I’ve been watching Park City my entire life. In the early 1960s, when discussion of building the ski resort was first brewing, a bunch of my father’s businessmen’s coffee klatch buddies were trying to convince him to invest in Park City. It was the next big thing.

Dad grew up in Heber and had known Park City from playing high school sports against Park City in the early 1930s. He saw no future here.

But most Saturdays when I was a kid, we would drive from Salt Lake and have an what was then an exotic treat for lunch: Red Banjo pizza, then go to Heber to visit Grandma, and on to the ranch in Woodland. I was fascinated by Park City then, and the spell has never lifted.

In the 1960s, the focus was on keeping it alive. In the 1970s, to a large extent the focus was staying high. But when the

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