A hotel by the river

This is the Riverview Hotel which opened in 1887 and burned down 10 years later in 1897. It was built by Emory Cobb and managed by Jewett Wilcox.

June 8th, 1895 

A ten-year-old’s opinion of the Hotel Riverview: It’s boring. There are too many grown-up things to do when the Electric Park is nearby. But here, all there is to do is look at a giant lake, and that’s it. I’d rather be at the Green Lantern dance pavilion or watching one of the shows at the theatre. But instead, we had to go to the Riverview Hotel, my mother said, while all my friends said they were going to the Electric Park for their summer holidays.

      Mother even said the hotel has seen better days and that Father is thinking about taking up one of the rooms for a while so that he’s got somewhere to stay during his business trips to Chicago. She likes doing new things, and so does my older sister. According to my friends, the Electric Park was brand new last year and that they even had a bathhouse that wasn’t good enough for the hotel. I thought I was very convincing, telling my family about dance-a-thons and trolleys and how the bulbs light up the streets in the evenings. Instead, Mother and my sister fancy a game of croquet while Father attends his meetings.

      If we were going to come to have fun, anyway, we should have gotten one of the larger rooms. Instead, we had to settle our little family vacation in one of the smaller rooms on the second floor with pillows so red they looked like the strawberries at our orchard and wooden tables that mother told me to be careful around because they were oak. I’ve seen oak trees before, and none of them are as shiny as my bedside table with its two drawers. 

      I try to imagine what it’s like staying in one of those giant suites that everyone keeps talking about, and Father says we can’t afford. I’ve seen one of them before. One of the staff took us on a tour, and I could see why they called them suites. There was a little bowl of candy on one of those middle tables between a couch and two chairs. That’s not nearly enough sweets to call the room a “suite” though, in my opinion. And the way they spell “suite” looks more like “suit.” That’s what my sister told me after we got off the ferry. I wanted to take the train, but my mother and sister wanted the ferry. Why they call it a ferry, I don’t know either. It doesn’t even have wings. It just sits in the water and then goes when it wants to at the slowest pace. It took forever to get off the water. Trains are so much faster. Father gets to take the train; apparently, it’s how everyone gets around.

      Mother and Father say to count my blessings, but I don’t feel blessed today at all. Take me to the Electric Park and I would feel much better. How great is this place anyway? Well, I have five more days here, Mother says, so I guess I’ll find out. 

August 30, 1887

The Chicago Wholesale Grocer Picnic is over and done, and business is still rampant at the Riverview Hotel. As a lover of literature, not just a businessman, I aspire to make such a living in this adored place. What a dear man to build it and make our city lives and business trips a tad less important. There’s always time to enjoy the view and breeze of the Kankakee River, of that I am sure now. Not to mention the accompaniment of such spacious floors with lush blue carpets and decorative plants. The porches and my fellow guests would agree with me, are a favorite spot, especially in this August heat. 

      I was a bit peeved by the fact that on the other side of the northern banks is the Illinois Eastern State Hospital for the Insane. Sometimes, childish as I am, I’ll listen for any signs of pandemonium as I watch that tall clocktower’s needle-pointed top loom above the trees. Then I feel badly for thinking in such a manner when I remind myself that the mentally impaired are God’s children too, and I ask for forgiveness from this side of the river. 

      Some even said the hotel’s accommodations were better than their little voyages to Gougar’s Grove with its merry-go-rounds and Marquette Tree; not to mention the local family cottages, and I believe them now. A great comfort there is, I am finding here, far better than the dark city of Chicago with its workflow not only in the buildings but in the streets themselves. But there is plenty to look forward to here by the river, from live music to fine dining and housekeeping living up to the standards of some of the greatest, most revered hotels in big cities like New York. It stands like a little castle in the country, despite being surrounded by open plains and woodland areas. It may be a bit big for its surroundings, but that makes it all the more a wonder of the world. Although, I have been vying to take a trip on the Minnie Lillie, I did come here by train, so there is little time for amusement when one is used to going so fast. I hope to rise through the ranks at work and take my family on a memorable vacation one day. I just know my wife and daughters would love this place.

      Not only does it sit all pretty on the water, but it lives up to its high standards, owning multiple companies that bow to its whims, such as the trolley line, the water company, and plenty of railroads so that guests can get to and from places safely. But the main attraction, of course, is the river itself—the blue, wide line between two bustling city shores. It is just that insane asylum on the other side that gets me down. But it’s a whole river away. I don’t know why I let it bother me. 

This Riverview Hotel was a popular attraction for rich families who needed a summer getaway from their busy lives in Chicago and the surrounding Midwest Area.

July 1, 1897

How far our charming hotel has fallen. I’ll do whatever Cobb thinks is necessary to keep the place open, but for now, I really think all these boarding applications are starting to get me down.  Seeing the same guests for weeks on end is never as exciting as meeting new faces who stay in a new room for the first time, even if it’s just a weekend or a night. It was so much more anticipatory every time I got another room prepared for the next guests. I would even look over some of the rooms myself, especially if someone important was staying at our revered establishment. I would deem it worthy of their stay or fix things up, as a good manager is expected to do. I am, after all, not only a butler but a captain of this ship that resides just next to the water. I am whoever my guests call me, and I can only hope it starts with “excellent.” However, “captain” is oft much more suitable to my tastes than “butler” if I were to be completely truthful, and I do adore when the paper regards me in that light. 

      The leasing really has not been so bad for the most part. Without it, Cobb is sure our hotel would have closed up shop much sooner than we intended. To think we opened almost ten years ago is a strange reality, indeed. If only these guests and future leasers could have seen the hotel in its heyday. They might have known what they were getting into before signing all those papers. The only problem is that I am much more picky about the letters being sent to our doorstep these days. Most of them are very flattering, but the candidates are clearly trying much too hard.  I’m certainly disappointed by the some of the guests we have now.  They let their children scramble about the halls and leave their toys all over the floor.  In fact, I just ran into the same man I’ve seen brushing his teeth in a pink bathrobe for the tenth time this month.  This queenly hotel has now become a boarding house packed full of animals.  It used to be an attraction, towering above the rest but these letters and newspaper clippings have sullied its reputation.

      However, Cobb doesn’t place much stock in how sincere the letters are and simply leases a room to whoever can pay.  Some of the rooms have seen such great success from their visitors—rich, famous, and honorary people and families. I have met some of them myself, and the people I meet now might be rich and famous, but they certainly don’t deserve the rooms my favorites have stayed in, even if I am reminded that Riverview is no longer a contender with the hotels I’ve managed before.

      It astounds Cobb that this bothers me so, and I think he might as well just take the letter-reviewing away from me soon. But I intend to continue running a tight ship–tighter than ever these days. The hotel itself bears the likeness of a ship, in my own personal opinion.  With it being surrounded by waters and fellow boats, I do feel like a captain on the sea. It is beautiful with its crimson roofs and rustic white walls, and I would like to keep it that way. It isn’t always appealing to some, but it’s how I like it, and Cobb put me in charge for better or worse.