And the Luries obediently looked, eager to get their first glimpse of the canvas concert hall they were to know so well.
“Cost the music people about ten thousand dollars,” the irrepressible Fran continued.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Mrs. Lurie echoed. “How did they manage to raise such a large sum of money?”
Fran slowed the car, his head turned toward his uneasy passengers behind him. “Well, for one thing, there’s a Mr. Paepcke. He’s the president of a paper container corporation—a millionaire! It was his idea to make Aspen a music center.”
“Yes. I’ve heard of him,” Mr. Lurie replied. “He seems to be quite a person. In fact, I understand that since the Aspen Music Associates—that’s the new name for the Music Festival—” he told his wife, “—since they now can get contributions to cover the deficit, Mr. Paepcke has turned his attention to other projects.”
“That’s right, Mr. Lurie. He’s just crazy about culture! Has paintings and art exhibits, even highbrow lectures!” Fran turned down a side street, stopping the car. “I thought I could show you his latest—but it’s too far out of our way. He’s built a large, plush hotel, just for businessmen when they come here for vacation. He expects them to go to the lectures he’s arranged, highbrow stuff—philosophy and that sort of thing, so they shouldn’t waste their time while on vacation!” Fran shook his head over the strange, inexplicable notions of Mr. Paepcke.
“A very remarkable idea,” Mr. Lurie said thoughtfully. “To be able to use one’s hours of leisure on vacation for the things one never has time for—”
“I bet they’ll still come here just to ski, anyhow, when there’s any snow,” Fran said with a grin.
They were driving through many of the principal streets of Aspen. It was a small town that nestled in a lovely green valley between two great mountains: Aspen and Red, Fran named them. He pointed to some houses high up the mountain, barely visible because of the forests. “Imagine people building big homes up there because the town’s too crowded! The road is so steep only the jeeps can make it. A good car gets used up in no time.”
They continued to drive slowly through the town. Houses of all shapes and styles of architecture were huddled together. Some were old with pointed roofs, gables, and bulging bay windows. Mr. Lurie admired the ones patterned after Swiss chalets, happy reminders of a boyhood vacation in Switzerland. None of the Luries looked with favor on the newer houses, squat, flat-roofed dwellings with large picture windows.