Ride Up - Slide Down

"My first introduction to skiing was in 1924 when I was 7 years old and a student in the two-room school house at Hooper's Mines in North River, New York. This area is now known as Garnet Hill. I was fortunate to have a teacher who owned a pair of skis and brought them to school for the students to use at recess time. At that time, we took turns riding down the hill, which was actually a cow pasture in the back of the school. These skis had only a leather toe strap which you slipped your foot into. Harnesses were unheard of at the time, as well as ski poles. We would climb to the top of the hill, slip our feet into the toe straps and ride straight down. If we were going too fast we would just sit down.

Usually a ski would come off and slide all the way down the hill, which meant walking down to retrieve it. We would then climb back up and repeat the thrill until we were too exhausted to continue. I think the highlight of our skiing was the privilege of being able to take the skis home for the weekend. The students' names were put on a roster and we each had a chance to use them at a designated time. I always did my best to take the skis home on a long weekend, hoping to eke out as much ski time as possible. Of course, I wasn't the only student who concocted such a plan. Still, the joy of skiing during those early days of 1924 as a small child never deserted me and I still feel the same thrill today."

Warrensburg played a pivotal role in the early days of skiing in the region, not just as a gateway to the slopes but also as a center for the production of woolen goods essential for winter sports enthusiasts. During a time when skiing began to gain popularity as a recreational activity, Warrensburg's local industries seized the opportunity to cater to the needs of early skiers, leveraging their expertise in woolen manufacturing to produce high-quality, durable clothing ideal for the cold, often harsh winter conditions of upstate New York.

The town's textile mills, powered by the natural resources abundant in the area, such as the flowing waters of the Schroon and Hudson Rivers, became hubs of activity, where skilled artisans and craftsmen worked tirelessly to produce woolen pants and shirts. These garments, known for their warmth and resilience, were indispensable to skiers who faced the elements on the slopes of nearby mountains like Gore Mountain. The woolen fabric, with its natural water-resistant and insulating properties, provided the perfect solution for skiers seeking comfort and protection against the cold.

Warrensburg's reputation for producing high-quality woolen ski wear spread, making it a vital part of the skiing culture in the Adirondacks. The town's contribution to the sport went beyond just manufacturing; it became a symbol of the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the local community, which adapted its traditional industries to support and promote the burgeoning skiing movement in the region.

The woolen goods produced in Warrensburg were not only practical but also became a part of the early ski fashion, embodying the rugged, adventurous spirit of the skiers who wore them. These garments were a testament to the town's craftsmanship and its pivotal role in the history of skiing in the Adirondacks, providing a warm and stylish solution to the challenges posed by the winter climate.

As skiing evolved from a necessary mode of winter transportation into a recreational and competitive sport, the contributions of towns like Warrensburg, with their local industries supporting the early ski culture, became an integral part of the sport's history. The legacy of Warrensburg's woolen goods, especially the pants and shirts worn by early skiers, remains a fascinating chapter in the story of skiing's development in North Creek and the broader Adirondack region.

People skied in the Gore area all during the 1930's and some, before that. The first skis, those barrel stave ones, could be fitted with straps by the local harness shop. Cunningham's Store, my father's establishment, was where skiers went to arrange to have them fitted.

Of course, later, we were able to order regular skis and soon there was a section of Dad's general store dedicated exclusively to ski equipment. My father's ski shop at Old Gore was at the base of a small hill near the T Bar. My brother, Dick, and Perry Ellers ran the shop on Saturdays as my father was at the store in town. Perry Ellers was a guide who ran a sport shop in North River during the summer. The shop at Gore consisted of a work room with a stove, a wood pile, work benches and a half length counter between the workroom and the sales counter and rental area. A small closet just off this passage way was filled with our family's equipment - as well as that of cousins, and special friends. 

My Dad made hot wax every day, according to the snow conditions. People would bring in their skis to have "Butler's Hot Wax" applied to the bottom of their skis. 

There were always repairs needed and metal edges to be tightened. On very busy days, the rentals would disappear fast and furiously and people would be begging for anything we could find in the way of ski equipment.

They were perfectly happy with whatever we could give them - even mismatched skis and poles. 

One day I was using my mother's skis and when I stopped for lunch, my father actually sold the skis from beneath me!

While aluminum skis were invented for the World War II 10th Mountain Division, non-wood skis were not used for recreation or racing skiing until the mid 1950's when the Head Standard Ski was invented. The Head Standard, and later, the Head Master, introduced ease of turning and greater speed. Like the Model T, you could get the skis in any color as long as it was black.

In the earliest days of skiing, long, flat-topped wood skis (some homemade, like the ones mentioned above) with only a toe strap were the order of the day. They were used on long, narrow trails such as Rabbit Pond.

It was virtually impossible to turn due to the length of the skis and the narrowness of the trails. Skiers hunched over with their poles tucked under each arm to maintain balance. Next came skis with a ridge on top, which made them more flexible. Soon, simple cable bindings made of a metal toe plate with leather straps that went around the heel were added. Although the back of the foot was still not firmly affixed to the ski, it did greatly enhance turning as the skier was able to put greater pressure on the side of his or her boots. Prominent ski brands were Grosswald, manufactured in Colorado, and Northland, a popular brand in North Creek.

The next generation of skis was also long but had metal edges (screwed on in sections) that enabled the "Stem Christie" turn which was a major improvement in the method of skiing.

Seven foot and longer skis were likely intended to give stability, but in the 1950's, shorter skis and cable or "Bear Trap" bindings came into being. Now, with the binding holding that heel firmly affixed to the ski, combined with new, shorter skis, sharp turns were possible and skiing became more stylish.

Imported skis were next. One of the first foreign skis was the Cortina, named after the 1952 Olympics at Cortina, D'Ampezzo, Italy. An attractive, pale blue was now available in addition to the now conventional black. Manufactured in countries such as Austria and Germany, they provided more choices to the buyer. Retailers, including the earliest seller of skis, had to make room to accommodate the new models.

Rossignol and Kastle were popular among the younger set at Gore. The "Rossis" were not only well designed, but they were among the first to add bright colors to the ski line. Color had been used before, but not in such variety and patterns.

In North Creek, the natural color skis, were for the most part, soon left behind, but not by everyone. The fearless duo of Tom (Buckshot) Butler and Don Swain stayed with the older model skis and were virtually unbeatable as they raced down the Hudson and Ridge trails. Anyone who got in their way did so at great peril. Anyone who tried to keep up with them was soon left behind.

The new generation of skis and binding enabled what was called parallel turning. This meant that in skiing straight and turning, the skis remained parallel.

The 1932 Lake Placid Olympics featured a new type of boot. It had both an inner and outer boot with tied laces. The inner boot was intended to allow a tighter fit and improved control. The boots still did not go far up the ankle and the risk of breaking a leg was ever present.

Next came the "long-thong" binding that consisted of a lengthy leather strap wrapped round and round the foot and ankle. While these helped with total control, the incidence of broken legs became even greater than when the Bear Trap binding was being used.

Buckle boots and metal skis were the next break-through. The metal Head Ski enabled even sharper and fancier turns. Descriptive terms such as "The Mombo" came into being. High school girls now skied with great style in the latest high fashion pants that were clingy and called "stretch pants." Many a testosterone laden young lad would follow close behind these beauties as they gracefully made their way down the trail with undulating hips. These coy beauties never let on that they knew what those young Casanovas were up to, but the secret smile playing across their lips as they shooshed down the hill made it clear that they were well aware of their charms.

Soon artificial materials replaced leather. The first were made by Heinke, an Austrian manufacturer. The boots had no padding on the sides and were truly torture chambers. As was the case with the Head ski and the Model T car, black was the only color choice available - if you could call it a choice! The cost of these boots was outrageously high - as high as $100! Kastinger soon came out with a padded embellishment. Color was introduced by a yellow tongue that extended to a strip at the top of the boot.

It never seemed to snow until late in December, and we rarely skied before Christmas. By Christmas we would all be praying for our little Christmas miracle and if the "snow Gods" were in agreement we might get 15 inches of new snow fall and we would be able to finally ski. My father, Bill Lee, and Walt Shultz (all directors of the ski lift corporation) would go to the top to judge the snow conditions, with the whole community anxiously awaiting their pronouncement. Somehow, we were allowed to go. We did not get into weighty discussions, but offered many prayers of thanks for opening day.