Born from a Dream, Shaped by Jackson’s Spirit
Our Story: A Hotel with a Soul
The Anvil opened in 1955 as a motor inn on North Cache Street, built by Harry and Irene Brown and named for Harry’s blacksmith shop. It ran that way for decades. By the time Erik Warner bought it, the building was worn out.
Erik already knew it. He’d spent college summers working at the Anvil and other hotels around Jackson. The first real decision after the purchase was to keep the 1955 structure standing instead of clearing the lot. He brought in Studio Tack, a Brooklyn design firm, who spent a year in the valley before drawing anything, and worked with craftspeople in Jackson Hole on much of the woodwork in our lobby and restaurant.
Today, Arbus Hospitality runs the Anvil day to day, and it operates three other independent hotels in Jackson and the region. What’s here now is a hotel that belongs to Jackson — somewhere locals turn up as readily as visitors.
Rooted in Tradition, Renewed by Craft
A Legacy of Craftsmanship
An anvil is a blacksmith’s tool, and Harry Brown was a blacksmith. The name has always pointed at the same things: hard work, reliability, and making something that lasts. That thread runs through the building. Architectural details were salvaged where they could be. The furnishings were commissioned from small-batch American makers: the Woolrich blankets and the leather-wrapped pegs in every room came from that decision, not from a catalogue. The same instinct shapes what we buy. 48% of our supplier spend goes to Wyoming businesses, and the mercantile stocks work from makers we know by name — ceramics, leather, books about this place.
KNOWN BY THE DESK, NOT THE GUIDEBOOK
In the Middle of Jackson Hole
The Anvil is two blocks from Jackson’s Town Square and its elk antler arches, in a town hemmed in almost entirely by national parks. The National Elk Refuge is just 3 minutes up the road, Grand Teton National Park is 20 minutes north and Yellowstone’s south entrance is about 1.5 hours
That geography explains most of what makes Jackson Hole worth the trip, and also why the well-known places get crowded. Our front desk keeps a working list of the quieter alternatives: trailheads that don’t fill by nine, the outfitters and independent shops our team uses, the restaurants locals go to on their own nights off. We only send you somewhere we’ve been.
There’s usually something on at the hotel, too. Live music in the lobby, pop-ups at the Mercantile, and through Uncommon Art we host emerging artists whose workshops and exhibitions are always open to locals.
MEASURED AGAINST WHAT JACKSON VALUES
What this Place Asks of Us
Jackson is a small town hemmed in by protected land that carries a lot of visitors. It’s something everyone here contends with. These are the decisions we’ve made.
It starts with who works here. We hire locally first, provide subsidized local housing, and stay open year-round. We make choices meant to protect this valley — its land, water, and wildlife — and we buy from local makers and back the artists and musicians who give this town its own voice.
We don’t always get it right. But we believe in holding ourselves accountable so we worked with the Center for Responsible Hospitality to ask the people this actually affects what mattered to them: our team, our guests, and the town, through the priorities Jackson has already set for itself. Then we measured against what they said, and published what came back, including where we fall short.
