Paying Up for History: Rooms at Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, N.Y., start at $510 a night for double occupancy.

Sprawling across 6,500 acres in White Sulphur Springs, W.Va., the Greenbrier resort has been making history since it first opened in 1778. Twenty-six presidents have slept there, as have luminaries like Bing Crosby and the Duke of Windsor. In the 1940s it was transformed into a model of period design by famed decorator Dorothy Draper, then in the 1950s it became a Cold War icon when a top-secret government bunker was installed 72 stories below ground. But for guests arriving this fall, the hotel has a new kind of history-making surprise: a hangar-size casino, complete with sushi bar and luxury shopping center.

Call it the Botoxing of the hotel world. After more than a century of wooing travelers, many historic hotels are in the midst of yet another effort to reinvent themselves. With the recession pushing many of them to, or over, the edge of bankruptcy, and with cash-strapped travelers increasingly driven by bargains and chain-style amenities, hotels like the Greenbrier are turning to epic renovations. For some, the latest makeover is an attempt to restore themselves to their former glory down to the exact shade of paint they used 100 years earlier. Others have made additions that are about as historically accurate as a Dan Brown novel: think energy-efficient green roofs, slot machines and high-tech conference centers. Then there are the little luxuries that would have been inconceivable to weary travelers from the 1800s, like the newly redone double-headed showers and jet tubs at The American Club Resort in Kohler, Wis.

To be sure, renovations and updates are a fact of life at any hotel, especially one that s been open since the Civil War. But for historic properties, the downturn made these projects a priority. In addition to breeding more demanding travelers, the tough economy has prompted many formerly family-owned hotels to join big corporate hotel chains, which require historic properties be brought up-to-date and offer the same amenities as their other hotels. Splashy renovations offer a chance for hotels to play up their historic pasts and attract more travelers willing to pony up to bed down in their storied, and often pricey, rooms. In fact, according to a recent survey by the National Trust for Historic Preservation, 37 percent of the 118 million Americans who participate in historic or cultural travel say they d pay more to stay in a historic hotel.

But for guests accustomed to the cushy trappings of modern hotels, staying in a vintage property can sometimes bring back the type of historical details they d rather forget. Travelers contend with everything from doll-size guest rooms to paper-thin walls and heating-and-cooling systems that seem better suited to a turn-of-the-century tenement than a $400-a-night hotel. And while many travelers welcome the chance to step back in time, some say that Wi-Fi-free rooms, old-school keys and alarm clocks with actual hands can take the concept of the unplugged vacation a step too far.

For Chris Wadsworth, the fascination with historic hotels started when he was a kid, tagging along on one of his dad s business trips to Chicago s Drake Hotel. Decades later, the freelance writer from Ashburn, Va., still seeks out vintage properties, often bringing along his own three sons. Exploring old hotels together is one of the rare things that can distract the boys from their Nintendo, and Wadsworth enjoys watching their eyes get wide as they try to figure out how the antique elevator works and speculating with them about what travel was like centuries ago. On a recent trip to Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, N.Y., Wadsworth bought a book filled with old resort photos, and the family went through it, figuring out what had changed over the years. Their conclusion? Not that much, he says, with evident satisfaction.

Photograph courtesy of Mohonk Mountain House

Hotels are trying a host of strategies to update their buildings while still pleasing the Wadsworths of the world. In historic Colonial Williamsburg, Va., where hotels must consult with a team of 18th-century curators before making changes, properties compromise by stashing flat-screen TVs inside vintage desks or using their historically accurate bedspreads as dust ruffles, while topping the beds themselves with plush European-style duvets. The owner of the Ocean House, a Victorian resort recently reopened in Watch Hill, R.I., decided not to rehab the old structure. Instead, he built a replica of the original, a $145 million undertaking that allowed the hotel to provide modern conveniences like sensors that alert staff when a room service cart gets pushed into the hall.

In Bretton Woods, N.H., the Omni Mount Washington Hotel, a 108-year-old property originally built by 250 Italian artisans, says it s trying to master the historical balancing act by spreading a $50 million renovation across the hotel. Still, history buffs might be turned off by the enormous new conference center or plans to replace the old-fashioned keys with key-fob scanners. (Then there s the zip line recently installed near the hotel. Can you picture former guest Thomas Edison whipping over the treetops?) Craig Clemmer, the hotel s director of sales and marketing, says the hotel did its best to match the new addition to the old building, using replicas of original wooden doors and keeping nostalgic details like the old key slots behind the front desk. There s always going to be somebody who says, Why didn t you leave it the way I loved it? he says.
Indeed, critics say some hotels have gone too far, whitewashing their historic character. Common mistakes, says Gary Sachau, an architectural historian at the National Park Service, include chopping up interior spaces, giving in to hotel brands demands for cookie-cutter floor plans and tacking on overwhelming new additions. And in many cases, there s little outside regulation over how much modernization is too much. The Historic Hotels of America, a program of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, requires only that hotels be at least 50 years old and, at minimum, recognized locally as having historic significance. And while the group retains the right to eject properties that make changes detrimental to their historic character, Executive Director Thierry Roch says they rarely kick any hotels out. (Two years ago, just one was booted, due to traveler complaints and nonpayment of dues.)

But for travelers, historical no-nos are nothing compared with finding unexpected hassles like getting into the rooms. On a recent vacation Basia Kardaras says she ran into that problem at The American Club, a 1918 hotel that once housed the immigrant laborers who worked in the Kohler faucet factory. Today the hotel uses electronic keys, less blatantly modern than typical key cards, but they still required the stay-at-home mom from Lake in the Hills, Ill., to call a manager to let her in except he couldn t get in either. So Kardaras had to cool her heels outside the room for 20 minutes before a security guard arrived and explained the particular jiggle-and-turn routine the key favored. (The hotel says the incident was likely the result of the door being slightly out of alignment and that it could have happened with any type of key.)

And even after the latest wave of upgrades, many historic hotels still face the same decades-old issues: creaky floors, whisper-thin walls, and heating-and-cooling systems that might generously be called temperamental. When Jason Burke, a salesperson from Peabody, Mass., stayed at the Omni Mount Washington, the vintage radiators made the room so hot he had to open three windows in February. (The hotel says its staff responds to all temperature complaints.) Next, he says, came the rain: The place leaked like a sieve. But for Burke, a fan of historic hotels, it all comes with the territory. That s kind of the charm of it, he says.