Time and Tide

Memorial Day, 1893 and there's a buzz around the south shore of the Great Salt Lake. Imagine the thousands of Victorians, buttoned to their chins and sweating in the Utah summer swelter while they wait through speeches and ceremonial technicalities. Investors and LDS officials gather under the grand arch that marks the entrance to the great hotel and, though you can't see it, the ribbon is cut. A cheer goes up and the Coney Island of the West, the Great Saltair Pavilion has opened its doors.

The building is an architectural wonder - boardwalks and pavilions cantilevered out over the briny waters of the Great Salt Lake. The undertaking required the support of Mormon Church, the Las Angeles Railway Company, as well as numerous rich investors from Salt Lake City and the result of their investment was a marvelous gem sparkling on the shore of the Salt Lake. Workers drove over 2000 pylons into the salty mud and upon these pillars rose a house of music, amusement, and relaxation.

Thousands flocked to Salt Lake to see the Saltair to enjoy the novelty of the 25% salt water that lapped its beaches as well as a lineup of top-rated talent manning its bandstand. Summer nights brought ragtime serenades and the days brought soaks in the salt water and hotdogs on the boardwalk. The LDS church intended to be 'wholesome' and 'family oriented' however the Saltair soon ran afoul of its Mormon backers for selling coffee and tea and the establishment's being open on Sundays, all of which violated church doctrine. Regardless, the hotel and pavilion remained a success as America sought fun and music in the early twentieth century.

In its heyday, the Saltair advertized itself as having the biggest dance floor in the world. The vast wooden oval that accommodated hundreds of dancing couples would look like a football field to modern eyes. Overhead a forest of timbers supported the arabesque dome and wallflowers could enjoy a panoramic view of thousands of bathers enjoying the water which contained about twenty-five percent salt in solution. The salinity of the Great Salt Lake prompted the claims of 'You Can't Sink if you Try' that were painted on the Saltair's buoys, it probably was a great thrill for well-healed easterners to try that claim. After a day's swimming and strolling the boardwalk, guests would change into their dinner-wear to dine in the hotel's restaurant before spending the evening on the dance floor or taking a starlight stroll on the boardwalk. America's amusement park craze was underway and the Saltair stood at its forefront.

In 1925 a fire broke out in Ali Baba's Cave and, fanned by a stiff wind, quickly spread to other buildings in the hotel complex. The flames burned into the night, doing a half-million dollars of damage before being extinguished. An infusion of money from Mormon investors revived the Saltair , bringing it back 'bigger and better than before' but the '25 fire marked the beginning of the end for the Coney Island of the West. The world had changed in the thirty years that the Saltair had been in existence. Movies and radio dominated the American entertainment landscape and the population of the Tooele Valley (where the hotel was located) dwindled. Fewer people made the trek to the shores of the Great Salt Lake, choosing to spend their time and money on more convenient or more modern entertainments.

The Saltair struggled along until 1931 when an arsonist set it ablaze, doing $100,000 worth of damage. As if in collusion with the arsonist, that same year the waters of the Great Salt Lake receded, literally leaving its boardwalks and bathing beaches high and dry. The hotel's owners responded by constructing a railway line to ferry bathers from the hotel to the shores of the Salt Lake but even this measure couldn't forestall the tide of change brought the coming decade would unleash.

In 1941 the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and the US entered World War II. The draft took the men and boys who'd once worked at the Saltair and rationing curtailed the vital supplies needed to run a grand hotel. At the opening of WWII, the Saltair closed its grand doors for the last time. The hotel wouldn't reopen for forty years. During this time the hotel played host to a few special events including the 1962 cult film "Carnival of Souls" but having a hotel selected as the set for a horror film does not speak to the marvels of its preservation. The pavilions and grand halls had fallen into neglect and disuse and the once great Saltair had become a ghost of its former self.

In 1981 the growing population of the Tooele Valley and the proximity of Interstate 80 brought new interest to the aged Saltair. A new group of investors began construction on what would be called "Saltair III", bringing in parts of what had been an aircraft hangar for the construction process. Nature wasn't quite ready for a simulacrum of what she'd claimed and the new construction was promptly flooded by the waters of the Great Salt Lake which had receded from the site of the original hotel over forty years prior. Construction continued after the setback and today Saltair III is open and hosting events and concerts but it is a sad husk of the hotel whose name it bears. Perhaps it’s the old adage about silk purses and sows ears being paraphrased - maybe you can't make a grand attraction from an abandoned aircraft hangar. Whatever the case, I'm planning on making the trip to the site of Saltair I during one of my Utah trips. I plan to stand by the remnants of the boardwalk pilings.

When I'm there I'll cup a hand to one ear and listen for strands of Joplin and Goodman on the salty breeze and I'll look for spectral couples in tuxedo and evening dress, heading for the dancehall hand-in-hand. I'll smile and I'll think, time and tide wait for no one.