That is, indeed, what Kuolt had done at Thousand Trails, although it had been anything but easy. Now he was at the helm of another young company, Horizon Air -- one that appeared every bit as successful as Thousand Trails. In four years, the airline had grown from three planes shuttling commuters between Seattle, Yakima, and Pasco, Wash., to become the fourth largest of the nation's 200 regional airlines, with more than 30 planes and more than 20 destinations throughout the Northwest. Its prospectus of June 1985 -- for its second public offering -- reported that in fiscal 1984, the company had 847 employees serving some 660,000 passengers, with $48.7 million in revenues and $3.4 million in profits. Horizon was, in short, roughly the same size in revenues and employees as Thousand Trails had been when Kuolt left.
So how, I wondered, was he dealing with "Kuolt's Complex" the second time around? Did he find it easier to face up to his own limitations, having been through the experience once before? Was he already making plans to bring in professional management, without the agonizing soul-searching that had accompanied his decision to leave Thousand Trails? Or had he discovered new strengths in himself -- strengths that allowed him to remain at a company that had soared beyond the start-up phase?
With such questions in mind, I called Kuolt and asked him if I might come out for a visit. "OK," he said. "Can you meet me in Sun Valley?"
"Sure," I replied, "but isn't the airline in Seattle?"
"Yes, but I bought a ski resort here, Elk Horn. We're having a party, black tie. You'll love it."
"Sounds great," I said. "But what happened to the airline?"
"I've still got it," he said. "This is just something extra I got into.Listen, we'll talk about it when you get here."
Elk Horn Resort is located in the heart of Sun Valley, Idaho, within schussing distance of Dollar Mountain and Mount Baldy, two of the most famous ski slopes in the United States. In this case, "resort" is not a euphemism for a roadside motel with an aboveground swimming pool and a miniature golf course. Elk Horn offers 350 rooms and condominiums, 18 tennis courts, two Olympic-size pools, and a 7,100-yard championship golf course. Its roofs and chimney tops are sharply angled to conform to the surrounding mountains and, faced in white stucco, its buildings gleam. Kuolt estimates that he has sunk about $10 million into Elk Horn, which has yet to break even.Currently, it is a separate corporation owned by Kuolt himself, apart from Horizon Air, although the two advertise each other's existence.
The black-tie affair Kuolt had mentioned was billed as the Elk Horn Lodge Second Annual Birthday Party, an intimate affair for about 250 people, where he could thank various politicians and businesspeople for their kind words and support. After dinner, Ruth M. Lieder, the mayor of Sun Valley, stepped to a speaker's rostrum and read a passage from Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol. The passage ended, "And God bless Christmas." Then Lieder, looking to Kuolt seated at the head table before her, said, "And God bless Milt Kuolt for all he's done for Sun Valley." The audience stood up and cheered. Kuolt, sitting there next to his wife, Kathy, was utterly abashed, working his face rapidly to accommodate various expressions of pride, properly toned with humility and heartfelt gratitude.
I think it was at this moment, amid the hurrahs and applause, that I first recognized the connection between Elk Horn, Horizon Air, and Thousand Trails, although I admit I had had some inkling of it before. During the two hours we had spent together before the party, it had become increasingly apparent that Kuolt was feeling the strain of his commitments. To be sure, he was still very much the man I had met five years ago, but the tone and focus of his considerable personality had shifted.
Over the years, Kuolt's trademark has been his contagious energy. "Milt has the ability to get people excited because of the pace he runs at," says his friend, Joseph Clark. "His leadership is by his tenacity and his strength in working so hard. He doesn't say, 'Show me.' He says, 'Watch me, watch me run.' "Standing still, Kuolt looks like what a quarterback sees when he peers over the line at a crouching line-backer. He has no neck to speak of, a bristling mustache, and broad, square shoulders, so that, at any given moment, particularly when he's excited, he seems poised to jump in your face. When his colleagues at Horizon describe his management style, they say it is personal and inspirational; tenacious in its goals, yet impulsive in its execution; open and bluntly honest. They also point out that, on occasion, it can be intrusive, overbearing, unpredictable, intimidating, and insulting.
And yet Kuolt was not as fearsome, or as feral, as I had remembered him. He is 58 years old now and knows that he looks tired. This bothers him. "You know," he says, "when I was at Thousand Trails, I used to go out and cut down trees and clear trails by myself. I loved that. I was in shape. Now what do I do? I go to my office and sit on my ass. I put on 25 pounds since I quit smoking, my hair's gone gray, and I look 10 years older."
I was even more struck by the change in his attitude. When he was leaving Trails, Koult had been all self-confidence and undaunted optimism: build a new company, take over the market, unlimited prospects, a "slam dunk." Now he is more humble, cautious, and questioning. He said he was pleased to be in the airline business, but then he talked about how the industry had surprised him, how he should have known more about it from the start, how difficult it was to serve customers. He mentioned heavy financial losses, dissension on his management team, and the need for a different kind of management. Above all, he shounded frustrated.
