The “Park City Follies” is wrapping up its 25th season this week.  Twenty-five years is a significant chunk of time. That long ago, you could have stood at the top of Stein’s Way and looked out over the Jordanelle Reservoir. There might have been two or three isolated buildings in the whol e area. Deer Crest was there on the west side, but the east side was potgut habitat.  Whole towns have erupted along the lake since then. Parts of Hideout have been there long enough that trees planted when the houses were new are big enough to be blocking the view of the lake.  The “Follies” show has chronicled all of that along the way. There were significant events like Wall Street taking over local skiing. And there were the ongoing themes like Park City’s inability to move forward with redevelopment of Bonanza Park property (15 years and still counting), traffic, water, transit, schools, real estate and the overwhelming nature of it all.  I’ve been at ground zero for all 25 shows. It was always a very collaborative effort. I can’t take credit for a lot of it, and it would have died a long time ago without the other people involved. The first year ran one night and drew a modest crowd. We advertised it as the “fifth annual Park City Follies.” A surprising number of audience members claimed to have seen the first three, but “missed last year.”  The show was on par with a junior high school assembly. It was saved by a Deer Valley lifty who had serious theater ambitions. The cast decided to pop over to the Alamo during intermission and most didn’t come back for the second act. That was probably the right decision. The idea for the show originated with Meeche White and Bill Malone at the Chamber.  They were bothered by the ski season ending without any celebration at all. So they had big plans. There were furniture ski races and dog look-alike contests. We tried to pull in pond-skimming. Several non-profits got involved, but most of the activities required a lot of help from the ski areas. By closing day, they had senior management running lifts. They weren’t looking for any additional complications, and the side events didn’t survive. The second year, the Olympics had ended a month before, providing a lot to draw on.    We did two shows with better ticket sales. But it was still pretty modest.  In those early days, the Egyptian tolerated it, but the amateur show didn’t really fit their model. It cost money to put it on, and they didn’t have any spare cash. Six or seven years in, the show found its footing and sold out a couple of weekends.  All these years later, it’s become a big part of their budget, selling out 13 shows with minimal production expense. It could probably sell out another weekend, but the volunteer cast have lives and jobs and are ready to collapse by the end of the run.  Nobody could survive another week. It’s been great to be part of that from the beginning, watching it grow along with the Egyptian. The change in technology has been astounding. The group of amazingly creative and talented people who make it happen love doing it. The cast schedule work and family vacations around it, so they are available for six weeks of very intense effort. People bring different abilities and perspectives to it, and by closing night, we’ve almost got it figured out. And then it all vaporizes. It was never meant to matter. It was Clown Day on stage. But somehow, it’s tapped into the current of local zen. If you aren’t a local, that undefinable term that we all know when we see it, you generally won’t get it. Newcomers seem to learn local history from the show — which is an unreliable source, by the way. Long timers grab on to references from the deep past.   People are constantly bouncing ideas off me to incorporate into the next show. The absurdity of this place provides a mountain of material. Tom Clyde, donning his Depression-era costume, gives his opening monologue during a past “Park City Follies” production. Clyde, one of the production’s original creative team members, says it’s time to take his final bow after 25 years. Credit: Photo courtesy of Tom Clyde The best show was probably the year of the Vailien invasion, when the ParkWest curse came back to life and space Vailiens took over the town. There was an epic battle (pun intended) that left everybody dead on the stage at the end. We struggled over how to get them back to life and finish the show.  Deer Valley had never been mentioned. At the last minute, we decided that Deer Valley, the last man standing, should close it out. The last line of the show was me, in Bob Wheaton’s Deer Valley uniform, walking on stage and saying, “Well, then, who’d like a nice bowl of turkey chili?” My personal favorite was the year when a local resident was overwhelmed by everything and just wanted a quiet weekend at home. The city required him to get a conditional use permit to do nothing.  After 25 years, my “Follies” pension has fully vested, and it’s time to turn it over to others. It needs to keep going, and there is a capable team ready for the handoff.  It’s been a fascinating and wild ride, and has been a lot of fun. Thanks for your support.  And thanks to the wonderful people who have been involved in the show for many years. It’s been a great joy. Tom Clyde practiced law in Park City for many years. He lives on a working ranch in Woodland and has been writing this column since 1986. The post More Dogs on Main: My ‘Follies’ pension has vested appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less