Inquirer Anniversary: End of an era for a grand hotel

To mark the 180th anniversary of its founding, The Inquirer is reprinting an article from its archives every Monday for 18 weeks. Today's offering, the 11th in our series, was published July 16, 1922, and describes the closing of one of Philadelphia's early luxury hotels.

The time-honored, historical Continental Hotel, of Philadelphia, closes its doors forever on September 2.

That is the end of one of the landmarks of America, for immediately its fine old furniture will be pulled out, the grand stairway dismantled and then the workers will begin tossing down its stone walls, until the hostelry that entertained the Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward VII, of England; Dom Pedro, of Brazil; sheltered every President of the United States from Lincoln to McKinley, had also as its guests Charles Dickens and other great authors of the day, actors of world-wide fame, and men prominent of both hemispheres, will be laid low, and carted away to make room for the modern up-to-date Benjamin Franklin Hotel, to be erected upon its site.

In 1855, John McArthur, Jr., architect, and William Struthers, mason, began construction of the Continental Hotel, on Ninth and Chestnut streets. They completed their work in 1860, and on February 20 of that year, the hotel was thrown open to the public. At night, before the gallant gentlemen and beautiful ladies began to arrive, lighted candles were placed in every window of the hotel - for that was long before the coming of electric bulbs and arc lights. There were fireplaces in each of the large rooms. The throngs that filled the lobby and dining rooms on the occasion of the grand opening, marveled at the finished work of the architect.

Totally unmindful of the impending fate, today there is a small white marble eschutcheon on the wainscoating, just in front of the clerk's counter, bearing the names of McArthur and Struthers, the builders. The present and last manager of the Continental, G.C. McNamara, called attention to the tablet, and stooping before it with a pencil and paper, he copied the names.

"Every guest of this hotel, from 1860 until now," he said, "has stood before this marble design and made his wants known to the clerk. It has been the silent observer of millions upon millions of people - the great of this land, the rich and the poor, royalty of Europe, and the passing pageant of men and women who count. On September 2, it will have finished its mission."

Alfred Perkins was the first manager. He opened the hotel on the American plan, giving room and four meals a day for $2.50 - breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper. If fire were required in the fireplaces in the room, this was 75 cents extra. Perkins afterwards went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York, as manager.

As the years rolled on, other and finer hotels sprang up and overshadowed the Continental, and people began passing it by - but not all, for even today prominent men of the West, Philadelphians who migrated years ago, and grew up with the country and became rich, come now on their vacations to the East, and register in the Continental. And frequently, the gray-haired man in his seventies, and perhaps he and his wife together, whisper to the clerk: "We spent our honeymoon in this hotel forty years ago. Could we have the same room again?"

When the dismantling begins, in September, the general public will be reminded of the wealth of old furniture, when they see it hauled through the streets. Today the suite occupied by the late King Edward, while Prince of Wales, is still intact. The same articles of furniture are in the rooms.

Residents of Philadelphia can go back in their memories to many events that had for headquarters the old Continental. For years it was the seat of the mighty in Republican circles, in the renowned Matthew S. Quay, who held sway in Pennsylvania and national politics for nearly two decades. And in the sanctum of his palatial suites, were framed and executed many decrees that affected the destiny of the United States.

Intermingled with the moving parade of events of consequence that made history in the nation, that reflected the glories of other countries, reminiscences will call up gay balls, dinners and entertainments, in which Melba, Lillian Russell, Mrs. Fiske, Joseph Jefferson, Mansfield, Beerbohn Tree and other noted personages figured.

There are many living today who remember Charles Dickens's stay at the Continental, at the time when "Little Nell" was a household word - when upon the arrival of the ship from England, people would rush to the wharf rail and ask anxiously of the passengers: "What is the latest fate of Little Nell?"

Then, as one casts an eye up the narrow balcony, overlooking Chestnut street, he may remember the day that Dom Pedro, of Brazil, appeared on that stout little extension and made his bow to Philadelphians.

However, "time and tide wait for no man," and the requirements of modern men and women, the lure of the future, demand that the massive stone structure of the Continental be removed to give its site to the Benjamin Franklin, which Abner N. Mershon and his company will now build. The Benjamin Franklin is to be a 1200-room hotel palace, the last word in hotel construction, to be ready and opened in time for the sesquicentennial.