We, the People of Whitefish
Ten years ago, I bought a 1964 Dodge Coronet for a dollar and left Vail, Colorado in search of a new town, fresh snow, and real people. A few calls to various businesses in Whitefish led me into a conversation with Chris Hayatt, who was opening Ski Mountain Sports that winter. I told him about my experience tuning skis and he told me if I showed up, he'd put me to work. To me, it sounded like there were good people in this frontier town.
The October air was cool as I wandered the Interstate in my "blue baboon" car. One of its idiosyncrasies was that to start it you had to shove a pen in the carburetor. Another one was that it didn't have heat. As the sun set, I pulled out my hat and gloves, rolled up the windows and thought warm thoughts. At 3 a.m. somewhere in Wyoming, I decided that my original plan of driving through the night was probably not the best idea.
I pulled over at a roadside motel, locked up the car that held everything I owned, and rang the bell on the door. A grumpy looking man came to the front desk and began to get the paperwork together. I sheepishly asked what the room rate was and his answer was that if I had the gall to ask him that question at this hour I could get the hell out. I drove until I found a shopping center and spent a few restless hours trying to sleep under florescent lights.
I spent the first few weeks in Whitefish crashed on a friend's couch while I searched for a house. Sam Wayman had a cool little in-law house for rent on Central Avenue and the rent was right. He handed me the keys after our first meeting without asking for the check, deposit, and general rental rigmarole I had experienced elsewhere. Good people for sure.
Jardy Kyner showed me the good Montana powder as we hiked up Big Mountain days before Halloween in the wonderful "low clouds" most people call fog. I must admit I was a little unnerved by the zero visibility after leaving sunny Colorado, but there was something magical about this mountain, this town, these people. Of course the waist-deep snow was pretty nice, too.
And you know what? After ten years, I'm almost ready to call myself a local. I recall the ten-year mark that makes you a local being told to me that first year in town when I'd be nervous in the check-out line wondering if I had enough money to pay for groceries. But money didn't matter. I was in search of something else.
I'm not ready yet to put the bumper sticker on my car proclaiming myself a local Whitefishian, and I don't think it benefits any small town like Whitefish to have an us-and-them mentality. Most of us came from somewhere, right? Some came when soldiers were in Vietnam. Some came when their kids are being sent to Iraq. However, if I had to write the constitution of Whitefish to set certain guiding principles, the abbreviated version would go something like this:
We, the People of Whitefish, in order to form a more perfect ski town, establish good restaurants, insure good pubs, provide for the common Powder Day, promote good people, and secure the blessings of good snow, some summer sun, and our small-town life, do ordain and establish this Constitution of the City of Whitefish:
1. Full-time workers shall have the opportunity to find affordable housing within the city.
2. Businesses shall release workers for a minimum of four hours on days when it snows 6 inches or more.
3. Dog owners caught allowing their dogs to poop without scooping shall be pelted with said excrement on the city green.
4. Public lands shall remain public even when greedy developers want to pillage the town.
5. Speeding through town and especially neighborhoods shall be punishable by loss of driving privileges for one year and education on the power of bicycles for trips under 20 city blocks.
6. Chain businesses shall be prohibited within the historic downtown district.
7. Newcomers to town shall be required to attend an educational course on winter driving, living with bears, and the power of purchasing locally.
8. Patrons who tip less than 20 percent for excellent service shall lose the right to eat out.
9. Anyone caught littering shall be banished. Businesses that pollute our environment, including unnecessary light to the night sky, shall be closed.
10. This constitution may be amended by any joker who's lived here long enough to have a column in the local paper.
Brian Schott (brian@brianschott.com) is a freelance writer and Whitefish Pilot columnist.