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Greetings to all and to all a good Games — at last
By Lee Benson
Deseret News columnist
On opening day of the 2002 Winter Games, I would like to add my bonjour, buon giorno, ni hao, guten tag, nazdar, hei, kalimera, szia, konnichiwa, annyong ha shimnikah, bom dia, jambo, zdravstvuite, god dag, buna ziua, hallo, vitazyu, zdravo, hola, howdy and hello.
Also, g'day.
It's good to have everybody here, waving flags from 80 countries, clanging cowbells, dodging rifle-packing patrolmen. You're wondering how we'll do. You're wondering "Is it safe?" You're wondering if all the snow will melt. Welcome to the club.
All we know is we've been waiting almost three-quarters of a century, at least, to have you here.
If Salt Lake had gotten an Olympic bid the first time it tried, in 1929, it would be your grandfathers and grandmothers sitting in Olympic Stadium, gasping about the high price of the tickets.
The Winter Olympics had only been held twice — in 1924 in Chamonix, France, and 1928 in St. Moritz, Switzerland — when the Utah Ski Club, a collection of expatriated Norwegian ski jumpers mostly, went after the 1932 Olympic Winter Games. The United States Olympic Committee got to choose the site for those '32 Winter Olympics — as a complement to the summer Olympics to be held in Los Angeles — but the USOC opted for Lake Placid, N.Y., over Salt Lake, although the USOC did let Salt Lake host the Olympic Ski Jumping Trials in 1935.
In the years since, Salt Lake also tried for the 1972, 1976, 1992, 1994 and 1998 Winter Games.
So until we won the 2002 bid, we were oh-for-six.
We lost to New York, Austria, Norway, France and Japan twice.
We were the Merrill Cook of bid cities (local hard-luck political candidate analogy). We were the Buffalo Bills and the Minnesota Vikings (American football analogy). We were Susan Lucci (soap opera analogy).
In the 1972 bid — where we placed dead last behind Sapporo, Japan (the winner); Banff, Canada; and Lahti, Finland — we sent a delegation to Rome for the final vote in 1966 and, as the story goes, not a single member of the Salt Lake bid delegation knew a single member of the IOC.
Times have changed, of course. Now we know just about everybody in the IOC, along with a few who used to be members.
Don't think the irony has been lost around here. Three years later and it's still hard to fathom that the Olympic bid scandal that ousted a 10th of the IOC membership, revamped the IOC's bid city visit process and blew apart our original local organizing committee started here.
Scandal hasn't exactly been this place's middle name. Usually, it's been the other way around. Back in the 1930s, when Prohibition (of alcohol) in the United States was barely a rumor, we got it started early as an experiment. We make Rush Limbaugh look liberal. Our rock star is Donny Osmond. Our baddest outlaw, Robert LeRoy Parker, a k a Butch Cassidy, was played in the movies by Paul Newman. Our image is literally a choir.
But once we started throwing scholarships and Wal-Mart shopping sprees and free medical services and complimentary skiing-and-spa packages at Deer Valley around, all in an effort to enhance our bid for the 2002 Winter Games, it was hard to stop.
The local culture does tend to be both competitive and indulgent by nature. We'll change your tire if it's low.
The local attitude can in part be traced back to the first permanent settlers in the Salt Lake Valley, who arrived almost 155 years ago on July 24, 1847, with 142 men, two women, three children, 16 cows, 66 oxen and one boat.
Nothing else was here back then, not fur trappers, not Indians, hardly any trees, not a single chair lift. It was fairly lonely.
Checking out their new home, the settlers took their boat to the lake that borders the west side of the valley, where they discovered water 10 times saltier than the ocean and fly-infested beaches. Locals have pretty much stayed away ever since. The boat is probably still out there.
Next the settlers ventured into the tall rocky mountains that border the east side of the valley. Local history records that a handful of Mormon farmers decided one day in the early fall of '47 to hike to the top of the highest of the peaks in the center of the range the native Indians called the Wasatch.
The problem was, they misjudged the distance, got caught by an early snowstorm, didn't come close to the peak by nightfall, had to camp overnight and got in big trouble with their wives.
The rest of the winter they couldn't stop talking about how great the mountains were. They named the highest peak Twin Peaks (because there are two of them), the second highest peak to the south Mount Jordan or Lone Peak and the rugged-looking peak to the north Mount Olympus (this was pre-licensing).
Ever since, Salt Lake locals have been wanting to show off their mountains to the world.
You can't miss them. Just look up. And while you're at it, enjoy your stay. And please, if there's anything you need or want, don't hesitate to ask.
Lee Benson's column runs daily during the Olympics. Please send e-mail to benson@desnews.com and faxes to 801-237-2527.
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February 8, 2002
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