Nestled in the bustling core of Downtown Montreal at 900 René Lévesque Boulevard West, the Fairmont The Queen Elizabeth—or Fairmont Le Reine Élizabeth, as the locals say—stands tall as a symbol of mid-century grandeur. It flung open its doors on April 15, 1958, a gleaming creation of the Canadian National Railway (CNR), meant to dazzle and dominate the city’s skyline. With 950 rooms across 21 floors, it’s Quebec’s biggest hotel and the second-largest Fairmont in Canada, just behind Toronto’s Royal York. Tied into Central Station and Montreal’s sprawling underground city, its spot couldn’t be more perfect.
The name, though? That kicked up a storm. Quebec nationalists wanted it dubbed Château Maisonneuve, a nod to Montreal’s founder, Paul Chomedey de Maisonneuve. But CNR boss Donald Gordon had his sights set on royalty—Queen Elizabeth II, who’d taken the throne in ’52, right as the hotel was dreamed up. Protests erupted, a petition racked up over 250,000 signatures, and Gordon’s effigy went up in flames. Didn’t matter—he won. The opening was a three-day bash with Guy Lombardo’s orchestra swinging, Hollywood stars strutting, and dignitaries galore, locking in its reputation as a big deal.
This place has seen it all. Queen Elizabeth II bunked here four times, with the Duke of Edinburgh, the Queen Mother, and a young King Charles (back when he was just Prince Charles) in tow. Big names like Fidel Castro—he was the first head of state to drop by in ’59—Charles de Gaulle, Nelson Mandela, and Mikhail Gorbachev have all left their mark. Add in Joan Crawford’s old-school glamour, John Travolta’s swagger, and Mikhail Baryshnikov’s grace, and you’ve got a guest list that screams prestige.
The real kicker came in ’69, though. John Lennon and Yoko Ono, booted from the U.S., picked Room 1742 for their Bed-In for Peace. From May 26 to June 2, they camped out, protesting the Vietnam War, and recorded “Give Peace a Chance” with a crowd of reporters, singers, and hippies crammed in. It turned the hotel into a peace-loving legend overnight. Then, in 1970, during the October Crisis, Quebec’s government holed up here in secret as the Front de libération du Québec stirred chaos. From luxury digs to crisis HQ, this place bends to the moment.
The Haunting of the Queen Elizabeth
Fame’s one thing, but the Queen Elizabeth has a spooky side that keeps folks talking. The star of the show—or the shadows—is the “Lady in White,” a ghost in a flowing dress who’s said to drift through the halls like she owns the place. Guests and staff swear she’s real, leaving cold drafts, faint whispers, and the odd knock on doors when no one’s there. She’s been spotted gliding down staircases, hovering near elevators, and even slipping into rooms uninvited.
Take this one story from a guest back in the ’90s. They woke up at 3 a.m. to their bed shaking—not an earthquake, mind you, just the mattress jittering like someone was yanking it. Then came the giggles, soft and eerie, floating from the corner of the room. They flicked on the light—nothing. But the air felt thick, and they couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on them. “It was her, I know it,” they later told a hotel porter, who just nodded like he’d heard it all before.
Another tale comes from a housekeeper in 2005. She was tidying a suite on the 17th floor when the mirror fogged up—on a dry summer day. As she wiped it, she caught a glimpse of a pale face behind her, framed by white fabric. She spun around, heart pounding, but the room was empty. Later, she found a single wet footprint on the carpet, though she’d mopped nothing. “I don’t scare easy,” she said, “but that got me.”
Then there’s the businessman from Toronto, staying in 2012. He was on a call in Room 1423 when the line cut to static, and a woman’s voice murmured, “Leave now,” clear as day. He thought it was a prank—until his laptop shut off, and the room’s temperature plummeted. He checked out that night, swearing he’d seen a shadow in a white gown slip past his door as he packed. Staff shrugged it off, but they’ve got their own stories: pots clanging in the kitchen with no one there, lights flickering in sync on empty floors, even a piano in the lounge playing a few notes at midnight, untouched.
Who is she? Some say she’s tied to the hotel’s rocky naming fight—a spirit born from that old anger. Others figure she’s a guest who never left, maybe from a tragedy hushed up long ago. One wild theory claims she’s a bride who died on her wedding night in the ’60s, though no records back that up. Whatever she is, the Lady in White—and her bag of tricks—keeps the Queen Elizabeth’s mystique alive.