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By Root 877 0

organizing busloads from Washington, organizing student protest bodies. At the same time he refused to let go of his personal fantasy, which was to own a ski haven in the Wasatch Mountains. I used to say to him, or to Lola, who was more practical, ‘You will have a big price to pay for this luxury of owning a mountain.’ The price, in my mind, was a kind of pollution, a price he was already paying. For a start, the mountain itself was permanently scarred by the ski runs he built there. I said to him, ‘Bob, if you want to maintain this Alpine fantasy, you have to yield. The development of the Sundance business is not an option. It’s a necessity.’ When I’d say those things, his eyes would blank out and he’d mumble, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ but he was stubborn, so he was an enemy unto himself.”

For Beck, the balancing act was harrowing. Committed as he personally was to supporting Redford’s conservation instinct, unavoidable irritants rained down. “For example, our main summer scenic hike was to Stewart Falls, the most beautiful natural waterfall in the Southwest. I managed that trail and made little decorative plaques with all the important information about native flora and fauna. But then, because of the Sundance Kid connection, the Hollywood fans started pouring in and the trail became a souvenir trail. People weren’t coming for the nature. They came to steal the plaques belonging to the Sundance Kid. When Bob was here, it was worse. The fans followed his every move, and when he arrived from L.A. or New York, they were here waiting—the gawkers, autograph hunters and hustlers looking for endorsements. We were caught all the time between the rock and the hard place.”

Within weeks of Davenport’s arrival, Redford argued with him about conservation and disengaged from the business partnership set up by Collins. “It was all a big mistake,” Redford insists. “Davenport didn’t have the influence or the money he said he had. I went back to where I started. Independence was the way forward. I needed to make the decisions, because no one else had the passion for the canyon. As time went on, my love affair with the place intensified. I wanted to ski there. But I wanted others to share that, too. And I wanted people to have access to the summer trails, as if it were a slice of the Uinta National Park. I changed in the seventies. As a younger man, since my grandfather Tot taught me, I was an enthusiastic hunter. I could ride and I was a good shot. But the canyon changed me. I stopped hunting when I saw a buck die at the A-frame. The canyon was full of deer and moose. At that time, it was open season hunting. Then, one afternoon, I was sitting in my living room and this animal came to the bank outside the window and sat there, badly wounded, dying. I went out to try to help, but it was past saving. There was nothing I could do. I sat there, watching it watching me; many, many minutes, maybe more than an hour. And then it glazed over and sank down dead. I was deeply moved. It was another of those Zen moments. That was, literally, the end of hunting for me. It seemed suddenly absurd to be killing for sport. I felt the same about the land. To be draining its resources simply to compete with Park City was immoral. On the other hand, to let it go to any old flake who wanted to build tract housing was equally wrong. So I had to keep drawing from the finances of my film work to fund it, until I could find a way to help it fund itself.”

In November, Redford put the wheels in motion of preproduction on All the President’s Men. Both Michael Ritchie and Jeremy Larner had expected involvement in the film and felt let down when that didn’t pan out. Said Ritchie, “I thought All the President’s Men would be number three in our trilogy: first sport, then politics and now the ‘big business’ of journalism. I tried to call Bob, but he was never available.” Larner was philosophical: “Friendship and partnership, I learned with Bob, were variables. By his definition, and only his definition, it worked fine. You were involved if fate allowed. Otherwise …?” But Redford