The Palace Built on Spite: An Architectural Deep-Dive into the Fordyce Bathhouse

Inside the Gilded Age masterpiece with marble halls, cutting-edge tech, a basement bowling alley, and a mission to be the most extra bathhouse in America.

Let’s get one thing straight: when you set out to build the undisputed, most luxurious, over-the-top bathhouse in America, you don’t just stop at marble tubs and fancy stained glass. You go one step further. You put a two-lane bowling alley in the basement. Because, of course, you do.

That single, slightly absurd amenity tells you everything you need to know about the Fordyce Bathhouse and the man who willed it into existence, Colonel Samuel W. Fordyce. A decorated Union cavalry officer and Gilded Age “empire builder,” Fordyce was a railroad and banking magnate who first came to Hot Springs in 1873, a broken man, ravaged by Civil War injuries and malaria. He credited the thermal waters with saving his life, and he spent the next 40 years repaying that debt by transforming the rustic resort town into a national destination, investing in its grandest hotels, its opera house, and its utilities.

But the Fordyce Batthouse, opened in 1915, was his magnum opus. The popular story - one he happily encouraged - was that it was a “grateful acknowledgment of restored health.” And sure, maybe it was. But it was also a cold, calculated act of commercial warfare. Fordyce deliberately watched his competitor, the opulent Maurice Bathhouse, go up next door, taking careful notes on its every feature to ensure that his own creation would surpass it in every conceivable way.

What he and his architects, Mann & Stern, created was nothing short of an American palace. Built for a staggering sum of over $200,000, the Fordyce wasn’t just a place to take a bath. It was a comprehensive temple of wellness, a Gilded Age social club, and a technological marvel that fused state-of-the-art hydrotherapy with high society. This isn’t just the story of a building; it’s the story of peak ambition, outrageous luxury, and the Gilded Age’s magnificent, competitive, and slightly bonkers vision of health.

The Fordyce Bathhouse, circa 1915. It wasn’t just the new kid on the block; it was the kid who showed up with a copper marquee, imported marble, and a plan to own the whole neighborhood.