Atkinson Saul Fairholm

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. It was an unusually warm November night in downtown Chicago when Atkinson Saul Fairholm’s office building lit up like Christmas. A regular noticed first—they were walking their dog past the windows—and reported it as just another quirky thing happening around here. But then the lights changed color every few minutes, from soft blue to fiery red, and everyone started talking. Soon enough, a delivery driver arrived with a pizza for Mr. Fairholm, who never ordered food before. The driver knocked on the door, but no one answered. Finally, he heard a faint voice from inside: 'I’m not done yet—just wait!' Turns out, Atkinson had fallen asleep at his desk, still tinkering with Excel spreadsheets.

2. One autumn morning, as Mr. Fairholm was diligently counting receipts on his balcony, he noticed something peculiar in the recycling bin next door. A neatly wrapped package had appeared overnight, addressed to no one and signed only with a smiley face. Curious, Mr. Fairholm opened it to find a small packet of freshly baked cookies and a note reading, 'Thank you for your hard work.' The next day, another package arrived—this time, an envelope containing a handwritten thank-you from ‘a grateful client.’ It turned out that Atkinson Saul Fairholm was now famous among the neighborhood for being the kindest accountant around.

3. In the quiet hours before dawn, a delivery driver pulled up outside Atkinson Saul Fairholm's office building. The usual hum of the truck engine gave way to a strange, rhythmic tapping sound. Curious, the driver got out and followed the noise inside, only to discover Mr. Fairholm frantically tapping away on his calculator—except it wasn't numbers he was adding up. Turns out, Mr. Fairholm had been calculating how many donuts each employee would get if they shared a giant box equally. By sunrise, everyone in the building knew not to disturb him during his 'calculations.'

4. In the dead of winter, when snowflakes danced like ghostly figures across the streets of Boston, a delivery driver pulled up outside Atkinson Saul Fairholm's office building with a peculiar package. The package was addressed to ‘Mr. Fairholm, Accounts Department’ but contained nothing more than an old umbrella and a note reading: “Use me if you get stuck in the rain—your colleague from Accounting.” The next morning, everyone in the office had a smile on their face, including Mr. Fairholm who joked, ‘Finally, someone understands my struggle!’