Taking a cue from the No Spin Zone, several ski areas are touting a No Franchise Zone. In the Mad River Valley, Vt., the website of the Sugarbush Chamber of Commerce says that "there are no traffic lights, chain hotels, fast food restaurants or factory outlets here." Not far away, Mount Snow, which celebrated its 50th anniversary last season, chimes in with, "You will not find chain fast-food outlets or mini-malls here. Most businesses in the Mount Snow Valley are family owned and operated, which explains the friendly, down-home atmosphere." Are franchise retail outlets really so despised that areas can market against them?

Throughout the mountain regions of Vermont, a state that jealously guards its independence from all things mass-produced, the welcome mat is not exactly out for Starbucks, the Golden Arches or Wal-Mart. Some rural communities view such corporate titans as inconsistent with New England's reputation for quaint hamlets, mom-and-pop knick-knack stores and bowls of homemade chowder.

But Vermont ski areas aren't the only ones that want to keep out what they see as the riffraff of retailing. Telluride asserts on its website that its shops are oriented to "the sophisticated world traveler," with "no chains, fast food outlets or strip malls." And in Banff, Canada, one Internet article points out that "aside from a McDonald's and a Subway, the town is free from franchised chains."

As ski areas embark on building new base villages or revitalizing old ones, the issue of whether or not to admit national brands looms large in how they will be perceived by travelers.

On one hand, retail managers look at the convenience of seeding new shopping areas with franchises that have instant consumer loyalty, which in turn stimulates investor confidence and attracts more businesses. Starbucks alone has become such a powerhouse that it is now considered an anchor tenant in many commercial projects, and the Seattle-based company clearly knows the value of its brand.

But resorts have to deal with an increasing public hostility toward big box stores-embodied in the coast-to-coast Wal-Mart rebellion-and the growing health concerns that are causing former fast-food junkies to shake their habits. Lately, market analysts have charted the downward fortunes of companies that range from Krispy Kreme Donuts to KFC. The infusion of salads and low-carb pizzas notwithstanding, there is little question that the fast-food industry is facing the biggest challenge of its existence.

Love/Hate Relationship

And ski resorts are not immune to the public's love/hate

relationship with these industries. In fact, while several Vermont areas are doing everything they can to distance themselves from fast-food purveyors, a number of California areas compete fiercely with each other to strike promotional deals with Taco Bell and McDonald's, and to sell lift tickets through major supermarket chains. Apparently, the idea of leveraging these outlets to generate business from the cities and suburbs is not seen as inconsistent with promoting a physically healthy sport in a franchise-free zone-just good marketing. And it's hard to deny the critical mass of customers who are brand-conscious.

That magic occasionally migrates to the mountains. At South Lake Tahoe in California, the new Heavenly Village is full of familiar names: Quiznos Subs, Cold Stone Creamery, Wolf Gang Puck Express and Nestle Toll House Cafe. Heavenly Village is within walking distance of a mountain gondola and 5,000 hotel and motel rooms, and is situated on busy Highway 50.

Rather than shunning national chains for locally-owned and -operated restaurants, skiers and other visitors have made them hugely successful. "There are times when our Quiznos and Cold Stone Creamery outlets are among the top-10 performers in the country within their respective franchises," says Village general manager Gary Casteel. "And our Nestle Toll House Café (which sells cookies, brownies and other baked goodies) has been ranked number one in a chain of 60 stores."

About one-fourth of the 40-plus tenants at Heavenly Village consist of national brands, from Wyland Galleries to Patagonia, he says. Most are owned and managed by local residents-entrepreneurs who have a hands-on approach to their businesses and deep ties to the community. The Patagonia store is operated by Heavenly ski area, which also runs Heavenly Sports and The Boarding House (for snowboarders). The rest of the Village, which is sandwiched between two Marriott interval ownership hotels, houses locally-owned boutique shops and food services.

In the highly competitive field of beverages, the coffee wars are indicative of the retail tug-of-war that is raging in mountain communities. It is Starbucks versus the world-the known vs. the unknown.

In fact, Starbucks is as ubiquitous in the high country as it is in the cities. In the new villages of Squaw Valley and Mammoth Mountain in California, Intrawest cut a deal with the coffee company to open outlets at each resort, but it obtained a key concession for such access-that Intrawest Food & Beverage would run them. Interestingly enough, Intrawest's Mt. Tremblant is a franchise-free zone, with no Starbucks in sight-or any other American fast-food purveyor, for that matter.

So, can ski areas digest the trappings of city retailing without getting heartburn?

The Case for Novelty

In the view of Terry Minger, a veteran resort executive and consultant from Boulder, Colo., who has done stints at Vail, Whistler and Sundance, "The homogenous trend among mountain places ultimately results in a blandness and eventually rejection. There may be some short-term benefits, but in the long run I'm not convinced that this is what destination visitors want. Imagine what it would be like in Vail Village without Gorsuch or Pepi's. These businesses add character and authenticity, and sophisticated travelers really hunger for those qualities."

When Minger was president of Sundance, he and owner Robert Redford came up the idea of creating a Sundance catalog-largely in response to visitors who saw Native American blankets with the Sundance logo in the area's small general store and wanted to buy them. That was 15 years ago, and the catalog has grown exponentially since then, becoming a highly successful enterprise, along with the Sundance Film Festival and the Sundance Institute-all prime examples of creativity and authenticity.

Creating balance and a unique retail environment cannot be left to developers alone, he adds. "You have to have conscious local government policies, whether through zoning or other regulations, to protect the integrity of these places. Our mountain resorts and towns are too special and unique to let them become formulaic," Minger says.

At Sugarbush, Vt., the community has made it clear that it won't tolerate chains. Such was the case with American Skiing Company's Grand Summit Hotel proposal, which, says David Dion, a board member of the Valley Economic Development Association, local skeptics dubbed the "Howard Johnson's of Skiing." It never got built. "There is a reasonably strong ethic to buy local, and there is the perception that this helps your neighbor," he says. "That is why franchises and large corporations have a difficult time getting a foothold here."

The Case for Co-Existence

Can local businesspeople compete against corporate juggernauts? Yes, says Sandy Black, a former Intrawest vice-president of retail and rental operations for North America. Black, who left the company a few years ago, now competes with his ex-employer by running a string of seven ski and snowboard rental shops, all under the name of Affinity Sports, in key Whistler Village hotels.

The challenge for retail planners, says Black, is to find businesses that will succeed. "Out of the gate, most resorts want local flair and personality, and so they bring in the mom-and-pop operations, which are what guests want to see. But many of these retailers don't have the deep pockets to get through the ups and downs of the first five years. So when they fail and create vacancies, the tendency is to replace them with national companies that want their brands in that particular market. For example, in Whistler Village we've had Eddie Bauer and Guess stores for about five years, and they've been a nice addition to the retail mix."

But problems occur, Black says, if the nationals are category killers. One recent proposal at Whistler, he says, involves the addition of London Drugs, a western Canadian chain that could take over three retail spaces. "It would compete with other people who are in electronics, hardware and small gifts," he notes.

Black believes that retail communities at mountain resorts often fail for a lack of analysis. "If the scale of a commercial operation doesn't match the visitation, it isn't going to work," he says. "So master planning to the commercial space is vital. Right now retailers have to operate between $500 and $700 per square foot to be successful. This means that a center with 50,000 square feet of commercial space will need to do $25 million a year in business, and it had better figure out how and when it can generate that kind of return. But too often people don't do the math," he says.

He outlines five ingredients for success. "First, you need to be within a two-hour drive of a regional market. Second, you need adequate parking. Third, you need to be in a climate that works year-round. Fourth, you need to have the right scale for the demographics of the market. And, finally, you need the right amount of visibility."

Michael Jay Ferensowicz, who is director of village development for the new Tamarack Resort in Idaho, says that even the best-laid plans can go awry. "Forming a retail center is all about making dreams come true and about finding hands-on operators," he notes. "And a franchise can be successful if the franchisee is a local or someone who is making a lifestyle change and is willing to commit. But no one has a crystal ball to foresee what will work in every location." Sometimes, he adds, "for a business to succeed in at a resort area, it's a matter of divine intervention."