Depraved. The Definitive True Story of H.H. Holmes Whose Grotesque Crimes Shattered Turn-of-the-Century Chicago

Holmes commenced his handwritten account in midsummer 1895. By early fall, Holmes' Own Story was already on the stands, published by the Philadelphia firm of Burk & McFethridge. [...] Though Holmes had a taste for good fiction [...], his own book is more or less completely devoid of literary merit, veering wildly between mawkish sentimentality and lurid melodrama. What unifies the work is its overwritten style—prose, as one commentator put it, 'of the most vibrant purple'—and its shamelessly self-serving intent. For all his attempts to project an air of candor and sincerity, his deeply manipulative nature comes through in every line.

It is impossible to say who first christened the building with its byname. Perhaps it was a neighborhood resident, paying tribute to the imposing look of Holmes's creation. Or perhaps it was Holmes itself, whose talent for self-promotion matched his grandiose ambitions. Whatever the case, soon after its completion, Englewood's citizens began referring to the new building as 'the Castle'.

In later years, of course, that name would be modified, and the looming structure at the corner of Wallace and Sixty-third streets would become known to the world by other phrases:

Bluebeard's Castle. Murder Castle. Nightmare Castle. The Castle of Horror.