his death from this building. Zioncheck’s life was a very colorful one prior to its sudden ending. He was born December 5, 1901 in Poland, only to be relocated to Seattle four years later. He was the son of poor immigrants who resided in the Beacon Hill neighborhood. He started out taking on many odd jobs, such as a logger, a cowboy, and even sold rat pelts on a bounty during the plague scares in which rats were targeted as carriers. These and the other twenty odd jobs helped him and his family get by before he was of age to graduate from high school. Later he struggled to complete his schooling that led him to a law degree from the University of Washington.
Marion was indeed a radical, a charmer, and a fighter. He was the first public defender for the dispossessed and the homeless. He had Seattle mayor Frank Edwards recalled in 1931, and he was the first to represent Washington’s congressional district as a Democrat.
It was during the Great Depression that Zioncheck was elected to Congress at the age of thirty-two and served from March 4, 1933 until his death. While in office, he was making headlines mostly for extracurricular antics and drunken escapades with his new wife Rubeye Louise Nix, whom he married within a week a one-night stand. One late-night frolic in the Rockefeller Center fountain led to an arrest. He even drove down the sidewalk and then parked on the White House lawn. He was also known to sneak into hotels and hijack the telephone switchboard to wish guests a Happy New Year. At one time, after he had received an eviction notice from his DC apartment, he refused to leave and forcibly dragged his elderly landlady out of her building. Once he himself was tossed out of a formal dinner party for lapping up his soup like a dog. He was known to start and even get involved in student riots and even fights. He and his wife were caught throwing coconuts at people from their hotel window in Puerto Rico while on honeymoon. Some may have found him an interesting character, but others believed he had sanity issues. In fact, he was committed at Gallinger Hospital in DC, but later escaped on Independence Day in 1936.
MARION ZIONCHECK
Due to his unappealing public image, bizarre political events, and recent hospital escape, he was urged to not run for reelection. Refusing to step down, he came back to Seattle to avoid arrests and began his independent, nonparty-supported reelection campaign. It was at the Arctic Building, that Zioncheck turned the fifth and sixth floors into his campaign headquarters. On August 1 Marion learned that his good friend and co-worker, Warren G. Magnuson, was running against him. This and a rumor that incriminating evidence would become public knowledge if he did not step down may have led to his last days.
On that fateful day of August 7, he completed his will and a farewell note declaring: “My only hope in life was to improve the condition of an unfair economic system that held no promise to those that all the wealth of even a decent chance to survive let alone live.” Marion then told his brother-in-law that he was going to grab his jacket and stepped back into his office. Moments later, waiting near the car on the street below, his brother-in-law watched in horror as Zioncheck fell from the window of his fifth-floor office. His body struck the pavement on Third Avenue directly in front of the entrance of the Arctic Club and just outside of the car occupied by his wife. Here, his body remained for several hours until a coroner could be called to assess the situation.
To this day, members of Zioncheck’s family believe that he was murdered—pushed out the window—and that the note left behind was not written by him. A private investigator who studied body positions of people who jumped from high places versus those that were pushed concluded that Zioncheck was pushed. Zioncheck had several run-ins with FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover; once Zioncheck had a truckload of manure dumped on Hoover’s front steps. Some believed that Hoover was indirectly responsible for Zioncheck’s death. Whether it was suicide or murder, many believe Marion is still around for some reason or another.
Folks staying at the Arctic Club have witnessed their share of the bizarre. It seems there are plenty of ghost stories to keep any ghost enthusiast entertained for the night.
The Fourth Floor: Here, guest and employees have described hearing a phantom whistler. These harmonic sounds echo through the halls in the south end. Most times it can be heard in the Nutcracker Suite when no one is around. It is also here that some have felt chills or cold spots.
The Fifth Floor: During the early 1970’s there were reports of people hearing ghostly footsteps, the sounds of breathing, and even feeling his presence. This kept the west-end offices vacant for a long time. At one time the police department had offices on the fifth and the sixth floors, and staff would hear what sounded like someone in the office with them, but to their surprise they were utterly alone. The interesting thing is that these reoccurring events always took place near the desk by the window from which Marion had jumped.
What was once his office is now divided into rooms for overnight guests. Be sure to check out rooms 509, 511, 513, 517, and 519. Room 517 is the room from which Zioncheck jumped. Within these rooms some have heard the haunting footsteps of someone pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed, along with feeling an icy breeze. Zioncheck’s apparition has been seen roaming about on the fifth floor as well.
The Sixth Floor: In 1996 the Civil Service Commission occupied this floor. It was near the thirtieth anniversary of Marion’s death when one of the senior staff had a night she’ll never forget. It all started when she was doing some late-night work alone in the building at around 8 p.m. She was greeted by an empty elevator that stopped for no reason on the fifth floor, as if someone were getting off. She then proceeded to the area where she was running copies of reports to be ready for the next morning’s meeting. While she ran from room to room, she would leave the lights on to guide her way through the dark halls, only to find when she returned the lights would be shut off. Thinking at first it might just be the security guard working the building, she continued to turn lights back on, only again to find them off when she came back. These events continued throughout the night until she was ready to leave. As she approached the elevators, again to her surprise, before touching the call button, the doors opened to reveal an empty elevator. Was Marion being the gentleman by assisting her for the night?
Events similar to this had been reported for years prior to her encounter. Many had seen lights go off and on by themselves and had heard the sounds of muffled talking only to discover they are completely alone.
The Elevators: Many believe that Marion likes to play with the elevators. Here employees and guests find the elevators are constantly called to the fifth floor for no reason. The doors will open and close on their own to reveal no living presence inside. One woman felt him in the elevator with her as she descended alone to the lobby. Another claims to have seen his ghostly figure in the reflection of the mirrors inside. Other stories talk about feeling a chilling breeze escape the elevators when the doors open. Some say don’t be surprised if you happen to ride the elevator down from the upper floors to find it stop on the fifth floor for no apparent reason.
Outside: If you happen to walk by the building on Third Avenue, you may pause to feel a cold spot on the location where his body landed just outside of the hotel’s entrance. You may even get the chills, feel a heaviness, or even get dizzy.
Zioncheck may have been forgotten from political and Seattle history, but for the Arctic Club, he still lives on (at least in a spiritual form). Maybe this is his way of leaving his mark in Seattle. One thing we can’t deny—Marion Zioncheck had a great run.
See also: University of Washington in The University District
Evergreen-Washelli Cemetery in Seattle Cemeteries
MOTHER DAMNABLE
Southwest corner of First and Jackson Streets
Here was where Seattle’s first
