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Eric Beardmore and the Cheakamus Inn

Whistler icons remembered

He was a pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force. Fought in the Battle of Britain and everything. Was shot down, injured and rose up to fight another day. Square-jawed and broad shouldered — friendly, outgoing, decisive and not afraid of a risk or two — Eric Beardmore was the quintessential mid-20th century sportsman.

And were it not for men like Beardmore — Vancouver professionals who gambled on a crazy dream and an outlandish ski hill proposition in the early 1960s — Whistler would be a sadder, far less exciting place today…

What? You mean there were other people than Joe Houssian and Hugh Smythe and Gary Raymond who played a role in putting Whistler on the global destination map? You mean there was actually a vision here before Intrawest convinced us all to buy into outlandish ideas like the Peak-to-Peak gondola and the Symphony (or should I say Sympathy) Chair?

Indeed. For it was due to people like Beardmore — and others like Chunky Woodward and Ivan Quinn and Glen McPherson and Peter Bentley and Dave Mathews and of course, Franz Wilhelmsen — that the Whistler Mountain story was set in motion in the first place. And though the propaganda spinners in this valley rarely give them much credit, none of this would exist today without the vision and hard work of these daring pioneers.

That, in a nutshell, is what motivated Ian Beardmore (Eric’s son) and former ski school great, Ornulf Johnson to organize a “Reunion of the Old Pioneers” this coming Saturday at Creekside.

“I was visiting the local museum a few years ago with my two daughters,” explains Ian, “and I was shocked to see that there was virtually nothing about the original Whistler Mountain visionaries.” A smile creeps into his features, and the resemblance to his father shines through bright and clear. “That’s what motivated me to start getting in touch with old Whistler acquaintances. And the response has been amazing. People are really keen to get together and re-visit that era — I’m looking forward to Saturday’s celebration.”

Here’s the text of the invitation:

Whistler was the concept of a group of farsighted visionaries who recognized the incredible potential of the mountainous terrain surrounding the Alta Lake area. The grand opening of Whistler in February 1966 was made possible by this very group through the sale of debentures in Garibaldi Lifts Ltd. (incorporated 1962). The current history of the Whistler/Blackcomb Mountain Ski Resort, as told and presented by the many recent arrivals to the area, totally skips over this period from 1960 to 1979.

So come out and reminisce with old friends! Bring friends with you!

And there’s a postscript too.

Please search your attics and family records for written memorabilia and pictures , it says, and bring them with you for a “show and tell.”

But back to my original story. Remember the old Cheakamus Inn? The social heart of the valley in Whistler’s early years, the Cheakamus was also the place where many newcomers first found employment — among them near-legendary characters like Roger McCarthy, John Reynolds, Roger Systad and Colin Pitt-Taylor.

After all, there wasn’t much choice in those days. “You either worked for the mountain or you got a job with one of the three local lodges — and the Cheakamus was at the top of that list,” remembers Whistler realtor Bob Daniels, who worked there during the 1970-71 season. “You got paid $200/month, with room and board, a ski pass — and,” he laughs, “a share of the tip jar if you made it through the season. It was a great life.”

Like many of the lodges of that era, the Cheakamus was built more for socializing than for comfort. There was a dormitory each for men and women, where you’d pay $10/day (meals included). If you had really deep pockets, you could always shell out $22 for a private room with a balcony (as well as three meals). Friday and Saturday nights at the Inn rocked, with music and dancing and all sorts of social shenanigans. If you were lucky, you might even catch Dag Aabye skiing off the roof to the parking lot below, some 45 feet away — and a very flat landing (which he invariably stuck). “There was always something going on,” recalls Daniels. “I can still remember summers there and the ski camp crowd where Toni Sailer and Roy Ferris and Alan White would bet on anything…”

Management also understood the special needs of its staff back then. “We all worked on split shifts, so we could get our skiing in,” explains Daniels. “As for socializing with the guests, that was just expected.” Another big smile. “We all ran bar tabs and it wasn’t rare for an employee to come to the end of the month and find that his bill was bigger than his paycheaque.”

Still, there was a clear code of conduct — for both employees and guests. “John Reynolds ran the bar in those days, and he ruled it with an iron fist,” says Daniels. “If he kicked you out of the Inn for bad behaviour, you were in trouble. Basically, being barred from the Cheakamus meant you had no social life…”    

He sighs. “It was a sad day when they tore that place down,” he says. “It was built like a fortress. Heavy beams and a really solid foundation — it would have lasted forever…”

So why mention the old place if it no longer exists? Simple — the Cheakamus Inn was Eric Beardmore’s dream project. And though he lived but a short time after his dream came true (he died in the summer of 1966, less than six months after the Inn opened), his legacy lived on for years after his passing.

According to early documents, the cost of building the 22-room Cheakamus came in at roughly $300,000 — no mean sum at that time. Still, that doesn’t take into account the weather issues and local working conditions (there was no hydro at the time here, nor telephone nor even dependable transportation). Just getting to Whistler was a major adventure in 1965 — something like a four-and-a-half hour journey across logging roads and dam tops and narrow one-way bridges and endless stretches of gravel.

“I worked up there during the summer of ’64,” remembers Ian Beardmore. “I was on the dynamiting crew taking the knoll off the hill so we could start building the hotel’s foundations.” He grins at the flow of memories that come flooding back. “It felt like a long way from anywhere back then…”

But though it was indeed a long way from anywhere — and though the launch of Whistler Mountain itself was a nip-and-tuck affair until the very day in February of 1966 when the first group of passengers embarked on the gondola for that first trip up the mountain — there was no holding back this great coastal giant. In less than a decade, Alta Lake (as the community was then known) became an object of desire for skiers from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And for all intents and purposes, the Cheakamus was ground zero.

I remember raging après-ski parties at the Cheakamus in the mid-1970s — it was still definitely the place to be post-skiing at Whistler — where people like Nancy Greene and Jim McConkey would hold court and mesmerize us all with ski stories from the old days…

“Funny you should mention Jim,” says Beardmore. “I was just talking to him the other day. You know, before coming here to head the Whistler Mountain Ski School, Jim was one of the big powder-skiing gurus at Alta, Utah. That’s where he met my dad.”

I did know that. Before the launch of Whistler Mountain, you see, many local Vancouver families would make the trip south for a week or two of big-mountain skiing at the famous Wasatch resort. “My parents would go down there with the Wilhelmsens and the Woodwards every winter,” remembers Beardmore. “In fact, the Cheakamus was inspired in no small way by the lodges at Alta. They loved the ambience they found there. They loved the social mix and high-mountain atmosphere. And they thought — rightly as it turns out — that they could build on that feeling here in Whistler.”

Beardmore Sr. even went one step further. “The first manager and chef of the Cheakamus was a guy by the name of Frank Menendez,” continues Ian. “And he was recruited directly from Alta’s famous Rustler Lodge.” He shakes his head. Sighs. “The parties he’d put on in those early years were epic. His Shakespearean meals during Christmas Week — where everybody was expected to dress up for dinner — became the stuff of legends.” Another nostalgic sigh. “Boy, I could tell you stories…”

Which I am sure you could hear for yourself if you’re really interested. Whistler’s Reunion of the Old Pioneers will be held at The Legends’ Conference Room (right next door to Dusty’s) on Saturday, April 12 th from 4 to 7 p.m. And if you decide to go, be sure to bring along your memorabilia!