Celebrating Winter
No history of Dartmouth skiing could catch the spirit of the sport—the excitement, the roaring winds and flash of danger, the steel-edged precision of a perfect run. No mere words could explain the camaraderie among skiers, the tutelage of great coaches. But here is a little book that comes close: "Skiway—A Dartmouth Winter Tale" by Everett W. Wood '38.
Woodie was a member of the great teams of the late '30s, a disciple of Otto Schniebs and Walt Prager. Skiing and ski jumping led naturally to flying for the Navy during the war and later to a career as pilot for Pan American Airlines. Dartmouth still is his spiritual home; this book his spiritual testament.
He chronicles here—on its thirtieth anniversary—the building of the Ski way, the subsequent torment of snowless winters, and the eventual achievement of snow- making. Most of all, he celebrates the man of vision and determination—John Meek '33—and the people he brought together to create the Dartmouth Skiway, one of the few college-owned ski areas in the country. (One has only to remember the 1935 Oak Hill J-bar slope and reflect that a Dartmouth still training on that small hill of ice and frozen grit would be a Dartmouth out of skiing.)
John Meek was vice president and treasurer of the College for 28 years under President Dickey, from 1949 to 1977. He had not learned to ski until he was nearly 40, but thereafter he practiced and promoted the sport with the zeal of a religious convert. He was the man who saw the need for the Skiway, engineered the site search, negotiated the land acquisition, formulated the finances, convinced the Trustees, and advocated and protected the venture to the extent of even once going down on his knees for it.
Meek wanted, Wood writes, "no less than the best-designed ski operation of its size in New England." Tall order. How that came to pass, over many difficulties, is the fascinating story of Wood's book.
Meck's first report to the Trustees in April 1955 was a monumental 20-page document combining largeness of view, business acumen, logic, and sentiment. In it, Meek "pulled out all the stops and pled his case as a lawyer, treasurer, Dartmouth man, and ski convert."
"The maintenance of Dartmouth's preeminence requires Dartmouth to have its own ski facility bearing the Dartmouth name," Meek wrote, and he made no bones about the need for "a substantial capital investment" and "the underwriting of operating deficits by the College." The Trustees bought his plan, and Meek (who seems never to have lost any Skiway proposal that he presented to the Trustees) continued for the rest of his life to champion the Skiway and concoct novel financing schemes for it.
John Meek died in 1978 of a heart attack while skiing in Aspen. He did not live to see the five terrible snowless years that followed. But he had foreseen them and had set up a fund to help when snowmaking would be essential. The fund did not, however, have $1.1 million in it. Where was that kind of money to come from with no John Meek alive to spirit it into existence? Would Dartmouth have to lease out its Skiway? Or close it altogether?
Devotion and courage breed a special kind of luck in such situations, and destiny smiled again on the Skiway in March 1985 during the annual ski team banquet. On that occasion President McLaughlin and eight former team members gave a special award to Dartmouth parents George and Andy Macomber. George Macomber, an MIT graduate, skied on both the 1948 and 1952 Olympic teams, and has been dubbed the greatest college skier who never went to Dartmouth. His children—John, Gay and Jory—all did go to Dartmouth, however, all were ski team captains, and they garnered five All-American honors among them.
Former Middlebury star and now Dartmouth's ski coach, John Morton, commended the Macombers for their skiing progeny and for "their endless support of Dartmouth skiing." George Macomber responded with thanks for what the Dartmouth ski experience had meant to his family. However, he pointed out, only two of the last ten Winter Carnivals he and Andy had attended had been held at the Skiway.
"This is not a good average," he said, turning to President McLaughlin. "It is unthinkable for a college of Dartmouth's tra- dition not to have snowmaking. Andy and I pledge a hundred thousand dollars to start the ball rolling. Can you take it from there, Dave?"
Dave could: a weather-protected skiway opened on schedule in December 1985.
But I have spoken too much of events, crises, problems, solutions. Woodie's book is really about people, the people who have cared very deeply about Dartmouth skiing and the Skiway: Howie Olivers '39, who managed the Skiway without serious accident for 28 years; his widow Jane, who helped raise the funds for snowmaking; A1 Merrill and Walt Prager, John Rand '38, Bob Monahan '29, George Ostler, Simon Mayer, and two generations of the Nichols family, three of the Balch family. People. Great coaches. Olympic skiers. Families who froze every Carnival watching slalom gates. Workers, trail crews, mechanics. The people—still animated by youthful verve—who still make up Dartmouth's Winter Tale.
Skiway is a very readable history, 54 pages long and well illustrated, handsomely printed in a limited letterpress edition. It says a lot about Dartmouth's continuing commitment to skiing that it has published this happy chronicle. Copies are available through the Dartmouth Bookstore.
Tom Corcoran is president of the WatervilleCompany, Inc., which operates the skiing andresort facilities at Wateruille Valley, New Hampshire. He skied for Dartmouth and for the 1956and 1960 U.S. Olympic teams. In 1978 he waselected to the National Ski Hall of Fame.
