MASTERS
Remembering Wescott at memorial service at Copper.
Wescott and Franz Fuchsberger meet some new friends.
SCHNEEHEXEPHOTOGRAPHY; DEBI DAVIS
stood up and then fell over. He skidded gently
to a stop, and it was soon discovered that he
had succumbed to a heart attack. “Dad died do-
ing what he truly loved and lived for,” said his
daughter, Wendy.
Growing up in Laconia, N.H., Wescott was a
proficient alpine skier, but this area was also
a hotbed of nordic skiing, which appealed to
Wescott’s competitive side. He attended Kimball
Union Academy in Meriden, N.H., and then went
on to St. Lawrence University in Canton, N.Y.,
where he excelled in cross country and jump-
ing.
Wescott continued to ski alpine after college,
and as if running his own pre-stressed concrete
company in Laconia and Auburn, Maine, wasn’t
enough, he decided to try his hand at alpine ski
racing. It didn’t take long for Wescott to start
earning regional and national honors, which kept
accumulating up to the time of his death.
Crotched Mountain was the perfect place for
the New England Masters to have remembered
Wescott on Feb. 25. It was where Wescott won
his first overall masters race, and where his son
and daughter-in-law, Will and Kate, and grand-
son, Ben, now reside. Will, a competitive mas-
ters racer a few years back, and Ben, a current
top-level high school four-event skier, foreran
the giant slalom race. The times of forerunners
are never revealed, but the announcer did hap-
pen to let slip that youth did prevail in that father-
son match-up.
At the awards ceremony after the race, friend
and veteran racer Bob McGrath told tales of
Wescott — his idiosyncrasies, his love of the la-
dies, his vitality, and the relationships he built with
his fellow racers. Will Wescott then expressed
his gratitude to the masters racing community.
“You were the core of my father’s friends,” he
said. “Nothing was more satisfying for him than
to spend time with all of you, doing what he loved
to do.”
But one question still lingered. How did such
a warm and generous person pick up the nick-
name Horrible Harold? Longtime masters racer
Duffy Dodge provided the answer. “We were at
a Nationals somewhere out in California,” said
Dodge to the crowd. “At the awards ceremony,
a pretty young gal was giving out the medals.
When Harold went up to get his award, he bent
over so the gal could put the ribbon over his
neck, and, well, he reached down and grabbed
her, throwing her onto his shoulder, and ran out
the door with her. The place was shocked and
silent. I then told them, ‘Not to worry, he’ll prob-
ably run out of breath and drop her before he
gets too far.’”
Wescott did return the girl to the awards’ cer-
emony and, in the process, earned himself the
moniker “Horrible Harold” for the remainder of
his life.
The Rocky Mountain Division honored Wescott’s
life at Copper Mountain. There was a super G on
the schedule named after Wescott, but a rag-
ing blizzard caused its cancellation. Challeng-
ing weather would not have been a deterrent for
Wescott; nor was it for those who had gathered
to remember him. “About 50 friends and racers
showed up on the afternoon of this storm,” said
Will. “We all collected at the base lodge, where
we wrote messages to Dad on streamers, which
we tied onto our poles and helmets.” The as-
sembly rode the lift to the top of Rosi’s Run, the
racing and training hill in front of the lodge, and
then proceeded to ski down in formation with the
ribbons flapping in the wind. When they reached
the bottom, the group skied through an arch of
Tibetan prayer flags.
