Description - Exterior

The Tivoli squats in Hyde Park like a forgotten shrine, all terra cotta filigree and stained marquee glass. Its twin towers rise like sentries, chipped and soot-scarred from years of urban decay. Letters fall from the signage like teeth, and pigeons roost above the faded script: TONIGHT ONLY. Beneath it all, the double doors yawn open just a little too easily, like the place is hungry.  

Description - Interior

Inside, dust swirls in the half-light like old ghosts waiting their cue. The lobby still clings to its glory days—gilded trim, chandeliers like frozen fireworks, and carpets that smell of mildew and memory. The main auditorium is cavernous, seats torn and sagging, but the screen still works—flickering images that sometimes don’t match what’s on the reel. Voices echo where they shouldn’t, and a cold draft wafts from the sealed off balcony, where no one goes anymore.  

History

Opened in 1921 as one of Chicago’s grandest picture palaces, the Tivoli was once a jewel in the Balaban & Katz empire. It survived the Depression, two fires, and a murder in the mezzanine before finally shuttering in ’49. But someone—or something—reopened it in '51, quietly, under new management. These days it runs odd films, late hours, and seems to cater to an audience that doesn’t talk much.  

Owned By

Technically listed under a shell company tied to the Iversen Holding Trust, but rumor says it’s been leased to Soledad Salazar and her Veil-aligned interests—though no lease has ever been filed with the city.  

Run By

A gaunt projectionist named Silas Greer, who never speaks and seems to never leave. Some say he hasn't aged in a decade. Others say he died in the fire back in ’38 and just never stopped showing films.  

Employees

• Silas Greer – Projectionist, seen but not heard, always smells faintly of ozone and burnt sugar.
• Delia Moss – Usherette with inked-on eyebrows and eyes that don’t blink enough.
• Father Murray – Wanders the aisles whispering prayers; was never hired.
• “Smokey” Jones – Sells popcorn, weed, and gossip from the concessions booth.
• Marvin “Skip” Petrovic – Janitor, claims the building rearranges itself nightly.
• Ghostlight Betty – Once an actress, now... something else. Appears near the curtain at midnight.

 

Regulars

• Reggie – Likes the films. Hates the shadows in the balcony.
• Old Man Keslo – Watches the same reel every Thursday. It's not listed on the marquee.
• Rashad – Comes to write music in the projection booth; says the sound there’s better.
• Two Veil scholars from the University of Chicago—no names, always scribbling.
• “Duckfoot” Lou – Uses the back row to fence stolen goods and summon small things.
• The Lady in Grey – Sits alone. Doesn’t buy a ticket. Sometimes vanishes halfway through the show.

 

Notes

• Certain films shown here cannot be found in any catalog—titles like The Skin Beneath, When the Clock Ticks Backward, or Reels of Yesternight.
• Patrons sometimes exit knowing things they shouldn’t—names, dates, deaths yet to happen.
• A sealed sub-basement is said to contain reels from before the talkies—whispered to summon entities when played backwards.
• The Tivoli is neutral ground for Veil users… unofficially. Violating that gets attention.
• An unmarked door behind the stage leads to a ritual space—half theater, half shrine.
• Perfect spot for a clandestine meeting, cursed item exchange, or to lose someone... permanently.