Author Description

It was built in the Roaring Twenties. Tales were told of gangster Bugsy Siegel bringing champagne through underground tunnels to outmaneuver prohibition. It opened in 1927, "ablaze in incandescent splendor, 375 feet above Phoenix streets, its exterior aglow with flaming cheer." By plane and train, the rich and famous came to party in a Cowtown in the Wild West. The 93 year old Westward Ho, once the swankiest hotel in the West, is now housing for low-income seniors and the mobility-impaired. For 33 years it reigned as the tallest building in Phoenix. As times changed, it was sold, bankrupted and resold. Construction and painters would rework and rename the ballrooms, coffee shops and bars. I lived there for a challenging, happy twelve years. Things I never expected just happened. A catalyst of people entered my life. Falling in love at 75 - a walking-on-air surprise. During the days that the Westward Ho Historical Group existed, we tramped through every accessible place, basement to 15th floor, finding unused stairs and forgotten rooms. Roaming through the underground, up the back stairs and above the stage we scuffed through years of rat droppings to bring down reminders of former glory. Long gone are the Thunderbirds, a.k.a. kachinas that adorned the Thunderbird Room and were spectators to the dramas that happened to famous names and family grandmothers. Or do they still watch? Those on the Ghost Tours wonder. This book will fit on your bookshelf if you're curious about the Westward Ho, or like history, or appreciate a love story. The black and white indistinct pictures taken with an old camera are included because there's no place else to see them.