The Lassiter Hotel Footage, Part 2

 Previous Entry: The Lassiter Hotel Footage, Part 1

 

This write-up deals with the aftermath of a hurricane. Due to the extensive damage caused by Hurricane Ian, I’m putting up a content warning here, in case anyone who was affected reads this blog. Furthermore, if you want to help out with the very real damage caused by Ian, you can find reputable organizations on Charity Navigator’s Hurricane Ian page linked below.


https://www.charitynavigator.org/index.cfm?bay=content.view&cpid=9967


In 1945, World War II veteran and aspiring novelist Richard Lassiter inherited a hotel in Cape May from his father. It had fallen into disrepair during the Great Depression, and Richard was tasked with revitalizing it by his father. Over the years, it has had many names; in the 1920s, it was the Grand Cape Hotel, while from the 1940s to the 1990s, it was known as the Grand Alexandria Hotel. Various investigative bodies, including the Institute, refer to it as the Lassiter for the sake of consistency.


The Lassiter had no record of unusual phenomena prior to the incidents in 1958; however, local legend maintained that Room 47 had a higher than normal incidence of guests checking out early, or else dying in their sleep. These myths appear to have originated after the 2011 America's Most Haunted episode, which I will be covering in a later installment. By all accounts, Room 47 was a normal hotel room, provided it was not being recorded, hence the ban on cameras.


The Lassiter's "no camera" policy was maintained under threat of legal action for twenty-seven years, until Hurricane Gloria rolled in.


Part 2: The Eakin Insurance Footage (1985)


Hurricane Gloria was a Category 4 Hurricane that tore across the mid-Atlantic coast of the United States. While it did not make landfall in Cape May, the storm surge and resulting damage, including from loss of power and infrastructure, resulted in fourteen deaths. It was hailed as a storm of the century, but people at the time were actually disappointed by how little damage was caused.


The storm surge flooded Cape May with almost six feet of water, inundating several properties, including the Lassiter. While logically, the damage should have been confined to the first floor (particularly the lobby and pool areas), damage was observed as high as the fifth floor, including the elevator shafts. When Richard Lassiter attempted to file an insurance claim with the Eakin Insurance Group-- a New Jersey-based agency that specialized in insuring hotels-- they were told that an inspection had to be done to assess the damage. To this end, they dispatched a pair of investigators-- Kenneth Kosa, age 50, and William Duffield, age 32. Between them, they had over thirty years of investigative experience at Eakin and other insurance companies.


Going against both hotel policy and Richard Lassiter's insistence, they brought along a Super 8 camera, and approximately eight hours worth of film, not knowing that they would be dooming themselves in the process.

An aerial view of the storm surge caused by Hurricane Gloria, taken by the US Coast Guard.

***

The Lobby


In the twenty-seven years since the failed advertisement, the Lassiter's lobby has changed very little. In color, we can see the polished sandstone and marble far more clearly. We can also see ruined rugs, plants that have been knocked over, and even a painting, damaged by the storm surge. Special attention is drawn to the painting, and the place where it rested on the wall, with the hook it hung on eight feet off the ground.


"What do you make of that?" Kosa asks.


"Maybe a wave brought it down?" Duffield responds. He focuses the camera on the painting itself; it was a three-foot-long landscape painting showing Cape May's iconic lighthouse during a stormy night. It's been ruined, though not by water damage: the canvas is visibly torn and crumpled, and the frame has been splintered. "Looks like it got stepped on," Duffield observes.


"By who? Andre the Giant?" Kosa laughs.


The camera heads behind the check-in desk. Room keys are strewn all over the floor; in contrast to other hotels at the time, the Lassiter used traditional, toothed keys, but had recently purchased equipment for making mag-stripe key cards. The device is in pieces behind the desk, and shows evidence of having caught fire. "Get the serial number off of that," Kosa instructs.


Duffield sets the camera on the check-in desk; neither of the men are visible. The front door of the Lassiter blows open, scattering debris. The men are heard cursing. The camera records the debris hitting an invisible mass on one side of the room, where it is outlined by its absence; the area of the lobby the mass occupies is free of debris and water damage.


The men do not seem to notice the anomaly, and instead collect the camera, making their way to the pool.


The Pool


By 1985, The Lassiter Hotel's swimming pool had been remodeled twice, closing for the 1972 season to expand its glass enclosure to the fourth floor. As stated previously, the majority of the damage caused by Hurricane Gloria in Cape May was from the storm surge, with the wind speed reaching only 85 mph.


This raised the question: why was the enclosure so damaged? Over half of the planes of glass had broken inward. The pool is overflowing, filled with dirty water.


"The hell? Why didn't they drain it after the surge?" Duffield asks.


"Watch your step," Kosa says, stepping in front of the camera for the first time. He's a pale, portly man, wearing safety equipment-- thick gloves, a reflective vest, and a hard hat, among other things. At his hip is a Polaroid camera, which he pulls out to photograph the devastation. "Does that frame look bent to you?"


Duffield points the camera upwards; there is a visible dent in the frame, as if something heavy has made impact, about twenty feet off the ground. "Andre the Giant, you think?"


"Nah. Probably buckled from something hitting it. When did this place last get inspected?"


"December."


"They must've missed it. Pretty high up…"


(They did not, in fact, miss it. The glass enclosure was one of the more thoroughly-inspected parts of the hotel, with both the panes and the frame being examined for damage on a weekly basis by hotel staff; the inspection Duffield is referring to was performed by Cape May's building inspector and similarly found no issues.)


"At least we know he wasn't lying about the damage. Jesus." Duffield steps before the camera now, revealing a thin man with dark skin, clad in the same safety gear as Kosa. He begins unrolling a tape measure. "Ken, little help? I need to see how far the debris spreads."


Kosa takes the other end, and some measurements are taken. Duffield writes in a notebook. "That's funny."


"What?" Kosa asks, lighting a cigarette.


"Do you see any glass in the pool?"


"With how murky it is? The Hope Diamond could be down there and we wouldn't see it."


"Huh."


At some point, Duffield takes the camera and records the pool itseld. The water is a sickly greenish-grey color. Kosa discards his cigarette into the pool; the liquid parts, and it's dragged beneath.


The Second Floor


"What the fuck happened in here?"


Kosa asks the question as they enter room 29. The interior is completely trashed, with beds overturned, the television smashed, and a white substance caked on the ceiling.


Duffield grabs a chair and stands on it to scrape some of the substance off. He smells it, grimacing. "It's shampoo."


"You see any water damage in here?"


"None."


"Seems to me like guests trashed the room and they're trying to staple it onto the claim." Kosa sighs. "What can ya see from the window?"


Duffield heads over to the room's far wall. "Pretty good view of the damage to the pool."


And so, Kosa and Duffield get thirty seconds of footage of the pool's enclosure from a higher, exterior angle. Kosa mutters "We're burning film, c'mon," before he turns the camera away.


Neither of them noticed the pool, clearly visible through the shattered enclosure, was empty.


The Elevator Shaft


Thankfully, Kosa and Duffield don't record in Room 47. They do, however, attempt to open the elevator shaft on the fourth floor. "The hell's wrong here?"


"Apparently the elevator's not going past the third floor. Cables nearly snapped when they tried to call it up here." He produces a small, round key meant to open the doors of an elevator in an emergency and sticks it in the panel, under the call button. It turns, and the doors grind open.


There is a hole in the far side of the elevator shaft, as if something has burst through from the other side. There's nothing but darkness visible on the camera.


"It looks like something punched through," Kosa observes. "Shine a light in there, Bill."


Duffield turns on a light. Through the aperture, a hotel room is clearly visible; the pink and white hues of the Venus Suite, AKA Room 42. "Why the hell would they build a room right next to the elevator shaft?"


(They didn't. Testimony from former staff at the Lassiter, combined with the blueprints, show a maintenance closet being behind the elevator shaft on the fourth floor.)


There's no sign of disturbance in the Venus Suite, beyond the massive hole. "Hello?" Duffield calls.


"The fuck are you doing?" Kosa hisses.


"Thought I saw something move in the room." There is no movement on the camera. "That's weird, right?"


"Let's get the fifth floor and get out of here." Kosa withdraws the key and the elevator doors shut.


Duffield collects the camera, carrying it under his arm, lens facing the elevator. Water begins seeping out through the door; Duffield curses as he realizes the camera is still on, and the footage cuts out.


The Fifth Floor


The camera is turned on within Room 501, the Owner's Suite. As the name suggests, the suite is specifically reserved for Richard Lassiter and his family. The suite takes up a quarter of the floor, far larger than any other room in the hotel. Duffield is on camera, clearly baffled. The room is pristine. "What are we looking for here? This place is spotless."


"According to the claimant, something got stolen from here during the storm surge."


"Christ. Talk to the cops, not us."


"He says he did. Apparently the item stolen was…" Kosa checks his notes. "A 'Greek manuscript, approximately two… two-thousand years old'? Shouldn't that be in a museum?"


"What is it, then? Dante?"


"The title is… damn, his handwriting is shit. Thy… Typh… Typhoid? Typhoon? Yeah, Typhoon."


"Didn't think Athens got many hurricanes." Duffield chuckles. "Well, where was it supposed to be?"


"In the safe behind his desk."


The footage cuts to a study area with a desk in disarray. Duffield is heard speaking mid-sentence. "--saying is, it's weird he reported a missing book, but not the water damage up here."


"Probably not a book. Maybe a hunk of stone or--" Kosa walks onto the camera, eyes glued to the ceiling. "Or a scroll."


The camera turns upwards to where Kosa is looking. Inexplicably, a large scroll of parchment is stuck to the ceiling. Kosa takes off his glove and swats at it. It falls to the ground.


"Huh. Well, glad we found it." Kosa chuckles. "This was insured for almost ten mill." He places it on the desk.


There's a crash from the next room, followed by the sound of flowing water. Duffield curses, picking up the camera. Water is flowing from the ceiling, blocking access to the suite's exit. "When did-- what the--"


Kosa, trembling, comes onto camera and picks up an object floating in the water. He holds it up to Duffield; it's a cigarette.


Then, a wave washes over them, tearing the camera out of Duffield's grasp. The men scream as the sound of running water overtakes the audio. Eventually, there is a gargantuan thud, causing the camera to jump in the air. It breaks upon landing.


Supplemental


Neither William Duffield nor Kenneth Kosa were ever seen again. Their vehicle was found in the Lassiter's parking lot three days later by Cape May Police; none of their equipment, including the Super 8 camera used, was recovered at the time.


The Lassiter had to be closed until 1990, due to severe water damage and further mold infestation. During this time, the pool was filled with concrete and the glass structure demolished completely; they turned it into outdoor patio seating for a second restaurant that was opened in the hotel.


The scroll that Kosa was inspecting was later found in Richard Lassiter's safe. The manuscript is, in fact, one of a series of scrolls known as the Greek Magical Papyri, and is dedicated to retelling the myth of Typhon, a colossal entity in Greek mythology associated with storms.


The camera was found six years later on a beach in Wildwood, a resort town to the north of Cape May. The film within was practically untouched; this is a phenomenon commonly seen when inexplicable activity is recorded, where the medium that documents it is rendered unnaturally hardy. The Institute calls this “Bracing”. The Institute obtained the footage in 2007.


Richard Lassiter died in 1992; by this time, the hotel had severe financial difficulties, leading his son, Alexander Lassiter, to take drastic measures so that the hotel could stay in the family. Starting in the 1993 season, children would be allowed to stay in the Lassiter Hotel.

In 1996, this would lead to tragedy, and the permanent closing of the Lassiter Hotel.