One of my first commentaries in this paper a few years back was on the architectural state of affairs of lodging in and near downtown Pullman. I lamented the way motels were characterized by cheap structures, large swaths of asphalt and signs reminiscent of truck stop intersections, less a town angling for charm.
Not much has changed, sadly, except for one sign of hope. Drive around the bend on Paradise Street and toward Main Street and you can’t miss it. The building used to be the State Inn, but today it is the Hotel McCoy; same place and same scope but this time much improved. What a fresh coat of paint can do but also a conception of change charged by a commitment to art.
Indeed, art is everywhere at the McCoy. In fact, you can’t miss it, starting with the murals that grace the exterior of the structure. Walk around and you can see them on all sides, inviting locals and guests alike to see the hotel in the round. Just because there is a main entrance should not mean that the remaining architecture must play second fiddle.
What had been neglected can now be brought back to life, namely the alley to the back. For a long while no one knew what went on back there, but now there is a reason to tread in that direction and spend at least a few minutes enjoying a gorgeous work of art. Who knows, this may even inspire the city to add a few equally attractive benches in that area for the community to sit and appreciate the art. And it should add landscaping for shade and color, and for generally turning what is today a desolate environment into one that is inviting to the walker.
Also important about the murals is the way they demand that we step back and see them from a distance. Close up may be fun, but to understand their scope and message, we’d really have to walk at least 100 feet back and look at them. From that distance, more than just the hotel and the art come into perspective, but the context in which they sit as well. What had been an isolated entity now becomes a function of a much larger community.
Which is very important to the hotel. Talk to its managers and one of the first things you’ll hear is pride in mining the local context,from the art you just delighted in on the outside, to the wine, the food and the labor required to make the business run. “Hotel McCoy is committed to supporting and representing the community it is grounded in,” the hotel’s website tells us. Sit down and enjoy a glass of wine and it is likely produced and bottled in the region. The same with food, likely grown and prepared nearby.
And just as with food and drink, so with the architecture, not so much a product of local materials and design, as it is one about sensitivity to what was there before. Roadside motels were never great expressions of architecture, but were simple, affordable responses to enjoy the countryside. If they did become great, and many did, they did so in time and after absorbing the vibe and culture of the community nearby, in some cases becoming iconic representations of which.
Whether McCoy adopted an icon or not is up for debate. But the owners certainly treated it that way. And good for them and us, taking a vernacular entity and seeing in it the source of an important cultural identity. They did not “stamp” their “brand” on it, to use the hotel’s words, but simply tidied up what was there and made it more attractive. Only two decks were added, both simple and deferential to the past, but also key to the mission and vision of the business. This is where guests and locals can come to enjoy the lay of the land, in terms of food, music and art, along with views of the hills beyond.
What major change the hotel made to the old structure, it is limited to the inside. There, the whiff of cheapness is replaced by clean lines and contemporary furniture, and what the hotel calls “individually curated guest rooms,” including throwback appliances from the 50s. Some rooms have bunk beds and one or two kitchenettes, making it clear that this is not a place for one kind of customer but a diverse section of which.
Had this been a longer column, it would have touched on the “commission-free” art program, exterior fireplaces, and something called the “kindness rate.” Perhaps you can find out about these and more yourself. Take a walk and check it out.
Rahmani is a professor of architecture at Washington state university where he teaches courses in design and theory.
