A History of Summit County

Where now, Summit county

CHAPTER 1 5 WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? i raveling through Summit County in 1997 is a bit like traveling through time. In some areas, the county seems to have changed little over the last half century. In other areas, it seems to change every day. The gritty occupations that once supported the county now sustain only a fraction of its population. The mines that gave Coalville its name are silent. Park City's silver mines have produced little ore since the early 1950s, none since 1982. The number of sheep grazing on county hillsides peaked about 1930.1 In the last seventy years, farmers and cattlemen have lost thousands of acres of productive agricultural land to freeways, reservoirs, and encroaching subdivisions. Timber production has been dropping since the 1970s. Even the county's oil fields, which gave the local economy a boost in the early 1980s, are in decline. By far the most rapid change is taking place in western Summit County, where recreation and improved transportation have brought a new type of resident to Park City and the surrounding communi­ties. Expensive homes are spreading across the hillsides and into the 330 WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 331 pastureland of the Snyderville Basin. New stores, fast-food restau­rants, and hotels jostle for space at busy intersections. As land prices rise in the Park City area, the growth is starting to creep to the east, into the agricultural strongholds of the Kamas Valley. Ranches are becoming ranchettes. Salt Lake City-style subdi­visions are popping up in towns such as Oakley. Local residents are being forced to deal with alien concepts such as land-use planning. The area least impacted by the boom of the last quarter-century is the so-called North Summit area. To date, few new buildings have invaded the bucolic Weber River valley between Wanship and Henefer. How long this area can resist the tide of development remains to be seen. North Summit The north Summit County region can be put into perspective by realizing that the population found in the newer housing develop­ments between Summit Park and the Kimball Junction area already exceeds the total population of the entire 138-year-old northern Summit County area. Yet the northern settlers accomplished what they set out to do: establish small, stable agricultural, coal-mining, and railroad towns that would sustain their inhabitants and allow them to live as they pleased. In many ways, northern Summit County is not remarkably different than it was 100 or more years ago. Still, some distinctly twentieth-century features are apparent, and the overall effect is a region that is a mixture of both old and new. In contrast to other areas of the county, the northern towns remain small and slow-growing. Their building functions and archi­tecture are an eclectic mix of past and present uses and styles. The presence of 1950s-70s LDS meetinghouses in each of the region's four largest towns suggests significant post-World War II growth. And, while the historic town plans and wide streets remain, the roads between the towns have been gradually filling during recent decades with new homes, small ranchsteads, and farmsteads. The two twenti­eth- century improvements most impacting the north have been the man-made dams creating the Rockport and Echo reservoirs and Interstate 80 (also known as the Dwight D. Eisenhower Highway), 332 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY which runs through the center of Weber valley and then northeast up Echo Canyon to Wyoming. Aside from bringing about the loss of the town of Rockport and some pastureland, the reservoirs have brought both water and recre­ation amenities to local residents and visitors. The water allows for maximum agricultural use of the valley as well as for the expansion of residential subdivisions and business centers. Hundreds of thou­sands of boaters, waterskiers, fishers, swimmers, hikers, and campers enjoy the water, beaches, and shorelines at Rockport and Echo reser­voirs. 1-80 bypasses the county's towns, helping preserve their build­ings and cohesive natures while still providing faster access to and from outside population centers. Travelers mostly pass by rather than through these towns, not spending as much on fuel, food, lodging, entertainment, and recreation as they might had the highway gone through the towns. With Park City, Salt Lake City, and Evanston now only minutes away, many choose to speed by without stopping. At present, 1-80 traverses the beautiful, pastoral river valley of lush meadows and farmlands. One senses, however, that without some sort of protective landscape easement, the freeway may someday be lined with subdivisions, as it now is in the western part of the county. Despite attempts to relocate the county seat to Park City, it remains firmly in place in Coalville, where the county courthouse has been expanded with a major addition about 1980 and a second addi­tion under way. The county's new animal shelter and public-works complex were built recently along the Hoytsville Road. Fire stations and other county, state, and federal facilities continue to rise in the region as population increases give need for additional services. A much-used recreational amenity is the Rail Trail, which provides a bicycling route from Park City to Echo. Old and new do not always fit together compatibly. But one thing that hasn't changed through the decades is the area's strong sense of community, social support, and friendliness. Passersby are welcomed with smiles and waves of the hand from locals in pickup trucks or on foot. The region's oldest resident, ninety-nine-year-old C.B. Copley, still teaches Sunday School and laments the "diminished important of the high school's large and active band and choir;" but he is also WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 333 concerned with larger issues such as creeping urbanization, changing lifeways, and the disappearance of some beloved traditional values. "Can the small survive," he wonders.2 There may not be megafarms, giant industries, or fast-growing downtowns and subdivisions, but, at the same time, people here believe in being responsible citizens and good neighbors. They are comfortable with the pace and quality of life they remain committed to and enjoy. Wanship It is hard to imagine that the pioneers who built the first log cab­ins and rock houses at the foot of the volcanic cliffs of Wanship could have anticipated that their tiny village would one day become a "bed­room community." Yet most of the town's workers now travel to Coalville, Park City, or Salt Lake City to pursue their occupations. Unlike their nineteenth-century predecessors, relatively few make their livings in town, in large part because of the small area available for raising crops and livestock. The rock hills and cliffs create a natural barrier to the north, while the curving Weber River does the same a short distance east and south of town. Some arable land extends up the valley incline to the west, but only along a narrow strip between the north hills and the imposing concrete hulk of the 1-80 freeway to the south. The building of the elevated highway through rather than past the south side of town is considered by locals to have been the most important local event of the late twentieth century (ahead of the frequent rais­ing of property taxes). The freeway not only caused the destruction of five of the town's seventy-five houses, it established an immense physical, visual, and psychological barrier, restraining access to the previously open fields stretching south and east to the river. The development of the historic part of Wanship now seems irreversibly confined to the three-block-wide area between 1-80 and the steep north hills. To accommodate the recent demand for new growth, a few homes have been erected in the last decade along the Wanship Road west and east of the town center, especially north of the Spring Chicken Inn. A new development, Bridge Hollow, is being built southwest of town in the hills across from 1-80; but these homes, 334 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY while technically considered part of the unincorporated village, are not adjacent or really even nearby. Even with the town's new growth, Wanship's population hovers around 250, of which "184 are active Mormons," according to a long-time resident.3 Some families belong­ing to other denominations also reside in the area, bringing some diversity to what traditionally has been a Mormon village. Many of the old practices have long since disappeared, such as the collecting of a one-dollar fee for using the Wanship Toll Road built in 1861 up Silver Creek Canyon.4 Still, some remnants of the nineteenth century remain, including Summit County's first "court­house," the one-room Hixson log cabin sitting directly across the street and west of the LDS ward meetinghouse. Summit County's first meeting was held there in 1866. Just below "the Cliffs," on the north side of Wanship Road (part of the original Lincoln Highway running from New York to San Francisco), the rock E.R. Young/Pendleton House (subsequently a store, post office, and restaurant) still stands, surrounded by original log and frame out­buildings and a collection of antique wagons, sleighs, and stage­coaches. Many small houses dating from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries occupy the town center, to which a scattering of post-war dwellings have been added gradually over the decades. Historic Wanship Station (1861-1912) and the few old flour mills and stores are long gone, leaving only three commercial estab­lishments today: a restaurant at the northeast edge of town, a service station and automobile shop at the nexus of the main intersection, and another service station/convenience store just south of the free­way underpass. The former LDS church burned down in 1958 and was replaced by the current brick edifice, constructed prominently along the main street in 1960. Also a victim of modern times was the beloved Wanship reunion, which was held annually until recently. Other institutional changes include the busing of all school children to Coalville and, in 1941, the replacement of the local post office with rural mail delivery. Agriculture today is mostly limited to hay raising and backyard gardens. Dorothy Darcy, whose family has been in Wanship for six generations, observes that, "We no longer have cottage industries, and farming income can't support most families. A lot of people work out WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 335 of town for their main income."5 She adds, "I hope Wanship stays the way it is, with people knowing their neighbors." Darcy notes that some things, like the irrigation company founded in 1860, will likely always remain, but that the tendency of native-born residents, espe­cially the women, to marry and move away makes it lonelier for those who stay. And, with land values and taxes increasing rapidly due to the greatly appreciating value of land countywide, oldtimers on mod­est, fixed incomes find it ever more difficult to stay on the land their ancestors tamed and later generations continued to maintain and nurture. West Hoytsville Another unincorporated section of north Summit County is West Hoytsville, so-called because it is due west of Hoytsville, although it is actually closer to Wanship. Built up gradually and spo­radically along both sides of West Hoytsville Road, this rural resi­dential area consists of both historic and newer homes, mostly on large parcels of land used for farming, dairying, and livestock raising. The only businesses presently in the area are a gravel quarry and a partial dairy operation. Much of the land between the road and the Weber River to the east is planted and watered by modern wheeled irrigation pipes drawing water from the river. West Hoytsville remains picturesque "horse property" that appeals to those who like country living on relatively inexpensive but sizeable parcels of land less impacted by what some view as overly restrictive urban zoning regulations and laws. Several lateral, east-to-west roads and bridges span the river, and some connect with Hoytsville Road along the bench on the east side of the valley. Aside from several new houses and the new skateboarding facility west of the river, West Hoytsville retains its historic character. Its attractive older rock houses and frame barns still attest to the vitality and pros­perity of earlier times. Hoytsville Founding father Samuel Hoyt's dream of a small industrial cen­ter was never fully realized, but Hoytsville remains a vital rural resi­dential area for scores of families stretched out over a six-mile length 336 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY along both sides of Hoytsville Road. Many historic homes and out­buildings and a few small stores remain, joined by dozens of late-twentieth century buildings. The 1960s-era LDS church is centrally located and is a reminder that the Mormon church is still culturally dominant. In addition to the distinctive stone Hoyt house, the ruined shell of his ill-fated flour mill remains. Newer businesses include Rees's Metal Works and Construction, Ralph's Machine Shop, and Brown's Dairy, featuring Summit Valley Milk. Real estate signs are plentiful, as are open parcels of land. The county recently took advantage of one such Hoytsville property to build its new animal shelter and public-works center. As in neighboring Wanship and West Hoytsville, many of Hoytsville's residents commute to Coalville and other cities more dis­tant to work regular jobs. Others follow agricultural or livestock pur­suits on tracts of land on both sides of Hoytsville Road. The lower land has the advantage of drawing water from the Weber River, while the bench land is more suitable for livestock. As in the northern part of the county generally, the growing season is short and limits the types and amounts of crops grown. Still, as evident by the new build­ings, modern folk continue to work the old land in improved ways, coaxing as much from it as possible. Coalville Since Coalville took over the county seat from Wanship in 1872 and thereafter defended it successfully against Park City, it has remained the county's governmental center as well as the cultural center and largest city in northern Summit County. The late twenti­eth century has witnessed a continuation of its growth as a commer­cial center, it long ago giving up the coal mining for which it was first founded. As in neighboring towns, Coalville's character is a mix of old and new institutions, functions, buildings, and people. In the commercial district, most of the businesses are in historic one- and two-story masonry structures dating back to the turn of the century. Added to these are a new city hall, bank, fast-food restau­rant, and a couple of gas stations and motels. The town plat of roughly five blocks square remains intact, although newer houses have risen along the road north and south of town and in the blocks WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 337 up the valley east of town, with some scattered among the older buildings in the original plat. Lacking sufficient space downtown, North Summit High School ("Home of the Braves") and the newer North Summit Elementary School were built on the hill to the south­east. All of the old schoolhouses and churches are gone, including the majestic Summit LDS Stake, or Coalville Tabernacle, razed amid great controversy in 1971. It has been replaced by a more functional but much less architecturally distinguished white-brick edifice fea­turing the art glass windows salvaged from its flamboyant Victorian predecessor. Other modern sites of local importance are the Summit County Recreation Complex, or fairgrounds, due east of Chalk Creek, and the Coalville Health Center. Historic preservation has made its mark, as evidenced by a number of renovated homes and commercial build­ings and the relocating of the Echo railroad depot (now a senior cit­izens center) to a somewhat unlikely site in Coalville's residential sector in 1975. The stately stone courthouse has been expanded to the east with an architecturally compatible addition. Like other towns in t h e region, Coalville also has its m o b i l e - h o m e communities, an American post-war phenomenon. Curiously, only a few houses have ever been built along the stretch of road n o r t h of town that faces the reservoir and the picturesque valley and mountain view to the west. Coalville sits at the mouth of long and narrow Chalk Creek val­ley, s u r r o u n d e d on three sides by low mountains and rocky cliffs, those closest and to the n o r t h being called "the Ledges." The town is accessible by road from the north, south, and east, and more recently from 1-80 to the west, which can be reached from an extension of 100 South. From the earliest decades, an important part of the Coalville area has been the small settlements along the two roads running east from town u p Chalk Creek towards the Narrows and Upton. Both roads skirt the valley's beautiful fertile fields, one to the n o r t h and the other along the south, each meandering eastward amid farmsteads and small groups of houses. Along Chalk Creek Road to the n o r t h are such scattered settlement areas as u n i n c o r p o r a t e d Spring Hollow. Here is found the oldest surviving LDS meetinghouse in the Coalville area-the now empty wood-frame Cluff Ward, built in 1912. As elsewhere, farming income is usually supplemented by that 338 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY from other jobs. "Farming," says Mae Moore, "is often just an expen­sive hobby." She notes that many locals work at the cement plant near Devil's Slide, or Geary Construction, or Rees's Metal.6 Upton Located literally "uptown" and east of Coalville, Upton consists of several homes and farmsteads scattered in a low-density manner along Chalk Creek Road. There are enough families to support an LDS ward, with local members from the south fork of Chalk Creek up to Pineview. They are housed in a 1970-era meetinghouse on the north side of the road not far from Huff Creek. There is no commer­cial district or even a general store or gas station in town. The earlier sawmills and few stores are gone and locals travel to Coalville to shop. The typical gridded Mormon townsite and town center is absent entirely. Agriculture and livestock-raising are the primary occupa­tions, while other residents work for nearby INI Engineering or the gas plants up the road near Pineview. The old frame meetinghouse, school, and amusement hall are all gone too, and students have been bussed to Coalville since 1946. Because of its remote location, elec­tricity did not reach Upton until 1944. In the Pineview area, the Union Pacific Resources Company has developed a large natural gas treatment plant. The plant's tanks, buildings, and storage sheds flank the road and support small resi­dential areas of company employees. A few vacation homes dot the landscape, but there are far fewer than in the foothills and meadows around Park City. The rural highland of the Upton-Pineview area retains its tranquil, pastoral nature. The last significant developments up the canyon are the Pinecliff Camp and Retreat Center, a complex of small buildings erected and managed by the Rocky Mountain Conference of the United Methodist Church, and the Yellow Creek gas plant, about 13 miles past Upton on Chalk Creek Road. Echo The blasts of railroad horns still echo resoundingly from the Ver­million cliffs looming above Echo to the east, yet the town now has more land area devoted to its five sets of railroad tracks and its divided main road and frontage roads than to its commercial and res- WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 339 idential districts. The once bustling railroad town of Echo now con­sists of about two dozen small buildings, primarily homes, built mostly east of the railroad tracks and the main road. Most of the buildings are old and some of the public landmarks remain, includ­ing the charming brick church/school built in 1880, the 1913 wood-frame school (now vacant), and the little white post office, operated continuously since 1928. In the mid-to-late-twentieth century some new structures have been added, among them a motor court, truck stop, cafe and gas station, plus a few houses and mobile homes. Echo's economic demise and downsizing came in stages, one of the most recent being the removal of the Union Pacific's branch line to Park City. Many local workers found themselves suddenly jobless. The change to diesel locomotives in the 1950s also caused unem­ployment and outmigration. Several historic buildings have been removed, including the depot, ironically moved to Coalville, giving the town a much more open feeling than may have existed a century ago. So, despite having the most spectacular natural setting of any of Summit County's surviving northern towns, Echo has the appear­ance of being the most forlorn.7 West of Echo, the open fields leading to the river seem devoid of major farming or livestock activity, although the land west of the Weber River is put to good agricultural use. The road from Echo to Henefer passes through rounded, grass-covered hills and fertile crop­lands east of the tree-lined river, with only a few old farmsteads to mark the way. Henefer Henefer is the northwestern gateway, after the other Narrows, into Summit County. As a sign along the main street through Henefer clearly denotes, the "California Trail, Mormon Pioneer Trail, and Pony Express Route" all passed through town in the mid-nine­teenth century. In 1997, residents eagerly took part in celebrations commemorating the sesquicentennial of the coming of the Mormon pioneers to Utah. It was a family of these immigrants, the Hennefers, who first took note of this northwesternmost reach of the wide, water-rich, upper Weber Valley and thought it suitable to return and create a permanent settlement, Henneferville (later shortened to 340 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY Henefer). Given the expansive tracts of surrounding land, it appears that the area might support a larger population than exists in Henefer, although, again, the short growing season limits agricultural productivity. Of north Summit's towns, Henefer may be the best example of the classic Mormon town layout. Its gridded, same-sized blocks extend uniformly to the west for three blocks from Main Street. There is some development to the east, including newer homes, but the Weber River confines expansion in that direction. Homes are also built along the main road as it runs north and south out of town. Newer houses now dot the foothills on the outskirts of town to the west in what is mostly residential farming territory. The small downtown is limited to a large, historic, two-story, wood-frame commercial building, a post office, and the red-brick LDS chapel, a mid-twentieth-century edifice. For some reason, Henefer has had more of its historic houses replaced by newer homes than have the other towns in the region. Aside from the replaced and new houses, the twentieth century has left little visual mark on Henefer. The Daughters of Utah Pioneers's Relic Cabin, built in 1946, and the recently constructed fire station are among the few new non­residential post-war buildings. South Summit In the Kamas Valley, communities like Oakley and Kamas offer an option to people who simply can't afford the price of property and housing in Park City. These towns also offer a "new frontier" to Parkites disgruntled by condos and furs, as well as opportunities for the more affluent to establish "ranchettes." An economic and demographic spillover from Park City is pro­foundly affecting Kamas, City Councilman Randall Taylor reported, as more well-to-do people move in and land prices are forced up while wages and job opportunities remain stagnant. Kamas, he noted, is a town that once thrived on sawmills and mines that have long since either closed or drastically scaled back operations.8 Oakley Oakley, where five-acre lots in one new subdivision are selling for WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 341 $160,000 each, recently adopted a development code that regulates everything from setback requirements on tennis courts to restrictions on the size of satellite dishes-both being items that n o one dreamed of seeing around town a few years ago. But the development code's most unusual provision requires that all n ew subdivisions or master-planned developments be weighed against their impact on ranching and farming. Developed with the help of the M o u n t a i n l a nd Association of Governments (which represents Summit, Utah, and Wasatch counties), the so-called "right-to-farm" provision calls for protection of irrigation access and livestock-movement corridors, and bans pet dogs from the vicinity of livestock operations. It also demands that newcomers recognize certain impacts of agriculture, such as noises and odors, that aren't typical of urban lifestyles. Oakley Mayor Ken Woolstenhulme explained it this way: It's a stipulation that this is a cow-and-horse community, and if you come here you fully understand the type of environment we have and you're not going to try to change it. We just want to have it in black and white that you understand what we value. . . . A majority of the newcomers blend into and contribute to the community. But there's a certain percentage of people who are just using this town for a bedroom. . . . These projects are being marketed to a Deer Valley clientele, people who might not like that sometimes you need to cut an alfalfa field at night because of the moisture. It's getting so you can't be an average lohn Doe anymore."9 By 1997, t h e town had approved a 1,040-acre subdivision, the Mapleridge development, with a projected thirty-eight lots ranging in size from seven to t h i r ty acres. Woolstenhulme predicted that the lots would be purchased by part-time residents who could afford the high priced acreage and build large homes. Four years in negotiation, the subdivision was expected to generate significant revenues that would help the city improve water systems, build a new town park, and offer other incidental benefits to the community. Included in the plan were at least 600 acres of open space. Park City developers lohn Olch and Brad Smith were responsible for the negotiations which involved annexing 900 acres to the town, giving Oakley authority that 342 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY otherwise would have stayed with the county. "The principal advan­tage for Oakley," Woolstenhulme said in a 1997 interview, "was that the town could have a say in how the land should be developed, encouraging clustered lots all over the mountain. The impact would be the same, they would still be traveling through the town, but this gave the town more control."10 In the mid-1990s, the town also embarked upon a $1.7-million water project that included improvements in the main water supply out of Pinyon Canyon. Oakley's master plan set a goal that, before the year 2000, those improvements would include a new well, a one-mil­lion- gallon storage tank, and 2.5 miles of new water line.11 Making improvements in the infrastructure to keep up with growth is a never-ending process; but Oakley has accomplished a lot with volunteer labor and clever use of resources. A quarter of the town's annual budget was generated by the Fourth of July celebra­tions- in particular, the rodeo. During the spring of 1997, Oakley purchased seventy-eight acres on the road to Kamas to build a new city park and city offices, rodeo grounds, and ball diamonds. Other new projects begun in 1997 included a private school-the Snow Mountain Academy-which would house and educate a projected ninety-eight children in a four-year accredited school. The Serenity Home Care Center would provide long-term retirement care for elderly residents of the county. Kamas Kamas was also experiencing growth in the mid-1990s, but the scale was not nearly as dramatic as in Oakley. In 1997, Kamas was on the brink of development and was involved in developing a master plan for growth, but it had not begun the process on a large scale. Kamas's rural, agriculture atmosphere was still preserved and pro­tected by a strong sense of tradition. The majority of Kamas's 1,400 inhabitants were long-time residents of the county. Most locals, how­ever, did not rely solely on agriculture for their livelihood but instead traveled some distance to their jobs, then returned home to raise crops or tend cattle on their own land.12 WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 343 Peoa Most land owners in Peoa were also long-term residents. In this rural community, like Kamas, most of the people worked out of town-in education, perhaps, or in businesses throughout the county. Nevertheless, virtually everyone continued to be involved in some way or other in agriculture. This still was clearly a rural, agri­cultural community. But, because the economy made it so much more difficult to earn a living from the land, most residents coupled farming with some other occupation to provide a living for their families. A strong community ethic and cohesive community ties have been fostered in Peoa by long-term relationships. Woodland In Woodland, which straddles the Summit-Wasatch county line, the sense of community was centered for many in the local Mormon wardhouse and the "Cash store," which until the mid-1990s was the center of the community. Like Peoa, Woodland was not an incorpo­rated town and functioned with an informal sense of place and com­munity. Like Oakley, Woodland was in the midst of physical change in the mid-1990s. Traditionally held farmland and rangeland was being subdivided and developed. The Woodland Hills, Woodland Estates, Lower River Road, and Bench Creek Road developments brought newcomers into the area. Some became permanent resi­dents, but by far the majority were part-time residents who came to enjoy the more pleasant seasons of the year.13 Francis In 1997, Francis continued to serve as a way station surrounded primarily by farm lots and a few family-owned businesses. Francis's Frontier Days celebration over Labor Day weekend offered traditional western games and activities, including wild-horse racing, a softball tournament, and a rodeo. In the South Summit School District, which includes the Peoa- Oakley-Kamas area, adminstrators say that a new school will soon be needed to absorb recent growth. However, some residents say a recent state ban on school-impact fees means that current residents will be shouldering much of the burden imposed by the newcomers.14 344 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY The Park City/Snyderville Area In 1960, about 31 percent of the county's nonagricultural jobs were in the "goods-producing" category-mining, construction, and manufacturing. By 1993, in spite of a local building boom, this fig­ure had dropped to about 12 percent. Taking the place of the county's rugged industries are jobs connected to recreation and tourism. Between 1960 and 1993, the percentage of private-sector service-related jobs rose from about 34 percent of the county's nonagricul­tural employment to almost 75 percent.15 That period coincides with the emergence of Park City as an international destination for skiers. But the growing stream of tourists has spread beyond the snowy months. Until the 1980s, tourism was largely a one-season phenomenon; from May until October, parking spaces in Park City were a dime a dozen and restau­rant waiting lists were rare-assuming, of course, that the restaurants were even open. However, in recent years, tourism in Summit County has become a year-round business, thanks to such events as outdoor concerts at The Canyons and Deer Valley, the Park City Art Festival, the Oakley Rodeo, and hot-air balloon festivals together with the boom in mountain biking and the construction of the lordanelle Reservoir just over the hill in Wasatch County. At the same time, families from both Utah and out of state were discovering that commuting to jobs in Salt Lake City from Summit County is often quicker and less stressful than commuting from the Wasatch Front suburbs. By 1994, more than a quarter of Summit County's civilian labor force was commuting to work in Salt Lake County.16 "That psychological barrier has been broken, and consequently we are becoming a suburb of Salt Lake in some ways," said Myles Rademan, Park City public affairs director, in 1995. "About 50 per­cent of the people in the valley area, the Snyderville Basin, commute to Salt Lake already. More than that, you'll see a lot of signs that we're a national suburb. Not only do they commute to Salt Lake, but they commute to Chicago and Los Angeles and New York and a lot of other places."17 Like other mountain communities in the West, Park City is WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 345 In the 1970s, Park City began to see new housing developments spring up in areas once devoted to agriculture. (Patrick Cone) attracting professionals from other states who are using the revolu­tion in communications-fax machines, high-speed computer modems, and the like-to move their offices out of the cities and into more scenic, relaxed environments. One of the newcomers was Bruce Tipple, who moved to Park City from Minneapolis in 1986 and set up shop designing training systems for the Toshiba company. "With data communication and computers and faxes, distance is not an issue," Tipple told Time magazine in 1993. "We have easy access to our markets, most of which are on the West Coast. The airport's 45 minutes away."18 In Park City the assessed value of private property rose 80 per­cent in five years, from $1 billion in 1990 to $1.8 billion in 1995.19 The city's permanent population rose from 4,468 to 6,323 during the same period, an average annual increase of 8.2 percent. Enrollment in the Park City School District, which includes the Snyderville Basin, rose from just over 1,700 students to almost 3,000, an increase of 75 percent in five years.20 Interestingly, while the permanent population of Park City grew 346 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY more rapidly from 1990 to 1995 t h a n it did from 1980 to 1990, the annual n u m b e r of dwelling units built from 1980 to 1990 far exceeded the annual number of dwelling units built from 1990 to 1995. This means that most of the units built during the 1980s were seasonal units, while most of the units built since 1990 have been per­manent residences.21 In recent years, t h e old working-class mining town has seen a new twist-the gated community, where private security guards keep gawkers away from clusters of multimillion-dollar homes. The phrase "trophy home" is bantered around by some local residents as an indi­cation of the disdain they feel for this lifestyle. "We're seeing build­ing o n hillsides we never t h o u g h t would be built on," said Myles Rademan. "What it comes down to is the political will to put a cap on it at some point. I don't think there is that political will. There's a political will to guide it, but those are minor midcourse corrections in what could be a lot more development."22 City and county planners are struggling to keep u p with a flood of applications for new subdivisions. In the past decade, Kimball Junction in the Snyderville Basin has grown from a tiny outpost with a couple of gas stations into a major commercial hub, complete with a factory-outlet shopping mall, two large discount stores, a super­market, a bank, and several fast-food restaurants. Ironically, many of t h e service workers r e q u i r e d by t h e local economy can't afford the inflated costs of housing in the Park City area. They must commute, either from one of the outlying commu­nities such as Oakley, Kamas, Heber, or Midway or from the Salt Lake Valley. As a result, an odd traffic pattern has developed. In the morn­ings, many affluent residents of Park City or the Snyderville Basin hop into their vehicles for the t r ip down Parleys Canyon to Salt Lake City. At the same time, many Salt Lake-area residents head u p the canyon to their service jobs in Park City. This p a t t e r n is u n d e r l i n e d by a startling statistic: in 1993, the average yearly earnings of a Summit County resident who worked in Salt Lake C o u n t y was $37,333. O n the other hand, the average income of a Salt Lake C o u n t y resident who worked in Summit County was only $15,346. In fact, the average monthly wage earned by workers in Summit County-$1,423-was only 78 percent of the WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 347 state average of $1,823. When measured against inflation, the pur­chasing power of the average Summit County worker actually dropped 10 percent between 1983 and 1993.23 Defining the Future With Park City and Snyderville setting the pace, Summit County has seen a decade of explosive growth. Every year since 1988, Summit County has finished first or second in the state in percentage popula­tion growth. In the 1990 census, Summit County had a population of 15,518; three years later, state estimates placed the population at 19,724, an increase of more than 7 percent per year.24 In November 1995, t h e Summit County Commission sent an e x t r a o r d i n a r y b r o c h u r e to county residents entitled, "Summit County, The Last Best Place to Live. How Can We Save It?" It warned that the county was facing radical changes, including soaring home prices and the loss of its agricultural heritage: The average price of a home in the Snyderville Basin has risen to approximately $400,000. The cost of a home on the east side [of the county], although not as high, is following the same trend. With the increase in housing cost throughout the county, it is dif­ficult, if not impossible, for many to afford a home and raise a family here. Many who work here, including our teachers, other professional employees, retail, service, and resort workers have, by necessity, moved to Salt Lake City. They now commute to Summit County. This commuting labor force creates another set of prob­lems related to transportation, air pollution and social services that we are not adequately prepared to address now. . . . Once the stewards of the land and most of the open space, farmers and ranchers are now faced with many reasons to sell their land to developers and speculators and have few incentives to remain. . . . It is necessary that we work to help these people stay on the land as long as possible. Change will undoubtedly occur when they leave. New development is causing an increase in the demand for services and amenities countywide, but particularly in the Snyderville Basin. For years, oil revenues helped pay for the cost of many of these services and amenities. Now, however, these rev­enues are dwindling.25 348 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY The commissioners named a number of issues confronting the growing county, including water, affordable housing, recreation, parks, trails, open space, and preservation of agriculture. They spelled out a program to develop a vision for the county and to manage the county's growth. "Development will continue," the commissioners concluded. "It results from the fact that Summit County is a won­derful place to live. It is protected by one of the values that is impor­tant to each of us, that being a belief in individual property rights. However, development cannot simply take from the community. It must contribute. To do so, it must fit into the community fabric, sup­port the community's vision, and be consistent with our values."26 On 13 November 1995, the commission passed a six-month moratorium on all manufacturing facilities, planned-unit develop­ments, and subdivisions of more than five homes in all incorporated areas outside the Snyderville Basin. The moratorium was designed to give planners time to take public input on a long-range plan for the county and develop a detailed development code. On 6 May 1996, the Summit County Commission adopted a development code and zoning map designed to protect "the rural, agricultural, small town lifestyle, and natural resources of Eastern Summit County."27 The Eastern Summit County General Plan estab­lished incentives for preserving active agricultural lands and opera­tions, and attempted to make sure that new development was sensitive to the character of the area. Applicants for building permits were expected to sign a "Memorandum of Understanding" in which they acknowledged "there may be dust, noise, odor, prolonged work hours, use of roadways for the purposes of herding/moving animals, and other attributes associated with normal agricultural operations and rural businesses."28 The accompanying map placed limits on development in designated agricultural zones. Citizens and government groups were working on some of these issues long before the moratorium, however. Concerned about the need to preserve open space in their environment, which was quickly becoming urbanized, a group of county residents, including Chuck Klingenstein, who was subsequently elected to the Park City Council, formed the Summit Land Trust Association in 1990. Within five years they had ensured the preservation of about 900 acres of private land. WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 349 The group achieved one of its early successes in Pinyon Canyon above Oakley, which was identified as significant because it housed three city wells. Working with the Oakley Town Council, local real-estate businesses, and the new owners of the land, the land trust devised a permanent conservation agreement that allowed a house to be built on the property while protecting the town's watershed. Another triumph of open-space advocates was the Swaner Memorial Park, near Kimball lunction in the Snyderville Basin. Beginning with about 220 acres donated by the family of Leland S. Swaner, a basin landowner who died in 1992, the scope of the park has grown to include several hundred more acres offered by adjacent developers. Leland Swaner's son, Sumner Swaner, envisions the land being restored to its natural state, with a series of hiking trails, fields of native grasses and wildflowers, trout-spawning ponds, bird-watch­ing stations, a visitor center with interpretive displays, and a small amphitheatre.29 As valuable as these efforts are, however, they are dwarfed by the scope of development projects. In Park City, residents are bracing for the impact of Deer Valley's planned expansion into Empire Canyon. In the Snyderville Basin, developers and county planners are skir­mishing over the proposed 3,500-unit Star Pointe project east of U.S. Highway 40.30 Within Park City's "Old Town," where miners' dwellings have stood shoulder to shoulder for more than a century, coexistence with open space and agriculture is less of an issue than coexistence with the past. New property owners often have little interest in preserving tiny one-story cabins that often were built without foundations and have little structural integrity. Local preservationists, on the other hand, argue that every effort should be made to save buildings that give the town its mining-camp character. Built in a narrow canyon with narrow lots and narrow streets, Old Town is struggling to adjust to the demands of a population very different from that which lived there one hundred years ago. Big houses, cars, delivery trucks, and snowplows weren't part of their grand plan, if ever there was one. In November 1995, the Park Record began a series of stories on Old Town entitled "Commodity Or Community?" It related the story of people who fell in love with Park City twenty or thirty years ago, 350 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY bought old miners' cabins, and became part of the community. Many of these people voiced a familiar lament, that the Park City of today isn't that same town they were smitten with years ago. Multistory condominiums and hotels now cast shadows across their modest dwellings. Commercial establishments have crept into once-residen­tial neighborhoods. Property values-and taxes-are soaring. "There are a lot of opportunities now to make money in the his­toric district," said David Chaplin, a resident of Park City's Old Town since 1963. "For many years the banks would not lend you money to buy anything here. Perhaps the most destructive thing happening here today is people looking at the area as a commodity."31 Chaplin's wife, Marianne Cone, was then director of the Park City Museum and a preservation advocate. But she told the Park Record that her frus­tration at the destruction of the character of Old Town was leading her to rethink her position. She empathizes with people who bought small, older homes, only to see them overshadowed by large new structures: "I think if that is the case, they [owners of smaller homes] should get to do whatever they want. They should get to build as high as their neighbors."32 That is also the conclusion of Burnis Watts, a local resident since 1964, a former superintendent of the Park City School District and a former chairman of the Park City Planning Commission. In 1970 Watts bought one of the finest remaining examples of mining-town architecture, a two-story house built in about 1907 by EJ. Beggs, the contractor who built the Summit County Courthouse. After watch­ing for a quarter of a century as his quiet residential neighborhood changed into a bustling commercial hub, Watts decided he'd had enough. He applied for a permit to demolish his house and build a commercial structure on the site. Looking from his living-room win­dow onto a bustling Park Avenue, Watts lamented: I've lost my real reason to be here. I wanted to live here. I wanted this part of town to remain historically significant. But it's now been modified to the point where [it] isn't conducive to this neighborhood or to the lifestyle that I enjoy, or want. I don't like all this impact. We've lost our residential [base] because there are no families WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 351 left, permanent families living here, that I 'm aware of, in this immediate area.33 Steve Deckert of Alliance Engineering in Park City, who was first charmed by Old Town while on a ski t r i p d u r i n g college, said he thinks Old Town has reached the point where it has become critical to preserve the character of the truly historic houses: Everybody's trying to build three stories, and three stories is not typical of the old Park City houses. Two-story houses were rare. You have these big monsters looming over these tiny little houses and you're going to see more and more problems with snow shedding and ice dams onto these tiny little structures. But I don't know where the equity is. The problem is that the remaining lots are going for such an astronomical price that you just can't get the square footage with­out going that high and without maxing out the property. There's also the problem of infrastructure, and I don't think the city has been on top of infrastructure and parking problems in the historic district. The circulation of traffic, all of those things won't work with that many people. . . . I don't know of too many people who think they'll spend the rest of their lives here. It may just become unbearable for full-time residents to live in Old Town. The traffic, the restaurants, the nar­row side streets, the lack of parking, and infill of all the remaining vacant properties may make it undesirable as a year-round resi­dential area. I can see Old Town becoming nothing but nightly rentals, which would be great for the resorts because of their prox­imity to Main Street.34 To h a n d l e the increasing traffic, the State of Utah recently widened Utah Road 224 from Park City to Kimball Junction from two to four lanes, and it anticipates doing the same to Utah Road 248 from Park City to U.S. Highway 40. According to the state's Draft Growth Management Plan, these suburban-scale roads create and reinforce a more auto-oriented character of the town. And for new visitors driving into town these roads present an image of Park City that contrasts starkly w i t h the p e d e s t r i a n - o r i e n t e d streets of Old Town.35 If there's a common complaint among residents who moved in 352 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY during the 1960s and 1970s, it is that the town has lost the sense of community it once had: Residents are finding that they are no longer able to know one another and to act out of an understanding and caring about each other's welfare. . . . Residents are also finding that newcomers may not have the same level of commitment to and involvement in the community as long-time locals, and that new residents may not have the same direction for the community as those who preceded them.36 "It's more t h a n the physical buildings; it's a vibrant public cul­ture that takes place," said Myles Rademan, Park City public affairs director. "One of the dangers is we will urbanize, but we won't urban­ize right. We'll suburbanize and we will become sort of a mountain suburban slum. There's nothing to say that just because you're in the mountains, it's going to be nice. You put in houses all over and don't put in the bike paths and don't put in the flowers and pretty soon you've subtracted from what's there."37 The irony, of course, is that twenty or t h i r ty years ago Deckert and Chaplin and Watts were themselves the agents of change. They were among a tide of strangers who swept i n t o the town after the opening of Park City Ski Area. At that time, t h e frustrations were being voiced by the old mining families. Now, those "strangers" have become t h e o l d - t i m e r s , t r y i n g to adjust to a n ew set of changes brought by a new wave of newcomers. As if these changes weren't putting enough strain on the county and its residents, in lune 1995 came the announcement that the Salt Lake City area will host the 2002 Olympic Winter Games. Several of the events will be held in Summit County, including alpine slalom and giant slalom ski races, ski jumping, freestyle skiing, bobsled, and luge competitions. lust h ow much impact the Olympic Games will have on Summit County remains to be seen, b u t the announcement raised tensions almost immediately. Within months of the announcement, tenants of buildings on Park City's Main Street were accusing owners of rais­ing rents in anticipation of the 2002 Games. "Virtually every mer­chant I've talked to says their rent has gone up," loe Tesch, president WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 353 of the eighty-two-member Historic Main Street Association, told the Deseret News.38 The coming Olympic Games are just one more indication that, in spite of the county's efforts to diversify, only two major trends have molded Summit County's character in the past decade: (1) the growth of recreation/tourism, and (2) the spread of bedroom com­munities for upscale urban refugees. Will growth continue at a breakneck pace? Probably not. Interest in downhill skiing nationwide has been almost flat since the late 1970s.39 The local real-estate market went through a couple of boom-and- bust cycles in the 1970s and 1980s, suggesting that another slow­down may be due. Utah's economy, one of the hottest in the United States in the early 1990s, was showing signs of cooling down by 1997. And, if development does continue to gobble up the wide-open spaces, the people who were drawn to Summit County for its pristine setting may well begin to gravitate to "undiscovered" areas in other, less-crowded states. So what will Summit County look like a century from now? Will people still be drawn to the mountain setting the way they are today? What twenty-first-century inventions will help define the county's future the way the automobile, the jet plane, the chairlift, and the fax machine have done in the twentieth century? Without a doubt, the county faces more dramatic changes in the years ahead. In adjusting to these changes, planners face some difficult chal­lenges: -Will there be enough water to go around? If the Snyderville Basin is to continue to grow, developers will need to find new water sources. Delivery is also a problem. To date, efforts to weave the county's web of private water companies into a centralized network have made little progress. -Can the schools handle the huge influx of new students with­out compromising the quality of education? -Can government agencies keep up with the other demands of an expanding population? Many of the county's urban refugees expect a high level of services such as snow removal, road repair, sewage treatment, garbage disposal, and fire protection. However, local government no longer can count on paying for such services 354 HISTORY OF SUMMIT COUNTY with tax revenues from t h e county's oil fields. Higher taxes seem inevitable. -Can the county protect what remains of its agricultural her­itage? -Can the county preserve the striking natural setting that has drawn so many visitors and residents to the area? The burden is o n the citizens of Summit County and their lead­ers to make sure that the county remains, in the words of the county commission, "The Last Best Place to Live." ENDNOTES 1. See U.S. Censuses of Agriculture, United States Department of Commerce. 2. OB. Copley, interview by Allen Roberts, Coalville, 2 September 1997. 3. Dorothy Darcy, interview by Allen Roberts, Wanship, 1 September 1997. 4. "Summit County Historic Driving Tour," Summit County Historical Society, 1996. 5. Darcy, interview. 6. Mae W. Moore, interview by Allen Roberts, Spring Hollow, 2 September 1997. 7. An interesting reminiscence of these times is Robert S. Mikkelsen, "Growing Up Railroad: Remembering Echo City," Utah Historical Quarterly 62 (Fall 1994): 349-62. 8. Deseret News, 30 September 1995. 9. Salt Lake Tribune, 12 November 1995. 10. Ken Woolstenhulme, interview by Martha S. Bradley, 3 September 1997. 11. Ibid. 12. Park Record, 23 August 1997. According to a recent survey, only 3.9 percent of east-side county residents said agriculture was the occupation of the head of the household. 13. Shauna Bradley, interview by Martha Bradley, Woodland, Utah, 3 September 1997. 14. Deseret News, 19 June 1996. 15. Labor Market Information, Utah Department of Employment Security, Salt Lake City. WHERE NOW, SUMMIT COUNTY? 355 16. Ibid. 17. Charlie Snyder, "Paradise Lost?" Park City Lodestar 18 (Winter 1996): 44. 18. lordan Bonfante, "Sky's The Limit," Time, 6 September 1993, 23. 19. Deseret News, 20 August 1995 20. Draft Growth Management Element, Park City General Plan Update, Park City Planning Department, August 1995. 21. Ibid. 22. Snyder, "Paradise Lost?" 45. 23. "Summit County, Utah: Selected Demographic Labor Market and Economic Characteristics," Utah Department of Employment Security, Salt Lake City, 1994, 37. 24.Ibid. 25. "Summit County, The Last Best Place to Live. How Can We Save It?" State of the County Message from the Summit County Board of Commissioners, 6 November 1995. 26. Ibid. 27. Summit County Commission minutes, 6 May 1996, Summit County Courthouse, Coalville. 28. Eastern Summit County General Plan, 6 May 1996. 29. Raye C. Ringholz, "Without the Park It Would Be lust City," Park City Lodestar 17 (Summer 1995): 47. 30. Deseret News, 5 December 1996, 3 lune 1997. 31. Park Record, 7 December 1995. 32. Ibid. 33. Wasatch Mountain Times, August 1995. 34. Snyder, "Paradise Lost," 46. 35. Draft Growth Management Element. 36. Ibid. In this section the authors are summarizing the sentiments expressed at a series of 1993 public meetings known collectively as "CommunityVision." 37. Snyder, "Paradise Lost," 46. 38. Deseret News, 11 December 1995. 39. According to the National Ski Areas Association, the number of annual skier visits grew only about 5 percent between the winter of 1978-79 and the winter of 1994-95, from about 50.2 million to 52.7 million.