DEER VALLEY -- It's all there on the name tag over the pocket of the ski coat: Engraved in white on a forest-green background is the outline of deer in antlers and the name -- Edgar Stern.
The logo is more telling than the name. Edgar Stern is not a household name. Few who bumped into him on Deer Valley's ski runs would know who he is or what he has wrought.Yet here is the man who, probably like no other, brought elegance and style to the business of skiing. Nearly 20 years since his Deer Valley resort opened next door as a stepbrother to Park City, Stern's idea has turned into a model in the industry, a blueprint for how to run a high-end ski area -- and succeed.
Deer Valley is synonymous with "style." It is a perennial top 10 finisher in the national voting, a favorite of celebrities, presidents and their daughters -- and a future Olympic venue.
Despite a quiet manner, almost bordering on shyness, Edgar Stern has pushed Deer Valley to the top of the charts.
But if you didn't read the name tag, you probably wouldn't know the man or the depth of his work.
In the beginning, Stern knew the hotel business far better than the ski market.
Out of the Army in 1948 and seeking an occupation, Stern, with financial help from his family, purchased what was then the first TV station in New Orleans. Adjacent to the station was a vacant plot of land on which he built a luxury hotel, the Royal Orleans.
Several years later, he found an old, rundown apartment building on a corner in San Francisco where the cable car routes crossed. He gutted the building, then remodeled it into what is today the prestigious Stanford Court Hotel.
A pattern was developing: turning the ordinary into the extraordinary.
The pattern he would follow to the ski industry.
"I remember, at the time, I was skiing at Aspen and noticed that the resort gave the employees one jacket, which was often very dirty, and followed no dress code. They looked awful and were very impolite. No one seemed to care about anything. The seats were uncomfortable, the food was terrible and the lodges were too small. You had to stand up to eat," Stern recently told the Deseret News.
He decided if he ever built a resort, it wouldn't be like that.
"When I built Deer Valley I said let's go in the absolute opposite direction. A lot of people told me it would never work, that I was crazy. In the beginning, when the cost overruns were so high, I wondered. But there are people looking for this kind of service . . . and it worked."
What has worked?
Service and style.
Chefs in billowing white hats, lift operators in tailored uniforms who are quick to greet visitors, staff to carry skis, lifts with cushioned seats, plush restaurants with cloth napkins and wine glasses, and no lift lines because of limited day-pass sales.
Lift tickets are always a few dollars more than the competition, yet Deer Valley is expected to be one of only a few resorts in the country showing skier increases this season.
Stern's involvement in Utah skiing predates Deer Valley by more than a decade.
As a resident of Aspen in the late 1960s, he heard about slope-side land for sale in a place called Park City. Along with an associate, Warren King, he visited the mining town in 1968.
It was, he recalled with a chuckle, during the worst blizzard of the year.
"We skied, but neither one of us was very good, saw what we could and found out that the resort and all of the land was owned by United Park City Mines. The mines had played out and operating a ski area wasn't going well (for United Mines).
"Everything was right, though. All of the land was private, and it's rare for a ski area to be privately owned. Also, I found out they were going to turn Route 40 into a freeway (I-80). This made Park City -- a privately owned ski area -- the closest ski area in the country to an international airport. One night over cocktails I told Warren that instead of buying a little piece of property, we should buy the whole damn thing. He dropped his glass. But that's the way we got started," he recalled.
The two worked out an agreement with the mining company -- a very willing seller at this point -- to take control of the land and the lifts.
During the early 1970s, the skiing part of the business went well, but the land development, the part the two men were most interested in, followed the routine of an elevator.
In 1974, they were in the midst of building Park Avenue Condominiums. At the same time, the Securities and Exchange Commission determined that condominiums were a security and not traditional housing. That decision, since reversed by the SEC, delayed the sale of the condos -- just long enough to spell disaster.
"We could have pre-sold every unit, but by the time we got permission to begin selling, a terrible recession hit and we couldn't give them away," remembered Stern. "We broke up the company. Our creditors ended up taking the condos in exchange for what we owed, we sold the ski area and we took the land Deer Valley is on as a condition of the settlement."
"I'd gotten a taste of skiing by then, but I waited until the economy improved before starting Deer Valley. I knew skiing would be successful and that I could develop the land, but I wasn't going to build any condos."
Work on Deer Valley's lifts and the two main lodges started in the spring of 1981. The resort opened that winter.
The two lodges -- Snow Park and Silver Lake -- featured, among other things, Italian marble, brass fixtures, tongue-and-groove wooden floors and tree trunks for support beams.
"They (the lodges) were terribly expensive. We had an architect I hope I never see again. We survived, but it was tough, very tough. Expenses were much higher than I planned. But times were good and I was able to defray some of the costs by selling real estate," he said.
Stern's introduction to skiing was as an American boy studying in Switzerland. Skiing at that time consisted of long hikes up and straight runs down. That training no doubt is at least partially responsible for his nickname "No-turn Stern."
It wasn't until many years later, after moving from New Orleans to Aspen, that he resumed the sport.
It was in Aspen, too, that he became acquainted with a neighbor, Stein Eriksen, one of America's great skiing names. This developed into a friendship/business relationship that has lasted for more than 28 years, first in Aspen, then Park City and finally Deer Valley, where Eriksen is the resort's director of skiing.
"Stein used to take the early tours on the mountain for us," recalled Stern. "From the top of Bald Mountain you can see into Colorado. He would stand up there, on the top of the mountain, throw open his arms and say, 'This is all ours.' I'd have to jump in and say, 'Well, not quite all ours,' " Stern said with a smile. "He was a great spokesman and a great skier for Deer Valley. Just the person we wanted for the image we were looking for."
Eriksen says his time with Stern and Deer Valley has been some of the best years of his life.
"To show you the kind of man Edgar is, it has only been the last few years that I've had a contract, and only then because he wanted to ensure a retirement package. Up to this point everything has been done on his word and a handshake," Eriksen said.
Eriksen says the the 76-year-old Stern shows no signs of slowing -- on or off the slopes.
On the slopes, Eriksen used to try to teach Stern.
"I'd tell him to stay behind me, follow my tracks and don't pass. Gradually, he's learned to turn. At his age, now, it's time to slow down, although right now he's not slowing down. He's really a very good skier," Eriksen said.
During his stays at Deer Valley, away from his home in Friday Harbor in the San Juan Islands near Seattle, Stern skis daily. And, said Bob Wheaton, resort president, "He skis very well for a man of 76. You have his attention on the lift, but when you get off he points the skis down and you don't talk again until you get to the bottom. That's where he got his nickname."
Stern's style seems to have engendered great staff loyalty. Noting a 1981 picture of his small but loyal staff, Stern said his peak-season staff now numbers more than 1,600. A recent gathering to honor staffers who have worked for Stern for at least five years feted nearly 400. Many of the originals are still with Stern -- and he still calls them by their first names.
Away from the offices, these employees described their boss with words like grandfatherly, honest, low-key, unassuming, approachable and genuine.
"There were times, when things were tough around here, Edgar could have taken the easy way out. He could have taken a more economical approach to his staff and the resort. He didn't. He stood by his employees . . . by his dream," said Wheaton.
Stern said he's not yet finished with the resort.
Against the wall in Stern's home were plans for a new lodge in Empire Canyon, a new area opened this past season. On his dining table rested a map of Deer Valley. Turning his head to orient himself, he pointed out existing lifts and possible developments. Then, circling his finger around specific areas, he said there's room for seven more lifts "before things are completely built out."
Then will his dream be complete?
No. There are still services to improve, lodges to expand and ski runs to groom.
If one day you find yourself on a Deer Valley run and notice someone on long skis making no turns and whose name tag is obscured -- it could be Edgar Stern.
If, when you make eye contact, he responds with an extended hand, broad smile and an eagerness to talk about Deer Valley, it is Stern.