Return to Glory
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Joseph Stickney, it turns out, knew a good piece of real estate when he saw one. The Pennsylvania coal and rail magnate, who returned to his native New Hampshire after making his fortune, purchased 10,000 acres smack in the middle of New Hampshire's White Mountains. Then he set out, with the help of noted architect Charles Alling Gifford, to build his dream--a Spanish Renaissance-style hotel, sparkling white, vast and turreted, dolloped with trimming, topped with roofs red as roses.

Numbers alone tell some of the story of his remarkable undertaking: 900 kegs of nails, 52,000 square feet of roofing tin, 10 miles of plumbing pipe, 20.7 miles of electrical conduit, 200,000 square feet of wooden flooring, and two million board feet of lumber. If all the materials used to build the hotel had been transported in one train, it would have required 450 cars. Stickney also brought in 250 Italian master craftsmen and installed state-of-the-art electricity and running water. Work began in June of 1901. Incredibly, just over a year later, on July 28, 1902, the hotel opened to the public. "Look at me, gentlemen," Stickney is said to have proclaimed, "for I am the poor fool who built all this."

From the beginning, the hotel drew an elite clientele, people who usually arrived with an entourage of servants and stayed the entire summer. Guests paid $20 a night, more than four times the going rate for most other hotels. The main dining room was designed with these socialites in mind: its octagonal shape ensured that no one would feel slighted by being seated in a corner. The names of many of the hotel's famous visitors can be found on small brass plaques attached to guestroom doors: Babe Ruth, Vladimir Horowitz, Thomas Edison, Carl Sandburg, Joan Crawford and Princess Margaret, among others.

The hotel's greatest claim to fame came at the end of World War II. On July 1, 1944, more than 700 delegates and attendees representing 44 countries--the most respected thinkers in the global financial community--arrived in Bretton Woods. Twenty-two days later, the foundation was laid for the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

In the years following the war, the hotel survived a slew of out-of-state owners, some more successful than others. Gradually, though, Stickney's spectacular creation lost its luster. During the late 1980s, loyal employees and longtime guests hung on bravely for what seemed certain to be the final chapter in the story of the Mount Washington. Finally, on August 15, 1991, the failing hotel was put up for auction by the FDIC. To everyone's astonishment, the $3.15-million winning bid came from a group of North Country locals.

"I think everyone was skeptical when they bought it," says Cindy Foster, director of sales at the hotel. Foster, who was working in Maine at the time, recalls the buzz in the tourism industry when word got out about the purchase. "People thought they were crazy. They took a huge financial and emotional risk."

For Joel and Cathy Corey Bedor '74, who share a passion for old houses, the motivation was simple. "We didn't want to see it torn down," says Joel, president of the Mount Washington Hotel Preservation Partnership. Driven by this single-minded vision, the Bedors joined forces with four others: Joel Presby, Bob Clements, and John and Jere Eames. Pooling their resources, the partners went to work on the banks. "None of us are extremely wealthy people," says Joel. "We were investing most of our available funds in this project."

Despite plenty of well-meaning advice to abandon the whole undertaking, the partnership persisted, securing the financing needed to close the deal. Suddenly, Joel and Cathy were the proud owners of a National Historic Landmark--the biggest old house in New England. For these high school sweethearts, who grew up in nearby Littleton, purchasing the hotel was more than a business undertaking. It was an emotional commitment to the region.

"It's been in my backyard all my life, but we never drove up here when we were kids," says Cathy, who remembers a time when the hotel driveway was gated and you had to pay to come in. "Locals didn't feel welcome. We want to say to everyone, 'Please come into my home.' It's grand and glorious--and now people can come see it." Many also work here. In summer, the hotel employs about 500 people; in winter, when the adjoining ski areas are open, that number nearly doubles.