With Our Own Four Hands
and a lot of help from our friends and new neighbors Swain Ski Area came to be
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I vividly remember laying the floor of the little building that was to house the motor for the first tow. We had worked all day at low temperatures in a foot or more of loose snow to complete an unfinished trail. Laying that floor was something we could do after dark by flashlight. . . . It was COLD. I remember our breath forming little clouds in the still, moonlit air.
Our biggest hammer bounced off the spikes as if they had been made of rubber. Only the much heavier maul could drive a spike of that size into that well-seasoned white oak. Unable to wield the maul with one hand as Dave did, I developed a grotesque technique using both hands and bobbing up and down like one of those perpetually-drinking toy birds seen at fairs and souvenir shops. We took turns holding the flashlight and using the maul. . . .
Our first day of operation came soon after. It was a disaster. After two hours, the motor quit never to run again. This was perhaps the lowest of the many low spots we had to endure. I am reminded of how really nice everybody was in those early days. No complaints. Some didn't even want to accept a refund of the dollar they had paid for their tickets. The fact we had perhaps as many as 20 customers on that first day was probably due to
Carl Underwood who was running the tow did not accept defeat so easily, however. He looked over the linkage between the motor and drive wheel. I don't remember everything exactly, but things began to happen, and happen fast. If Fred Blakley wasn't among the local spectators, he was summoned. He agreed with Carl, that the motor from the planer in the sawmill run by his brother Ben would fit the linkage between the motor and the drive wheel. Please bear in mind that we hardly knew most of these people in those early days, and everybody was bundled up to their noses in the similar heavy lumber jackets (aka mackinaws) worn for outdoor work in those days.
I don't remember who did what or the exact sequence of events but within another couple of hours, the defunct motor had been set aside, and a group of men were manhandling the planer's International motor up the slope on skids and installing it in place of the dead one. These men were used to working together, probably had been doing so all their adult lives, as well as having played together as kids. They worked as one.
Even their voices were harmonious as they quietly exchanged information on who needed to do what as they strained to get the motor uphill. That motor must have weighed almost half a ton but they pushed and pulled and pried it up the snowy slope and into place as if the whole operation had been previously choreographed. My recollection is that the original motor died about
Most of the local kids miraculously got skis from somewhere. They skied for free but were expected to help me with side-stepping to pack down the snow for an hour or so before the tow started, which they cheerfuly did in conjunction with the little community's attitude of wanting to help. I gave them some basic instructions in making snowplow turns to get them started, but they took off from there and became good skiers just by doing what comes naturally to kids living next to a ski area.
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About the Book
"With Our Own Four Hands" is the account of how a young couple, grubbing away with hand tools back in the 1940's, brought reality to their wartime dream of creating a ski area for western New York skiers. It also touches on the history of skiing and the development of ski equipment starting with a single toe strap to hold the boot against the ski.
The book is also an authentic chapter in history of the hamlet of Swain in Allegany County which had been largely by-passed by 20th century developments. It describes the actions of the real people who contributed to the project in
various ways, and the effects, both good and bad, of the ski area on the community itself.
Also covered are formation on one of the oldest ski patrols in the country and the launching of an Olympic gold medal winner plus a Ski Hall of Fame World Cup Champion along with the actions - some heroic, some hilarious - of more
ordinary mortals.
The couple's four children have each contributed a chapter of some of their recollections (which run the gamut from endearing to humorous to hair-raising) of growing up on the ski area. The book starts with an account of "the early years" that Dave wrote in response to a request from newer members of the ski patrol for information about the area's origins. Realizing that she was the last person alive to know the whole story, Bina has woven it all together: the ski area, the community and its people.
About the Author
Caught up in the demands of World War II, newlyweds Dave and Bina Robinson planned for the years ahead when they would be able to pursue their own destiny instead of responding to the demands of the war. The result was the creation of a ski area involving decades of hard work while holding down other full-time jobs to pay the bills. Sixty years later, as octogenarians, they have written the true story of their endeavors and experiences of this remarkable undertaking.
Avid hikers, they joined the British Ramblers Association for two treks in Nepal, one a 30 day circuit of Anna Purna led by sherpas and assisted by porters. Other excursions included trips to the Dolomites, Peru, Andorra, and numerous rambles in the English Lake District and the American southwest.
Both are life-long writers. Bina was the sports editor of "The Tower Times," the student newspaper of the women's campus at their alma mater, the