History was never my favourite subject in school. It was almost no one’s favourite and those who were turned on by it were, well, a bit weird.
In my case, and probably for many who grew up on the left side of the country—Canada or the U.S.—history seemed so Eastern-centric. Having been “founded” by French, English, Dutch, Spanish and Portuguese explorers, the history of North America seemed to flow from East to West, heavy emphasis on East.
Good time to acknowledge the real history of North American settlement largely started in the West, but since the first settlers were not European and were already here when the Euros arrived, they didn’t count. Truth but no reconciliation.
People who grew up in the West tended to be bored to tears with names, dates and events that were taught as history, all of which took place in parts of the country we’d never seen except on a map. The West didn’t count. An afterthought. An appendage. An appendix, not really important until it kicks up a fuss.
Maybe that’s one reason the history of Whistler intrigues me so much.
Again, acknowledgement and apology to the first settlers of this valley and even the first Euro-American settlers who farmed, mined and developed what became the town of Alta Lake. This isn’t about you.
The “history” of Whistler began shortly after the 1960 Winter Olympics in Squaw Valley—oops, renamed Palisades Tahoe, to, “better reflect the values and respects of the local community...”
What’s become Whistler was a pipe dream of some Vancouver businessfolk who thought hosting an Olympics would be a great thing, if only they could find an appropriate mountain setting on which to run all those snowy competitions. They discovered the mountain, London Mountain, on the east side of Alta Lake would work, a conclusion not widely shared by people in the ski biz.
Regardless, what started as a crazy idea in the early 1960s became what you see, live in and visit today. And Alta Lake became the Resort Municipality of Whistler. Half a century ago.
Until I moved to Whistler, I’d never lived in, didn’t even know there might be a town whose history was contemporary to my life. Pause a moment. You may well be, probably are, younger than me. But even if you are, Whistler’s history isn’t much older. It’s history in real time.
Meeting and sharing conversations with many of the people who created Whistler, who steered its growth, who made tough calls that turned out to be the right—if not necessarily popular—made the history of this town come alive for me. It drove me to collect as many of their stories as I could and, fortunately, I wasn’t alone in feeling that way.
Those people didn’t arrive in Conestoga wagons. But with no actual road from Squamish to Whistler until 1962, other than a rough, unpaved path crossing streams and presenting incredible winter challenges even after it was finally paved in 1966, they were true pioneers. There was almost nothing here.
Even as late as the early 1990s, many things we might think of as necessities meant a trip to Squamish or Vancouver. That’s how young this town is.
But what a success story. All the shortcomings we complain about—with the exception of overtourism—are inconsequential when you consider the very short span of time Whistler has been here.
The success, the growth, the built environment, the two amazing ski hills, the bike park, everything you see and take for granted today was the result of good planning, blind luck, strokes of genius and personal sacrifice.
While many people had a hand in the creation of Whistler, 16 of them have received the highest honour the town can offer—the Freedom of the Municipality. All 16 were crucial to the success of this town. All contributed in diverse ways. All believe there were many more who deserved the recognition at least as much as they did. But only those 16 have their pictures on the wall at municipal hall.
The Freedom of the Municipality is almost completely symbolic. After all, how can you actually reward accomplishments of this magnitude? Especially when most of the recipients would tell you they were just doing their jobs or doing what needed to be done?
The tangible rewards of the honour are sparse. Nothing financial. No free parking pass. Freedom holders can vote in municipal elections regardless of where they live. If they attend council meetings, the mayor will publicly recognize their presence. That’s it. The Anglo-historical stuff about running sheep through the commons and being hung with a silken rope are particularly anachronistic in a town so young... with so few sheep!
So who were they? Some names are familiar. The first recipient, Myrtle Philip, founded the elementary school, didn’t she? Well, no. But who the heck was Chester Johnson? Trevor Roote? Pat Carleton? Why is the Godmother of Weddings a Freedom holder?
Over the next 16 weeks, the founder and former editor and publisher of Pique, Bob Barnett and I will be telling their stories. Why? Because far too often the journey of this remarkable place is lost in the fog of the present. Whistler wasn’t dropped in situ as you see it today. It was created. These 16 people—and many more—helped create it. Their efforts gave it shape and laid the groundwork for what we consider our home and culture.
More importantly, history isn’t what happened over the past 50 years. What happens today is tomorrow’s history. There is more work, more creation to come. The future holders of the Freedom of the Municipality are working among us today. In the course of time, they too will be recognized.
Time to acknowledge, among others, Pique, for committing the space each week for the rest of the year to this project. The good folks at the Whistler Museum—Brad Nichols, Allyn Pringle and Rebecca MacKay—keepers of the archives, have been extremely helpful pulling information together when our personal files were a bit thin. And many of the Freedom holders who still live among us and have generously shared their recollections. And finally, Bob Barnett, who still lets me talk him into these things.
