Mr. Ford's Holiday

The chairlift lines at Vail, Colo., were longer than usual during the recent Christmas to New Year vacation week--a tribute to the drawing power of America's first skiing president. Thousands of people each day waited up to two hours for a gondola ride to the Mid-Vail ski bowl where Gerry Ford and a zillion Secret Service agents were learning the difference between a schuss and a wedel. Since Ford usually made his appearances between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m.--in the height of the noonday sun--the sun decks outside the Mid-Vail ski lodge and the chairlift lines snaking at its base swelled during these hours. All those beautiful people, each with nearly $800 worth of ski equipment, straining and shoving to get a glimpse of the athletic president and wondering what brand of skis he would use and what color jacket he would wear.

When Ford arrived, he and his entourage of protectors and instructors were always whisked to the front of the lift lines and up the mountain, so quickly that half of the crowd milling at Mid-Vail probably never even saw him on skis. But everyone talked about it and more than a few became temporary resort heroes when they boasted of riding the lift behind Ford or skiing ahead of him on the slopes.

A disabled Vietnam War veteran, unnoticed and nearly trampled by the crowd, patiently moved through the long lift lines. One of his legs had been amputated after he was shot, he said, but he was learning how to ski because it was something he had always wanted to do. No one offered to ask the lift attendents to allow him to by-pass the 45-minute waiting line. No one offered to hold his place in line while he took the weight off his fatigued leg. As he slipped among the masses packed in the closely wrapped lines, hardly anyone even noticed him: Gerry Ford was in the arena.

"Are you excited at getting a chance to watch Ford ski?"

"Not particularly."

"Do you sort of resent..."

"No. I don't resent anything; I know what you're gonna say, but it doesn't do any good. I want him to watch me ski. I want him to know that I can ski if I want to, that I will ski."

The bearded vet stopped for a moment because it took all his concentration to use his two ski poles with small runners on them and his one good leg to ease around the U-turn in the line.

"I get thrilled like anyone else here seeing a real president," he continued, "I don't resent his coming here or anything like that. I guess if there's anything I resent about coming to a place like this, it's that I see what I can't have, what I missed out on. It's an incredible chance to see how the other half lives."

All around him the conversations of hundreds of rosy-cheeked vacationers centered on Ford. "Isn't it great that we have a president who really gets out of doors." "Nixon would have never done something like this; his idea of a vacation was locking himself up in a fort. This president goes out among the people and takes a vacation the way they do."

Gerry Ford was out among the people. His people. While he attended meetings with advisers and tried to formulate the economic policy that he announced this week, they were spending more money dining in Vail's $20 plus restaurants, staying in the thousands of superchic condominiums, and skiing the crowded slopes than any crowd in any previous week at Vail. The president was all smiles each day as he looked over his people. This was such a heartwarming sight; just the sort of stimulation the nation's economy needed.

Naturally Ford's people were too busy indulging themselves to think that they would spend as much that week as millions of hardworking Americans earn in a year. Or, for that matter, too busy gaping at Ford to help out a young man disabled in a war the ex-Congressman plugged so vigorously.

The only incident resembling a demonstration during Ford's two-week stay was a one-man protest vigil staged by Ruffin Harris of Carbondale, Colo. He stood in front of Millionaire Richard Bass's palace where Ford was staying. Harris held a live wolf on a leash to protest Ford's Christmas gift of a wolfskin coat to his wife.

The two-year old wolf was tame, but it scared shit out of the Secret Service agents assigned to keep an eye on the demonstrator. Harris, wearing a placard that said "wolves are better wild than worn," told interested passersby that the wolf is an endangered species. The economic incentive for killing wolves (a single pelt brings about $200 from clothing manufacturers) must be ended, he said.

"What are you, some sort of eco-freak," broke in an incensed middle-aged man sporting a highball and a fur coat of his own. "Fur is warm. If it gets scarce, the market will raise the price to reduce the demand for it. Nobody's going to kill off all your damn wolves."

Inside the Bass house, Ford was preparing to veto some ecological legislation already passed by Congress. The strip mining bill he refused to sign called for regulating all strip mining and a 35-cent-per-ton excise tax on all surface-underground coal to pay for reclamation. Oddly enough, the measure would have cost Bass an estimated $100,000 annually because of his many mining leases.

Ford's stay in Vail was not all ski and parley. His people beckoned, so each night the Ford entourage attended one or another of the extravaganzas hosted by the celebrities, tycoons and socialites who also were in town. One afternoon the Mid-Vail lodge was electric with rumors that even Jackie Kennedy was also in town.

Life in Vail was indeed merry for those two weeks. Quite appropriately, the winter sun shone brightly for all but two days, bronzing beautiful faces.

There was Gerry Ford, conducting the affairs of state as usual, while at the same time cavorting about and carrying on like any red-blooded rich American. The economy couldn't be that bad, look at all the happy people, look at all the cars filled with gasoline, look at the ten-dollar bills being slapped down by the thousands for a couple of rides up a mountain, look at the fur and the snazzy outfits. After all this time, here was an American president who could get out among the American people, find out what they were doing and what they thought.

This piece is dedicated to Ruffin Harris and an anonymous Vietnam War veteran. Their's were the only voices of reality that trailed Gerry Ford to Colorado.

[Jeff Leonard borrowed $150 to get to Vail. He lived in a mobile home without heat and forged lift tickets while he was there.]