I’ve been following Patrick Parkinson’s recent articles in The Park Record concerning the possible impending sale of The Canyons as if they were PBS Mystery episodes. It’s downright delicious stuff. Scrumptious, actually.
From here on out, by the way, if it’s all right with you, when looking back with fondness upon that ski resort high on the west bench of Snyderville, it will be referred to as “Park West.” But when dealing with its recent history, including the current lawsuit-ridden bidding war, it will become once again “The Canyons.”
For Park City locals from the era when Kenny Binatena and John Jenkins redefined the sport both on and off the slopes, it’s an important distinction.
Of course, it isn’t breaking news that American Skiing Company has been making long-radius turns on a downhill course for some time. But somewhere along the line they must have applied the wrong wax, caught an edge, and hooked a gate. They began, as they say, liquidating.
Now as I understand it, Vail opened bidding for The Canyons at 95 million bucks and thought they had a deal only to have Talisker Corp. enter the fray with a bid of $100 million, which ASC accepted. There’s an outfit called Peninsula somewhere in there too, at least according to “unsealed court documents.” They appear to be currently sitting at the Talisker table.
According to Vail, skullduggery was involved in getting these two together. A few inches of freshly dumped intrigue now adorn the slopes. Vail says its agreement with ASC was a done deal and precluded other bids. Talisker Corp., American Ski Company’s latest bedfellow, believes bidding didn’t close until after they had raised the ante.
And “Wolf Mountain,” the previous proprietor, believes they still have chips to play. Currently aligned with Vail somewhere deep within this litigation-rich mogul field, they are of the opinion that they can put the kibosh on the whole deal if they refuse to transfer their lease agreement with ASC to Talisker.
Now, if this is beginning to read like a missing chapter to War and Peace, I hereby commend you to the Patrick Parkinson version, which, as mentioned previously, is currently being serialized in a coherent and factual manner in this very same newspaper. Either that or take a quick soak in a tub of absinthe and plow ahead.
Vail’s latest maneuver is to dangle a $650 million carrot in the form of “future development rights” in front of ASC’s nose to see if the bedroom door remains at least slightly ajar. $650 million? Has anyone told Jim Beaver about this? He used to fuel the entire Park West operation almost single-handedly with nothing more than a bit of humor and a lot of sarcasm.
Those aforementioned court documents allude to a covert plotting session between executive types from Peninsula and Talisker over dinner at one of our top-shelf Heber Valley bistros. Not wanting to be seen together, it was decided that they “should definitely go somewhere very discreet!”
Well, that’s us, all right! “Mum” is certainly the word over in these parts. If nothing else, we’re a prudent bunch.
To throw off gumshoes of all persuasions, reservations for this clandestine meet-up were made under a pseudonym. Or maybe it was an “allonym.” I always confuse those two.
As one of those cantankerous sorts who firmly buy into the notion that not much good has transpired hereabouts since Art Durante packed up and left his hardware digs on Main Street, reading about a couple of corporate types meeting secretly at a Hebertown eatery to divvy up the spoils is mouthwatering indeed.
Whether or not their rumored cloak-and-dagger repast helps or hinders their attempted acquisition of The Canyons remains to be seen. A court hearing tomorrow in Denver will speak to that issue.
In the meantime, visions of Park West, that cozy den of a ski area, dance in a few select heads. Specialists were few and far between back then. Electricians loaded chairs, unplugged toilets, poured beer, and drove the shuttle bus. It was a Corky Foster, Mary Beaver, and Vern and Elsie kind of place.
When a lift went down, Wayne Ragland and Jim Beaver would unfold a schematic that wasn’t much larger than Wyoming and begin troubleshooting circuitry with fist-sized relays that didn’t occupy much more space than the Big Dipper. In those days, “solid state” meant you weren’t hung over.
It was a time when, if your 210-cm Blizzard skis actually carved a turn, you would ship them directly back to the factory with an irate note to that effect. If you never completed a “yard sale” in the knee-deep slush of a Park West spring with the music of jeering friends echoing in your ears, you haven’t lived.
And speaking of music, the old Park West, year in and year out, put on the best concerts the town has ever seen (to steal a Commander Cody lyric) “in all that time, since then, ’til now”.
Dylan showed up two years in a row, and the list went on from there: J.J. Cale, Steve Goodman, Asleep at the Wheel, Emmylou Harris, Crosby, Stills, & Nash, The Band, Jerry Jeff Walker, John Prine, Taj Mahal, Ramsey Lewis, James Cotton, Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Dr. John, Buddy Guy, Jimmy Buffett, Pat Matheny, the Eurythmics, the Grateful Dead, Jackson Browne, Dave Mathews Band, Lyle Lovett, Lilith Fair, and, literally, scores of others.
But that was then and this is now and I can’t wait for Saturday’s paper so Parkinson can fill me in on the latest scoop from the Denver courtroom. The old Park West horse is long out of the barn. And now it appears that The Canyons is following suit.