c a r v i n g a t r a i l : a h i s t o r y o f s k i i n g i n u t a h

By Sally Graves Jackson

Commissioned by the Salt Lake 2002 Olympic Arts Festival Raymond T. Grant, Artistic Director The Salt Lake Organizing Committee for the Olympic Winter Games and Paralympic Winter Games of 2002 hen Miss Florence Merriam visited Alta, , in 1893, she asked Initially, transport was the attraction of skis; they were needed simply to get the assayer of the Grizzly Mine how he escaped around. But wherever winters stretched on, skills were sharpened and com- W loneliness during the long, snowy winter. “Pointing to the petitive skiing became a popular escape from cabin fever. It provided that precipitous mountain wall opposite,” she wrote later, “he aston- addictive mix of athleticism, speed and winner’s thrill that men so often seek ished us by saying he had ridden down it on his skees. . . . It was dangerous and formalize in their communities. They found such a sport on the backs of but exciting work, he said simply. He had been up and down most of the horses, in the seats of race cars and kneeling in dug-out canoes, not to men-

mountains around Alta.”1 tion in the power of their own legs. Likewise, ski races (and eager betting by onlookers) became regular entertainment in western mining camps. By No one knows exactly when skis first carved a trail in Utah’s snow, but most going straight down the slopes, says ski historian Alan Engen, the good ski- likely they appeared with miners who began probing the region’s mountains ers could whistle along at more than eighty miles per hour. This took a toll soon after California’s gold rush in 1849. Among those fortune seekers were a on ankles, legs and a few necks, but the risk was small compared to the good many Scandinavians—ship jumpers from the port of San Francisco— more established pastimes of drinking and fighting. Engen notes that the whose familiarity with skis was practically knitted into their genes. These men winner of the first organized ski tournament in 1868, a California miner undoubtedly shared what were first called “Norwegian snowshoes” with their named Robert Oliver, was “subsequently shot and killed by a fellow skier in a

snowbound fellows. There were skis in California’s mining settlements in the saloon brawl.”2 1850s, a skiing mailman on the eastside of the Sierra Nevada in the ‘50s and ‘60s, and by 1870 there were skiers among the silver miners up Little Those early skis were made from single pieces of wood and had only leather Cottonwood and other Wasatch canyons. straps for bindings. They were eight, 12, even 14 feet long, carved carefully into wide planks with the familiar upturned point (an ancient design, evi- dent in Scandinavian petroglyphs from the Stone Age). Rougher versions were improvised from oaken barrel staves or floorboards sharpened at the ends. When you see these first skis, the word lumber comes to mind, both the noun and the verb, but at least one old-timer from Alta’s last mining years has described doing kick turns with “an effort like a high-kickin’ chorus girl’s” on 11 foot skis. For control he had only a “single long pole . . . cut from

creek-side brush.”3 Few skiers today try the old long boards; they’re amaz- ingly solid and handsome, but, unlike the bamboo fly rod or the birch bark canoe, they don’t generate much nostalgia. In the late 1880s, America received another, larger wave of Norwegian immi- Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Early Main Street, Alta

1 2 grants, among whom were some fine ski jumpers. Wherever they found cheeked sons of ” sailed off the inrun and soared briefly but suitable terrain and snowy winters they organized local clubs, built jumps on triumphantly through the air. Many of them tumbled upon landing, includ- hills or scaffolds, and held contests. After the first ski-jumping tournament in ing Miss Bergstedt Paulsen, but even so they established the sport solidly in Minnesota in 1887, interest in the sport spread far and wide. Inevitably, the hearts of the onlookers. New and better jumps were built in subsequent Norwegians arrived in and Utahns who lived outside of the years, and promotion by club members such as Axel Andresen, Martinius snowbound mining towns discovered skiing. “Mark” Strand, and Peter Ecker lured more competitors and crowds of thou- sands to the contests. “We used to ski right down Main Street from 2nd North [and then] to the

Brigham Young monument,”4 recalled the late Borghild Bergstedt Paulsen, a By the end of the 1920s, Strand and Ecker had begun a tireless and fruitful Norwegian who came to Salt Lake City as a young lady in 1914. On her days off from work, she joined a group called the Norwegian Young Folks Society for skiing expeditions up and down the mountains near town. Other locals, particularly members of the newly formed Wasatch Mountain Club, adopted their novel recreation. On weekends and holidays, groups of skiers would make their way to Emigration Canyon or Ensign Peak, Brighton Inn or the largely abandoned mining settlements of Alta or Park City. Much of those areas, which had once been a patchwork of mining claims, was now con- trolled by the U.S. Forest Service as public land.

Among the Norwegian Young Folks were several accomplished jumpers who Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, were determined to continue their Alta jumpers in the early days were , left; Mac Maeser, next to Alf, and the late Dave Quinney, second from right. The rest are not identified. sport. In 1916, they organized Utah’s first jumping tournament just east of effort to bring national jumping competitions to Utah. Two notable new town in Dry Canyon, near where the jumps were built: Becker Hill in Ogden and Ecker Hill near Salt Lake City. University of Utah’s giant U now glows When the U.S. professional jumping team came from the Midwest to com- at night. A crowd of eager spectators, pete on Becker Hill in 1930, several of its members decided to settle in the whom The Salt Lake Tribune described area. Norway-born Alf and , Halvor Bjørngaard and Einar Fredbo as “mouths agape and eyes wide open,” were jumpers of wide renown, and their presence in Utah helped secure its gathered to watch as the “ruddy- future in the world of competitive skiing. The Engens, in particular, became Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, P.S. Ecker and Alf Engen with skis at the Alf Engen Ski Tournament

3 4 pivotal figures in intermountain skiing for the next 60 years. As a jumper, Alf set several world records; later, he would win U.S. championships in jumping, But even as the jumpers attracted their loyal crowds, more and more cross-country, downhill and . He would also coach the 1948 Americans were learning to have their own fun on skis. In 1929, the Olympic Ski Team, teach thousands of people to ski at the Alta Ski School first destination opened in New Hampshire. Like ski areas in and, elsewhere, appear in movies and receive dozens of awards from state , Peckett’s Inn offered lodging, equipment and skiing lessons. and national skiing organizations. The inn’s Austrian instructors taught their favored “Arlberg method” of downhill skiing, in which the skier descends a slope in a series of graceful During the jumping heyday of the early 1930s, the newspapers devoted curves. This technique became better known after the 1932 Olympic Winter entire pages to the competitions. “Thrills galore!” the Tribune proclaimed of a Games in Lake Placid, and demand for ski areas and typical meet, “Witnessing human bodies zipping through the air at an almost lessons spread throughout the country. Thus, by the late 1930s, downhill ski- unbelievable speed of 60 miles an hour, supported only by wood ski run- ing in Utah had replaced in popularity. “Skiing became such a ners, almost escapes the imagination!” Along with photographs of the skiers rage,” says Alan Engen, “that the Forest Service in Utah began much like those on baseball cards, the Tribune also provided rah-rah trivia. to search for sites to develop ski areas. They hired Alf Engen [Alan’s father] to Sverre Engen’s picture in 1931 was captioned, “A fine specimen of Norwegian explore the local mountains and evaluate them as candidates for develop- manhood. Watch him, girls!” ment.”

There were many challenges in building the so-called ski industry in Utah. One was accessibility: skiers needed to get to their favorite ski areas. Rail lines laid during the mining years became especially useful, as did a prolifer- ation of roads, trails and shelters built by federal employees in programs like the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). The CCC also planted trees in areas such as Alta, where miners had cut all the timber.

Another challenge to the fledgling ski industry was recruitment of skiers. As more instructors gave more lessons, the number of local participants grew. But Utah’s ski promoters also wanted to attract skiers (and their dollars) from elsewhere. Mark Strand, who became vice president of the National Ski Association in 1936, continued to foster Utah’s role in hosting national tournaments. He also kept a close eye on skiing trends Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Alf Engen ski jumping

5 6 around the country. The same year, Averell Harriman, chief of Union Pacific After World War II, new materials, particularly plastics, and new designs for Railroad, opened a luxurious ski resort with the country’s first chairlift near skis brought more people into the sport, and the development of ski areas Ketchum, . It was called Sun Valley, and it immediately attracted a pho- continued. Each has its own colorful history. A number of them were started togenic crowd of Hollywood celebrities and rich international visitors. by soldiers who had served on skis in the war’s , and many involved the enthusiastic hard work of entire families. Solitude, Harriman had chosen Idaho on the advice of Felix von Schaffgotsch, an Timphaven (now Sundance), Park City and Brian Head opened in the 1950s Austrian count whom he had hired to search the Intermountain West for a and ‘60s. The 1970s brought Snowbird, Powder Mountain, and Elk Meadow good resort site. When the count rejected the canyons near Salt Lake City, and Mount Holly. Deer Valley the local boosters who had hosted him were disappointed but only briefly. followed in 1981, followed more recently by Nordic Valley and The Canyons. Soon they organized their own Salt Lake Winter Sports Association, and Outstanding competitive skiers such as the Engens (including Corey, the raised enough money to construct a chairlift at Alta for the 1938–39 season. youngest), Junior Bounos, Stein Eriksen, Jim Gaddis, Spencer Eccles and Other groups followed suit, and by the end of the 1940s downhill skiers many, many others have helped bring attention to Utah’s could choose among Alta, , Brighton and Beaver Mountain, near now-famous snow. Logan, Utah. The wide tracks of the Grizzly Mine’s assayer melted away some hundred The success of such efforts depended on the cooperation of everyone: the years ago, and the great wooden skis he strapped to his boots are gone, too. Chamber of Commerce; the Utah Transportation Association; the Forest He found the silver he sought, and then he and his fellows moved on to Service; the CCC; the rail links; the Wasatch Mountain Club; the Utah Ski Club leave their imprint elsewhere. Wherever he went, though, you can be certain (formally the Norwegian Young Folks); the Winter Sports Association; and that he never forgot that feeling of moving across the snow, trudging landowners who still held claims to the old mining areas. Success also upslope and flying down, muscles warm and mind alert and exhilarated, depended on keeping skiers safe; a ski patrol was organized to help injured crossing an otherwise impenetrable frigid landscape, owning it and belong- skiers, and snow rangers were appointed by the Forest Service to tackle the ing to it at once. This is a feeling that still transports skiers, whether they soar ever-worrisome threat of avalanches. Avalanches had taken hundreds of like birds off jumps, or weave furiously down slalom courses, or drift quietly lives during the old mining days, and as the slopes filled with skiers the need through aspen groves in the back country. There is danger and excitement still, to protect them from roaring walls of snow gained urgency. The first snow and there is also art. ranger was Sverre Engen; from the 1940s on, he and many others studied everything from the cohesiveness of individual snow crystals to regional weather patterns, and they experimented with explosives as a way to set off avalanches preemptively. The process continues today.

7 8 N o t e s

1 From Florence Merriam’s book My Summer in a Mormon Village (Houghton, Mifflin, and Co., Cambridge, 1899). Quoted in Alexis Kelner’s, Skiing in Utah: A History. Alexis Kelner, Salt Lake City, 1980: page 10.

2 Alan Engen, For the Love of Skiing: A Visual History. Gibbs-Smith, Salt Lake City, 1998: page 12.

3 From R.F. Martin, unpublished manuscript: “An Account of Alta.” Lawrence James Papers, Special Collections, University of Utah Marriott Library, Salt Lake City. Quoted in Alexis Kelner, Skiing in Utah: A History. Alexis Kelner, Salt Lake City, 1980: page 11.

4 MS 162, Borghild Marie Bergstedt Paulsen Papers. Utah Ski Archives, Special Collections, University of Utah Marriott Library, Salt Lake City.

5 All Salt Lake Tribune quotes are from ACCN 1586, Einar Fredbo Skiing Scrapbooks. Utah Ski Archives, Special Collections, University of Utah Marriott Library, Salt Lake City.

9 S. J o e Q u i n n e y a n d t h e S t o r y o f A l t a

By Sally Graves Jackson

Commissioned by the Salt Lake 2002 Olympic Arts Festival

Raymond T. Grant, Artistic Director

The Salt Lake Organizing Committee for the Olympic Winter Games

and Paralympic Winter Games of 2002 bout 15 years ago, while living in California, I was invited on cultural and educational institutions, short notice to join friends on an expense-paid skiing trip to and still very much involved with Alta. Utah. I had never been to Utah, I had never skied or even fanta- Failing eyesight kept him from skiing in sized about skiing, but the trip sounded like the sort of those last years, but he participated in all-you-can-eat adventure that my stomach and I shouldn’t miss. I phoned the the man I worked for, ready to plead. His reaction caught me off guard. daily operation of the Alta Ski Lifts “Skiing? In Utah?!” he shouted with delight. “Oh man, I’m jealous! Company right up until his death Where in Utah?” at age 90. “Uh . . . ,” I said, racking my memory. “Not sure. I think it’s Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Joe Quinney someplace called Alta.” There was a brief silence on the line. Seymour Joseph (Joe) Quinney was “Someplace called Alta?” my boss finally sputtered. “Someplace born in 1893 in Logan, Utah, to book- called Alta? Are you joking?” keeper Joseph Quinney and his wife, Ida. After his school years in Logan, he I might as well have said I had tickets to something called served a two-year mission in Europe for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter- the Olympics. day Saints. Upon his return in 1914, he enrolled in the Agricultural College of Utah (now Utah State University), where he was not only a star student but Alta, of course, is Utah’s oldest ski area, world famous for its powdery snow, also officer in numerous clubs and organizations and manager of the debate its alpine beauty and its tendency to cater t o locals. Much of the vision for team. This latter pursuit seems to have been a true fit for Joe; he won several the place, and much of its soul, came from a strong-willed awards for extemporaneous speaking, and in his senior year he led the team Salt Lake City lawyer who loved the outdoors, loved Utah and wanted to victory over the University of Utah and Brigham Young University. After its families to have a place where they could ski together. His name was Joe graduating in 1916, he headed east to Harvard Law School. Quinney.

He thrived at Harvard, but he missed his hometown sweetheart, Jessie When you talk to his family and friends, you forget that Joe Quinney died Eccles. When he returned to Logan after his first year, they were married; she nearly 20 years ago. For all of them, it seems, he remains very present some- went back to Cambridge with him and enrolled in Radcliffe. In their free time how. Willingly, easily, they tell stories about him and his wife, Jessie: stories of they went to hear the Boston Symphony, see ballet or opera, or visit art respect and affection tempered with humor and color and a certain museums and galleries. They bought a few paintings for themselves and begrudged amazement. Right through his 80s he was still practicing law at formed a strong, lifelong conviction that the performing and visual arts are the firm he founded, still giving advice, money and care to many of Utah’s an essential part of a city’s heartbeat.

13 14 After law school (and a brief clerking assignment during World War I), Joe brought his wife home to settle in Salt Lake City, where he was apparently determined to make his own way. Jess’s late father, David Eccles, had been an extremely successful businessman—Utah’s first multimillionaire—and the family’s prosperity had continued under the guid- ance of Jess’s brothers George and Marriner. They had known Joe Quinney all their lives, but they were at first very wary of him as an J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. in-law. Perhaps it was because, as one of Joe’s grandsons says, “he was Early Alta skiing figures; some identified are, at left, Mac Maeser, third from left, Dev Jennings, fourth from left, Alf Engen. Youth in front is Jack Reddish. The girl at right a hotshot lawyer from Harvard,” or perhaps they were protective of is Janet Quinney and the man second from right is Sverre Engen. their sister, but it didn’t seem to have fazed Joe. He and Jess started a family nizations. They were extremely generous to their alma mater, Utah State and he practiced law, making all of $900 his first year. University, where they funded an endowment for the College of Natural Resources that continues to provide scholarships, buildings, laboratories, He joined a larger firm in 1927, and then in 1940 he was a founding partner and more. in the firm Ray, Quinney and Nebeker. His law partners describe him as an outstanding lawyer, a reserved man who did not suffer fools and a man of His greatest love, however, was the outdoors. “Even as a little 6 or 7 year-old compassion. “He ran things with a firm hand; he could be autocratic, even boy he’d leave his home,” says his daughter Janet Lawson. “He’d tell his gruff,” says lawyer Lon Watson. “Nevertheless, he had this great concern for mother where he was going, and he’d go up Logan Canyon with his fishing people in the firm.” Clark Giles adds, “A young lawyer would ask a stupid rod, maybe be gone three or four or five days. . . . And [when he was older] question, and Joe would get out his saber and slice him up—but later he’d he climbed all these mountains around here.” Being a husband and lawyer try to find out if this lawyer was having problems, or needed something.” and parent did not slow him down. He continued to fish and hunt ducks and Because of his rational business advice, he eventually became George and sail and hike. He and Jess built a much-loved summer home at Bear Lake, Marriner Eccles’s most trusted counsel. north of Logan. He went with friends and family down the Snake, , Green and Yampa Rivers in wooden dories. “Joe had a spirit of adventure,” Law was Joe’s career and he was devoted to it, but not to the exclusion of says his granddaughter Joann Shrontz, “and the things he did were as adven- other interests. Rick Lawson, his eldest grandson, recalls Joe “telling me early turous as some of the craziest stuff kids do now.” on in my life that from those to whom much has been given, much is expected.” Joe and Jess were both steady, active promoters of the Utah This spirit of adventure was complemented by a certain dogged construc- Symphony, Ballet West and the Utah Museum of Fine Arts. They gave a great tiveness. As his son-in-law Duane Shrontz has written, Joe was “never a man deal of money, but they also gave time and interest to those and other orga- to loiter along the edges of his dreams,” and he had the ability to make

15 16 things happen and make them last. When his children David and Janet Oh, it was nothing but snow in a pine branch filled with bourbon.” became interested in competitive skiing in the late 1920s, Joe Quinney not only learned to ski too, but also judged at the local jumping tournaments The WSA, which later became the Alta Ski Lifts Company, put up $10,000 for and served as president of the ski club. He also became a lifelong friend with Alta’s first chairlift. Herb Livsey, longtime partner at Ray, Quinney and many of the skiers, particularly the champion jumpers Alf and Sverre Engen. Nebeker, has seen the early paperwork. “Joe went to see As downhill skiing gained popularity in the early 1930s, Alf Engen recom- all his business friends to ask for pledges of money,” he says. “If you look at mended several places for the U.S. Forest Service to develop as ski areas his record, you can trace his path from his building on Main Street, up the near Salt Lake City. He and Joe Quinney agreed that the slopes around the east side of the street, and then back down the west side, visiting people in abandoned mining town of Alta were the best. their offices, one by one.” The Collins Lift, the second in the country, was made partly from an aerial tram left from Alta’s In 1935, Quinney was among those who hosted an Austrian visitor, Count mining years. “They took some of the old mining parts and bought Felix von Schaffgotsch, who had been hired by Union Pacific Railroad’s chair- some old mining parts and put them together, you know, by guess and man Averell Harriman to find a good place to build an alpine ski resort. by God,” says Janet Lawson. “A little glue and spit, and there it was.” Schaffgotsch was shown several likely spots near Salt Lake City but eventually It worked only sporadically during the first season (1938–39). When it was he settled on a site near Ketchum, Idaho. There, Harriman opened his new working, the chairs hung low so when snow accumulated you had resort, called Sun Valley, in 1937. It had the country’s first chairlift, and its suc- to tuck your feet up, and sometimes everyone had to help shovel a cess roused a competitive spirit in Utah. trench for the chairs’ passage. By the second season most of the mechanical glitches were solved. Local ski- Within a few months, Joe Quinney and eight fellow businessmen formed the ers did indeed gather at Alta; it was a success, exactly as Joe Quinney had Salt Lake Winter Sports Association (WSA) and met with Alta’s last inhabitant and major landowner, George Watson. Watson had fallen behind on his prop- erty taxes, but the WSA had a plan. In exchange for giving the surface rights of his 1800 acres to the U.S. Forest Service, Watson’s debts would be forgiven and Alta would become a ski area. Watson agreed to this, staying on at Alta and welcoming skiers and friends there until his death in 1952. “He had a house at the base of the Collins Lift, and in the wintertime when the snow’d get so deep, you’d climb down a ladder through the ceiling to get into the house,” recalls Janet Lawson. “And he always fixed you up with what he called a pine- ball. Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Parade float, “Romantic Alta, Utah: The Winter Play Ground of America”

17 18 hoped. He was there constantly with his family, and the employees and their industry. “I don’t think Joe ever wives and children became a kind of extended family. Alta seems to have approached Alta as a means of had a soul from the beginning, a force that attracted and kept many good making money,” says grandson people for many years. Since 1942, for example, Alta has had only three gen- David Quinney. “It was more his eral managers: Fred Speyer, Chic Morton and Onno Wieringa. The Engen love, his avocation. He was a family has been involved continuously in the ski school, and Alf Engen’s son firm believer in keeping the cost Alan is now director of skiing. The Alta Ski Lifts Company continues to be run of the lift pass down to benefit by Quinneys, Lawsons, Eccleses and descendants of the late James “J” the local skiers.” Laughlin, a New York native who invested in Alta early on. Laughlin first came to Alta in 1941 with ski school director Dick Durrance, and he was so The family lore of Joe Quinney’s taken with the area that he eventually became the major stockholder in the descendants has come largely Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Lifts Company. He and Joe Quinney had great affection and respect for each from their Alta experiences. “I Janet Quinney Lawson other, sharing the same philosophy about Alta’s place in Utah’s growing ski was always up there messing around, doing something,” Janet Lawson says. “Since conception. It was won- derful.” She was a competitive ski jumper and racer from childhood, sometimes putting rocks in her pockets to make herself weigh more in the girls’ races. She would have skied in the 1942 Olympic Winter Games had the event not been cancelled because of World War II. For her son Peter Lawson, “Alta always existed, from my earliest memories. I think I started skiing when I was 3, and before that I was hauled around in a backpack. The story is that Joe had to take Mother’s skis away from her during the last month of preg- nancy with me because he couldn’t take it.”

“It’s always been a family thing,” agrees David Quinney. “Jess, my grand- mother, used to take me up [to Alta] when I was 2 years old, and walk me around on the flats on little skis . . . and I actually started skiing when I was about 3.” Many, many other local skiers have their own stories of childhood outings to Alta, and a number of famous competitive skiers have emerged from its renowned races and contests. Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Janet and Jody Lawson and Joe Quinney

19 20 Of the original nine people who put in money for the Collins chairlift, only Joe “I miss Joe; I think about him all the time,” David Quinney continues. “I miss stayed closely involved in Alta’s daily operation; friends and family joke that seeing him up at Alta. He used to wear this great duster, you know, a British Alta was Joe’s mistress. “Every Tuesday,” lawyer Lon Watson remembers, smiling cap and a sort of steel gray parka with a fur collar. He used to sit up under and shaking his head, “Chic Morton, who was running Alta, came by Joe’s the trees sometimes at the bottom of the lift, just sit back in the trees and office at about 10 o’clock, and they had a meeting, and then they had lunch at watch and make sure that the lift operators were doing their job properly the Alta Club.” David Quinney remembers coming by Joe’s office for a visit one and being friendly to the people. He’d walk around and ask people what day and listening in the hall to his grandfather talking with Alta’s snow they thought, but he’d never identify himself.” groomer. “Russ Harmer was talking to Joe about why [Alta] needed to have new snowcats. And Joe just had him on the hot seat, just grilling him. And Joe Quinney’s descendants have more than just stories from their long asso- Russ answered every question that Joe would ask, and Joe would listen, and ciation with Alta, they also have a sense of responsibility for its future. They ask him another question, and listen to the answer. Well, after about 20 min- have become city council members, environmentalists and advocates, land- utes of this, Joe finally said, ‘Okay. I understand,’ and Russ got his new owners, patrons of the arts, and board members of nonprofits. They speak up snowcats.” for sound growth and development in Little Cottonwood Canyon, and they are involved in projects like the Museum of Ski History being built at the Utah Olympic Park. In much of this work, they are in the habit of considering “how Joe would’ve done it,” or “what Joe would’ve thought.” This sort of accountability can be a burden, but it also indicates how deeply the family’s members are rooted in their home state. Alta belongs to them, certainly, but they also belong to it, and a good measure of that belonging is because of Joe Quinney. He would be gratified to know that “someplace called Alta” con- tinues to attract skiers from near and far. Special collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah University Marriott Library, Willard J. Special collections, Fred, Jody, Janet and Rick Lawson

21 22