Right in front of you is the old Butler Hotel-just look for a big, rectangular brick building with rows of arched windows marching across every floor, sitting neatly on the corner of Second Avenue and James Street.
Now, picture yourself standing here over a hundred years ago, right at the lively heart of old Seattle. If you looked up, you’d see the grandeur of the Butler Hotel. Back when it opened its doors in 1894, this place was the absolute toast of the town, rivaling any hotel west of the Mississippi. But hold on-the story of this building begins even earlier, in a very different Seattle.
Before the Butler was ever hotel or brick, this was Hillory Butler’s little piece of paradise-a truck garden, smack in the middle of what would become bustling downtown. Picture rows of vegetables with the early clatter of horse-drawn wagons bouncing over wooden plank streets nearby. Butler’s one condition: any building here must keep his name for all time. He’d be proud to know his wish was immortalized above the door.
Then, after the Great Seattle Fire roared through in 1889, a new fireproof city arose. The original Butler was just a humble, three-story wooden affair, but after the fire, ambitious plans went sky-high. Parkinson and Evers, fresh architects just arrived from California, whipped up plans for something grand-first an office building, which would soon get a glamorous new life as a hotel.
Once up and running, the Butler went all out. Imagine its marble-floored lobby bustling with miners, businessmen, and adventurers, many of them just back from the Yukon Gold Rush, their pockets heavy with gold dust and wild stories. Then, there were locals-Seattle’s movers and shakers-mixing with famous faces, from shifty con men to visiting admirals and railroad titans. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the clinking glasses and raucous laughter spilling from the Rose Room.
The Butler’s kitchen was the best in town, with fresh seafood and the city’s finest fare. The massive dining room was split for men and women-imagine that!-and the place boasted its own ice-cooled refrigerators and even its own electric plant, a marvel at the time. The year 1903 brought two extra stories and made the Butler the tallest, flashiest social hub in the city.
But even inside this palace, there were storms-and not just from the weather. When a new minimum wage law came to town in 1915, the hotel fired all its maids and replaced them with an all-Japanese staff, but the uproar was so fierce, the maids were rehired just two weeks later. The city’s sense of drama was alive and kicking!
Fast-forward to the roaring twenties-Prohibition was in full swing, but the Butler’s Rose Room must have missed the memo, or maybe it just ignored it on purpose. The whole city knew this was the place where the drinks kept flowing, even if the law said otherwise. Bandleaders like Victor Meyers and Jackie Souder got Seattle dancing, and smoky jazz drifted into the night air. The young Bing Crosby himself once got turned away-imagine telling Bing to get more practice!
The Rose Room was legendary, not just for its music, but as Seattle’s own speakeasy playground. Prohibition agents staged dramatic raids, swooping in and grabbing bottles hidden under tables while customers booed and staff kept pouring drinks with a wink and a smile. Everybody knew: the real fun was in playful defiance, and the Butler was never short on mischief.
As the Depression deepened and the city changed, the old hotel started to fade. Dancing was outlawed after 9 PM, then the Rose Room was shuttered for a year. When the ballroom lights flickered on again in 1930, things had changed for good. By September 1933, the Butler closed its doors forever. Chairs and silverware were auctioned off, and, one by one, all but the bottom two floors were torn down to make way for the city’s onward march-a parking garage.
The fancy dining, the criminal capers, the glitz of the Gold Rush-gone. Now, only the lower floors remain, part of the Butler Garage. So as you stand here, remember: this spot was once the pulse of old Seattle, where fortunes were made, rules were bent, and every night promised a wild new story. And don’t worry-if you happen to “find” any whiskey while you’re here, your secret’s safe with me!
