One of the oldest buildings in Cambridge Ontario, the Preston Springs Gardens Hotel was once the very idea of opulence for many important and even aristocratic Canadians. Just after the turn of the century this historic and regal hotel was a drawing point for some of Canada's richest and most famous high-lifers. They would come in droves to experience the sulphur spring baths offered by the hotel as a healing spa service, possibly the first spa of its kind. The Sulphur Springs Gardens, given its name for the immense sulphur water spring flowing beneath it, boasted lush gardens and lavish accommodations with a world class dining lounge. They offered both indoor and outdoor sits baths with full service attendants, five floors and 130 rooms, a beautifully elaborate elevator and ornate carpentry; it really was the epitome of luxury in its day.
In approximately 1940 the hotel closed its doors; unable to keep up with the ever growing demands of the fine hotel industry. As general medicine advanced and a new understanding of health practises became known, the vast majority of the patrons shied away from the so-called healing properties of the sulphur baths, leaving ownership with a grand but empty hotel.
Several years later the property was renovated into a retirement villa, maintaining much of the luxury of the old hotel. It was updated to meet more modern codes of operation and enjoyed many years of success, until finally the expense of running such an antiquated building became prohibitive and the doors were once again closed.
Since that final failure of business the hotel has sat empty, brooding and waiting for an influx of new energy. Several times the property was purchased by eager and industrious developers with grand plans to either restore the building to its former glory or to reinvent its hallowed walls and sweeping stairways. Each and every attempt to renovate this property has since failed, and not through a lack of effort, financial fortitude nor vision. Each renovation has been met with perilous accidents, unexplained technical issues and insurmountable personnel problems.
I was given opportunity to experience the mood of this neglected and overrun establishment over more than two years as the general caretaker during a period of complete vacancy. I was tasked with security, minor maintenance and just an overall responsibility for the property. Living on the grounds in a small service residence located just next to the massive hotel, I had sole access to the building and took it upon myself to patrol the grounds at least once a day.
That patrol normally took me through the bowels of the old building and on a casual room-by-room search to check for trespassers, damage and just generally have a look around. Since I had taken over my wife and I had experienced several strange and unexplained events both inside and outside the hotel. These experiences were largely undefined but I still held an uneasy hesitation for certain areas of the building. At first I chalked it up to a typical fear of the unknown, of dark and dingy old basements with huge boilers and piles of refuse hiding who-knows-what, but soon came to realise there was a little more to it.
Each area of the hotel engendered a different feeling…trepidation, loneliness, anger and fear. Walking about the hallways and service corridors, exploring through rooms and climbing the three main stairwells, I would experience both an urge to run screaming from the building and a need to press on. It became clear to me that I was not alone on my patrols, though I was not accompanied by another living soul.
On the few occasions that I needed to enter the hotel after dark, I walked quickly and armed with a heavy flashlight. Most of the buildings power had been turned off due to the risk of fire and only the lower service areas had any working lights, so a night time incursion had me wandering the pitch black hotel with my eyes wide and my breath as shallow as I could make it.
Despite the lack of power, I would regularly field complaints and comments from neighbours and friends about the upper floor lights being on during the night. Many people remarked about my standing in the windows, looking out over the busy street below. To which I would have to reveal that I rarely enter the building at night, certainly not if I can avoid it.
Stories began to spread about the hotel, adding to rumours and urban legends about the old property and soon teenagers and sightseers would be found breaking in for a look around. The damage they cause was my responsibility to fix, which in turn demanded that I spend more time inside the building, boarding broken windows, securing doors and removing graffiti. As time went on I became more comfortable with the hotel during daylight hours, spending hour upon hour working away. I soon forgot the feeling of being watched and no longer hesitated to walk into the areas that had previously held fear for me.
