The Crescent Hotel

The Crescent Hotel was built in 1886 during a time when Eureka Springs was booming. People from across the country were drawn to the area's natural springs, which were believed to have healing powers. The town quickly developed a reputation as a health resort, and the demand for luxury accommodations skyrocketed. Enter the Eureka Springs Improvement Company and the Frisco Railroad, who joined forces to build a hotel unlike anything else in the region.

Designed by architect Isaac S. Taylor and constructed by hundreds of Irish stonemasons, the Crescent Hotel was made from native limestone and spared no expense. It featured elegant dining rooms, sweeping verandas, and modern amenities that wowed even the most seasoned travelers. For a while, it looked like the Crescent would be a smashing success.

But like many resort towns of the era, Eureka Springs' popularity faded as quickly as it rose. The health craze dwindled, the spring water lost its magic (at least in the eyes of the public), and the Crescent struggled to stay afloat. Over the decades, the hotel went through a few identity changes—it served as the Crescent College and Conservatory for Young Women, and later a junior college for aspiring ladies of refinement.

And then, in the late 1930s, things took a dark and dangerous turn.

In 1937, the Crescent Hotel was purchased by a man named Norman G. Baker. A former vaudeville performer turned self-proclaimed doctor, Baker had a colorful personality and a criminal past. Despite having no medical license, he opened what he called a cancer hospital within the walls of the Crescent.

He promised desperate patients a miracle cure—one that didn't involve surgery, radiation, or chemicals. But his so-called treatments were nothing more than a sham: colored liquids, useless injections, and a whole lot of false hope. Tragically, many people died under his care, their suffering hidden behind the hotel's grand exterior.

Eventually, Baker was exposed, arrested, and sent to prison for mail fraud. But the damage was already done—and many believe the spirits of his victims never left.

If you're brave enough to book a night at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, you better be prepared for more than just room service and spa treatments. This grand Victorian-era hotel isn't just a charming piece of 19th-century architecture—it's one of the most haunted hotels in the world, with a dark past that still lingers in its long hallways and creaky stairwells.

So… what makes the Crescent Hotel so haunted?

Let's take a walk through history—and maybe bump into a few ghosts along the way.

To understand the hauntings at the Crescent Hotel, you first have to know about Norman Baker.

In 1937, Baker—a man with no medical license—bought the then-vacant Crescent Hotel and turned it into a cancer hospital. He painted the building lavender (yes, really), wore all-white suits with matching lavender shirts, and claimed to have found a miracle cure for cancer. Spoiler: He hadn't.

Baker preyed on the desperation of the sick and suffering. Patients checked in hoping for healing and comfort. Instead, they received bogus treatments: injections of "cures" that were mostly water and cornstarch, administered with flashy salesmanship and zero medical oversight. Many died inside the hotel, never knowing they were part of a scam.

The worst part? Baker kept the bodies in the basement morgue, some of which were exhumed decades later during renovations—confirming what many locals already suspected.

It's no surprise the Crescent is haunted. The trauma endured within those walls was immense. Many believe the spirits of Baker's victims never left.

Plenty of ghosts call the Crescent Hotel home. Some are friendly. Others? Well… let's just say they don't love sharing their space.

Perhaps the hotel's most famous ghost, Michael is believed to have been one of the original workers who helped build the Crescent back in the 1880s. Legend has it that he fell from the roof and landed in what is now Room 218, which is widely considered the most haunted room in the hotel.

Guests in Room 218 report everything from flickering lights and slamming doors to feeling like someone is watching them. Some even claim to have been nudged or touched during the night. One guest swears her blanket was pulled completely off the bed—twice.

You can request to stay in 218. Just don't say we didn't warn you.

Theodora is often seen near Room 419. She's believed to be a former patient of Baker's "hospital," and she still introduces herself to guests. Yes, really. One woman said Theodora appeared at the foot of her bed, introduced herself, and then disappeared through the door like she had an appointment to keep.

Despite the horror of her life story, Theodora is a gentle spirit. Guests say she even tidies up the room, arranging shoes or unpacked clothes. That's a ghost with some manners.

Some believe Norman Baker's ghost has returned to the scene of his crimes. He's been spotted wearing his signature white suit in the basement—what used to be his morgue. Staff members say they've seen a man who matches Baker's description staring into mirrors or standing in the old autopsy room.

Whether it's guilt or arrogance bringing him back, one thing is clear: he's not done with the Crescent.

A little girl dressed in 19th-century clothes has been seen skipping through the halls and down staircases. Some believe she may have been a guest or patient during the hotel's early years. She never speaks, but she'll make eye contact—just before vanishing into thin air.

Certain areas of the hotel seem to attract more ghostly energy than others.

Widely regarded as the Crescent Hotel's most paranormally active space, Room 218 draws ghost hunters, skeptics, and thrill-seeking tourists from all over the country. It's believed to be haunted by the spirit of Michael, an Irish stonemason who tragically fell to his death during the hotel's original construction in the 1880s. Since then, strange happenings have plagued this room—lights flicker with no electrical cause, faucets turn on and off by themselves, and the heavy door sometimes slams shut even when locked open. Guests who stay the night often report hearing disembodied voices, mysterious knocks on the walls, or feeling an invisible presence sitting at the edge of their bed. Paranormal investigators have dubbed it a "spiritual vortex," a concentrated point of supernatural energy where the veil between worlds seems unusually thin.

If there's one place in the Crescent Hotel that even the bravest visitors hesitate to enter, it's the basement. Once used as Norman Baker's makeshift morgue, the area includes a chilling autopsy room, cold storage compartments, and the remnants of a time when the hotel was marketed as a cancer hospital. The atmosphere is oppressive, heavy with the memory of fear and suffering. Staff members often report hearing moans echoing down the hallways when no one is present, or encountering sudden drops in temperature—sometimes to the point of seeing their breath. Visitors have caught shadowy figures on camera or seen a man in a white suit (believed to be Baker himself) lingering near the old examination tables. Some even claim to feel a hand on their back while standing near the body drawer, only to turn around and find the room completely empty.

Elegant and timeless, the Crescent Hotel's lobby is where guests first encounter the charm of this Victorian-era treasure. But not all who lounge by the ornate fireplace are living. Over the years, numerous guests and staff have claimed to see a well-dressed gentleman in a Victorian suit calmly watching from a nearby armchair or standing near the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. He's always described the same way: tall, distinguished, and quietly content, as though he's still admiring the building's architecture over a century later. Some believe he may have been one of the hotel's earliest patrons—or perhaps an architect, forever admiring his work. Just as quickly as he appears, he vanishes into thin air, leaving behind only the lingering scent of pipe smoke and a faint chill.

During the day, the Crystal Dining Room at the Crescent Hotel buzzes with the clatter of dishes and polite conversation. But as night falls—and especially during the holiday season—something else seems to take over. Staff and guests alike have reported a phantom party playing out in the shadows. Figures dressed in early 20th-century evening wear appear as if out of nowhere: women in long gowns dancing in slow circles, men in formal suits clinking glasses in a toast that no one hears. Music drifts in the air, though no source can be found. Some employees refuse to close the room alone, spooked by the soft sounds of laughter and the occasional glimpse of a ghostly couple twirling in an invisible waltz. It's as if the spirits of past holiday revelers return year after year—forever celebrating in the afterlife.

One former night clerk shared that the elevator sometimes moves on its own, stopping on random floors where no one is waiting—and no buttons were pressed.

Online reviews of the Crescent Hotel are filled with stories of eerie experiences.

"We stayed in Room 218 and were woken up at 3:15 AM by tapping on the window. We were on the third floor. I don't even want to think about how that's possible." – Amanda R., TripAdvisor

"I took a selfie in the basement. Later, I noticed a pale figure in the background standing next to me. My boyfriend was the only person with me… and he was taking the photo." – Jason M., Google Review

"Something turned on the bathroom faucet while we were out. When we got back, the mirror was fogged and the words 'GET OUT' were scrawled across it. I wish I was kidding." – Leslie F., Yelp

Even the staff have stories. One housekeeper said she refuses to clean certain rooms alone. "You get that pressure on your chest," she explained, "like someone's staring at you the whole time."

Good question. Is it the trauma? The history? The intense emotions still echoing through the halls?

Many believe that locations like the Crescent act as energy traps—places where pain, death, or even joy leaves a permanent imprint. For the people who died here under Norman Baker's fake treatments, their spirits may be stuck in a loop, searching for justice or release.

Others might simply love the place too much to leave. It is, after all, still a beautiful hotel with an amazing view.

The Crescent Hotel today fully embraces its haunted reputation. They even host ghost tours nightly, led by knowledgeable guides who'll take you through the basement morgue and share stories that will make your skin crawl. They also offer access to the most active rooms—if you're daring enough to book one.

Whether you're a believer or just a thrill-seeker, the Crescent Hotel offers something you won't find anywhere else: a beautiful stay with a very real chance of sharing your room with the dead.

So the next time you're in Eureka Springs, ask yourself—are you feeling brave?

Because the ghosts at the Crescent Hotel? They're not going anywhere.

Over the years, the Crescent Hotel has welcomed everyone from politicians and celebrities to curious travelers and die-hard ghost hunters. And while the amenities have been modernized, the history—and the hauntings—remain very much alive.

Whether you're booking a room, joining a ghost tour, or just dropping by for a peek at the lobby, there's a good chance you'll feel something… strange. Maybe it's the echo of the past. Maybe it's the lingering presence of those who checked in, but never checked out.

If you're planning a trip to Eureka Springs, the Crescent Hotel is a must-see. With its mix of 19th-century elegance, dark history, and ghostly residents, it's a destination that offers more than just a place to sleep.

Just don't be surprised if something goes bump in the night.