Latest news with #ClarkGable
Motor Trend
12-06-2025
- Automotive
- Motor Trend
Gable's Gullwing: Driving the 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing Owned By an Icon
[This story first appeared in the May/June 2006 issue of MotorTrend Classic] The article recounts driving Clark Gable's 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing, highlighting its history, performance, and connection to the Hollywood legend. Now owned by Bob Howard, the iconic car remains a testament to the elegance and engineering that captivated Gable. This summary was generated by AI using content from this MotorTrend article Read Next In this business you drive countless cars, most of them interesting and many of them thrilling and some of them unforgettable, but few of them are haunting in the fashion of the car you are sitting in now. It's a landmark machine, for one, a 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300SL 'Gullwing' Coupe, ahead of its time, one of the most acclaimed sporting two-seaters ever made, a pristine example from just 1400 produced between 1954 and 1957, a scrapbook trophy even for veterans of the car-testing trade. But this particular 300SL is more than that; much more. This was Gable's car. To say 'Clark Gable' would be redundant; 'Gable' is enough. The King of Hollywood. The weatherworn man's man with the pencil moustache who uttered the most immortal line in movie history—'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn'—and then strode away into Hollywood's Olympus. The matinee idol of idols who starred with Jean Harlow in 1932's 'Red Dust' and then, in 1953, joined Ava Gardner in the remake of 'Mogambo'—because, even after 21 years, audiences wanted no one else in the lead role. He sat in this very seat, adjusted these chromed controls, tipped his Kents and his Cuban cigars into this ashtray, grinned with the giddy gratification of owning something wonderful when he twisted the key and this 3.0-liter inline-six thumped to life. This was Gable's car. For today, it's yours. Gable bought the Gullwing new, at Mercedes-Benz of Hollywood, in 1955. On the registration alongside his signature is that of his fifth and final wife, actress and model Kay Spreckels. Perhaps the couple drove the Mercedes back to their Encino, California, estate together, Gable awkward as he folded his six-foot, one-inch frame over the wide door sill and into the tidy cockpit for the first time, husband and wife giggling as they pulled shut the novel top-hinged doors, dealership employees and Kodak-toting passers-by crowding close as Gable fired up the engine, cleared its throat with quick stabs of the throttle, eased his new toy into traffic. Once home, Gable would've called up a few close pals—like MGM publicity boss Howard Strickling—and invited them over to see his prize, the buddies sipping whiskey and trading barbs as they admired the 300SL's avant-garde curves in the Southern California dusk. 'She's sure something, Clark,' they'd have said. And Gable would've flashed that klieg-light smile. You study the silver-painted sheetmetal, looking for reflections of the sights this car has seen—the rising sun as the Gullwing sat in Gable's driveway, dewy and cold, waiting for the movie star to bound from his house, script under his arm, in a rush to make that morning's call time for 'Run Silent, Run Deep'; the iconic faces—Lancaster, Monroe, Stewart, Hayward—who peered curiously at this futuristic machine parked on the studio lot in the King's reserved space; the Santa Monica mountains blurring past as Gable spurred the car homeward, blissfully alone at last after another draining day at the epicenter of the sound-stage beehive, temporarily released from the makeup assistants and the dialog coaches and the camera grips and the unblinking, unforgiving stare of the Panavision lens. You study, but the Gullwing's silvery skin is silent with its secrets, faithful to its original master. This was Gable's car, from that happy delivery day in 1955 until the star's sudden death of a heart attack on November 16, 1960. He'd finished the grueling shoot of Arthur Miller's Western 'The Misfits,' costarring Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift, just two weeks earlier. The Benz had been with him on the Nevada set. Cinematographer Doc Kaminsky, hired to make a behind-the-scenes documentary, remembers racing Gable and the Gullwing across the desert floor. 'He had a Gullwing Mercedes and I had a brand-new Austin-Healey at the time,' Kaminsky told the Reno News & Review. 'Clark was an excellent driver, and we'd go blasting off over the Geiger Grade. And this was in the 1960s, remember, so no speed limits.' Gable and the Gullwing helped Kaminsky bust limits with the ladies, too. 'One day, I was going with a girl downtown and I pulled up to a traffic light,' Kaminsky told the paper. 'Clark Gable pulls up next to me in his Gullwing and says, 'Hi, Doc. How's it going?' And the girl I was with, her teeth fell out. She says, 'Was that Clark Cable?' 'Oh, yeah. I'm working with him on a project.'' Only weeks later Gable was gone—the victim, many said, of having overtaxed his hard-living, 59-year-old body by doing his own stunts in that final film ('How do you find your way back in the dark?' asks Monroe's Roslyn Taber at the movie's close. 'Just head for that big star straight on,' Gable's Gay Langland replies. 'It'll take us right home'). Gable's body was laid to rest alongside that of his beloved third wife, actress Carole Lombard, killed in a 1942 plane crash while returning home from a war-bond campaign. Four months later, Gable's widow, Kay, gave birth to his one and only child, son John Clark. Soon the Gullwing moved into the orbit of a lesser star, Harry Haenigsen, creator of the 'Penny' comic strip that ran from the early 1940s into the 1960s. In the early 1970s, Haenigsen sold the car to Charles R. Wood, an entrepreneur known as the 'Father of Theme Parks' and cofounder (with Paul Newman) of a camp for terminally ill children. Wood kept the Gullwing for three decades until, in 2003, at age 89, he sold the car to its fourth and current owner, Bob Howard, president of Mercedes-Benz of Oklahoma City and one of the directors of the huge Group 1 Automotive dealer association. Most days, Gable's Gullwing now sits quietly on Howard's dealership floor, a three-pointed star attraction even amid the gleaming S-Classes, CL coupes, and a nearby SLR McLaren. But today you're going to take it out and prod the rarely touched throttle pedal and stir the gears and steer lateral gs into the tires—and you'll do it carefully, indeed, because this Gullwing is worth maybe $700K and, besides, if you so much as scratch it Gable himself might materialize and swing on you the way he punched Spencer Tracy in 1940's 'Boom Town.' Climbing aboard, you fold your cowboy boots back with your hands to keep from scraping the wide leather door sill (and Gable was an inch taller than you), but once you're seated the cabin is cozy. The dash is a riot of knobs and sliders—all unmarked, so you need to memorize what they do or you'll switch on the lights when you're trying to activate the ventilation fan. Strapped down behind your head is the set of optional fitted leather luggage that Gable ordered for his car (long ago, undoubtedly, the cases kept clean and neatly folded the size 44 Long suits he bought four or five at a time at Brooks Brothers in New York). Above your left leg, near the parking brake, protrudes a tube from engineer Rudolph Uhlenhaut's lightweight welded spaceframe (which blocks the usual passenger-door openings; hence the upward-raising gullwings). You'd normally find such tubes in a race car, of course, but at its heart that's what the Gullwing is, American Mercedes importer Max Hoffman having persuaded the German maker to build a road version of its Le Mans-winning 1952 300SL. The Gullwing weighs just 2850 pounds—and has no air conditioning. Over the years, the Benz has been restored to perfection—current owner Howard has spiffed up the paint and the engine—but it's just as it was during Gable's lifetime. It was Gable who ditched the standard steel wheels in favor of the racing Rudge knockoffs the car wears now. The only item the star might not recognize is the steering wheel; in place of the standard white rim is an elegant, wood-and-chrome Nardi model. One picture of the car taken during Gable's reign appears to show the Nardi, but it's fuzzy. You trace your fingertips over the wood anyway, in case it was this wheel that decades ago twirled under the hands that once seized Vivien Leigh's Scarlett O'Hara by the shoulders while an angry Rhett Butler snarled: 'That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often—and by someone who knows how.' This Gullwing is rare and valuable enough that you ask for instructions before touching a thing. The car's handler responds that the engine likes a few seconds of fuel pump before you engage the starter. You oblige with a tug on the appropriate knob, then twist the key. The Gullwing was the world's first production car with a direct-injection four-stroke gas engine, and the inline-six lights off easily and settles into a confident thrum. Gable's car is alive again. The door above your head is beautifully balanced—it stays raised until you want it closed, then drops with a gentle pull. It's hot in here; no wonder Gable liked to shower three times a day. The fully synchronized four-speed slips easily into first, the clutch releases smoothly, and you're off. You are driving Gable's Gullwing. Naturally you're tentative at first—nervous, even—but the 300SL is so modern and forgiving in its control responses, you can't help but begin to let it run. It wants to run. Above 3000 rpm, the engine opens up like a floodgate: You're quickly up into third and have to back off hard for a turn; downshifts are sweet and easy, the giant finned drum brakes strong. You're back on the power, the engine growing happier after every climb up the tach. You're sure it could do 140-plus. Easy. And now the Gullwing is finally beginning to speak to you. Now, it says, you understand why Gable loved it so. You hear the proud mechanical aria that Gable heard, your boots are squeezing the pedals his boots did, your eyes are watching the same instrument needles rise and fall, you're savoring the very engineering excellence the car showered on the movie star. This, you realize, is how it felt to be the King of Hollywood as he drove to work or raced across the desert or challenged a mountain road just for the joy of it. In here, alone in the cockpit of this remarkable automobile, you are just as he was. Too soon, though, your day is over; Gable's Gullwing is due back in its showroom. You switch off the engine, raise the door, and, as slowly as you can, climb out. You watch as the car is hoisted onto a flatbed trailer, then begin scribbling notes. As you write the word 'Gable,' you smile and lift your head to gaze at the Gullwing one more time. But already, as if carried off with a brisk gust of Oklahoma wind, it is gone. Our Take Then: 'Docile enough for city driving, yet possessing phenomenal power and roadability, the Mercedes-Benz 300SL may have what it takes to create a new concept in motoring the world over.' —Gunther Molter, MotorTrend, April 1954 Now: It can't be half a century old. Many new cars in the 1980s didn't drive this well—weren't this fast or this well built or this much fun. And few cars have ever looked so good. It's fitting that Gable owned one; both movie star and Gullwing have endured as few others ever will. Test drive courtesy Bob Howard, President, Mercedes-Benz of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Photo location courtesy Robert and Nedra Funk, Express Ranches, Inc.
Yahoo
28-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Streaming Wars Heat Up: How Moonvalley's $123M AI Bet Could Shape Hollywood's Future
Toronto startup Moonvalley is having no trouble raising additional capital since securing a $70 million seed round in November. The developer of AI tools for video creation has added another $53 million to its checkbook, according to last week's Securities and Exchange Commission filing. Fourteen unnamed investors have now come on board, with potentially good reasons for their anonymity. The company has opened operations in Los Angeles, tracking an eyebrow-raising game plan in this overcrowded tech venue. Don't Miss: Hasbro, MGM, and Skechers trust this AI marketing firm — 'Scrolling To UBI' — Deloitte's #1 fastest-growing software company allows users to earn money on their phones. Moonvalley is building the Marey AI learning model in collaboration with animator Asteria, operating out of the Mack Sennett soundstage. According to a press release, Marey will bring "unparalleled power and control to film and media production, while distinguishing itself by relying exclusively on ethically sourced data owned and licensed by the company." Given proximity to Hollywood studios, unnamed investors may include major industry players making plans for the future. Content creators have been taking aggressive action against video AI startups that train models on public data, arguing fair-use violations of their copyrighted materials. Moonvalley hopes to jump legal hurdles by obtaining licensing and purchasing agreements prior to use. Videos will then be packaged into datasets and fed into Marey while clients retain authority to delete their data or request removal. Trending: Maker of the $60,000 foldable home has 3 factory buildings, 600+ houses built, and big plans to solve housing — Moonvalley still has to tread lightly. Hollywood's Animation Guild represents top-tier creators, animators and cartoonists. The union commissioned a study in 2024 that predicts disruption to more than 100,000 U.S.-based film, television and animation jobs within two years. Following the study's release, the union signed a three-year contract that expires at the end of 2027, setting the stage for a showdown that rivals last year's Hollywood strike. Of course, AI has already infiltrated the entertainment industry, led by widespread use of computer graphics in action films in the 1990s. However, the tech may also revive careers of dead actors. Imagine "Gone Again With the Wind", featuring a robust Clark Gable galloping past a perfectly rendered Charleston, South Carolina in ruins. It's the kind of pipe dream that thrills Hollywood producers while nervous actors call their Marey interface is still under construction and not available for public scrutiny. The company said the software will feature storyboarding and granular clip adjustment tools, generating videos from text prompts, sketches, photos, video clips and other media. Initial HD rendering is expected to produce clips up to 30 seconds long, which doesn't sound impressive. However, string them together and a fully-fledged cinema experience might emerge. Given industry crosswinds, Moonvalley faces an uncertain path from build out to full-scale production. From a profit perspective, future investors should remain cautious because the ethical approach will be duplicated by competitors if it gains traction in Hollywood, undermining the start-up's competitive edge. That's one reason the growing list of unnamed investors is critical to this venture's long-term success, especially if they're bankrolled by Hollywood or Netflix (NASDAQ:NFLX). Read Next:Deloitte's fastest-growing software company partners with Amazon, Walmart & Target – Image: Shutterstock Up Next: Transform your trading with Benzinga Edge's one-of-a-kind market trade ideas and tools. Click now to access unique insights that can set you ahead in today's competitive market. Get the latest stock analysis from Benzinga? NETFLIX (NFLX): Free Stock Analysis Report This article Streaming Wars Heat Up: How Moonvalley's $123M AI Bet Could Shape Hollywood's Future originally appeared on © 2025 Benzinga does not provide investment advice. All rights reserved.
The Onion
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Onion
What To Know About ‘Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning'
Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning , the eighth installment in the series, is expected to be another box-office smash. The Onion shares everything you need to know about the film. Q: Who is directing? A: Christopher McQuarrie with a gun pointed at his head by Tom Cruise. Q: What stunts does Tom Cruise pull off in this one? A: He manages to deliver several monologues about a computer villain called 'the Entity' while maintaining a straight face. Q: Isn't Tom Cruise a Scientologist? A: No. He's Impossible Missions Force agent Ethan Hunt. Q: Who is the movie for? A. The Final Reckoning is great for everyone, whether you're a male age 18 to 24 or a male age 25 to 40. Q: What's the mission this time? A: To make $800 million at the box office. Q: Why did the film have such a high budget? A: McQuarrie insisted on using real innocent victims for each explosion. Q: Is Clark Gable in it? A: No, Clark Gable unfortunately continues to be dead. Q: What new vehicle have they decided to stage an elaborate chase sequence with? A: Let's just say that if fans aren't ready for a recumbent bicycle, then they better get ready. Q: Should I ask Sara if she wants to go see it with me? A: Yes. She might say no, but the pain of rejection will be nothing compared to the pain of not knowing. Q: Is this the last Mission: Impossible film? A: It's the last one with non-CGI Tom Cruise. Q: What's Tom Cruise's next project? A: Based on probability, dying in a helicopter crash.
Yahoo
05-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
These hotels were once the pinnacle of luxury. Now they sit abandoned
Anyone who has ever watched an episode of Scooby-Doo, the classic cartoon series where the villains are corrupt bank managers, implausibly masquerading as monsters, rather than actual monsters (although, even more implausibly, the gang falls for the smoke-and-mirrors trick every time), will grasp the appeal of an abandoned hotel. There is something about such relics that fizzes with lurid, ghoulish attraction. The dead five-star calls to the part of us that is intrigued by ruin tourism. But it is also somehow more than that – a fallen angel whose story sings of good times and bad, of success and failure, of ambitions fracturing in the face of hard economic realities. The following properties have won, and then lost, at various moments in the past century or so – but all of them, crucially, are still standing, pitched like mossy gravestones to the memories of their own existence. Some of them could yet be reborn – but for now, they are much more interesting for their declines than for any future possibility of redemption. Where? Mineral Wells, Texas, United States When did it close? In 1963, pretty much, although it had brief re-openings until 1972 Once upon a time: Mineral Wells is not a town well known to anyone who lives outside Texas; it sits 80 miles west of Dallas, in the north of America's second-biggest state. But it boasts natural hot springs, and had enough of a tourist industry in the 1920s for the idea of an elaborate hotel to be put into play. The Baker Hotel was the result, opening in 1929, and flourishing in the 1930s and 1940s. At its peak, it accommodated film stars (Clark Gable, Judy Garland) and future presidents (Lyndon B Johnson). Legend has it that it also hosted the glamorous Depression-era bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde. What killed it? Waning interest in Mineral Wells as a spa destination – and the declining enthusiasm of its owner, Earl Baker, who vowed to close the hotel after his 70th birthday in 1963, and doggedly kept his promise. As if to prove a point, Baker even had a heart attack in the property in 1967; he was found unconscious on the floor of the Baker Suite. Hope for the future? Absolutely. There have been persistent murmurings about a revival of the Baker, but rumour morphed into fact in 2019 when the building was purchased by a Dallas-based investor. Plans were promptly announced for an overhaul that would see the number of rooms slashed from 450 to 165, and the second floor returned to its former glory as a spa. Progress has been slow, and a projected re-opening date of 'autumn 2024' has now slipped back to a more distant '2028', but the Baker is on a path to resurrection. Where: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US When did it close? 1999 Once upon a time: Initially built as apartments between 1892 and 1894, this elegant 10-storey structure in north Philadelphia was transformed into the Lorraine Hotel in 1900, in a moment when Pennsylvania's biggest city was enjoying a pre-war upswing. Yet its story was just beginning. It was sold in 1948 to an enigmatic figure; a man who may have been born in 1876 as 'George Baker' (the records are unclear), but who, by the middle of the 20th century, was living as 'Father Divine', a charismatic preacher. He added his name to the property, and turned it into the United States' first racially desegregated accommodation – a haven where all guests were considered 'equal in the sight of God'. A rooftop sign which identifies the site as the 'Divine Lorraine Hotel' is still on display. What killed it? Changing times. Divine's movement, the International Peace Mission, sold the property in 2000. Fittings and all items of value were stripped out, and the structure was soon lost to graffiti and smashed glass – although its existence was at least guaranteed in 2002, when it was added to the US's National Register of Historic Places. Hope for the future? Yes and no. Various attempts to revive the building, including converting some of it back into flats, have foundered in the last 25 years. The most recent brainwave saw the lower floors rebooted as part of the Mint House brand of furnished apartments. Alas, the 'Mint House at the Divine Lorraine' closed in January 2025 after three underwhelming years. The Mint House website currently has no mention of Philadelphia. Where: Beirut, Lebanon When did it close? 1975 Once upon a time: The gruesome poster-boy for ruined hotels, this one-time magnet for well-to-do tourists was open for barely a year before it was consumed by conflict. It was built between 1971 and 1974, in an era when Beirut was a playground for rich tourists seeking Mediterranean sun. With 26 storeys, it had a revolving restaurant on its top floor, a nightclub on the 25th, and was a short hop from the beach in the Minet el Hosn district. What killed it? The Lebanese Civil War, which erupted in 1975, and would keep Beirut in its grip until 1990. The Holiday Inn was quickly eviscerated, its height and location making it a coveted vantage point for rival militias, who fought for it during the 'Battle of the Hotels' – and used it as a snipers' nest thereafter. Four years after it opened, the property was riddled with craters and artillery holes. As many as 1,000 people are thought to have died in this phase of the war, some thrown from the Holiday Inn's roof. Hope for the future? Who knows. The Holiday Inn is a near-literal tombstone, rearing over the next-door Phoenicia Hotel – which was also badly damaged but has since been restored. The chances of a similar comeback for its neighbour look slim. Aside from the massive structural issues caused by the fighting, the Holiday Inn is mired in bureaucracy. It is co-owned by two companies – one Lebanese, which wants to convert the hotel into apartments; one Kuwaiti, which has ambitions to demolish the building and craft a new property on its footprint. Agreement between the two has been non-existent for decades. Where: Leccio, Tuscany, Italy When did it close? 1990 Once upon a time: Few hotels have as twisting a tale as this jewel, which sits marooned in the Tuscan countryside, 17 miles south-east of Florence. Indeed, referring to it simply as a 'hotel' rather underplays its history. It was originally erected in the 17th century, and then transformed between 1853 and 1889 by nobleman Ferdinando Panciatichi Ximenes, who remodelled it as a 'Moorish' palazzo akin to the Alhambra in Granada. Its fine mosaics and Arabesque designs made for a wonderful hotel when Castello di Sammezzano opened as such during the 1970s – its 365 rooms ringing to the chatter of wealthy guests. What killed it? The number of paying customers could never keep pace with the cost of the Castello's upkeep and maintenance. Since its closure, it has existed in a vacuum; too precious to lose, too expensive to renovate to full majesty. Hope for the future? Happily it has just been bought by the Florentine Moretti family, which owns Hotel Number Nine in Florence. They'll have a task on their hands – it is currently in a state of disrepair, to the extent that even guided tours have been impossible. However, it has periodically popped up on the big screen. In 2015 it was used as a setting for the fantasy-horror film Tale of Tales, starring Salma Hayek. Where: San Pellegrino, Lombardy, Italy When did it close? 1979 Once upon a time: A place synonymous with bottled water, the Italian spa town of San Pellegrino should be, you would think, famous enough to sustain a palatial hotel. Alas, the Grand has been in limbo for more than 40 years. Opened in 1904, it preens on the left bank of the river Brembo; a tribute to the talents of Italian architect Romolo Squadrelli and the engineer Luigi Mazzocchi. With 250 rooms and seven storeys, it was fitted with the sort of lavish accoutrements that were slotted into fine hotels in the years before the First World War. Margherita of Savoy, the Queen-consort of Italy, paid it a visit in 1905. What killed it? The usual slow creep of unappetising economic truths – failure to upgrade for modernising times, the surging costs of keeping so extravagant a hotel alive. Hope for the future? To an extent. The Grand is too beautiful a structure to demolish, and its magnificence has not been forgotten. Occasional tours allow visitors to peek at its art nouveau stylings (visit Where: Strpce, Kosovo When did it close? 2008 Once upon a time: Some of the hotels in this feature used to be stately wonders. You cannot say the same of the Hotel Narcis, an unlovely slab of Communist-era accommodation which now sits mouldering in the village of Strpce, just outside the ski resort of Brezovica in Kosovo. Nominally a four-star, it was more than fit for purpose in the calm Yugoslavian era, but reality has bitten since the region fractured in the 1990s. What killed it? Not so much the wars that devoured the Balkan region from 1991 onwards as the ongoing uncertainty about the status of Kosovo (much of the world, including the UK, regards it as an independent state; neighbouring Serbia does not). Tensions between Kosovans and Serbians have seen each group boycott the other's businesses. Trade had been sluggish for Hotel Narcis long before it bolted the front door. Hope for the future? Perhaps. Brezovica is a functioning ski resort, so it is possible that the hotel will re-emerge at some juncture. The question of when is impossible to answer. Where: Marsaskala, Malta When did it close? 2007 Once upon a time: Some hotels have a darker story than others. The Jerma Palace is one of those. Its seeds were sown in 1976, when the land it stands on was purchased by the Libyan Foreign Investment Company – an offshoot of the Gaddafi government across the Mediterranean in Tripoli. It opened in 1982 and, at first, did well – Muammar Gaddafi even had a presidential suite within the property for his personal use. What killed it? Its location didn't help. Marsaskala sits at the south-east end of Malta's main island, somewhat removed from the main tourist areas of St Julian's and Sliema. As a result, the hotel – all 345 rooms of it – struggled with under-occupancy. It has, though, reputedly had residents since it closed. In December 2015, there were reports that people traffickers were using the property as a drop-off point for migrants smuggled into the EU. Hope for the future? None whatsoever. The hotel has crumbled since its closure. Parts of it have collapsed, anything with a resale value has been stolen, and rubbish has welled up in many of the rooms. Redevelopment plans for the site have been tethered by red tape for the best part of a decade, but whatever happens, the original hotel will be demolished. Where: Hachijo-jima, Japan When did it close? 2006 Once upon a time: The 1960s was a boom time for the Izu archipelago – volcanic outcrops strewn across the Philippine Sea south of Japan's main island, Honshu. The country was recovering from the Second World War, and blessed with a new generation increasingly keen to travel farther afield. These lava-born dots in the ocean came to be a halfway house – close to home but still exotic. They were even promoted as the 'Hawaii of Japan' – and Hachijo-jima, which lies 200 miles south of Tokyo, was at the forefront of the rush to the beach. The Hachijo Royal Hotel appeared in 1963 as a Baroque fantasy, all Greek-style statues in the garden and fountains tinkling in soft salute to the rising sun. What killed it? Changing tastes. It was difficult for the Japanese to travel abroad before the 1960s, but it soon became clear that the world was an oyster, and the wider horizon called. The hotel limped into the new century, but has been defunct now for two decades. Hope for the future? Possible but unlikely. The island's lush vegetation has begun to reclaim the property – swamping its sculptures and swallowing its dead swimming pool. It would take enormous investment to resurrect it – and tourist interest is no longer there. Where: Outside Motilla del Palancar, Castilla-La Mancha, Spain When did it close? 1999 Once upon a time: Not all abandoned hotels are flights of fancy that suffered an Icarus fate. The Hotel Claridge was a fabled workhorse of the Spanish road system, pitched roughly midway along the N-3 highway, where it connects Madrid to Valencia. It opened in 1969, and looked the part – a grey slab of concrete brutalism, very much in sync with the unflinching outlook of General Franco's regime. It became a key stop-off point for coaches travelling from the capital to the country's third-biggest city – disgorging regular hordes of hungry passengers, who would eat quickly before jumping back onto their bus. What killed it? The construction of a swifter section of the A-3, directly to the south, between Honrubia and Motilla del Palancar, which cut the Claridge from the coach route, and starved it of its customers. As it was not a destination in itself, this was a death knell. Hope for the future? None. But it is a spectacular wreck, looming large at the roadside. Where: Beira, Mozambique When did it close? 1963 Once upon a time: The idea that anyone would build a luxury hotel on the coast of Mozambique in the middle of the last century sounds implausible – but that is exactly what happened in the city of Beira in 1954. And it was not such a crazy scheme. At the time, this slice of south-eastern Africa was one of the jewels of (what was left of) the Portuguese Empire, and Beira, which sits midway up the country's long Indian Ocean shoreline, was able to attract expats keen to sun themselves on warm sands. The Grande was constructed in an effusive art deco style, and had a hugely decadent accessory in the form of an Olympic-sized swimming pool. It was hoped that it would become a tourism beacon, also pulling in monied visitors from neighbouring Rhodesia (modern Zimbabwe). What killed it? The project was too ambitious. The hotel was awfully expensive, even for the colonial elite – and Beira was ultimately too remote for the siren call to be heard (it is more than 700 miles north of the national capital, Maputo). The Grande closed down more than a decade before the curtain fell on Portuguese rule in Mozambique in 1975; prior as well to the civil war which subsequently disembowelled the country (between 1977 and 1992). Hope for the future? No. The Grande was used for occasional parties and weddings in the late 1960s – but the civil war saw it fill with refugees and those fleeing the bullets. It is now, effectively, a giant squat. More than 1,000 people, including many families, currently live in its 116 rooms. The Olympic pool is still there, clogged with rubbish and dank water. Every abandoned hotel in this article at least had its glory days; those first few months of popularity. But even this brief window of success has, as yet, eluded the Ryugyong Hotel. Mockingly referred to as the 'Hotel of Doom' by amused outsiders, this 105-storey pyramid has been under construction for almost 40 years – without ever greeting a guest. It dominates the skyline in Pyongyang, towering over the rest of the North Korean capital at a height of 1,083ft. Prior to the ascent of the Goldin Finance 117 skyscraper – which hits 1,957ft in the northerly Chinese city of Tianjin but has been stalled as a construction project since 2015 – the hotel was the world's tallest unoccupied building. Work on the property commenced in 1987, when Kim Il Sung, North Korea's founder and 'Eternal President,' was still in power. It was supposed to open in 1989 and would have done so as the world's tallest hotel – had it managed to cut the ribbon on schedule. Instead, tools were downed in 1992, as North Korea fell into hard times – the collapse of the Soviet Union taking with it the country's leading international benefactor. Japanese newspapers reported that, by this point, the property had already cost US$750 million (£565 million); the equivalent of 2 per cent of North Korea's gross domestic product (GDP). However, without outside funding, there was no hope of completion. In the late 1990s, a discreet inspection by the European Chamber of Commerce in Korea (ECCK) deemed the hotel to be irreparable – damned by cracked concrete and crooked lift shafts. Undeterred, the North Korean regime has soldiered on. In 2008, windows were finally installed, and an opening date of 2012 was announced, to coincide with the 'Eternal President's' 100th birthday (although he died in 1994). Alas, neither Kim Il-Sung's son, Kim Jong-il (who ruled until 2011), nor his grandson, Kim Jong-un, have seen the hotel to fruition. A brief partnership with the luxury hotel management company Kempinski came and went in 2013. LED screens showing the North Korean flag were added in 2018. At time of writing, the North Korean government is purportedly considering converting the site into a colossal casino. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Telegraph
05-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
These hotels were once the pinnacle of luxury. Now they sit abandoned
Anyone who has ever watched an episode of Scooby-Doo, the classic cartoon series where the villains are corrupt bank managers, implausibly masquerading as monsters, rather than actual monsters (although, even more implausibly, the gang falls for the smoke-and-mirrors trick every time), will grasp the appeal of an abandoned hotel. There is something about such relics that fizzes with lurid, ghoulish attraction. The dead five-star calls to the part of us that is intrigued by ruin tourism. But it is also somehow more than that – a fallen angel whose story sings of good times and bad, of success and failure, of ambitions fracturing in the face of hard economic realities. The following properties have won, and then lost, at various moments in the past century or so – but all of them, crucially, are still standing, pitched like mossy gravestones to the memories of their own existence. Some of them could yet be reborn – but for now, they are much more interesting for their declines than for any future possibility of redemption. 1. The Baker Hotel Where? Mineral Wells, Texas, United States When did it close? In 1963, pretty much, although it had brief re-openings until 1972 Once upon a time: Mineral Wells is not a town well known to anyone who lives outside Texas; it sits 80 miles west of Dallas, in the north of America's second-biggest state. But it boasts natural hot springs, and had enough of a tourist industry in the 1920s for the idea of an elaborate hotel to be put into play. The Baker Hotel was the result, opening in 1929, and flourishing in the 1930s and 1940s. At its peak, it accommodated film stars (Clark Gable, Judy Garland) and future presidents (Lyndon B Johnson). Legend has it that it also hosted the glamorous Depression-era bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde. What killed it? Waning interest in Mineral Wells as a spa destination – and the declining enthusiasm of its owner, Earl Baker, who vowed to close the hotel after his 70th birthday in 1963, and doggedly kept his promise. As if to prove a point, Baker even had a heart attack in the property in 1967; he was found unconscious on the floor of the Baker Suite. Hope for the future? Absolutely. There have been persistent murmurings about a revival of the Baker, but rumour morphed into fact in 2019 when the building was purchased by a Dallas-based investor. Plans were promptly announced for an overhaul that would see the number of rooms slashed from 450 to 165, and the second floor returned to its former glory as a spa. Progress has been slow, and a projected re-opening date of 'autumn 2024' has now slipped back to a more distant '2028', but the Baker is on a path to resurrection. 2. Divine Lorraine Hotel Where: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US When did it close? 1999 Once upon a time: Initially built as apartments between 1892 and 1894, this elegant 10-storey structure in north Philadelphia was transformed into the Lorraine Hotel in 1900, in a moment when Pennsylvania's biggest city was enjoying a pre-war upswing. Yet its story was just beginning. It was sold in 1948 to an enigmatic figure; a man who may have been born in 1876 as 'George Baker' (the records are unclear), but who, by the middle of the 20th century, was living as 'Father Divine', a charismatic preacher. He added his name to the property, and turned it into the United States' first racially desegregated accommodation – a haven where all guests were considered 'equal in the sight of God'. A rooftop sign which identifies the site as the 'Divine Lorraine Hotel' is still on display. What killed it? Changing times. Divine's movement, the International Peace Mission, sold the property in 2000. Fittings and all items of value were stripped out, and the structure was soon lost to graffiti and smashed glass – although its existence was at least guaranteed in 2002, when it was added to the US's National Register of Historic Places. Hope for the future? Yes and no. Various attempts to revive the building, including converting some of it back into flats, have foundered in the last 25 years. The most recent brainwave saw the lower floors rebooted as part of the Mint House brand of furnished apartments. Alas, the 'Mint House at the Divine Lorraine' closed in January 2025 after three underwhelming years. The Mint House website currently has no mention of Philadelphia. 3. Holiday Inn Beirut Where: Beirut, Lebanon When did it close? 1975 Once upon a time: The gruesome poster-boy for ruined hotels, this one-time magnet for well-to-do tourists was open for barely a year before it was consumed by conflict. It was built between 1971 and 1974, in an era when Beirut was a playground for rich tourists seeking Mediterranean sun. With 26 storeys, it had a revolving restaurant on its top floor, a nightclub on the 25th, and was a short hop from the beach in the Minet el Hosn district. What killed it? The Lebanese Civil War, which erupted in 1975, and would keep Beirut in its grip until 1990. The Holiday Inn was quickly eviscerated, its height and location making it a coveted vantage point for rival militias, who fought for it during the 'Battle of the Hotels' – and used it as a snipers' nest thereafter. Four years after it opened, the property was riddled with craters and artillery holes. As many as 1,000 people are thought to have died in this phase of the war, some thrown from the Holiday Inn's roof. Hope for the future? Who knows. The Holiday Inn is a near-literal tombstone, rearing over the next-door Phoenicia Hotel – which was also badly damaged but has since been restored. The chances of a similar comeback for its neighbour look slim. Aside from the massive structural issues caused by the fighting, the Holiday Inn is mired in bureaucracy. It is co-owned by two companies – one Lebanese, which wants to convert the hotel into apartments; one Kuwaiti, which has ambitions to demolish the building and craft a new property on its footprint. Agreement between the two has been non-existent for decades. 4. Castello di Sammezzano Where: Leccio, Tuscany, Italy When did it close? 1990 Once upon a time: Few hotels have as twisting a tale as this jewel, which sits marooned in the Tuscan countryside, 17 miles south-east of Florence. Indeed, referring to it simply as a 'hotel' rather underplays its history. It was originally erected in the 17th century, and then transformed between 1853 and 1889 by nobleman Ferdinando Panciatichi Ximenes, who remodelled it as a 'Moorish' palazzo akin to the Alhambra in Granada. Its fine mosaics and Arabesque designs made for a wonderful hotel when Castello di Sammezzano opened as such during the 1970s – its 365 rooms ringing to the chatter of wealthy guests. What killed it? The number of paying customers could never keep pace with the cost of the Castello's upkeep and maintenance. Since its closure, it has existed in a vacuum; too precious to lose, too expensive to renovate to full majesty. Hope for the future? Sort of. The property is certainly loved, and its owners dream of a total restoration ( But it is currently in a state of disrepair, to the extent that even guided tours are impossible. However, it does periodically pop up on the big screen. In 2015 it was used as a setting for the fantasy-horror film Tale of Tales, starring Salma Hayek. 5. Grand Hotel San Pellegrino Terme Where: San Pellegrino, Lombardy, Italy When did it close? 1979 Once upon a time: A place synonymous with bottled water, the Italian spa town of San Pellegrino should be, you would think, famous enough to sustain a palatial hotel. Alas, the Grand has been in limbo for more than 40 years. Opened in 1904, it preens on the left bank of the river Brembo; a tribute to the talents of Italian architect Romolo Squadrelli and the engineer Luigi Mazzocchi. With 250 rooms and seven storeys, it was fitted with the sort of lavish accoutrements that were slotted into fine hotels in the years before the First World War. Margherita of Savoy, the Queen-consort of Italy, paid it a visit in 1905. What killed it? The usual slow creep of unappetising economic truths – failure to upgrade for modernising times, the surging costs of keeping so extravagant a hotel alive. Hope for the future? To an extent. The Grand is too beautiful a structure to demolish, and its magnificence has not been forgotten. Occasional tours allow visitors to peek at its art nouveau stylings (visit 6. Hotel Narcis When did it close? 2008 Once upon a time: Some of the hotels in this feature used to be stately wonders. You cannot say the same of the Hotel Narcis, an unlovely slab of Communist-era accommodation which now sits mouldering in the village of Strpce, just outside the ski resort of Brezovica in Kosovo. Nominally a four-star, it was more than fit for purpose in the calm Yugoslavian era, but reality has bitten since the region fractured in the 1990s. What killed it? Not so much the wars that devoured the Balkan region from 1991 onwards as the ongoing uncertainty about the status of Kosovo (much of the world, including the UK, regards it as an independent state; neighbouring Serbia does not). Tensions between Kosovans and Serbians have seen each group boycott the other's businesses. Trade had been sluggish for Hotel Narcis long before it bolted the front door. Hope for the future? Perhaps. Brezovica is a functioning ski resort, so it is possible that the hotel will re-emerge at some juncture. The question of when is impossible to answer. 7. Jerma Palace Hotel Where: Marsaskala, Malta When did it close? 2007 Once upon a time: Some hotels have a darker story than others. The Jerma Palace is one of those. Its seeds were sown in 1976, when the land it stands on was purchased by the Libyan Foreign Investment Company – an offshoot of the Gaddafi government across the Mediterranean in Tripoli. It opened in 1982 and, at first, did well – Muammar Gaddafi even had a presidential suite within the property for his personal use. What killed it? Its location didn't help. Marsaskala sits at the south-east end of Malta's main island, somewhat removed from the main tourist areas of St Julian's and Sliema. As a result, the hotel – all 345 rooms of it – struggled with under-occupancy. It has, though, reputedly had residents since it closed. In December 2015, there were reports that people traffickers were using the property as a drop-off point for migrants smuggled into the EU. Hope for the future? None whatsoever. The hotel has crumbled since its closure. Parts of it have collapsed, anything with a resale value has been stolen, and rubbish has welled up in many of the rooms. Redevelopment plans for the site have been tethered by red tape for the best part of a decade, but whatever happens, the original hotel will be demolished. 8. Hachijo Royal Hotel Where: Hachijo-jima, Japan When did it close? 2006 Once upon a time: The 1960s was a boom time for the Izu archipelago – volcanic outcrops strewn across the Philippine Sea south of Japan's main island, Honshu. The country was recovering from the Second World War, and blessed with a new generation increasingly keen to travel farther afield. These lava-born dots in the ocean came to be a halfway house – close to home but still exotic. They were even promoted as the 'Hawaii of Japan' – and Hachijo-jima, which lies 200 miles south of Tokyo, was at the forefront of the rush to the beach. The Hachijo Royal Hotel appeared in 1963 as a Baroque fantasy, all Greek-style statues in the garden and fountains tinkling in soft salute to the rising sun. What killed it? Changing tastes. It was difficult for the Japanese to travel abroad before the 1960s, but it soon became clear that the world was an oyster, and the wider horizon called. The hotel limped into the new century, but has been defunct now for two decades. Hope for the future? Possible but unlikely. The island's lush vegetation has begun to reclaim the property – swamping its sculptures and swallowing its dead swimming pool. It would take enormous investment to resurrect it – and tourist interest is no longer there. 9. Hotel Claridge Where: Outside Motilla del Palancar, Castilla-La Mancha, Spain When did it close? 1999 Once upon a time: Not all abandoned hotels are flights of fancy that suffered an Icarus fate. The Hotel Claridge was a fabled workhorse of the Spanish road system, pitched roughly midway along the N-3 highway, where it connects Madrid to Valencia. It opened in 1969, and looked the part – a grey slab of concrete brutalism, very much in sync with the unflinching outlook of General Franco's regime. It became a key stop-off point for coaches travelling from the capital to the country's third-biggest city – disgorging regular hordes of hungry passengers, who would eat quickly before jumping back onto their bus. What killed it? The construction of a swifter section of the A-3, directly to the south, between Honrubia and Motilla del Palancar, which cut the Claridge from the coach route, and starved it of its customers. As it was not a destination in itself, this was a death knell. Hope for the future? None. But it is a spectacular wreck, looming large at the roadside. 10. Grande Hotel Where: Beira, Mozambique When did it close? 1963 Once upon a time: The idea that anyone would build a luxury hotel on the coast of Mozambique in the middle of the last century sounds implausible – but that is exactly what happened in the city of Beira in 1954. And it was not such a crazy scheme. At the time, this slice of south-eastern Africa was one of the jewels of (what was left of) the Portuguese Empire, and Beira, which sits midway up the country's long Indian Ocean shoreline, was able to attract expats keen to sun themselves on warm sands. The Grande was constructed in an effusive art deco style, and had a hugely decadent accessory in the form of an Olympic-sized swimming pool. It was hoped that it would become a tourism beacon, also pulling in monied visitors from neighbouring Rhodesia (modern Zimbabwe). What killed it? The project was too ambitious. The hotel was awfully expensive, even for the colonial elite – and Beira was ultimately too remote for the siren call to be heard (it is more than 700 miles north of the national capital, Maputo). The Grande closed down more than a decade before the curtain fell on Portuguese rule in Mozambique in 1975; prior as well to the civil war which subsequently disembowelled the country (between 1977 and 1992). Hope for the future? No. The Grande was used for occasional parties and weddings in the late 1960s – but the civil war saw it fill with refugees and those fleeing the bullets. It is now, effectively, a giant squat. More than 1,000 people, including many families, currently live in its 116 rooms. The Olympic pool is still there, clogged with rubbish and dank water. North Korea's 'Hotel of Doom' Every abandoned hotel in this article at least had its glory days; those first few months of popularity. But even this brief window of success has, as yet, eluded the Ryugyong Hotel. Mockingly referred to as the 'Hotel of Doom' by amused outsiders, this 105-storey pyramid has been under construction for almost 40 years – without ever greeting a guest. It dominates the skyline in Pyongyang, towering over the rest of the North Korean capital at a height of 1,083ft. Prior to the ascent of the Goldin Finance 117 skyscraper – which hits 1,957ft in the northerly Chinese city of Tianjin but has been stalled as a construction project since 2015 – the hotel was the world's tallest unoccupied building. Work on the property commenced in 1987, when Kim Il Sung, North Korea's founder and 'Eternal President,' was still in power. It was supposed to open in 1989 and would have done so as the world's tallest hotel – had it managed to cut the ribbon on schedule. Instead, tools were downed in 1992, as North Korea fell into hard times – the collapse of the Soviet Union taking with it the country's leading international benefactor. Japanese newspapers reported that, by this point, the property had already cost US$750 million (£565 million); the equivalent of 2 per cent of North Korea's gross domestic product (GDP). However, without outside funding, there was no hope of completion. In the late 1990s, a discreet inspection by the European Chamber of Commerce in Korea (ECCK) deemed the hotel to be irreparable – damned by cracked concrete and crooked lift shafts. Undeterred, the North Korean regime has soldiered on. In 2008, windows were finally installed, and an opening date of 2012 was announced, to coincide with the 'Eternal President's' 100th birthday (although he died in 1994). Alas, neither Kim Il-Sung 's son, Kim Jong-il (who ruled until 2011), nor his grandson, Kim Jong-un, have seen the hotel to fruition. A brief partnership with the luxury hotel management company Kempinski came and went in 2013. LED screens showing the North Korean flag were added in 2018. At time of writing, the North Korean government is purportedly considering converting the site into a colossal casino.
