THE FELLOWSHIP
A SUNDAY AFTERNOON in late winter isn't typically the most festive time of year, but try telling that to the hundreds of folks slipping around the California-side base of Heavenly Mountain in Lake Tahoe this past February. They hugged and they hollered and—in the case of a dozen or so women in matching white and pink getups that said "Sugar & Spice"—they did the Wobble while an aerial tram glided overhead, its passengers staring out the window at the party below.
The occasion was the opening ceremony for the National Brotherhood of Skiers' annual week-long meeting, which drew some 1,500 people this year to the slot-machines-and-lake-views destination of Heavenly. As the largest assemblage of black skiers and snowboarders across the United States, the NBS has been getting together annually, for both business and pleasure, since its first trip to Aspen in 1973. It's an occasion that combines the joy of a bunch of pals arriving at camp; the focus of a workplace retreat; and the unconditional, exasperated love of a family reunion. There are theme parties, board meetings, slopeside picnics, fundraisers, enthusiastic greetings—oh, and a few runs down the mountain, if there's time.
Most of them sported proud flair: sorority sweatshirts; Kappa Alpha Psi hats; clothing emblazoned with the logos and names of the nearly 60 predominantly black ski clubs scattered around the country. The South Floridians wore turquoise parkas that said "Sunshine Slopers." Chicagoans modeled red jackets with a friendly cartoon "Sno-Gopher" on the back. (No one had to ask the people draped in Mardi Gras beads where they'd flown in from.) Diana Starks, the outgoing president of the NBS, stood on an elevated platform raising the roof in a floor-length black fur coat. A DJ played "California Love" and heckled some poor soul who, skiing nearby, had caught an edge in the late-day slush.
It took two gentlemen in their very late 70s to get everyone to pipe down. Art Clay and Ben Finley, who founded the NBS 43 years ago and have held court at events like this ever since, love to talk. And everyone knows to listen.
"We all dream," said Clay, up on the scaffolding near Starks. He wore two of his specialties: a derby hat and a novelty sweatshirt disguised as a red plaid sport coat with a green bow tie. "Thanks to all of you," he concluded, "I have lived my dream."
Clay stepped back. Finley looked stricken. "That's
