This extraordinary Depression-era expenditure was modeled after a postcard of a Mediterranean hotel.

The only place for a truly presidential dram.

Here be dragons.

Creating this diorama spurred naturalist Carl Akeley to begin advocating to protect the apes.

Pulled from the rubble of one of the worst modern tragedies, a steel crossbeam became a symbol of hope for New Yorkers.

The last living thing to come out of the rubble after 9/11 is now a symbol of hope and resilience.

This sculpture by artist Fritz Keonig survived the 9/11 attacks and now stands as a monument to the victims.

This giant iron playfully pays tribute to an early 20th-century architectural trend.

One of the last of the great 1920s movie palaces is a Floridian Greco-Spanish-Persian dreamscape.

Legend tells how a Spanish soldier disappeared from this isolated sentry box without a trace.

This historic cemetery stopped accepting bodies before many Canadian cities were founded.

The profile of one ill-fated deacon was emblazoned forever on this church window during the Halifax explosion.

How would you like to dine in the same room where some of the Titanic's victims were embalmed?

This tiny abode has been covered in the art of the little old lady who made her life and living there.

The city of Halifax still bears the scars of the largest explosion prior to the atomic bomb.

The final resting place of 121 victims of the RMS Titanic, 42 of which may never be identified.

A morbid piece of memorabilia from the most famous shipwreck in current history is just one of the many poignant artifacts in this Canadian museum's collection.

The sounds of the world's largest fully functioning pipe organ dazzle shoppers at a Philadelphia Macy's.

Perhaps the most scandalous statue of America's first president.

This unacceptably tall building was the real reason for Washington, D.C.'s skyscraper ban.

A luxurious 1880s hotel with its fair share of Tiffany stained glass, Edison electricity, and of course, ghosts.

Constant erosion has created a surreal landscape of bleached and preserved fallen trees.

These old doors are covered in the signatures of Rehoboth Beach artists dating back to the 1930s.

Residents of Fremont in Seattle have considered it the center of the universe since the 1970s.