They Bet Their Shirts on Skiing #2
By ED SCHENCK, as told to EDMUND CHRISTOPHERSON
That was Then…
(Reprinted from The Saturday Evening Post, March 4, 1950. Story continued from last week’s Ski Locker feature.)
Breaking the Ice to the Tune of $6000
“WE'RE all in this with some of our money. We need more for payrolls, roofing, timber, and such, to get Big Mountain opened up. If we don't open, we'll all lose what we've already invested. So, as next speaker I'll recognize anyone who wants to buy more stock. Do I hear a thousand? Five hundred? Three hundred?"
Never in my life had I heard such silence. For two minutes-it seemed like at least two hours-no one spoke. If Brad had planted any bidders in the crowd to start the ball rolling, they were forgetting their lines.
Finally Joe Monegan broke the silence with “You can put me down for another three hundred." A couple of others came through. "Okay," Brad said, before there was time for another lull. "We'll save time by going around the room. If we're going to make it, everyone will have to buy or go out of here and sell at least two hundred dollars' worth of stock."
Everyone was surprised by the response. Even though I knew that most of them had already put more money into the ski run than they could afford, there wasn't a person in the room who didn't come through. By the time the doors were unlocked more than $6000 had been subscribed.
Morale on Main Street went back to normal as work on the hill speeded up in those last weeks. Still, it was a photo finish. The night before we were due to open, one crew installed the lift motor, while George and I sat down with the book of instructions and tried to puzzle out the final step-how to adjust the T-bars and attach them to the cable. The directions said to turn the retracting spring eleven times. Working by candle and flashlight, we did this, and clipped them to the lift.
Next morning, with 1000 people gathered round, the motor coughed and the first skiers took off. "Oh, no!" George howled, and turned his reddening face away. Instead of riding up the hill with the T-bar supporting them under their hips in the usual fashion, these first riders were dangling ten feet in the air and spinning around and around. It was like a Bob Hope movie. The retracting spring had evidently been wound up sufficiently at the factory, and our extra tightening had really done the job. But since most of the skiers hadn't ever seen a T-bar lift, they didn't know anything was wrong. So George and I kept straight faces and finished out the day.
It's been just three years now since George Prentice and I came to Whitefish to help the community start a ski run. For some time the town had hankered after a ski development as a way to round out the dead stretch right after hunting season. When our friend Roy Hollenbeck mentioned at a Chamber of Commerce meeting that he knew two guys who also wanted to get into the skiing business, they told him to wire us right off.
When I arrived in Whitefish, I found a town that didn't look much different from other Western towns. It's a division point on the Great Northern, with the usual main street at right angles to the rail- road, two movies, and mountains in three directions. Officially, its population is 2600, although the Chamber of Commerce swears it's closer to 5000. Because of the pleasant lake it's situated on, the town has become a thriving summer-vacation center.
The morning after I got to town, a committee decked out in coonskin caps and snowshoes took me up to inspect the skiing country, firsthand. They were as eager to please as rental agents in a ghost town.
When we finally struggled to the top, we found breath-taking, vast, open snowfields where you can ski in any direction, southern slopes, seven-foot- deep snow topped by soft powder, and sunshine- all the things a skier dreams about. Beautiful snow- laden evergreens loomed against the rock-topped blue ranges of Glacier National Park, twenty miles to the east.
Weary and stiff from the climb, our party that night trooped to a meeting in the Chamber of Commerce room under the bank. First thing, Brad Seeley let me have the sixty-four-dollar question: "How do we start a ski run?"
By the eagerness of his question, and others, I realized they wanted a ski area, and they wanted it badly, and they wanted it right now. Mainly, I gathered, they wanted to know how they could make a St. Moritz out of Whitefish. In keeping with this trend of thought, I told them how we could build a big resort setup on the lake, with a four-mile- long aerial tram to take the skiers up to the mountain. Everyone liked that idea fine, but right away they wanted to know how much a project like that would cost. I told them that 3,000,000 bucks ought to do it.
This is Now…
Make plans to enjoy Hellroaring Ski Heritage Days, March 17 – 18!
Friday, March 17 • 6:00 PM
O’Shaughnessy Center
Ski Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony and Reception
Featuring Canadian Olympic Medalist “Jungle” Jim Hunter - the original “Crazy Canuck”
Tickets $35 on sale March 1st, Glacier Bank - Downtown Whitefish & Kalispell, or online at fvsef.org.
Saturday, March 18 • All Day
Whitefish Mountain Resort
Cash Prizes for all Events
Ski-a-Thon
Retro-Race
Team Uphill/Downhill Classic
Best Vintage Outfit Contest
Toni Matt Promenade
