House From Slasher ‘Halloween’ Lists for $1.8 Million

A California house featured in the 1978 slasher film “Halloween” has hit the market for $1.8 million.

The South Pasadena house was used as the fictional Haddonfield, Illinois, home of teenager Laurie Strode—played by Jamie Lee Curtis—in the horror classic, according to Heidi T. Babcock and Andrea Marcum-Valentine at EXP of Greater Los Angeles, who listed the property last week.

Fans will recognise the stoop where Curtis sat in the first “Halloween” movie, holding a pumpkin, the agents noted. Based on the story of Michael Myers and his murderous exploits, the film was one of the first big breaks in Curtis’s career and the franchise went on to include 12 titles. “Halloween Ends,” also starring Curtis, was released last year.

The home was built in 1906, with additions from 1948. It’s been in the same family for generations, according to Babcock, and is now a “legal triplex,” giving the buyer rental opportunities.

Jamie Lee Curtis on the set of “Halloween,” written and directed by John Carpenter.
Corbis via Getty Images

There are two one-bedroom, one-bathroom units, plus a two-bedroom apartment—all of which are currently unoccupied. They each have “picturesque windows and lovely views of the surrounding trees and neighbourhood,” and there’s a shared backyard, the listing said.

Outside, there’s an avocado tree planted by the sellers’ grandfather in the 1940s, according to the listing. They were not available for comment, and Mansion Global could not determine exactly when the home last traded or for how much.

The property is located in the historic Mission West neighbourhood of South Pasadena, an area known for its walkability, Babcock said. Shops, restaurants, a farmer’s market and the library are all within a short walk, and a LA Metro station is three blocks away.

TMZ first reported the listing.

This article originally appeared on Mansion Global.

Many luxury hotels only build on their gilded reputations with each passing decade. But others are less fortunate. Here are five long-gone grandes dames that fell from grace—and one that persists, but in a significantly diminished form.

The Proto-Marmont |

The Garden of Allah, Los Angeles

A magnet for celebrities, the Garden of Allah was once the scene-making equivalent of today’s Chateau Marmont. Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner’s affair allegedly started there and Humphrey Bogart lived in one of its bungalows for a time.

Crimean expat Alla Nazimova leased a grand home in Hollywood after World War I, but soon turned it into a hotel, where she prioritised glamorous clientele. Others risked being ejected by guards and a fearsome dog dubbed the Hound of the Baskervilles. Demolished in the 1950s, the site’s now a parking lot.

The Failed Follow-Up |

Hotel Astor, New York City

The Astor family hoped to repeat their success when they opened this sequel to their megahit Waldorf Astoria hotel in 1904. It became an anchor of the nascent Theater District, buzzy (and naughty) enough to inspire Cole Porter to write in “High Society”: “Have you heard that Mimsie Starr…got pinched in the Astor Bar?”

That bar soon gained another reputation. “Gentlemen who preferred the company of other gentlemen would meet in a certain section of the bar,” said travel expert Henry Harteveldt of consulting firm Atmosphere Research. By the 1960s, the hotel had lost its lustre and was demolished; the 54-storey One Astor Plaza skyscraper was built in its place.

The Island Playground |

Santa Carolina Hotel, Bazaruto Archipelago, Mozambique

In the 1950s, colonial officers around Africa treated Mozambique as an off-duty playground. They flocked, in particular, to the Santa Carolina, a five-star hotel on a gorgeous archipelago off the country’s southern coast.

Run by a Portuguese businessman and his wife, the resort included an airstrip that ferried visitors in and out. Ask locals why the place was eventually reduced to rubble, and some whisper that the couple were cursed—and that’s why no one wanted to take over when the business collapsed in the ’70s. Today, seeing the abandoned, crumbled ruins and murals bleached by the sun, it’s hard to dismiss their superstitions entirely.

The Tourism Gimmick |

Bali Hai Raiatea, French Polynesia

The overwater bungalow, a shorthand for barefoot luxury around the world, began in French Polynesia—but not with the locals. Instead, it was a marketing gimmick cooked up by a trio of rascally Americans. They moved to French Polynesia in the late 1950s, and soon tried to capitalise on the newly built international airport and a looming tourism boom.

That proved difficult because their five-room hotel on the island of Raiatea lacked a beach. They devised a fix: building rooms on pontoons above the water. They were an instant phenomenon, spreading around the islands and the world—per fan site OverwaterBungalows.net , there are now more than 9,000 worldwide, from the Maldives to Mexico. That first property, though, is no more.

The New England Holdout |

Poland Springs Resort, Poland, Maine

The Ricker family started out as innkeepers, running a stagecoach stop in Maine in the 1790s. When Hiram Ricker took over the operation, the family expanded into the business by which it would make its fortune: water. Thanks to savvy marketing, by the 1870s, doctors were prescribing Poland Spring mineral water and die-hards were making pilgrimages to the source.

The Rickers opened the Poland Spring House in 1876, and eventually expanded it to include one of the earliest resort-based golf courses in the country, a barber shop, dance studio and music hall. By the turn of the century, it was among the most glamorous resort complexes in New England.

Mismanagement eventually forced its sale in 1962, and both the water operation and hospitality holdings went through several owners and operators. While the water venture retains its prominence, the hotel has weathered less well, becoming a pleasant—but far from luxurious—mid-market resort. Former NYU hospitality professor Bjorn Hanson says attempts at upgrading over the decades have been futile. “I was a consultant to a developer in the 1970s to return the resort to its ‘former glory,’ but it never happened.”