Hey, true weirdos, thank you so much for all your support.

Because of your support, we were able to win some awards with this podcast in the past year.

And be sure to stick around for the conversation we have after the episode.

The place sure wasn't as grand as it used to be, but the Statatler Hotel in New York City was still clinging to its

former greatness as best it could. Once upon a time, it had been the largest hotel in the whole

world. It was like its own little city. 2,200 rooms, restaurants, ballroom, shops. It even had

its own newspaper and a library. But in those cold

pre-dawn hours in November, 1953, there was no pretending that the old girl hadn't gotten

shabby with time. Her glory days, the 1920s, 30s, and 40s were long past.

And the world had moved on.

People had once crowded its ballrooms to dance to big band music,

while people at home gathered around their radios to hear NBC broadcast live from the hotel's Cafe Rouge.

The National Broadcasting Company invited to listen to Glenn Miller's music.

But now, people were trading evenings at glitzy nightclubs for the comfort of watching TV

in their own homes.

The Statler, with its 22 stories looming over

Penn Station, had become a less glamorous hot spot and a more affordable place to sleep,

convenient to the train. And if we're honest, things had gotten weird at the Stadler.

Hard to pinpoint exactly how or why, but the atmosphere now,

it was just off. Fayed at grandeur can easily descend into a dusty sort of creepiness.

Hallways as wide as avenues vaulted in marble with crystal chandeliers that once

threw sparkling light onto every surface, dark now to save electricity, shadows collecting in the

...