The Grand Motel was built as a motor court in 1937 before the term motel was invented in the 1950s and because of the lack of interest of previous owners the motel still has many of the 1930s features such as tiled bathrooms, period furniture and generally an air of not so genteel decay. Bob bought the motel four years ago from its previous owners, a couple in their 70s, who decided that they wanted to go into the motel business after their retirement. They really bought the business for its real estate potential and did hardly anything to the property. In fact in the winter they closed the place down and moved into another motel they owned in the area. After a career in the US military, a flier for Air America in S.E.Asia, a pilot for Grand Canyon Airlines and a number of other jobs later, Bob and his wife bought the Grand Motel both as a business and also for its real estate potential.
Through both a lack of finance and Bob's obvious wish to keep the quirky nature of the motel, the 1930s atmosphere has been retained. In fact he has done very little to the motel but what it lacks in modern day creature comforts is made up for by Bob's genial 'my host' attitude. How many hotels or motels can you be told at check-in where NOT to eat in a town.
"Don't eat in the restaurant next to the tourist centre in the railway station. I've had 9 guests who have eaten there complain of stomach upsets and no one working on the railway will eat there. Try the Red Raven its the best place in town. The chef does some special touches like putting herbs in the butter for the bread on the table."
Bob serves breakfast on the motel patio every morning and this is a great way for his guests to meet and talk to each other. Bob sits down with everyone, asks questions and generally acts as the perfect host.
So, his coffee isn't great and the foam plates and cups blow around a lot in the wind but how often can you say that you have sat outside on a sunny morning, eating breakfast while Route 66 crawls slowly past.At night we sat on the patio with Bob and talked as he told us a little about his life running the motel. Four people walked into the court.
"Can I help you?" Bob called out.
They were looking for rooms for the next night; we heard the sound of Hebrew as they talked between themselves; they looked at us and started speaking to us in Hebrew. Why? They had seen that we were both wearing Crocs and they assumed that we were therefore Israeli. They were a couple from Netanya with their son who is studying animation at university in San ?Francisc and his wife.
Even at after 11 at night people were driving up looking for a room. One night a car came into the court, Bob went over to greet them, a deal was done, Bob hung a 'No Vacancy' sign outside the motel office then went to switch off the 'Vacancy' sign on his illuminated street sign.
"Last room gone?" I said to Bob.
"Yeah, full house. Someone who had made a reservation came in earlier, looked at the room and said his wife wouldn't like it. I charged him $20 cancellation then that guy just drove up so I gave him a good deal on the room so he took it. I have to get the guy in 11 out tomorrow morning at 5. He came in asking for a long-term rental which I don't like, he's trashing the room and he's smoking in it too. Thinks I won't see the butts all over it. He's out in the morning."
Bob told us a little about Williams. A now sleepy little place it had once been a busy town because of the timber business in the area and because of the railway that runs through it. One place, the Red Garter, used to be a saloon and brothel with 9 'cribs' upstairs as well as a often frequented outhouse. It is now a small, four bedroom hotel and coffee shop that gave up 'trade' as late as 1948. The present owners say that one of the girls from the 'good old days' still lives in the town though she has long retired.
Williams held out against the interstate for as long as it could but finally had to acquiesce to the inevitable march of progress however the town managed to negotiate a concession for itself of having three junctions put onto I-40 to give people access to the town. Imagine, a town of a thousand or so inhabitants, a short main street and three exits to the Interstate. When the day came to open the intersections everyone in town started using them and it is rumoured that there was hardly any traffic on Main Street for nearly three weeks.
So, it was good bye to Bob, his bonhomie and his period motel with flaking paint and sagging chairs, to the Travelling Blues Man in room 4 who went out at night dressed all in black like a Sergio Leone cowboy and the lady who rents room 1 as a base for her elk and buffalo jerky business. An interesting place to stay if ever you are in Williams, Arizona.
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