Jan Wilking
Art: Darren Gygi
The right place. The right time. Jan Wilking has a knack for stumbling into golden opportunity and, to his credit, making the most of it. The longtime local and former publisher of Park City Magazine has tried out so many business ventures that he can hardly recall them all. Nor can he count on both hands all of the non-profit boards and committees he’s graced over the past 36 years. Not one to sit on the sidelines, Wilking has actively participated in Park City’s evolution from near-ghost-town to booming resort.
When I first moved here, half of Main Street was boarded up — there were just vacant buildings,” recalls Wilking, who was teaching sociology at the University of Utah when he settled in Park City in 1970. After visiting one of the only two real estate offices in town, he moved into a fully furnished house on Marsac Avenue for $100 per month. Shortly thereafter, he bought his own rental property, which proved to be the first of many profitable real estate investments. “[At that time] people had just written off Park City,” he says. “I could sense that it was going to come back to life and be a resort community.”
Despite his vision, Wilking had not initially pursued a land baron’s path. Rather, he’d started off earning a degree in architecture from Montana State University. Upon graduation in 1968, assuming he’d be shipped off to Vietnam, he enlisted in Officer Candidate School, but never made it past the physical exam. Excused from combat (due to psoriasis), Wilking was left without an immediate career plan. He became a post-graduate student under architectural visionary Paolo Soleri, studying among artists and “broad thinkers” near Scottsdale, Arizona.
“It was the wildest selection of people I have ever lived with,” he says. A Berkeley student there introduced Wilking to a University of Kentucky professor who was attempting to create affordable housing for third world countries. Wilking soon found himself assisting with building the project prototype on a Napa vineyard.
After his share of wine and architectural altruism, Wilking headed for his hometown of Casper, Wyoming, stopping in Salt Lake City to visit his dad’s business associate. The route proved fortuitous. His father’s connection soon landed him a spot on a Defense Department grant staff studying the interface between computer science and the design professions. A year later, Wilking earned a National Institute of Health grant involving architectural psychology. He then began graduate work and teaching in sociology, but eventually Wilking grew weary of student life and realized that he really didn’t want to be a sociologist.
Putting an end to his I-80 commute, Wilking signed on as an employee of Edgar Stern’s Royal Street Land Development Corporation. When mid-1970s inflation clashed with development, however, Wilking headed for the hills, becoming a ski instructor at then-Park City Ski Resort. “That was something I’d always wanted to do professionally,” he says, noting that longtime locals Marianne Cone and Harry Reed were among his slopeside co-workers.
In the meantime, Wilking had also ventured into Park City politics, earning himself a 1972 city council seat. “I had a lot of fear about what would happen to Park City because although [the politicians at the time] were good people, they just weren’t prepared for change. I felt there was really a need for better zoning and good development ordinances,” he explains.
“Jan was one of the pioneers in terms of planning for the new Park City,” says Steve Dering, who first met Wilking when he was covering council meetings for the Coalition Newspaper. Dering, who later joined Wilking in politics, publishing and real estate endeavors, credits his often-times business partner with significant down-zoning of the town. “I don’t think too many people know that Jan was instrumental in re-master planning the city,” Dering says.
Though passionate about setting his adopted home on a path to resort greatness, Wilking also discovered an interest in publishing. “I can’t write. I can’t edit. I can’t spell,” laughs Wilking. Where he excels, however, is the business side, and relying on coworkers to handle the words and images.
\In 1975, he teamed up with Dering, Greg Schirf and Hank Louis by purchasing The Newspaper. “We had the best time of our lives,” Wilking recalls, chuckling at the fact that both he and Dering served on the city council while their newspaper covered town politics. “You could get away with so much back then,” he says. Their company, Ink, Inc., kept afloat by bartering when the deathly slow 1975/1976 ski season decimated their advertisers. “The only thing we couldn’t trade for was groceries,” he says.
Lack of cash flow, however, took its toll on Ink, Inc. Wilking and Dering traded real estate on Main Street for their partners’ stakes in the paper and despite the financial setback, launched Lodestar (now Park City Magazine) in 1976. Wilking became the sole publisher in 1979, when Dering accepted a job as the first marketing director for Deer Valley Resort and The Newspaper merged with The Park Record, leaving Wilking at the helm.
As he delved deeper into publishing, Wilking also dove into real estate. “I’d always been interested in real estate,” he recalls. “I didn’t want to invest in the stock market. I wanted to invest in something tangible.” Lots in Old Town were selling for $3,000 at the time [in the ’70s]. “Now they’re selling for over $150,000!” he says. He also began buying land in Moab in the late ’80s and by 2003, in Tucson, Arizona, where he continues to dabble in the property market today.
A self-proclaimed “big picture” person, Wilking, along with various partners, has started up more than a dozen businesses — from restaurants to property management companies. “I always enjoy starting new things. Once things start running well, I like to turn the day-to-day operations over to others,” he says. After 29 years getting Park City Magazine “running well,” Wilking sold the publication last year. Existing staff still produces the magazine, and Wilking serves as a knowledgeable consultant.
In terms of his community service, however, Wilking’s tenacity has been constant. “My parents really set an example for me in terms of community involvement,” he explains. Though he’s sat on a variety of boards, he is most proud of his contributions to Mountain Trails Foundation, which he helped form when mountain bikers and resorts quarreled in the early 1990s; COSAC and BOSAC (organizations committed to preserving open space); his work on the restaurant tax committee (directing funds to everything from trails to the ice rink); and serving as president of the Park City Chamber/Bureau — twice. Wilking has been president of Park City Rotary (of which he was a founding member), chairman of Snyderville Water Reclamation District and board member for the International Mountain Bicycling Association.
Although golf has recently edged out mountain biking as a favorite sport, he’s balancing a return to the trails with leisure time on the links. Since moving from management to investment in his businesses, Wilking is finding more time to play and explore. “I always enjoy gaining new experiences. Now I have more time to do that,” he says. Among his planned adventures are a bike trip to Cambodia and Vietnam and attempting to play all of the top 100 courses rated by Golf Digest and Golf magazines.
Good fortune, he admits, is just a piece of the “Jan-trepreneurial” (as one friend dubbed his business savvy) recipe for success. Throughout his various endeavors, Wilking has doggedly pursued his goals and always incorporated “good people,” some of whom have served as business partners through three decades and two marriages.
These days, Wilking resides in Park Meadows with longtime spouse, Teri Thomas; poodle, Giacomo; and when she’s not in Colorado, 20-year-old daughter, Katie. Though his frequent travels may take him around the world, according to Wilking, “Park City will always be my home.”
Like Jan, writer Jane Gendron landed in this mountain haven thanks to lady luck. She owes many a glorious snowshoe and hike to resort-savvy longtime locals who fought for trails and open space years ago.
Your comments may be edited for brevity and foul language.