In this weekend's ski issue, I write about Rosa Khutor, a new ski resort above the city of Sochi, Russia, that is the site of the alpine events for the coming Winter Games. Built with the Olympics in mind, Rosa Khutor has ambitions to become a world-class ski area that attracts Russian skiers, who might otherwise flee to the Alps, and international visitors, who might otherwise never think of Russia when planning a ski vacation. It's a great mountain, with great potential.
Billions of dollars have transformed Krasnaya Polyana, the sleepy village next to the resort, which, beginning in the 1960s, has been home to little more than a small backcountry ski culture. For years, the area offered a couple of heli-skiing outfits and a single mom-and-pop ski area, but in 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, Krasnaya Polyana still didn't have a chairlift. Elsewhere, Russia had a handful of Soviet-era ski areas catering mainly to the Russian-speaking world, but an American would be forgiven for long considering the country a skiing backwater.
In addition to being a longtime skier, I have a family connection to the pastime: In the 1960s, my grandfather, Irv Isaacson, designed ski posters. Irv, who lived in Denver, built the first ski lodge at Winter Park, Colo., was a great lover and champion of the sport, and created ski art and souvenirs. Until then, skiers mainly collected patches and pins of ski areas like Aspen and Stowe. Irv was one of the first to take these souvenirs further, turning out high-quality mugs, shot glasses, brandy snifters, champagne flutes, ashtrays and beer mugs bearing resort names and logos – the sort of branded keepsakes that are ubiquitous today.
The posters he designed were satirical, poking fun at the sport's elitism and cultural stereotypes. Nothing about them was politically correct by today's standards. "Ski Vale," for example, caricatured a snobby woman skiing in a maroon turtleneck sweater and weighed down by her precious jewels, with Vail's famous back bowls signposted behind her (but renamed "Toilet Bowl," "Dust Bowl," "Borscht Bowl," etc.).
Two of the posters he made were of Russia. "Ski (Free In) Siberia," in which a skier wearing prison stripes uses a hammer and sickle as poles, alluded to popular American associations of Siberia during that Cold War era: bitter cold and full of gulags. "Ski Vladivostok" depicted a babushka shushing down the slope on an upside-down trash can lid, gripping a mop in one hand and a broom in the other.
Irv Isaacson died in 1978. He was never acknowledged for the mark he made on the ski industry; the posters have never been published before now. They make me wonder: What would a "Ski Russia" poster by Grandpa Irv look like today, as the popular image of Russian ski culture turns to a picture of Olympians racing down perfectly manicured slopes that boast the latest chairlift technology? I'd have to think that his poster would contain an image of the Russian president Vladimir Putin, skiing bare-chested. But we'll never know. I dedicate this story to Irv.
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