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MANY REMEMBER SPIRIT OF HISTORIC HOTEL

Phoenix Gazette, April 8, 1980

The Hotel Westward Ho, a downtown Phoenix landmark for more than half a century, officially closed Monday as its owners prepare to turn it into a federally subsidized housing complex for the elderly.

For many Phoenicians, the "death" of the Westward Ho as a hotel is a sad occasion.

"The Westward Ho was Phoenix," one local resident declared. "It had all the exuberance of the West and personified the town like no other establishment could do."

One of those who remembers what the Westward Ho was like in its early days is Mary Lou Gulley. Since the 1940s, she has lived in a castle at the foot of South Mountain and 7th Street. The 18-room stone castle was built for her by her father, Boyce Luther Gulley, who came to Phoenix expecting a lung disease to soon kill him.

The desert air and hard work cured Gulley and he lived long enough to complete the construction of the castle, which he left to his widow and daughter.

After living in the castle for several years, she wrote a book entitled "My Mystery Castle." Part of the book described what her first experiences in Phoenix were like, particularly as a guest of the Westward Ho. Excerpts of the book, published in 1952, follow:

"Phoenix, in a modern international setting of wander-lawless people, disturbed the mythical remains of the Old West. In spite of its infusion, it looked fairly civilized . . . much better than I expected.

"There were Mexicans, Navajos, Hopis, hopheads and lost weekenders. I knew at a glance it was a town of no inhibitions. I didn't exactly feel at home (home was Seattle, Wash.) but I did harbor a strange feeling of laxity. I had a sudden urge to sit on the curb, remove my shoes, and wiggle my toes in abandoned delight. I knew nobody would stare."

At the Westward Ho, where she and her mother, Fran, decided to spend the night she found a young desk clerk who answered all her questions with politeness and an assured business air. The desk clerk's name? Lou Grubb, who today owns one of the largest Chevrolet dealerships in the Southwest.

As for the Westward Ho, listen to her first impressions of it, 45 years ago:

"The lobby was brimming over with everything, from minkclad Easterners to many stragglers who were holding madly onto the tail of a shady existence. A bellhop, clad in painfully tight pants called Levi's, ambled forth to relieve us of our baggage. 'Mees, I weel tut your bag for you,' he said, in a simulated Western drawl that must have detoured via Acapulco."

She also described how "Cowmen, with an exciting prairie gleam in their eyes, leaned against Indian carved pillars, their full attention given to the Eastern dudettes who sauntered hopefully by."

And there were the cowboy bellhops, "He was a strapping cowboy, bedizened in a red satin shirt that well outshone his brawn. The whole wide West was in the rakish tilt of his Stetson, and the hair that peeked from his open shirt. How unlike those haughty, righteous and goldfringed doormen he was! But I thought him a shade too friendly. There was something about the way he winked his eye and said 'Howdy' that made me feel blushed."

The Westward Ho also was a place that promoted the sound of the big bands. Harry Owens, who formed the Royal Hawaiians, had his start there and played for many a dance crowd during those pre-World War II days.

A reception was held Monday to close the 52-year old building. The new owners, Westward Ho Associates, said renovation plans for the 15-story, 400-room structure will not disturb its familiar silhouette, ornate lobby or lush patio.