The location was originally known as the French Lick Springs Hotel, a grand resort that catered to those who came to partake of the advertised healing properties of the town's sulfur springs. The first hotel was opened in 1845 by William A. Bowles and was an immediate success. The original hotel burned in 1897, but the resort was rebuilt on an even grander scale by new owner Thomas Taggart, mayor of Indianapolis and chairman of the Democratic National Committee.
Read more about this topic: French Lick Resort Casino
Famous quotes containing the words french, lick, springs and/or hotel:
“Sanity is the lot of those who are most obtuse, for lucidity destroys ones equilibrium: it is unhealthy to honestly endure the labors of the mind which incessantly contradict what they have just established.”
—Georges, French novelist, critic. LAbbĂ© C, pt. 2, ch. 17 (1950)
“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich mans table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.”
—Bible: New Testament, Luke 16:19-22.
“Who among us has not, in moments of ambition, dreamt of the miracle of a form of poetic prose, musical but without rhythm and rhyme, both supple and staccato enough to adapt itself to the lyrical movements of our souls, the undulating movements of our reveries, and the convulsive movements of our consciences? This obsessive ideal springs above all from frequent contact with enormous cities, from the junction of their innumerable connections.”
—Charles Baudelaire (18211867)
“...what a thing it is to lie there all day in the fine breeze, with the pine needles dropping on one, only to return to the hotel at night so hungry that the dinner, however homely, is a fete, and the menu finer reading than the best poetry in the world! Yet we are to leave all this for the glare and blaze of Nice and Monte Carlo; which is proof enough that one cannot become really acclimated to happiness.”
—Willa Cather (18761947)