Bunny Bertram — a recollection
I can see him there still—not exactly a fashion plate, with his old Army surplus parka, non-descript baggy pants, hunting boots and grungy old cap with ear flaps down.
His right cheek bulged with a plug of tocacco that would have been the envy of a Rod Carew. The tips of his shaggy winter-only beard were covered with frost as he slowly stamped his feet on the little snow platform just below the top of that cruel rope tow that sped you up the steep face far faster than ever you wanted to ski down.
I can remember, towards the end of a long day’s skiing, the numb hands, forearms that burned with pain, shoulder sockets that bespoke a session on a Grand Inquisitor’s rack. But most of all I remember Bunny, watching carefully from the perch which gave him a view of the whole tow-line. Just below the blessed top was a final, steep, heart-breaking pitch, challenging you to make it if you could, as that speeding rope slowly started to slip through your sodden mittens. Bunny was, I realize now, alert for safety problems; but to me, back in 1950, he was the personification of that tow, daring me to make it, unburdening himself of a slightly scornful spit as I gave up below the lip. Chastened, I would ski down as fast as possible in order to give it one more go—one final struggle against that infernal tow, which by then had become the embodiment of some evil that had to be overcome—yes, a struggle against that man brooding at the top of his tow. And then, somehow, you made it, and you glanced over at Bunny for your reward: a smile, a wink, a nod . . . something that let you know he approved. And you glowed inside all the way down.
I remember Bunny’s pride in the Dartmouth ski team. How he loved to have them practice there, and what pride he felt when they competed there! Then, when Dartmouth built its own area, the Dartmouth Skiway, those kids—Corcoran, Macomber, Igaya, Beck—wanted to go on practicing at Bunny’s hill. It was right. That’s all.
Because Bunny Bertram looms large enough to need no exaggeration, permit me a small correction to one of the Bunyanesque legends about him that are gaining currency. I read where his tow “rocketed skiers to the top at 91 mph.” It was true that he could crank that thing up to awesome speeds—perhaps, as he recalled in later years, to 91 mph. But Bunny was very safety conscious as an operator, and while the tow’s reputation for speed was well earned, its operational speed was not in the lunatic range, and was in the low 20s, if I remember right. And if you don’t think that’s plenty fast, try it some time!
But that’s just for the record, and it in no way diminishes the contributions of this colorful pioneer who will stand tall indeed in the Hall of Fame.
And, if you have a vision of an after-life, picture, if you will, a determined Bunny, standing on a cloudy platform outside some pearly gates, daring anyone who would to make it up that final pitch.
David Rowan
Note: See also page 43 for an interview with Bertram just a week before his death.
Those discounts—nice girls say “No”
Have you ever noticed how every grand promotional scheme in the ski world seems to start with the universal goodie: a free or discounted lift ticket? Grand prize for the ski ball? . . . Support the local Rotary? . . .
And then there are the marketing schemes that are going to bring “countless new skiers—midweek, mind you—if only you grant the members of my ski group a small discount” . . . or, “I can still fit you into our special coupon book that goes to over three zillion active ski families, and your area will have an exclusive for this part of the state. . .”
And so forth.
We were reminded of this when we saw the list of “membership benefits” earned through membership in the U.S. Ski Association. Take away the various ski area and ski school discounts in the “Benefit Book” and what’s left is ski theft insurance, a newspaper, a membership card and a bumper sticker. And of course USSA is just one, to which you can add the American Ski Association, the Student Ski Association, Alpine Ski Club of America, and so forth. It would seem that quite a few people make their living off what ski areas give away.
Yes, of course there’s a quid pro quo. From a marketing point of view there is exposure that derives from the inclusion of your area’s name among those listed on a flyer as offering a discount. Or included on a counter card at 75 McDonald’s restaurants. Or whatever the deal is.
The benefits can be in what is essentially “sampling.” The $1 off on a lift ticket midweek may bring someone to your area who otherwise might not have tried it, and perhaps you’ll get repeat business, the rationale goes.
But, we wonder how many areas have a really good idea of whether the quids match the quos. We wonder how many areas go along just because they are scared of “being left out, and because that competitive ski hill in the next valley is participating, so I’d better be in it myself.”
This is an age-old debate, since surely the first book of discount coupons was printed at the same time by the same printer who made up the very first lift tickets. But we bring the subject up now because we sniff a sharp increase in the overtures that will be made to you.
“Conventional wisdom” (always beware it as the haven of the uncurious) has it that the skier growth curve has flattened, and that there will be increasing competition for the existing skier. “And so,” you’ll be told with increasing frequency by more and more promoters, “you should let us generate traffic for you with our exciting program of skier development . . . blah, blah, blah . . . and all you have to do is honor this membership card we issue . . . blah, blah, blah.”
What we are suggesting is that areas make such arrangements a solid part of their marketing plans, and not something that is casually agreed to because “it sounded like a good idea at the time, and wouldn’t cost anything.” By making it a part of your marketing plan it will force you to question it, to be skeptical, assign a projected volume to it, and then perhaps to take steps to measure its performance so that you can make an informed decision on whether to repeat next year.
As it is, it is very hard to find a marketing director or ski area manager who knows much about the business that comes as a result of discounts given. Just for starters, what you should have a feel for: Who are they? Have they come before? Would they have come anyway? Did they bring other skiers with them? Do they come back?
We are in no way urging our readers to stop participating; we are merely urging you to be discriminating, to make critical choices, to go into these things with your eyes wide open. And sometimes, as Moms once used to tell their daughters, “Nice girls say ‘No.’ ”
In most cases you are dealing with marketing organizations which wouldn’t exist without being able to sell what you are asked to give away. In our book this makes them beholden to you. Since they can’t be expected to show loyalty to you, you should make sure they can, and will, deliver business that is cost-efficient to you.
Decide also whether the organization’s overall program really benefits you. A case in point might be in California where the Far West Ski Association offers its members various discounts at about 30 California and Nevada ski areas, but at the same time operates a large, efficient and successful ski travel business built around charter flights to Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, the Canadian Rockies and Europe. There’s nothing in the world wrong with that, of course. It’s a good service to skiers. But maybe California areas should make sure that those discounts they give do indeed bring in business that offsets what they lose when their local skiers are enticed elsewhere. Again, an age-old debate—sanctified, but not resolved, by time. And it’s still worth thinking about.
Our final comment on the lift ticket discount comes from an unlikely source: Dean Lawrence, president of the Sport Division of USSA. We think he puts a nice perspective on things:
“Frankly, I think the silliest thing I’ve ever seen is a skier with his $350 Rossis with 727s, his new $240 Nordicas, wearing a $400 Roffe ski suit, who has paid $600 for airfare to stay at a $180-per-day condo, going up to the ski-lift ticket window and asking for his $2 discount.”
A SAM Editorial
An Open Letter To NSAA
(Originally sent January 1980 . . . printed here at author’s request)
This letter is in response to your request for information to be submitted to the Small Business Administration—the end view being low interest government loans.
First, let me introduce myself. I am the owner of SugarCreek Ski Hills, Inc. in Bellbrook, Ohio. SugarCreek is a medium sized backyard ski area, grossing seven hundred fifty thousand to one million dollars per year from all sources. Over the fifteen years of our existance, we have grown slowly—via the rope tow, T-bar, Poma route—installing our first chair lift in 1977. There have been good years, the late sixties and late seventies, and monumental monstrosities, such as 1972 thru 1975.
Today is Thursday January 17, 1980. Out my window I see ugly patches of ice separated by green grass and blotches of mud, all of which translate to a disaster area. The weekend weather forecast is for completely marginal snowmaking and if anything can be salvaged, it may cover the weekend payroll, certainly no more. The unpaid bills stacked on my desk are no longer accommodated by the proverbial “hat” in which they are thrown—no hat is that big. In short—and to extract a quote from your letter, I am not “one of those fortunate operators who are doing well”.
My position is probably no different than hundreds of operators east of the Mississippi—add or substract a zero here and there to reflect the relative size of the operation. Our dilemma is the same. We have a problem and somehow, it must be solved. I applaud any effort by NSAA to help. HOWEVER—parenthetically and emphatically—Washington, D.C. is the wrong answer. Wrong for two reasons:
- Involvement with Washington is a disastrous short run solution that will ultimately extract payment far exceeding any benefit received. Resultant spillover regulation, intervention and red tape can literally be expected to drive the cost of skiing completely out of the market place—beleaguered and bankrupt operators with it.
- Any help received from Washington (low interest loans, guarantees, etc.) can only be gained at the expense of every tax payer in the country—widows, orphans, poor people, and all of those millions of people who don’t give a damn about skiing. We would never think of “begging” them for a dollar, but we are willing to surreptitiously steal it from them via special legislation, preferential treatment etc. Washington has no money to give that it has not taken from someone else.
So the issues are practical and moral. Government help ends self help and ultimately devours the efficacy and the spirit of its supposed beneficiary. What then is the alternative? I can only give you mine.
- Immediate and candid communication with my bank/bankers and suppliers.
- An absolute, twenty-four hour per day commitment to providing every hour of skiing to my customers in the remaining days of this winter. There should be six to eight weeks left, so the jury is still out.
- A willingness to go all the way to resolve the current crisis. Personal notes, personal guarantees, and complete absorption of my personal estate into the financial mix.
- A resolve to solve my own problems with those where a mutuality of interest exists—skiers, suppliers, employees, family and friends—but in no case with innocent bystanders.
Finally, we must realize that we are a capitalistic free enterprise economy, where success and failure is earned—not granted or bestowed—whether by King Arthur or King Bureaucrat. If we are willing to reap the rewards of profitable enterprise, a corollary responsibility is accepting the agony of defeat. In no way can we justify shifting that responsibility to someone else.
If our planning has been deficient, our calculated risk miscalculated, our illusions of grandeur a little too grand, and our lust for growth a little arrogant—we can at least accept the responsibility for our plight. We must say, with Cassius “The fault dear Brutus is not in the stars, but in ourselves”. We got ourselves into this mess. We will get ourselves out.
William J. Staley
President, SugarCreek Ski Hills, Inc.
A parable for the times
Once upon a time there was a rugged outdoor type who had a warming hut next to a pond at about the 45th parallel. All winter long (when there wasn’t too much snow and the ice was strong enough) he would sell hot chocolate and rent ice skates to people who wished to skate on the pond. Some years he would be open for Christmas, some years not. Some years the January thaw would wipe him out and some years his business would stop March 1 when the ice would get too weak. When he analyzed his business, some years were good and some years were bad, but whether they were good or bad depended upon the weather which determined the condition of the ice.
The rugged outdoor type then heard about indoor ice rinks and Zamboni ice conditioners. So he built an indoor rink, bought a Zamboni and advertised ice skating from November 1 to April 15. Figure skaters vied with hockey teams who vied with free skaters for ice time. The rugged outdoor type said, “I do miss the challenge of operating a business dependent on the weather, but I am now financially successful and I can still skate on natural ice part of the year. So I guess I’m a financial success and a frustrated gambler. Now I live by the calendar and play by the weather.”
Ski areas with snowmaking can also live by the calendar (open from November 15 to April 15) and play by the weather.
Some ski areas want to be financially successful and some want to be gamblers. Competitors with snowmaking wonder about the gamblers as businessmen.
James VanderKelen
Snow Machines, Inc.
