I have a weakness for places called "Hi Ho." I don't know why; it's just a nice jaunty thing to say. (Note: this is different from Hi-Yo, which is a bluff insincere Ed-McMahonish thing to say.) The Hi Ho was, and is, in Fort Worth. Forty-three rooms with "tile baths," so by all means don’t leave those filthy tiles at home when you hit the road.

Would a more formal society call its motel the Hello-Ho? Probably not. But if this was in Texas, wouldn’t they have answered the phone “Hah-ho.”

“Uh - is this the Hi-Ho?”

“Yes sir, this is the Hah-Ho.”

“Oh – sorry, I’m looking for the Hi-Ho.”

“Thayt’s us’n. Hah-Ho."

Perhaps to make it easier, it's the Astro Inn now.

A correspondant notes:

In your hotel postcard section, I noticed the "Hi-Ho Motel, Fort Worth TX", which I am very familiar with, being a FortWorthian myself. I thought that you might appreciate knowing a little more about it.

After it was the "Hi-Ho", it changed hands and became the "Western Hills Inn". Thankfully, the new owners wisely left the old sign, and simply put new words on it. In the 60s the attached lounge (and there really is no other word for it) became quite the local night spot, as it was a Tiki Bar, complete with jungle plants, Martin Dennyesque music, and large black men, dressed in politically incorrect "ooga-booga" outfits holding spears.

Oddly enough, the exterior of the place still looked the same, so that walking in the place was a jarring experience for someone expecting more of the same
public school ambience as the outside of the building convey. The Tiki Bar morphed back into a regular old lounge at almost the exact moment the 60s ended, in other words, right at the moment the general public lost the desire to sit in a simulated jungle sipping drinks out of a ceramic coconut listening to vibes and fake bird noises.