Its existence came out of a crying
necessity. It was built by the Santa Fe Railway, and furnished and equipped
by Fred Harvey, whose hotel and dining service for over a quarter of a
century has made the Santa Fe noted as giving the best food service of any
railway system in the world.
The Building. And what of the building itself? Stand away a little distance
- say half a mile or more, for it is large enough to be seen and well
described that far away - and it presents the appearance of a three-storied
bungalow, though later you find that in some points it is four stories
high. Its base is of solid, native limestone rock, well built up and
continued in the massive outside chimneys, one of which stands at each end
of the dining-room. The first story is of solid logs, brought from faraway
Oregon, and the upper stories are of heavy planking and shingles, all
stained to a rich brown or weather-beaten color; that harmonizes perfectly
with the gray-green of its unique surroundings. It is pleasant to the eye,
artistic in effect, and satisfactory to the most exacting critic. Its
width, north and south, is three hundred and twenty-seven feet, and from
east to west, two hundred and eighteen feet. The main building and entrance
face the east.
Architecture. Its lines are in harmony with the simplicity of the
surroundings. The architect has followed, in admirable proportions, the
Swiss chalet and the Norway villa. Here are expressed a quiet dignity, an
unassuming luxury, and an appreciation of outing needs. Not a
Waldorf-Astoria - admirable as that type is for the city but a big, country
clubhouse, where the traveler seeking high-class accommodations also finds
freedom from ultrafashionable restrictions. You may wear a dress suit at
dinner or not. You may mix with the jolly crowd, or sit alone in a quiet
nook. You may lunch at almost any hour of the day or night. You may dine
with other guests, or enjoy the seclusion of a private dining-room. Good
fellowship perhaps best expresses the motto of El Tovar.
The hotel contains more than a hundred bedrooms. Ample accommodations are
provided for two hundred and fifty guests, and more can be comfortably
housed in the annex, at Bright Angel Camp. Outside are porches and roof
gardens, from which one has wide views in every direction. The inside
finish is mainly of peeled slabs, wood in the rough, and tinted plaster,
interspersed with huge wooden beams. Triple casement windows and generous
fireplaces abound. Indian curios and trophies of the chase are used in the
decorations. The furniture is of special pattern.
El Tovar is more than a hotel; it is a village devoted to the entertainment
of travelers. Far from the accustomed home of luxury, money has here
summoned the beneficent genii who minister to our bodily comfort. Merely
that you may have pure water to drink, it is brought from a mountain spring
ninety miles away! And that is only one of the many provisions for
unquestioned excellence of shelter and food. The hotel is conducted on the
American plan. The rates are four dollars a day and upwards.
The Rendezvous. Leaving the train at the station, a short distance from the
hotel, you proceed up a winding road to the main entrance, a hasty glimpse
through low cedars revealing the far canyon wall.
Above the wide steps, and in front of the Norway gable, hospitably swings
the Tovar coat-of-arms. On the broad porch are numerous rocking-chairs and
small tables, with a push-button handy for ordering light refreshments. The
porch corners are of solid rough masonry, built in old mission style, the
arches wide and low. The first impression is one of good cheer. Once
inside, the traveler will willingly linger a few moments in the Rendezvous
or Nimrod's Cabin. This is a large room, forty-one by thirty-seven feet,
notable for uneven walls of dark stained fogs and bulky rafters. In a huge
corner fireplace, pine knots burn cheerily when the air is chilly. Electric
lights are placed in log squares, swinging from the low roof at the end of
long chains. Gray Navaho rugs cover the brown floor. There are cosy
tete-a-tetes and easy chairs. On an upper shelf repose heads of the deer,
elk, moose, mountain sheep, and buffalo, mingling with curiously shaped and
gaudily tinted Indian jars from the southwest pueblos. An old-fashioned
clock ticks off the hours. Several small escritoires remind you of letters
to be written to the home people. Recessed window-seats, partly hidden by
red curtains, complete the picture.
What wonder that every morning and evening most of the guests gather in
this room - the ladies to read and gossip; the gentlemen to smoke and tell
of their latest adventures. Few country clubs have as pleasant a meeting
place; yet it is only one of El Tovar's many allurements.
The Office and Ladies' Lounging Room. Cross the western edge of the
Rendezvous, and you are in the rotunda, the centre of the hotel's many
activities and its very necessary hub. Whether bound for dining-room or
parlors, for guest chamber or amusement room; whether attracted by the
click of billiards below, or the brightness of the roof-garden above, - all
paths here intersect.
On the first floor is the office. A story above, reached by an easily
ascended stairway, is the ladies' lounging room, nestled around an
octagonal open space that extends from the office to the roof.
Just beyond are the art rooms, containing paintings and photographs of the
Canyon; on the walls hang paintings of southwest scenery from the brushes
of noted American artists, including some of Thomas Moran's masterpieces.
Yellow hangings and electric lights brighten the dark tones of the
woodwork.
