Mersea Tower Hotel
May. 26th, 2015 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boardwalkking((I totally ripped off this character development exercise. I am not sorry.))
The hotel was built in the late 1930s by a local real estate tycoon, looking to turn the cheap land around it, mostly warehouses and docks, into a resort for wealthy visitors to New York City. Unfortunately for the tycoon, his investment failed to take off. The warehouses were still in use by the railroads, and they refused to sell. The water wasn't popular with the visitors. Unlike the water of more popular beaches, the water near the Mersea was too close to shipping lanes and sewer run-off, and water quality suffered as a result. The hotel was closed in 1964, barely twenty-five years after it opened. The Mersea was bought by one investor after another, but none held onto it for more than a few years before selling again. The cost of restoring the grand old hotel were too much, compared to its location. Eventually the hotel was bought by an investor from Santa Carla, California by the name of David Martin.
The hotel is decorated at least partially in the art deco style popular at the time, though their first owner's penchant for unreasonable excess is clearly visible. Geometric patterns etched into the doors and the stained glass of the windows outline angels. The lobby and many of the upper floors are decorated in marble and heavy luxury carpet. Most of the fixtures are plated with what appears at first to be gold. The lighting has a subtle amber cast.
The glass doors of the main entrance have long since been broken, locked, and boarded over. The main entrance itself consists of two sets of glass doors and a revolving door. None of them are open, and the revolving door has been disassembled and boarded up. The boards themselves have been broken, spray painted, and replaced many times. The canopy extends out over a circular drop-off area, but the glass has long since been broken and none of the lights remain.
Walking into the main lobby, visitors first arrive in a two-story, rounded entryway, with a large, round mosaic pattern of marble in the floor. On either side, staircases run up to the second floor. What was probably originally a bar and social area for visitors can just barely be seen from the entryway, looking up the stairs. Walking past the staircases, the main desk is situated between two banks of elevators. Seating areas on either side of the lobby feature gas fireplaces. All of the furniture is covered in heavy cloth, making it appear to be a sea of ghosts.
On either side of the banks of elevators, one comes to staircases leading down into the dark. In earlier days, the hotel had its own entrance to the subway station underneath it, but with the closing of the hotel, declining ridership, short platform length, and a tight turn modern trains would have to make to get into the subway station, the station has been closed since the late 1960s. In 1974, a new track was opened, linking the stations on either side of the hotel. The station underneath is abandoned, with trains no longer using it even to turn around. The tracks have been taken up and the tunnel partially barricaded to discourage squatters.
To the left of the main desk, past the elevators and the staircase to the subway, a door opens up to a small unloading area, about the size of a tractor trailer. Originally the hotel's deliveries area, it is littered with broken pallets and crates. The freight elevator does not work. The overhead door at the end is new, and David's motorcycle is usually parked inside, when he is at the hotel.
Going up the main staircase, one would have been originally greeted with a large bar and restaurant area. Most of the tables have since been removed, though the bar is still intact. Couches and heavy, overstuffed chairs from elsewhere in the hotel have been moved down to this area and arranged into a rough living space. A king-size bed sits in one corner, with clothes line holding up a thick curtain all the way around the bed. A new refrigerator hums quietly behind the bar, along with a collection of new and vintage booze. A new TV hangs on one wall, with a DVD player and a remote on the coffee table beneath it. The area is scattered with table lamps and floor lamps to replace the broken chandeliers.
The dust in the carpets grows thicker, farther away from these main areas, and the elevators are hung with "Out of Order" signs. Other areas in the hotel are off limits and, from the look of caving in roofs, broken windows, and exposed insulation, probably a health hazard.
Mail is sent to a post office box and usually picked up once a week, after the post office closes, by David himself.
The hotel was built in the late 1930s by a local real estate tycoon, looking to turn the cheap land around it, mostly warehouses and docks, into a resort for wealthy visitors to New York City. Unfortunately for the tycoon, his investment failed to take off. The warehouses were still in use by the railroads, and they refused to sell. The water wasn't popular with the visitors. Unlike the water of more popular beaches, the water near the Mersea was too close to shipping lanes and sewer run-off, and water quality suffered as a result. The hotel was closed in 1964, barely twenty-five years after it opened. The Mersea was bought by one investor after another, but none held onto it for more than a few years before selling again. The cost of restoring the grand old hotel were too much, compared to its location. Eventually the hotel was bought by an investor from Santa Carla, California by the name of David Martin.
The hotel is decorated at least partially in the art deco style popular at the time, though their first owner's penchant for unreasonable excess is clearly visible. Geometric patterns etched into the doors and the stained glass of the windows outline angels. The lobby and many of the upper floors are decorated in marble and heavy luxury carpet. Most of the fixtures are plated with what appears at first to be gold. The lighting has a subtle amber cast.
The glass doors of the main entrance have long since been broken, locked, and boarded over. The main entrance itself consists of two sets of glass doors and a revolving door. None of them are open, and the revolving door has been disassembled and boarded up. The boards themselves have been broken, spray painted, and replaced many times. The canopy extends out over a circular drop-off area, but the glass has long since been broken and none of the lights remain.
Walking into the main lobby, visitors first arrive in a two-story, rounded entryway, with a large, round mosaic pattern of marble in the floor. On either side, staircases run up to the second floor. What was probably originally a bar and social area for visitors can just barely be seen from the entryway, looking up the stairs. Walking past the staircases, the main desk is situated between two banks of elevators. Seating areas on either side of the lobby feature gas fireplaces. All of the furniture is covered in heavy cloth, making it appear to be a sea of ghosts.
On either side of the banks of elevators, one comes to staircases leading down into the dark. In earlier days, the hotel had its own entrance to the subway station underneath it, but with the closing of the hotel, declining ridership, short platform length, and a tight turn modern trains would have to make to get into the subway station, the station has been closed since the late 1960s. In 1974, a new track was opened, linking the stations on either side of the hotel. The station underneath is abandoned, with trains no longer using it even to turn around. The tracks have been taken up and the tunnel partially barricaded to discourage squatters.
To the left of the main desk, past the elevators and the staircase to the subway, a door opens up to a small unloading area, about the size of a tractor trailer. Originally the hotel's deliveries area, it is littered with broken pallets and crates. The freight elevator does not work. The overhead door at the end is new, and David's motorcycle is usually parked inside, when he is at the hotel.
Going up the main staircase, one would have been originally greeted with a large bar and restaurant area. Most of the tables have since been removed, though the bar is still intact. Couches and heavy, overstuffed chairs from elsewhere in the hotel have been moved down to this area and arranged into a rough living space. A king-size bed sits in one corner, with clothes line holding up a thick curtain all the way around the bed. A new refrigerator hums quietly behind the bar, along with a collection of new and vintage booze. A new TV hangs on one wall, with a DVD player and a remote on the coffee table beneath it. The area is scattered with table lamps and floor lamps to replace the broken chandeliers.
The dust in the carpets grows thicker, farther away from these main areas, and the elevators are hung with "Out of Order" signs. Other areas in the hotel are off limits and, from the look of caving in roofs, broken windows, and exposed insulation, probably a health hazard.
Mail is sent to a post office box and usually picked up once a week, after the post office closes, by David himself.
