Customer Reviews

Powder Burn: Arson, Money and Mystery in Vail Valley

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4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

If you've ever stood on the rim of the Back Bowls at Vail,
looking far across at Blue Sky Basin, poised to descend a slope of
fresh powder, it's hard to imagine that this place could be tarnished.
Vail, Colorado, the U.S.' largest ski resort, has lon had a fabled
reputation among skiers. Yet Vail is more than a legendary collection
of trails. It has become a corporate behemoth that has transfigured a
once-serene slice of Rocky Mountain reverie, to such a degree that
somebody -- in the cold, autumn darkness of October 1998 -- tried to
send a message back by setting some spectacular fires on the
mountaintop.

At first glance, "Powder Burn" is a
capitivating "whodunit," an investigation into the arson
that did $12 million in damage to ski lifts and buildings at the posh
resort. Yet the probe of the fires is but an entree to a wider tale
of intrigue, a saga of the cultural clash that ensues when outrageous
wealth and Wall Street power invades a once-pristine alpine valley and
ski town. It is a story happening not only in Vail but throughout the
West, as lattes and laptops displace cowboys and pick-up trucks in
rural hamlets blessed -- or cursed -- with gorgeous natural amenities.
Discovered by skiers, mountain bikers and fly-fishermen, they've been
turned into high-end recreation meccas, catering to "gentleman
ranchers" whose 10,000 square-foot getaway homes are more likely
to front a golf course than a working pasture. While the arson was
widely assumed to be the work of "eco-terrorists" opposed to
the ski resort's expansion into prime, old-growth lynx habitat,
"Powder Burn" reveals that any number of irate parties could
have had cause to strike the match.

Daniel Glick, a Newsweek
correspondent who covers the Rocky Mountain West, takes readers on a
provocative trip behind Vail's faux-Alpine facade, into a world where
corporate logic has defined an entire way of life. "Powder
Burn" is really a collection of interwoven stories, each
fascinating in its own right yet most potent when told together. It
is a mystery thriller, an inquiry into a brilliantly dispatched crime.
It is a history that challenges the more sugar-coated, coffee-table
versions recently published by a couple of Vail's founders. Glick
charts the transformation of Vail from a "high-altitude lettuce
patch" to its current status as a publicly traded corporation,
the plum acquisition of of a ruthless New York investment firm headed
by a former junk bond trader once the protege of Michael Milken. It
is a portrait of a place and its people, a sort of geo-social analysis
told through intimate glimpses of the individuals who call the valley
home, with varying degrees of commitment.

The author's journalist
background is evident in the book's persistent, meticulous reporting.
But "Powder Burn" reads like novel: with electric detail, it
takes the reader inside the minds of a diverse cast of characters,
from ski instructors to slope groomers to sheriff's investigators and
society-types. From struggling coffee-shop owners to the Manhattan
tycoons who run the show, Glick has talked with them all, including
Vail Resorts CEO Adam Aron, an East-coast executive now residing in
Beaver Creek who gained local notoriety for checking on lift
operations in tasseled loafers. That anecdote seems to symbolize
Vail's contemporary identity struggle, which Glick unveils in his
quest to discover whose simmering discontent had reached the explosion
point -- literally.

"Powder Burn" probes into Vail's
economics, politics and social dynamics, examining the same sorts of
issues that trouble other mountain resort towns, places like Jackson
Hole and Moab that are also trying to manage suburban-style sprawl and
the social dislocation that occurs with a flood of outside capital.
Anyone who's driven the stretch of I-70 from East Vail to Eagle has
observed the trophy homes juxtaposed with trailer parks, the fur-clad
cafe crowd and the Mexican immigrant workers who serve their every
need at minimum wage. Glick presents Vail as a microcosm of such
"New West" dichotomies, perhaps the apotheosis.

One of
Powder Burn's many revelations is the extent of Vail Resorts' vertical
integration. Not only does the corporation control 40% of all skiing
in Colorado (in addition to Vail and Beaver Creek, the company also
bought Keystone and Breckenridge in 1996), but an array of hotels,
rental shops, retail outlets, restaurants and real-estate development
as well. In fact, the largest realtor in the Vail Valley, involved in
65% of Eagle County real-estate transactions to the tune of nearly $1
billion last year, is a Vail Resorts joint venture. The reader
doesn't have to delve too far into "Powder Burn" before
Vail's owners, Apollo Partners LLP, begin to look like robber barons,
hell-bent on doing whatever it takes to increase shareholder returns
-- traditions and community be damned.

Glick makes it painfully
evident that the lynx isn't the only 'endangered species' around Vail.
Others may just have had easier access to revenge. And while the
arson remains unsolved, Glick does some speculating in his epilogue
about culpability. It's not the sort of suspect one might expect,
though. But let's not give the ending away.

You don't have to be a
skier or snowboarder to find "Powder Burn" an engrossing
read. Anyone concerned about the changing rural West should read this
book. From the prologue on, it's a punchy, witty, quick-moving tale
of greed and suspense, equally entertaining and disturbing, which will
rivet your attention through to the final page. If you are a Vail
afficionado, however, one thing is certain: once you've read
"Powder Burn," you'll never be able to stand on the edge of
the Back Bowls, or anywhere else on the mountain, and think of it the
same way again.

Vail/Beaver Creek is probably my favorite vacation spot on earth in the summertime...about the only time of year I can afford it (and even then barely). This is a fascinating book, part history of Vail, part meditation on the issues surrounding growth in the affluent west (ie, how a resort for the rich and famous affects the locals and the environment), but largely a whodunnit surrounding the 1998 arson on Vail Mountain.

I wouldn't go so far at to call this a "Rocky Mountain version of "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil' " - Glick's writing isn't that smooth and his character development isn't that deep. But I am fascinated by this part of the country and it's a good story that he has to work with. In the end he presents all the available evidence and lets you draw your own conclusions - probably the best way to end considering that the arson itself remains unsolved.

My room mate asked me why it was taking so long to read this book, and my reply was that it was hard to stumble through Glick's clumsy writing. My interest, however, lay in my previous residency in CO and my interest in the subject, so I struggled through the chapters (many with very clever titles). I lived near Telluride for several years, and watched many of the same actions take place as did in Vail, re: the disparity of money and living conditions and in the attitudes of the haves and have-nots. Environmental issues are just one of the many issues in combat with residents and eco-groups against many of these new conglomerate ski companies, some with owners based far from operations.

Glick does a great job with the interviews and investigation; but his long, run-on sentences left much to be desired. If I didn't have an interest in his viewpoint on the subject, I would have put the book down in the third chapter. If you want the gist of it all, just read the epilogue, which - IMO - contains the best information and most well-written part of the book. This, alone, is worth the money, as well as the information. I'll never drive past Vail again without remembering the issues and the personal stories in this book.

Long live the lynx.

How do you make an unsolved arson case sound interesting? You look beyond the arson to the people and passions that swirl in the background. Glick uses a rather unsatisfying arson investigation (unsatisfying in that no villain was ever identified) as a springboard to exploring a much larger story of environmentalism vs. corporate greed. Most fascinating (and amusing) to me were the chapters about conflicts between the haves and the have-nots in Vail. The anecdotes were so outrageous one would almost think they were fictional! But as Glick so ably demonstrates, truth is stranger -- and more absurd -- than fiction could ever be.

I've always thought the goings on in the Vail Valley would make for an interesting read. Dan Glick was the right author to write about the social tensions and arson mystery in this faux Austrian village ski town. This book is an easy page turner and is a fascinating read for anyone who has lived or spent some time in the town.

It's refreshing to see a book about Vail with perspectives from the variety of social and economic groups in the Valley. There are many coffee table books published on the town, yet virtually nothing has been written about the people of Vail. A quick, easy to read book that I did not want to finish.

Dan Glick writes an impressive highly interesting treatise on the 1998 arsons on Vail Mountain. This book not only covers the fires but also the money lust and greed of Vail Associates (VA) and serves as a political-social commentary on big business in small Colorado mountain towns. For Coloradans and residents of the Rocky Mountain west, those interested in current social activism, and money hungy Wall Street-ers this is a must read.

There's a good reason why the locals call Vail Associates' offices at Avon the "Death Star." Dan Glick brings into focus what has been an amorphic sense in the Colorado region that perhaps what's going on in the Vail Valley isn't a good thing. Since white hat and black hat stereotypes can diminish the discussion, Glick sheds light on the growth-at-any-cost mentality and its long-term effects on animals, both human and other. He lets his major players damn themselves with their own words. His images are rich--I especially appreciate the one of CEO Adam Aaron standing on the deck of his multi-million dollar home at Beaver Creek, wondering why everyone's so cranky about VA's ventures, while just over the ridge, in the cheap seats, sit the trailer parks of Little Mexico with 14 to a unit working at minimum wage. The Vail fires are a lesson in the consequences of oligarchy and dislocation. As a native Coloradan, I thought I couldn't be shocked any more. However, the behind the scenes skull-duggery is worse than I imagined, and Glick turns a story of fire on the mountain into a who-done-it page turner. If you care about mountain environments, this is a "must read."

Rather comprehensive about the very early years in Vail. Having an outsider overview the early sixties gives those years perspective. Description of the fire and surrounding events is spellbinding.

This book nails it. It being what it's like to live as a servent in Vail. Someone has to make your vacation happen. No holds barred. I love Vail and was here when the fires happened. This book is quite relevent.

Powder Burn was a GREAT book that provided me with the information that i needed to know about the mystery of who tourched vail. I learned some stuff in my political geography class about this that is what got me interested in it and made me read it. I recommend it to all people who like mystery books with a small twist of history.