Practically located in obscurity within Indiana’s scenic Orange County is one of the nation’s most unusual landmarks. An architectural milestone when it was built in 1902, the West Baden Springs Hotel remained the world’s largest self-supported dome until the Houston Astrodome was built six decades later.

Today, many Hoosiers remain unaware of its existence, though word of mouth generates new visitors every year. When someone enters the grand atrium the first time, and every time thereafter, their eyes naturally pan upward to see how natural light floods the rounded structure. The spectacle of skylights, murals, and the centered chandelier prove too much to ignore. People are always milling in the atrium, or looking out from their rooms, half of which face into the central hub, providing a one-of-a-kind view for guests.

One might wonder how such a beautiful building, sitting a few hundred yards back from Highway 56, operates with so little fanfare. Truth be told, the building has survived by changing hats a few times and stumbling upon some good fortune.

Before Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles attracted the rich and famous, the social elite traveled to West Baden and French Lick for the advertised medicinal waters and the gambling. As far back as 1855 guests came to the first area hotel for the mineral springs, which ownership claimed healed a variety of ailments. It wasn’t long before gambling became another major draw, flourishing despite numerous courtroom setbacks brought about by area churches.

Fires often claimed hotels and businesses back then, so in 1901 when the original wood frame hotel burned to the ground, many in the Springs Valley wondered if their beloved landmark could be rebuilt.

Indeed the vision of owner Lee Wiley Sinclair came to fruition one year later when the domed hotel opened. Dubbed the Eighth Wonder of the World by the media, the grand resort competed against the French Lick Springs Hotel just a mile down the road. Many surviving images from the hotel’s golden era feature guests rocking in chairs along the veranda, men holding cigars with the wondrous hotel behind them, or the building itself as a focal point.

Though the building never burned like its predecessor, other hardships nearly spelled certain doom for the Jewel of the Valley. When the Great Depression crippled the finances of many businessmen across the country, hotel ownership had little choice except to close the doors. The hotel survived as a seminary, then a culinary school from 1932 until 1983. If not for this occupation by the Jesuits, then Northwood Institute, the building might very well have crumbled to the ground.

For the first time since its completion, the hotel grounds were left in 1983 to deteriorate as weeds and shrubs sprouted across the once beautiful gardens. Vines left unattended strangled the outbuildings while inside the hotel paint faded and chipped, then rain penetrated the hotel’s aging roof. A mesh wire fence was eventually placed around the building, warning people not to enter due to hazards. Court battles tied up the legality of true ownership following a purchase and ensuing contract dispute. Orange County residents gave up hope of ever seeing the building open again as they watched it decay year after year.

Despite the crumbling bricks in the drive, the rotting wooden pergola, and the appearance of a dense forest emerging where the main lobby was once readily visible, the hotel never entirely lost its flair. Without benefit of heat or electricity, it stood defiantly, possibly out of habit, for nearly a decade until disaster struck in January of 1991.

When one-sixth of the building crumbled to the ground in a heap, some caring preservationists stepped in to ensure the West Baden Springs Hotel survived in some fashion. As bathtubs, plumbing, and other evidence of its former inhabitants literally hung from the upper floors, exposed for the world to see, these people knew the building required major stabilization or the outer portion of the building would collapse entirely.

Such a save required concerned preservationists, but it also required funding. Ultimately the people of Orange County had the final say in whether or not the hotel would open because their votes decided if the age-old taboo of gambling returned to the Springs Valley. Such a beautiful landmark certainly deserved to be saved, and many heroes contributed to the West Baden Springs Hotel surviving after it rose from the ashes in 1902.