Where Have the Normal People Gone?
Those who missed the announcement the other day will be pleased to learn that the co-chairmen of Citigroup Inc. got a substantial raise last year, for total pay packages of more than $26 million, including bonuses of $8 million each. According to the New York Times, “Analysts were surprised at how lushly the executives were compensated, given the lack of success Citigroup had managing the global financial turmoil.”
Citigroup’s operating earnings fell 27% in the fourth quarter of last year, and the company has announced thousands of job cuts--affecting lower-level employees only, of course. I know that many of you who live in a world where doing a poor job gets you fired like to keep track of these happy executive exceptions.
Here in Aspen, the town is full of happy exceptions to general rules, including the law of gravity; the face lift, the tummy tuck, the cheek implant and the breast tightener take care of that. There are some seriously high-maintenance women here.
When last I frequented Aspen in the late ‘70s, the gap between the rich and the normal here was enough to make one gape. What has changed over 20 years is that the gap has gotten much, much larger; it is now a teeth-rattling, bone-jarring experience just to witness it, much less to live in it.
There are effectively no normal people left living in Aspen, unless they arrived here before 1970. The people who work in Aspen live “down valley,” often in trailer parks. A tiny wooden house of the old style here now costs as much as a premier Manhattan apartment.
The extremely rich will pay (actual case) $2.95 million for a new 3,850-square-foot home on a 6,570-square-foot lot. Many of these second homes are used only a month or two every year.
You can make a living (provided you don’t live in Aspen) just taking care of the lawns of absent homeowners--also their pets, their children, their hair, their nails, their skis, their cars, their burglar alarms, their art collections, etc.
In one way, Aspen is like Ben Tre, Vietnam, of which it was said: “It became necessary to destroy the town to save it.” In an effort to maintain environmental quality, Aspen passed a growth-management ordinance in the mid-1970s. Greg Baker of Aspen Realty observes that it slowed growth to a snail’s pace and drove prices up. “But if we didn’t have growth management, they’d build it wall to wall, as high as you’d let ‘em, and nobody would want to come here because it would be so ugly.” Baker lives down valley but loves Aspen anyway.
What the town is gradually losing is the corps of eccentrics and outlaws that made it such an interesting place in the 1960s and early ‘70s, before everyone was rich. The great Hunter S. Thompson, gonzo journalist (“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro”), lives nearby and continues to conduct himself in a way that makes his comic strip counterpart, Uncle Duke of “Doonesbury,” look like a Rotarian. Thompson is also a sweet man and a serious writer.
Sheriff Bob Braudis takes a somewhat libertarian approach toward law enforcement; on the other hand, he’s big enough to intimidate do-badders with size alone. Mayor John Bennett is both amused and bemused by his favorite town, but he’s determined to protect the environment.
At what cost? The current debate is over building a rail line to Aspen, and the general feeling in town is: No, that would just make it more accessible--to normal people. The other option is to have more people fly in in their private jets.
There’s an old saw that Aspen attracts Democrats and Vail attracts Republicans; most rich people are Republican, so there’s a flaw in that thought.
What can you say about a town where fur coats are as common as denim jackets in Texas, where you can buy a $25,000 poster or a $100,000 guitar?
I was reminded of a Dorothy Parker short story about two New York City secretaries who spend their lunch hours window-shopping on Fifth Avenue. They play a game called “What Would You Buy If You Had $10,000?” They’d stroll up and down, selecting $10,000 worth of goods from the shop windows.
One day, they see a gorgeous triple-strand pearl necklace in Tiffany’s window. They work up their nerve and finally go in and ask the price. When they come out, they walk silently for quite a while. Then, one says: “Well. What would you buy if you had $10 million?”
What happens to a society when dreams become unaffordable?
