles away, Holmes’s hotel did steady business. Young women, excited by the fair and the opportunities of the big city, checked in seeking affordable lodging. Many never checked out.
Holmes had refined his technique. He would charm his victims, sometimes romancing them, sometimes simply gaining their trust. He would learn their backgrounds, discover who might come looking for them. If they were isolated, unknown in Chicago, they became ideal targets.
Some he gassed in their rooms as they slept. Others he locked in the airtight vault, listening to their screams fade as the oxygen depleted. Some he tortured in the basement. After death, he would dissect the bodies, sometimes articulating skeletons to sell to medical schools. Flesh and organs went into the acid vats or the furnace. Anything of value—jewelry, clothing, belongings—he kept or sold.
The Investigation Begins
Holmes’s downfall began not with the murders, but with a different crime entirely. In 1894, he had become involved with a career criminal named Benjamin Pitezel in a life insurance fraud scheme. The plan was to fake Pitezel’s death, collect the insurance money, and split it.
But Holmes actually killed Pitezel and kept all the money. He then manipulated Pitezel’s widow, convincing her to let him take three of her five children—Alice, Nellie, and Howard—on a trip, claiming he would reunite them with their father. Instead, Holmes murdered all three children to eliminate witnesses.
Pitezel’s oldest daughter, Dessie, became suspicious and went to the authorities. Detective Frank Geyer was assigned to investigate. His dogged pursuit would eventually expose Holmes’s crimes.
Holmes was arrested in Boston in November 1894 on charges of horse theft—a minor offense that nonetheless put him in custody. As Geyer investigated, he uncovered the insurance fraud, then the murders of Pitezel and the children. The trail led back to Chicago and the mysterious hotel in Englewood.
The Horror Revealed
In July 1895, Chicago police entered Holmes’s building for the first time with search warrants. What they discovered shocked even hardened detectives.
The building was a purpose-built death trap. Room by room, the horrific features revealed themselves. In the basement, they found the dissection table still stained with blood. Bone fragments filled the furnace. Piles of quicklime suggested bodies had been dissolved. Personal effects from dozens of missing persons were found in trunks and hidden compartments.
Perhaps most chilling were the journals Holmes kept, documenting experiments and observations. He had treated murder as a scientific endeavor, carefully recording the effects of various methods of death.
Newspapers across America covered the story with sensational headlines. The “Castle” became a macabre tourist attraction, with thousands paying admission to tour the murder house. The building eventually burned in a suspicious fire in August 1895—many believed Holmes had accomplices who destroyed evidence.
The Trial and Execution
Holmes was tried in Philadelphia for the murder of Benjamin Pitezel. The trial began on October 28, 1895, and lasted five days. The evidence was overwhelming. Holmes initially maintained his innocence, then confessed to 27 murders in a sensational newspaper interview, then recanted again.
Throughout his trial and imprisonment, Holmes remained eerily calm and charming. He gave interviews, wrote his memoirs, and seemed to enjoy his notoriety. Psychiatrists who examined him found a man completely lacking in empathy or remorse—what we would today recognize as a psychopath.
Holmes was convicted and sentenced to death. On May 7, 1896, he was hanged at Moyamensing Prison in Philadelphia. His last words were: “Take your time, old man,” spoken to the executioner adjusting the noose.
In a final bizarre gesture, Holmes requested that his coffin be filled with cement and buried in a deep grave, fearing that his body might be stolen and dissected—the same fate he had inflicted on so many of his victims. His request was granted.
The Psychology of a Monster
H.H. Holmes represents one of the earliest documented cases of what we now call a serial killer—someone who murders multiple victims over an extended period with a cooling-off period between crimes. His case helped establish many patterns that criminal psychologists still study today.
Holmes demonstrated classic psychopathic traits: superficial charm, grandiosity, manipulation, lack of empathy, and a complete absence of guilt or remorse. He could simultaneously romance multiple women, maintain the persona of a respectable businessman, and torture victims to death—switching between roles seamlessly.
What made Holmes particularly dangerous was his intelligence and organizational ability. Unlike disorganized killers who act on impulse, Holmes was methodical. He literally constructed a building designed for murder, planned his crimes carefully, and had systems for disposing of evidence.
His motivations were complex. Financial gain was certainly a factor—he profited from his victims’ belongings and life insurance fraud. But money alone doesn’t explain the torture chambers and the elaborate methods of killing. Holmes seemed to derive genuine pleasure from the act of murder and from his power over his victims.
The Legacy
The H.H. Holmes case had a profound impact on American criminal justice and popular culture. It was one of the first cases to receive nationwide media coverage, with newspapers competing to publish the most sensational details. The story introduced Americans to the concept of the serial killer—a term that wouldn’t be coined for another 70 years but a reality that Holmes exemplified.
Detective Frank Geyer’s investigation became a model for modern investigative techniques. His meticulous tracking of Holmes’s movements, his interviews with witnesses across multiple states, and his patient assembly of evidence demonstrated that even the most cunning criminal could be caught through systematic detective work.
The Murder Castle itself became a cautionary tale about the dangers lurking in rapidly growing cities where anonymity made it easy for predators to operate. The case contributed to reforms in missing persons investigations and helped establish the principle that police should take seriously the disappearances of young women.
Separating Fact from Fiction
Over the decades, the Holmes story has been embellished considerably. Some claims—like the glass-walled asphyxiation chamber where victims could be watched as they died, or the claim that he sold skeletons to specific schools—are likely exaggerations or inventions by sensationalist journalists of the era.
The exact number of victims remains disputed. Holmes confessed to 27 murders, but several of his “victims” were later found alive. Conversely, he likely killed people he never mentioned. Modern researchers estimate between 9 and 200+ victims, with most credible estimates ranging from 20 to 30.
What is undeniable is that Holmes was a prolific killer who operated during the World’s Fair, that he built a structure with features specifically designed to facilitate murder, and that he used his charm and intelligence to prey on vulnerable people.
The Site Today
The Murder Castle was destroyed by fire in 1895 and was never rebuilt. Today, the site at 63rd and Wallace Streets in Chicago’s Englewood neighborhood is occupied by a post office. A small marker notes the location’s dark history, though it’s deliberately understated—the neighborhood has worked hard to move past its association with Holmes.
The story was popularized in modern times by Erik Larson’s 2003 bestselling book The Devil in the White City, which interweaves the story of the World’s Fair with Holmes’s murders. The book introduced Holmes to a new generation and sparked renewed interest in the case.
In recent years, some researchers have conducted archaeological excavations at sites where Holmes reportedly disposed of bodies, discovering bone fragments and personal effects that lend credence to witness accounts from 1895.
H.H. Holmes died over a century ago, but his shadow still looms over American criminal history. He was not the first person to commit multiple murders, but he was among the first to do so with such calculation, such elaborate preparation, and such chilling detachment. While millions visited Chicago in 1893 to celebrate human progress and achievement at the gleaming White City, Holmes built his own monument to human darkness just a few miles away. His Murder Castle stands as a reminder that evil doesn’t always announce itself with obvious signs—sometimes it wears a charming smile, offers assistance, and builds hotels where guests check in but never check out. The story of H.H. Holmes and his house of horrors is not just a tale of one man’s crimes—it’s a warning about the monsters that can hide in plain sight in the anonymity of modern cities, and the vulnerable people who become their prey. In the shadow of humanity’s greatest achievements, the greatest horrors can also find room to flourish.