"The race originated by chance," recalled the late Norm Simmons. Simmons was a Palisades Tahoe ski patrolman and groomer who moved to Palisades Tahoe in 1966 after a short stint with the Houston Oilers of the old American Football League. Simmons won the Chinese Downhill four times; he perfected the "ski-to-die" technique" before it became a marketing tool and economic boost to the modern ski industry.

Simmons: "In 1969, two patrolmen from Whistler, British Columbia were visiting Squaw on an exchange. They were pretty wild dudes. One afternoon, after sweep, we were drinking in The Pub, then the most popular hangout at the resort.

"St. Patrick's was only a few days away and these Canadians explained how every St. Patty's at Whistler they organized an 'Irish Downhill.' It was a race from the top of the mountain to the bottom, with no gates or course...and a mass start."


That St. Patrick's, Simmons and his friends staged their version of the Irish Downhill. They set the start at the top of Gold Coast and the finish inside The Pub. The first skier to the bar had to throw back a shooter of tequila to be declared the winner.

"We kind of forgot to tell Ski Corp," remembers Liam Fitzgerald, a member of the Palisades Tahoe patrol. "But Wally Ballenger, head of the patrol, got wind of it. He allowed us to have it, but we had to rope off some sort of course and race only after the lifts closed at the end of the day and after everyone was off the mountain."

Anybody could enter the race, from season-pass holders to Far West alpine racers to velocity cultists.

"The only person who wasn't allowed in the race was Steve McKinney," says Dickie "Donuts" Nielsen. Nielsen, a one-time US National ski team downhiller, grew up in Palisades Tahoe. "Steve McKinney was on the US downhill team, but moreover he was just fearless and unbelievably fast on his skis. He would have aced everybody." McKinney, older brother of Tamara, would go on to be the first person to break terminal velocity on skis. He later became a reigning five-time World Speed Ski Champion.

"You have to remember that there really weren't any boundaries back then at Palisades Tahoe," admitted Simmons who became the first skier to cleanly ski the Eagle's Nest off KT-22. "The atmosphere at Squaw contained a penchant for risk. It was matter of fact."

Simmons: "As a result, we had a lot of top skiers and climbers hanging out. There were people like Bev Johnson, one of the first really good women climbers; Chris Jones, Dick Dorworth, Rick Sylvester, Eric Beck, Jim Bridwell, and Kim Schmitz. There were so many free spirits and they were experimenting with everything, no matter on or off slope. The Chinese Downhill fell right in with pushing the envelope."

The First Chinese Downhill
The first year only 19 racers entered. The weather was horrible. "It was a white-out and pretty ugly," remembers Tahoe City contractor Kenny "Voltage" Voltz. "There was no visibility. You just let the skis ride and held on."

There was also no grooming in 1969. Simmons won, mostly because he kept his tuck through Mambo Meadows, on down past Mogul Hill, and past the area where today's Headwall bottom terminal rests. Everyone else stood up at one point and slowed down to ride the entire chop on Mogul Hill.



Next Four Years
The following four years the start was moved to the ridgeline of Siberia Bowl and the finish was at the Beer Garden in the bottom floor of the Olympic House. The race featured a vertical drop of over 2,850 feet and a distance close to three miles. Skiers popped out of their bindings in front of the gondola and sprinted down the alleyway past Le Chamois into the Olympic House. The winning prize became a bottle of commemorative Tequila.

The race was extremely popular; large crowds gathered to watch the pileups along Mogul Hill and at Tower 20.

The number of racers increased year-to-year to the point that there was a hysterical mob jockeying for position on the Siberian ridgeline. Paul Sullivan, Olympian Marco Sullivan's dad, competed several times. So too did his Truckee high school classmate, Mike Marvin. Marvin would go on to immortalize the Chinese Downhill in his 1982 feature-length motion picture, "Hot Dog."

Few contestants wore helmets. All were strapped into 225 downhill race boards. One year, Nielsen, a two-time Junior National Downhill champion, was tripped from behind and knocked over just as he was separating from the pack. Cheating was allowed.

"It was crazy," explains Paul Buschman, a Truckee contractor and father of five. Buschman was a 15-year-old Far West competitor the season he won the Chinese Downhill.

"I was kind of mystified by all these wild, long-haired guys," he says. "I was lucky, too. Norm (Simmons) was vacationing in Mexico that year. I knew getting out in front was key. The course was basically today's Mountain Run, but right at Tower 20 you could hit the Waterfall, a steep little section where you could shoot down underneath the old Headwall station through the trees to
Mogul Hill.

"I was so young they wouldn't give me the tequila. My mom shared it with everybody."

Simmons won the other years the event took place. "The first year he tackled me from behind in the alley and walked over me into The Pub to win," laughs Ken Voltz.

Tragedy
In 1974, the event's final year, sixty-one competitors raced. Tragically, during the race, competitor Dennis Finn went out of control and struck a spectator who had been warned repeatedly to abandon the location where he was standing. The collision killed the spectator.

"It was a real tragedy," explained Simmons. "It wasn't completely Finn's fault. It obviously tarnished an otherwise fun event which up to that point had been very good natured and without injury."

"You'll never see the likes of it again," says Jim Mott, a patrol leader at Squaw and Ski Corp's former President in the 1980s. "At the time litigation wasn't our biggest concern. They might hold skier-cross and boarder-cross today, but those competitions don't come close to the all-out, wildness of the Chinese Downhill. It's left to history, although it would interesting to get McConkey, Rahlves, Marco, and a few others out there for a go.

"Squaw contains a steep and fast mountain," adds Mott. "Years afterwards, I remember from time to time how our patrol would catch someone tucking Mogul Hill or the Mountain Run. After collaring them it wasn't unusual to hear the patrolman ask them, 'What do you think this is, buddy, the Chinese Downhill?'"