CAGE & FISH LAW ASSOCIATES

Location: Surrounded by the steel and glass thicket of the financial district on the southeast side, the law firm is located in the top two floors of a seven story brownstone structure situated at 14 Beacon Street in Boston, Massachusetts, just a few blocks from the United State Justice Department at 99 Winter Street .

Description: The seven-story brown and white structure houses several small businesses including a patents office and realty agency in addition to the law firm on the top floor. The Cage, Fish and Associates law firm comprises the sixth floor and a seventh floor balcony loft. The interior is very Modern American replete with a unisex. It is accessed mainly by elevator with an oft-used back stairway reserved as an emergency access. The bottom floor of the structure is home to Vonda’s Martini Bar, a popular local drinking establishment with nighttime entertainment. The other offices in the building are rented out to smaller businesses.

Ghostly Manifestations: Not primarily known for its haunting, the establishment of Cage and Fish has become a prominent law firm in Boston. It must also be very popular on the other side for being the location of a brutal 1930s homicide that has yet to be solved. The victims of which are still in the habit of reportedly making themselves known. For its ten years of existence, phenomenon has been few and far between. Yet, some manifestations have occurred; mostly in the night time hours. Few of the staff speaks publicly of the activities.

“Chairs moved, locked doors unlocked, footsteps from no where…” Senior partner Richard Fish candidly describes the activity. “We rarely if ever actually see anything at times. Sometimes months go by and we forget they’re here, and then - boom - a door slams shut by itself and reminds us that we’re not alone.”

Stories of the top floor hauntings were mere rumors up until Spring 1998 when a member of CGS was asked to debunk the noises coming from the top floor. During the Twenties and the Thirties, the place was frequented by the Mafia. Back then, Vonda's Martini Bar on the first floor was known as Ciccone's Night Club and was the scene of Big Band music, large Hollywood parties and covert mob meetings. Lucky Luciano was a frequent guest. After it all closed down, a succession of businesses on the lower floors reported sounds they heard coming from the top floor. Activity ranging from distant music, footsteps, odd noises and apparitions were reported. The figure of a 1930s-style flapper was seen several times in the Fifties traveling up and down the elevator. In the Sixties, the building superintendent tried several times to try and get someone to rent the top floor, but renovations dragged on for months and even years because workmen reported they were being watched. A figure in a tuxedo loitered on the balcony landing over head, and even once vanished through a wall where a door had been sealed up.

Today, admittedly, the hauntings of the firm are a boring lot, but there are a few interesting stories that have been shared among the lawyers. Because of the reputations of his staff, Fish prefers to keep their names private.

“I have two lawyers, a married couple who work here, man and woman, well, that’s the way it goes, right?” Fish adds with a childlike grimace. “They were alone here one night in the conference room when they heard the elevator open and close as if someone had arrived. They heard the footsteps of someone coming toward them and the moving of chairs as whoever it was pushed them out of the way. The visitor was supposed to be coming toward them in the conference room, but there never saw anyone in sight. I mean, no one was there. He (name withheld) stepped out and searched the floor, but he never found a thing.

“Sometime later, one of my lady lawyers just a few weeks after joining the firm was coming up alone in the elevator, or so she thought. I think she just happened to look over and she noticed a man standing behind her. Elevator comes up, doors open, she steps out, and no one turns out to be there anyway.

“Remember I said I had a set of married lawyers? Well, one of them, the female half this time, once glanced up to the balcony and saw a woman dressed like an old movie’s flapper up on the balcony landing.” Fish dramatically points out the exact position. “She looked back a second time, and the person was gone. My partner has heard big band music wafting through the place. Our blonde assistant, a really interesting personality, you’d really like her, said she once spent twenty minutes in the unisex talking to a man. I think she was asking him out. Anyway, she turns to flip her hair, check her make-up in the mirror or some female thing like that, looks back and her would-be date vanishes. Of course, she usually catches him high-tailing it, but this time he just vanishes."

Visitors to the building hoping to hire one of the lawyers have reported hearing the sound of old big band music from the Twenties or the Thirties wafting through the building. No one knows where it comes from, but sometimes its been traced to a wall of the unisex.

“I’ve heard popping sounds, once or twice, like firecrackers at a distance.” Fish continues. “Phones sometimes ring and no one’s at the other end. You’d think they were they those God awful telemarketers. Lights turned off sometimes come on; one was supposed to be even unplugged. We even had a judge visiting one time here. He’s a big, tall, distinguished African American with no sense of humor. Anyways, he was sitting in here alone and waiting for me when he swore he heard someone whisper in his ear, ‘Get out of here, you big…’ Well, moral decency prohibits me from using the word he says he heard....”

History: The building was built sometime between 1835 and 1840 and has changed hands often and has stood empty repeatedly. It’s been used as a records building, apartment house, private school and a courthouse. In the Twenties and Thirties, it was owned and operated by Silvio Antonio Roberto Ciccone, a businessman with reputed underground ties. He ran a speakeasy down stairs during prohibition and an upstairs casino. In 1938, he was killed “Valentine's Day-style” in the penthouse suite according to Richard Fish along with five employees, seven dancers, his two bodyguards, wife and two daughters. The FBI had the building sealed for twenty years as they scoured the place for clues to try and solve the case. It’s still unsolved, but the unofficial theory is that it was a hit called by Al Capone or some other underground figure.

During the Sixties, the structure was an office building with various ghost stories filtering down from the top floor. Although his law firm had been established a year prior in another location, Fish began renting the space in 1994, using the legend of the stories to get the owner of the building to knock 60% off the rent he was wanting.

"It was a logical thing to do." Fish adds. "I didn't believe in ghosts, and I still don't, but any publicity is good publicity and it helps to attract clients who do believe."

Identity of Ghosts: “According to rumor,” Fish insists. “Ciccone and his staff return looking for their killers. However, in 1998, we had a ghost-hunter named William Collins come down from Maine by e-mail invitation by our assistant. Really nice guy, he spent a week studying the testimonies and structure and said the ghosts were harmless and still carrying on the activities they loved in life. Partying, drinking, carousing, sex... According to him, they just don’t know they’re dead.”

Source/Comments: Ally McBeal TV-Series (1998-2003). Loosely based on Chicago's Dearborn Street SMG Garage (site of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre) and the Capitol Records Building in Nashville, Tennessee.


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