The Real McCoy
“Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.”
-William Butler Yeats
Dave McCoy, founder of Mammoth Mountain, the one degree of separation literally binding generations of skiers and residents together, died last Saturday at his home in Bishop. He was 104.
More than anything, Dave liked to build things. Big things. Outrageously fun and awesome things. Side-by-side with hundreds upon hundreds of his best friends. And I call them, you, his best friends, because you were either with him, in the trenches, sweating, smiling, knocking it out, engaged in this grand purpose to create something memorable and utilitarian and great and FUN. Or you lined up, and paid the fee, and rode the lifts, and enjoyed the fruit of his labors. And really, that was enough for him. One more happy face. And one more person refilling the till to finance the next adventure. The next project. He plowed every penny back into the resort. Seeking to win over that next smile.
As a close friend who knew Dave for 50 years observed, “Money didn’t buy Dave a $100,000 Mercedes Benz. Money bought him a flannel shirt.”
And you joined him in his endeavors because he looked like you, sounded like you, bled like you. And he didn’t care about your background or your pedigree. He just cared about your ideas, your heart and whether or not you were gung ho in helping pursue his lofty visions.
That was one aspect of who he was. And then there was another aspect which was … not quite mortal. There was the young hydrographer hired by the City of Los Angeles in 1936 who skied through the deep snow (up to 50 miles a day) in the isolated and forbidding Sierra, taking snow surveys. There was the guy who drew up a rough sketch of the top of Chair 23 with Heimo Ladinig on the back of a napkin. There was the guy who competed in motocross races in his 50s, 60s, 70s and beyond against other men not even half his age – and won.
This was the guy whom you thought might be able to outlast the mountains themselves.
I mean, who didn’t hear of Dave’s passing and look up just to make sure the mountains were still there?
A pause for some backstory courtesy of the McCoy family.
Dave was born August 24, 1915, in El Segundo, California, to Edna and Bill ‘Mac’ McCoy. Mac’s job, improving and paving California State highways in the 1920’s, meant an itinerant childhood for young Dave for whom ‘home’ was in the tent camps that followed the work. A solid self-reliance developed from the nomadic upbringing. He spent long days playing in the rural outdoors alone, learned early on the value of a hard day’s work and, out of necessity, perfected the art of making friends with strangers by changing schools, often seasonally, as the work progressed.
The stresses of the Great Depression led to Edna and Mac’s divorce in 1930. Distraught, his Mom reluctantly sent Dave to live with his paternal grandparents, Bob and Katie Cox, in Wilkeson, Washington. Here Dave thrived in a settled home, making his mark in high school athletics. But, his wandering nature led him to hitchhike seasonally back to sunny California to escape the Northwest weather. A naturally gifted athlete, he would earn letters in football, baseball, basketball and track at high schools in both states.
In 1931, before he’d ever tried skiing, Dave made his first pair of skis in woodshop and was soaring off hand-shoveled jumps by the end of his first day, having heard it was a great way to impress the girls. Memories of a summer trip, in which he’d fished in pristine alpine lakes ringed by snowfields, left an indelible impression and he pledged then to return. The day after graduating from high school in Washington, he kept his promise, and rode his motorcycle to Independence, California, where he worked as a soda jerk, did odd jobs and started studying hydrography with an eye on High Sierra fieldwork for the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power.
This was when the massive expanse of Mammoth Mountain first caught his eye; so, too, a young Bishop girl named Roma Carriere. Their courtship revolved around hiking, fishing in alpine lakes, skiing and dancing. They married on May 10, 1941, in Yuma, California, settled in Bishop and started a family the next year.
Rope tows were just being conceived then and were mostly jerry-rigged, do-it-yourself jobs with pulleys and ropes attached to a vehicle. Dave’s mechanical skills, learned from watching and helping his Dad as a child, were perfectly suited to the era, and Dave and Roma started carrying a portable tow in the back of their car, setting it up wherever the snow was best, encouraging friends to join them.
Dave operated portable tows for years on the North slopes of Mammoth and on McGee Mountain, thirty miles south, for those times when Mammoth was inaccessible due to heavy snows.
Dave was the 1937 California State Slalom Champion at age 22, while coaching the Bishop High Ski Team, and eventually coached a number of future stars on the international ski-racing scene. A horrific injury, at a downhill race in Sugar Bowl, California in 1942, nearly resulted in amputation of his left leg. Only multiple experimental surgeries saved his leg and it took years to recover.
In 1953, the Forest Service ceased looking elsewhere for big-money investors to develop Mammoth Mountain and awarded the permit to Dave, who had a reputation for hard work and passionate devotion to the mountain. The Forest Service trusted that Dave, who could fix any mechanical problem with ingenuity and a smile, would get the job done. The permit stipulated that Dave improve runs, add food service, provide first aid and build a chairlift. Dave began construction of Mammoth’s first base lodge that summer. Chair One, the Eastern Sierra’s first chairlift, was up and running two years later.
Editor’s note: Robin Morning, who wrote “Tracks of Passion,” a history of Eastern Sierra skiing and Mammoth Mountain (published in 2008), comes out with a second book this spring which traces the first forty years of Dave McCoy’s life and is titled, “For The Love of It.”
Filmmaker Tim Ford spent two years working on a project about Dave (2013-2014) and interviewed more than forty people during that time. As an outsider and a third party who spent much of his time listening during that period, Ford has unique insight into both Dave (whom he interviewed on multiple occasions) and the people who worked for him.
One thing that really stood out for Ford was Dave’s curiosity. As Carl Sagan once said, “When we are children, our curiosity and passion for science is beaten out of us. But some beat the system.”
Dave beat the system.
“He was a lightning rod for absorbing ideas,” said Ford. “And he was fascinated by so many mechanical things.”
In particular, he delighted in the concept of solar power generation and turning meters backwards. “Have you seen then price of gas these days?” he would exclaim.
And the ironic part, of course, was that he might spend hundreds of thousands of dollars reconfiguring an off-road Rhino into a solar vehicle in order to save a few dollars in gas. But for Dave, it was truly about the joy of discovery, and the journey as opposed to the destination.
This, of course, maddened and perplexed the bean-counters in his life, particularly the latter versions trained and versed in the gospel of ROI (Return on Investment).
Fortunately for Dave, he had two people in his corner who were his check and balance – wife Roma and longtime CFO Nick Gunter. Well, Nick was the check-and-balance. Roma was his partner, his champion, his everything.
From a 2007 profile in The Sheet, where McCoy took Matthew Lehman and others on a Rhino trip that Lehman won in a silent auction:
“Chris Pyle’s documentary on McCoy, Mammoth Dreams … effectively depicts the scale of McCoy’s accomplishments and his sheer capacity for work.
As a hydrographer for the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, McCoy would slog up 4,000-5,000 feet to take snow samples and be gone from home for 3-4 days at a stretch.
And then on the weekends, he’d run rope tows for visiting skiers.
To finance the motor for his first rope tow, McCoy approached a Bishop bank looking for an $86 loan.
The banker turned him down.
The banker’s secretary threatened to quit unless McCoy got the loan. Her boss relented.
That was just one of the first of many things Roma McCoy did for Dave.
Even now on our Rhino trip, there was Roma in the driveway, bringing out a warmer coat for Dave and lovingly putting his arms in the sleeves.
And then when we stopped for lunch, it wasn’t hired help that had made the sandwiches. It was Roma.
One of the great vignettes in Pyle’s documentary is when Dave realizes there’s not enough fuel to operate the rope tow for the next day and that they’ll need to pass a hat to raise money for gasoline.
As Roma recalls, Dave was so uncomfortable asking people for money that he made an excuse about being too busy keeping the lift running to be able to collect from people.
“You do it,” he told her.
So she did it, and they raised about $15, fifty cents at a time, and looked at each other afterward and thought, ‘Hmm. Maybe there’s something to this.’”
As for Guenther … the relationship between Dave and Nick was one of cat-and-mouse. As Randy Short recalled, after Dave had purchased June Mountain in 1986, he went to Nick and said he needed several earth-moving machines to make improvements and Nick reluctantly agreed to lease three for a month.
One of the great vignettes in Pyle’s documentary is when Dave realizes there’s not enough fuel to operate the rope tow for the next day and that they’ll need to pass a hat to raise money for gasoline.
As Roma recalls, Dave was so uncomfortable asking people for money that he made an excuse about being too busy keeping the lift running to be able to collect from people.
“You do it,” he told her.
So she did it, and they raised about $15, fifty cents at a time, and looked at each other afterward and thought, ‘Hmm. Maybe there’s something to this.’”
As for Gunter … the relationship between Dave and Nick was one of cat-and-mouse. As Randy Short recalled, after Dave had purchased June Mountain in 1986, he went to Nick and said he needed several earth-moving machines to make improvements and Nick reluctantly agreed to lease three for a month.
Toward the end of the month, Short was getting nervous. The work at June wasn’t near done and if disappointing Dave was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, crossing Nick was a close second.
So Short approaches Dave with his dilemma, and Dave’s response is, “Don’t worry about Nick. If he gets on you, let me handle it.”
In fact, Bob Schotz once said the only fight he ever knew about regarding Dave and Nick was over Dave’s desire to buy a Caterpillar D9. Nick purportedly told Dave, “It’s either me or the D9.” To which Dave responded something like, “Well, it’s been nice having you here.” And then chasing Nick down as he stormed out of the office so Dave could tell him he was only kidding.
Evan Russell effectively worked for Dave for 52 years – 31 years at the ski area and 21 years as Executive Director of the Mammoth Lakes Foundation.
“The fun part about Dave … ” began Russell, “If you brought him an idea and he thought it had merit, he’d give you as much rope as you needed.”
He allowed people to learn.
In a 2012 interview, this is what Dave had to say about managing people: “Give ‘em space and let them do their jobs. Don’t tell ‘em all that stuff about the numbers. Just ask, ‘How can I help you [be better]?’”
In that same interview, he was asked when during his life and career did he start feeling like a businessman.
Naturally, he deflected.
“There was never a point where I thought I was a businessman … everybody in Los Angeles owned Mammoth.”
He did point out, however, that when he started, there were 52 other rope tow businesses in Inyo and Mono counties, so he’s got to know a few things about business – or at least about perseverance.
The other thing that Russell loved about work on the Mountain: “We got to do anything and everything, It wasn’t about your “skill set.” On any particular day, you might be a ski instructor, a lift operator, a SnoCat driver, a short-order cook. “We were never bored, and we’d work 30-40 days in a row and not even think about it … the sacrifices we made didn’t seem like sacrifices.”
As Dennis Agee told Tim Ford in an interview, Dave was like a pied piper. He was charismatic, driven and genuinely cared for others.
And in turn, they cared for him.
Back to the family’s obituary …
Dave’s civic accomplishments were legion. He helped raise funds to establish the first Mammoth hospital in l978, worked on incorporating Mammoth Lakes as a town in 1984 and in l989 his vision to cultivate higher education and the arts in the Eastern Sierra resulted in the formation of Mammoth Lakes Foundation, which donated the land and help build the area’s first institution of higher learning — Cerro Coso Community College.
Underpinning Dave’s long and storied life is the way he saw almost everything and every person he met in a positive light. His generosity, efforts and achievements have been acknowledged with many awards through his life, just to name a few: He has been inducted into the Ski Hall of Fame and Ski Magazine Hall of Fame, Edison honored him with the Southern California Edison Environmental Excellence award, he received the national Ski areas Association Lifetime Achievement Award and was chosen Entrepreneur of the Year of California by Ernst & Young.
Dave is survived by the love of his life, Roma Carriere McCoy, with whom he was married for 78 years and their six children: Gary McCoy (wife Barbi), Dennis ‘Poncho’ McCoy (wife Beverly), Carl McCoy, Penny McCoy, Kandi Stewart (husband Rusty) and Randy McCoy, 19 grandchildren, 34 great-grandchildren and one great-great grandchild.
A celebration of life will be held for immediate family only. Please make memorial donations to: Mammoth Lakes Foundation, P.O. Box 1815, Mammoth Lakes, California 93514.
As Tim Ford added, this was the magic of Dave. “He constantly had a great time examining options and then letting solutions emerge.”
Without getting bogged down in a lot of … unnecessary conversation.
“Dave was the best planner I ever knew … but he hated plans,” observed Russell.
From The Sheet, May, 2015
… Now I don’t know if Dave is a religious man, but when I think about him, the passage that comes to mind is Luke 16:10. “He who is faithful in little is faithful in much.”
Which I interpret as the little things matter, and how you handle the little things really does answer the BIG questions.
My friend Scott McGuire told me a great Dave story the other day. It was 1997, and Scott was working on the hill as a supervisor in some capacity. It was during one of those storm cycles where it just snows and snows and the Mountain was lucky to have one lift open that day – Scott can’t recall if it was Chair 20 or 21.
So Scott troops into the lodge to fill up a thermos of hot chocolate to bring to the lifties and the few hearty skiers braving the elements. He runs into Dave, who asks him what he’s doing. When Scott tells him, and Dave realizes that Scott was actually paying for the hot chocolate out of his own pocket, he says, “Hold on a second.”
Next thing Scott knows, Dave’s got his snow gear on and he’s filling a veritable barrel of hot chocolate and personally taking Scott out to the lift on his snowmobile.
This was when Dave was a spring chicken – like 82.
On one level, Dave’s time is infinitely precious – far more valuable than any consultant’s time, or lawyer’s time, or therapist’s time. That’s the elephant in the room. Even being the miracle he is, it can’t go on forever. So, you’re sitting there thinking, “I’m nothing but a waste of this guy’s time. He has done more, seen more, knows more than I’ll ever know.”
But I realize, Dave absolutely cares nothing about what he knows. He wants to know what you know, because that might be new.
… Mike Wiegele and his wife Bonnie walk in. They operate one of, if not the longest-running heliski operation in North America out of Blue River, British Columbia (Banff area).
The developmental arc of Wiegele’s business was similar to Dave’s. He started running heli trips in 1970 but it was a full decade before he and his wife started building a full resort.
With Dave, according to biographer/historian Robin Morning, it was a little more than a decade from charging for his first lift to building Chair 1 and Main Lodge.
Wiegele and McCoy were also similar because they were both backed by awesome wives and partners.
As Bonnie Wiegele told me, she owned and ran retail shops in Banff for many years. At the end of the year, her husband would raid the kitty to continue building the resort. She was, essentially, his bank and his cash flow.
Soon, Mike Wiegele is huddled with Dave at his desk telling a story about a backcountry avalanche and mapping it out on scratch paper. “Don’t break the rules. You can’t break the rules in the mountains,” I hear Wiegele say.
And I think about that. How McCoy and Wiegele didn’t break the rules in the mountains, but broke all sorts of other rules and conventions to build the great things they built.
