The Sippican Hotel: A History of Marion

A full house and then some joined Sippican Historical Society Vice President David Pierce on Thursday night, August 25, as he presented a lecture on the old Sippican Hotel and Casino.

Pierce’s popularity as a lecturer almost overwhelmed the room, as attendees continued to trickle into the Music Hall; more and more chairs had to be procured and lecture handouts quickly ran out.

“I usually teach high-schoolers,” Pierce said, looking happily over the crowded room. “They haven’t been anywhere yet, they’re not as interested.”

Pierce had plans to talk about more than the Sippican Hotel. He began by explaining the timeline of Marion itself; the story of the Sippican Hotel became a reflection of the town’s story.

The house that would eventually become the Sippican Hotel was originally built in 1794 as a two-story farm house owned by Timothy Hiller. In 1864, the farmhouse was converted into the Bay View House, and the third floor was added. In 1882, an additional wing was built, and then another four-story addition came to fruition in 1907.

“I’ve been there, I’ve seen the lot,” Pierce said, looking out at the audience. Behind him was an elegant photo of a rambling building, a smaller, charming version of Disney’s Victorian-inspired Grand Floridian. “I don’t know how they did it. But I tell you, I expect to see 150 people walking down South Street tonight after this lecture, trying to figure out how they fit it all in there.”

Certainly nobody could imagine a grand four-story hotel on the corner of South Street and Water Street today. It was a relic of its time – a time Pierce termed “the Golden Age” of Marion.

“We have some famous people in Marion here today,” he explained. “But Marion in the early twentieth century was an incredibly diverse mixing place for extremely well-known people. Presidents came here,” he stated, “and movie stars. Literary luminaries.” They found themselves unwinding on the delicate wicker furniture and shaded verandas of the hotel.

Often families from New York and Boston would come to the Inn and stay for the entire summer.

“The husbands would stay at work during the week and come into Marion on the weekends, but the wives and children would stay all summer,” Pierce explained. “Their luggage would be carried from train station by horse and carriage. Some of the families would even bring their pianos,” he added with a chuckle, explaining the system set in place to hoist pianos through the windows of the hotel.

What was a family to do for fun on those long, hot summer days on the beach? The answer was to visit the Sippican Casino. Of course, the Sippican Casino was – in the days of illegal gambling – actually a place for music, entertainment, and relaxation. The casino in question harbored a red roof and rambling verandas on three sides. It faced the ocean and offered tennis courts, music, and dancing in the second-floor ballroom. Even today, it sounds like a lavish (and rich) way to spend an idyllic summer.

The hotel was also served by electric trolleys chugging along the backwater streets in much the same way they traverse San Francisco today. The trolleys ran from 5:30 am to midnight at half-hour intervals.

“You could walk out of the hotel, step on the trolley to Wareham, then get off and take the train to Boston,” Pierce said, “but it would take you all day.”

Unfortunately, the hotel met its end in 1929, not long after the 1907 addition. It was sold to a syndicate from Boston who planned to renovate it as a tavern and build a dance hall on the site of the casino. Then, the hotel fell victim to a wider, shared fate: the Great Depression.

The decision was made to tear the entire structure down and sell the land for development. Thus the hotel, like the Golden Age of Marion, was finished.

Today, houses sit on the lots of the old hotel; the Marconi towers have fallen, and houses have risen in the seaside meadows. The electric trolley has long disappeared into the blur of the past, and railroad tracks are entombed under pavement. But, as Pierce aimed to impress on the audience, “The message today is change. Nothing ever stays the same.”

By Andrea Ray

 

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