The Binzenhof
Theodore “Teddy” Binzen, the founder of the Binzenhof, was one of Gary, Indiana’s first long-term businessmen.
The saloon industry was poised to be a winner in Gary’s infancy. It was strange, for it was neither a frontier town nor near any such settlements commonly regarded as western. However, there was a frontier-like element. This is the case because this county section was the last settled.
Instead, Gary, and Lake County, Indiana, were generally treated as Chicago’s backyard. Constructing Gary resembled building a gazebo and barbecue pit behind one of the Windy City’s Gilded Age mansions. Gary pulled them in by the thousands, whatever the draw was for speculators and entrepreneurs living in Illinois.
Company Town Control
Real estate planners in the city were not saloon friendly. Even Elbert H. Gary was a religious zealot, believe it or not. Prohibitionist concerns easily swayed his convictions. In addition, US Steel wanted total control over Gary’s politics, economy, and civil culture.
The invasive corporation tried to avoid another Pullman at every turn possible. This included limiting and controlling where liquor was bought and sold. As a result, nearly every deed forbade the sale of liquor at “booze emporiums,” with few exceptions.
Limited saloons became a critical experiment. The big powers wanted to see how a regulated bar and tavern would “play out.” So the mill paid for Binzenhof’s construction and the state liquor license ($250). The lease would be for one year. After that, if anything went wrong, all would fall on the shoulders of William Ellis Corey, president of US Steel.
Yes, Elbert Gary was in charge, but he was the US Steel Trust chairman, running all combined companies under the US Steel brand. Corey was the president of US Steel’s operations and answered Elbert, just in case you were confused. There was no way Mr. Gary would take the brunt of any backlash.
Saloons represented where dissent could spark and political turmoil could unite and muster. The steel barons did not want this. Additionally, state politicians were worried about the new city having a political say. The state issued the liquor license. Gary and its leaders would have no say over the matter. Who knew opening a bar would be so consequential?
The Contest
In the spring of 1907, Gary officials initiated a sort of contest. The town of Gary authorized five or six lots to sell liquor legally inside its limits. There would only be five, even if the city grew to one million citizens. Only those with the best action plan, financial influence, and social standing were considered.
According to The Inter Ocean Sun, in early 1907, an unnamed steel official tipped off an anonymous “old-time friend” (a steel magnate) about this location and its plans. This friend supported running a downtown Gary saloon and recognized it as “a gold mine.”
This “old-time friend” let it slip to another who had an office in Gary. In 3 days, many “old-time friend” types from Illinois and Indiana were vying for the chance to run Gary’s only legal saloon. Thousands of telegraphs got wired, messengers ran, “pathetic letters” were written, and requested emissaries came and went.
At the same time, brewers got wind of the idea. So they went to work trying to solicit agreements and contracts with those involved. The question of who would win the exclusive right to serve a predicted 20,000 steelworkers and associated townsfolk was all the talk. Lots of Illinois breweries were churning out the suds. Some of them were owned by politicians.
“Could you imagine anything better?” — The Inter Ocean Sun, July 28, 1907.
Joliet’s “Big Chief Ted” won, immediately obtaining ownership of the structure. Mr. Binzen had friends in high places.
Ted Binzen was born on January 29, 1836, in Prussia. The family moved to America in the 1850s, where they worked in the liquor trade on the East Coast.
Moving to Joliet in 1868, he became the highway commissioner of Will County, Illinois. He later became Joliet’s police chief.
The Binzenhof Opens
Ted Binzen opened his saloon at once in June 1907 with help from his brothers George and Michael and his wife Josephine, better known as Sadie. Immediately after discovering he had won, he named the new Gary Land Company building the “Binzenhof.” The Times said it was a play on the “Kaiserhof,” a hotel formerly located in Chicago.
Being a former police chief, Ted was a plus for planning officials. The rule of law was essential to respect. Who better to do so than a retired public servant and politician? Certainly, Teddy Binzen wouldn’t allow for shenanigans.
The most coveted location was the brand new, two-story Gary Land Company building on the southeast corner of 4th & Broadway.
By obtaining one of the most economically marketable corners in town, right in front of the main gate of Gary Works and just a block from the main train stations, Ted, with his “splendid thirst cure establishment,” was predicted to be one of Northwest Indiana’s wealthiest men in less than a decade. Those predictions turned out to be correct.
Ted was also an entertainer, once a vaudeville circuit artist performing as one of the famous Gold Dust Twins.
Compared to today’s morals, his behavior is very racist. There is no doubt. Yet, back then, blacks weren’t widely allowed to perform, so whites in blackface were a thing. Making blacks look ridiculous and treating their reality as churlish was normal. It was like taking a bath or eating breakfast, something that one did.
Gary was known as “the great white way” for its vast white dunes. Yet the title took on new meaning when minorities came to settle. Of course, Binzen ceased his vaudeville activities after a time, but not before this.
The above photo is proof of Ted Benzin’s blackface proclivities. The Gary Minstrel Club performed on June 4, 1908. In Gary: A Pictorial History by James Lane, Binzen’s act is described as a “speciality act.” It is unknown if the authors realized the performers were in blackface.
I won’t spend more time discussing this issue, for information is severely lacking.
Ted would hire numerous black porters to tend to his patrons. They were trusted confidants, charged with security assignments and janitorial duties, amongst other tasks. This was a massive job for blacks, for outside of traveling to and from work, they were not allowed to patronize downtown Gary, especially at night.
The Binzenhof was the only saloon to operate on the north side legally. Of course, the town had way more pubs south of the Wabash tracks, but those were unregulated by the city and under the control of outside parties.
At the same time, city officials decided Gary would essentially be halved. One side would be for the “red slippered ones” and the “demimondes.” The other would be for polite society. The other side was known as “the badlands,” “The Patch,” and “the south side.” Regardless of which side, Ted Binzen would be the kingpin of all saloonkeepers.
The Binzen family became a prominent entity reasonably quickly. By 1910, Ted and Sadie were owners of at least one apartment building, the Binzen Apartments, located on 6th & Jefferson (600 Jefferson). Unfortunately, the structure is gone.
Ted Binzen, whose family lived at 419 Massachusetts Street, was one of Gary’s first automobile owners. His first car was a Chalmers-Detroit Model 30, a 4-cylinder, 30hp touring car.
Michael resided south of Buffington Park at 758 Pennsylvania Street, today an overgrown lot. George Binzen, a bartender, stayed in a room at the Binzenhof.
There are few accounts of what the Binzenhof looked like from the inside. The first permanent two-story building in the city contained a rathskeller (a word representing a basement bar or restaurant), an enormous hall, and boarding accommodations.
However, the Herald News reported that Joliet, Illinois brothers George and Jesse Hobby painted two custom pictures for the Binzenhof. No doubt these paintings were installed inside the building somewhere, probably prominently.
The bar was large enough for patrons to line up four rows deep. A large mirror sat on a wall behind the bar, which drinkers would use to adjust their garments before heading out.
The dance hall held dances for religious institutions on the second floor. A large receiving dock was behind the building, where porters offloaded dozens of liquor barrels into its storage room daily.
The Binzens, barkeeps, waitresses, and their help became known as “the knights of the white apron.”
In addition to the bar, the Binzenhof had a check cashing service. Protectographs and adding machines were installed, guarded by arms constantly. They had an auditor cashing hundreds of thousands of dollars a month. Binzenhof was not the only check-cashing saloon in the state, but it was the finest.
Trouble On The Horizon
Two years after it opened, the court shut down all legal saloons in the city. This was because of a remonstrance filed with the Lake County Commissioners in 1908 by an inter-county coalition of temperance acolytes. State law allowed a petition signed by a majority who voted in a previous election to block liquor sales for two years.
The anti-saloon “drys” crept silently, obtaining signatures secretly under the noses of the “wets.” When pro-liquor proponents and associated businesspeople discovered what was happening, they were in the Superior court in Hammond.
Meanwhile, the remonstrance forced fifteen Calumet Township bars to shut down. Others could remain open because keepers obtained their licenses a few days before the remonstrance became legal. Lake County denied any liquor licenses due after the filing date. The “drys” won the remonstrance, successfully shutting down legal saloons in Gary for a year.
The bar sold farewell drinks on April 8, 1909. Though the liquor license expired at midnight, hundreds of people stood around the block to take their last drinks. Beer pumps and drew corks worked overtime. Nevertheless, law enforcement did nothing to stop the sales that day.
Unfortunately, the “knights of the white apron” could not quickly meet the demand. As a result, the bar became crowded, requiring an improvised ticketing system.
The thirsty patrons wanted to support the bar as a sign of respect. The Binzenhof was a check casher and didn’t have to be. Sometimes $40,000 of checks would be cashed in a single night. Then, the building shut its doors, following the law.
When the Binzenhof closed its doors to drinkers, some bartenders became drug store clerks. A doctor’s prescription could issue liquor. Illinois bars enjoyed the influx of patrons from Indiana, more than happy to supply the corn, rye, and other products that resulted in a fiery liquid that brought happiness.
However, the 200+ saloons in “The Patch” were under no obligation to close. So most keepers converted their places into blind pigs without the “blind” part. Even though the police raided numerous saloons, they could not close them all.
Gary’s mayor did not intend to close saloons south of the Wabash tracks. He feared that having nowhere for the steelworkers to drink would result in violent rebellions and upheavals. So, the cat-and-mouse game between bootleggers and law enforcement was ratcheted.
The lack of action by the city government resulted in The Patch becoming even more seedy, dangerous, and dark. It was a free-for-all, with all sorts of gambling dens, brothels, and other places of ill repute opening up to take advantage of the vacuum created by the closure of the Binzenhof.
“We really do not want to let people know how bad the situation became here, but if they had gone on, the whole truth would have come out. We do not feel safe yet,” said one unnamed Patch citizen.
I wrote about The Patch and the activities there. But, unfortunately, it had not changed at all by this time. The area was still as dirty, raw, and lawless as it wanted to be. The Anti-Saloon League and other temperance movement agents successfully got a few dozen bars shut down, but there were far too many to tame.
Yet, the licensing measure got repealed due to the legal validity of some of the petitioners. As a result, normal saloon operations resumed on May 3, 1910. By now, more watering holes were allowed north of the Wabash. They were the Hotel Gary, 6th & Broadway, the Victoria Hotel, the Broadway Hotel, the Savoy Hotel, and Walter McNally’s at 577 Broadway.
The Payroll Bandits
On December 19, 1917, at 2 pm, Michael Binzen and a black porter of Jamaican descent, Spencer Tillman, transported $25,000 in payroll from the Binzenhof to a bank. Tillman was more like a private security guard than a run-of-the-mill porter.
According to The Times, Michael and Spencer did this numerous times over nine years and with more significant money. They held a bag and a coat full of loot, guns in their free hands. All knew what they were doing. Law enforcement predicted someone would rob the pair one day en route to the bank.
There are two discrepancies I want to clear up. Michael was en route from Gary State Bank to his home. Secondly, the robbery occurred in 1917, not 1914, as stated in the column.
The pair left Gary State Bank, walked south on Broadway, and shuffled east up 6th Avenue towards Massachusetts Street. As they passed three men standing under an awning at the Sidney Hotel, 6th & Massachusetts, one of the men smacked Michael with a lead pipe concealed in a newspaper.
At first, the robbers only focused on Michael, surrounding him and backing him into a wall. Then, suddenly, an open-top, black Ford Model T touring car with a white stripe pulled beside them. The trio came armed with at least one pipe, at least one pistol, and another with a sawed-off shotgun. They were only a block away from the police station.
Then, Michael got popped on the head with the pipe again. As he fell unconscious, Spencer got tackled by three of the bandits. The fight was ferocious, but he was able to pull his gun in the melee. Spencer fired twice but didn’t hit anyone.
One of the bandits returned fire. Michael was grazed in the neck by a .38 bullet meant for Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer, the “faithful Negro”, got shot in the head and heart and was killed instantly.
The bandits quickly snatched Tillman’s gun and a bag containing $10,000. The waiting Ford sped off, and the bandits did the deed in less than a minute.
Witnesses told the press that the Ford went south on Connecticut Street, being pursued by a young delivery driver. The delivery boy realized he was not armed and ceased the chase at 8th Avenue. The getaway car turned west on 8th Avenue and disappeared.
Later, a chauffeur claimed to have seen bandits whose numbers were five instead of four. He alleged they asked him the quickest route to Chicago. They told the driver he could have their car and abandoned the Ford between the 4th & 5th Avenue Pennsylvania Railroad crossing. It is assumed they stole another vehicle and made their way to Windy City. Police later determined the getaway car to have been stolen from Gary Attorney J. Glenn Harris.
Spencer Tillman, 36, from Joliet, was a trusted friend of Michael. Mike had employed him since 1899 and worked as a Bruno at numerous saloons. The Tillman family was a well-known streetfighting family in Illinois’ criminal underworld. Spencer was even hired as a bodyguard for the mayor of Joliet in 1909 before Michael sent for him.
He left behind a wife, Ella Mae Moore.
You can access the maps below HERE.
The attack was bad enough, but it occurred in broad daylight and in front of several dozen witnesses who were out Christmas shopping. Some witnesses, who worked at the Sidney Hotel on 6th & Massachusetts, identified three bandits. They were William “Slippery Sonny” Dunn (not to be confused with Gary City Judge William Dunn), Arnold Dear, and Thomas Kelly, all of Chicago. The other two were never identified.
However, two bandits were released three months later and cleared of the charges. The court branded one of the witnesses, waitress Amanda Blunt, as unreliable. The judge said Blunt was “not worth 30 cents” and exclaimed her identification wouldn’t be able to “convict a dog.”
The suspects had people vouch for their whereabouts on the robbery day. They even tried to break out of Cook County jail at least once. I believe they were guilty; however, the shenanigans of the police, the witnesses, and the lawyers made their guilt legally questionable.
William “Sonny” Dunn kept getting tagged as Tillman’s murderer by more and more witnesses, even managing to be arrested for the crime again in 1921. He had a long record of crimes, including alleged murders — all he managed to beat somehow.
Michael was quoted in The Times saying that he knew Tom Kelly from working as a roofer in Gary. The more I dig into it, the more the robbery doesn’t look like a coincidence. Michael would leave the Midwest entirely after this incident, moving to Deer Park, Washington.
Dunn was poised to get prosecuted for Tillman’s murder. However, Mike never returned to the Midwest to see it through. Dunn and Kelly were still being charged for the crime nearly ten years later. Unfortunately, Ted Binzen would die in 1928 after watching his fighter, Neil Clisby, get knocked out during a boxing match in Los Angeles.
The Big One Comes
The building was closed after state Prohibition kicked in on April 2, 1918, and the Drys celebrated another victory. Thousands of properties fell into vacancy. A lot got taken up by restaurants and confectionaries. The Binzenhof was no different, with a soda pop company leasing the building.
Yet not even the children cared. The Binzenhof was abandoned, never to reopen as a bar again.
Federal Prohibition kicked in at midnight on January 17, 1920. As a result, all bars and saloons in the nation had to shut down.
In 1921, the Gary Board of Education leased the Binzenhof. Headed by William Wirt, the former watering hole became the headquarters for Gary Public Schools and several other school districts.
Gary City Hall got slated to sit where the Binzenhof stood. Mayor Floyd Williams bought the structure in 1926 and moved it near 5th & Virginia in 1927. Yet, the facility never reached the heights it once held. No one used it for anything. Gary City Hall (1927) and the “twin” Lake County Superior Courthouse (1930) were built shortly after that.
The most coveted commercial intersection of Gary was no more.
1929 the building was slated for remodeling, for it had become an eyesore. Its windows were broken, and the interior deteriorated and was unsightly. The main floor was planned to become an apartment, garage, and auto salesroom.
The business was called Ray’s Standard Service, 538 E 5th Avenue. There was already a one-pump gas station before the Binzenhof moved behind it. According to the Post-Tribune, Robert J. Welsh founded this singular gas station in 1925. By 1988, Welsh would be the largest Phillips Petroleum distributor in the nation.
It is now the northwest corner of the Railcats Stadium, at 5th & Virginia Street.
I’m not sure when the building got demolished. It was still standing in 1992, according to USGS aerial photographs. Many structures northwest of the intersection of 5th & Virginia got leveled for the RailCats stadium, which opened in 2002.
It could be safe to say that the Binzenhof was finally razed in between that time. If this is the case, the structure stood for nearly a century!
This blog is an extension to the column printed in The Times. I have a finite word count in the paper. Medium.com allows me to fully explore my thoughts and provide more information to those curious about any topic I write.
The Binzenhof story is a topic I initially saved for my yet-to-be-launched Patreon. I am still working on projects to help launch it.
I am hardly the first to mention Ted Binzen and his famous Binzenhof building. Many chroniclers have provided us with critical insight into its history. But, of course, I could not credit them all in the column.
Our past accounts of Gary are critically important, yet they do not focus on one topic for too long. If one were to research the subject, one would find that all information regarding the Binzenhof is disjointed. No one source consolidates all data into one medium. I believe I can change that.