Return to Glory
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Not that resort ownership and local celebrity had ever been in the Bedors' plans. "We both thought we'd be teachers," says Joel, "which we did for a while in Massachusetts. Then we came back here, and I got interested in business." Joel, who had studied accounting at UNH before transferring to Plymouth State College, opened his own CPA firm. Cathy, who had studied entomology and physical education at UNH, and then taught Latin for a year, donned yet another hat and went to work for her husband. They've been a team ever since.

"We complement each other," says Cathy, who, until recently, was the hotel's marketing dynamo. "I love to launch off in many directions at once and get all excited about the possibilities. Joel is logical, practical. He's kept us in line all along." Both Bedors, as well as the other partners, brought a roll-up-your-sleeves approach to their hotel adventure. Which was a good thing, because old houses tend to need a lot of work. And this one was no exception.

Joel and Cathy Bedor '74 Photo by Doug Prince

Frank Angelini is standing with his head thrown back, hands on his hips. He is squinting at a hole in the ballroom ceiling. It is precisely one week before my wedding and I am visiting the Mount Washington Hotel to finalize details. And there it is, a leak--a big one--directly over the stage floor, right where our band is supposed to play.

I take a break from pondering table arrangements to watch Mr. Angelini at work on the scaffolding, plaster bucket in hand. "My great uncle worked here back when they first built it," he says proudly, pointing to some of the ornate plasterwork and hand-leaded Tiffany glass that still adorns the ballroom and much of the hotel. He is adroit with the trowel, quick and smooth, a master tradesman. The band, it seems, will be able to play safely after all.

In the first years after the partners purchased the hotel, leaks were rampant. Some appeared with dramatic timing. Joel recalls the day he was standing in the lobby with former New Hampshire Governor Hugh Gregg. "Suddenly water was just pouring from the ceiling. 'Joel,' Gregg said, turning to me, 'I don't know how you do this.'" The partners have had plenty of occasions to wonder this very thing.

"I used to walk through the hotel with visitors, trying to carry on a coherent conversation," says Cathy. "I could hardly concentrate, because I'd see a hundred things in about 20 feet that needed to be fixed immediately."

The owners had to be very selective in what they did, according to Joel, who has kept a close eye on the books from the beginning. "Our whole approach was to reinvest money and borrow according to what our business levels would permit."

Over the past decade, the partnership has poured four or five times the purchase price of the hotel into its restoration. They worked slowly and carefully, tackling one project after another, transforming Stickney's dream for a new century: 7,000 square feet of new tile in the bathrooms, 2,000 feet of cast-iron pipes, 3,000 feet of domestic water lines, 6,000 feet of electrical wiring, 14,000 square feet of insulation, and on and on.

Through the years, some guests got fed up and left, tired of rusty tubs, clogged showers and other "old house" problems. But most visitors have been supportive, tolerating the gradual improvements the way you would if you were restoring your own home. "People love coming back to see what we did during the previous year," says Cathy.

Renovation, though, has meant more than saving a structure. The Bedors are intent on preserving an era. When it was time to choose new carpeting for the lobby, for example, they kept returning to a 1911 postcard that showed a luxurious carpet rolled out on a hardwood floor. The search for high-quality carpet with a Victorian design finally ended in England. Today, a Crossely Axminster carpet--15,000 square feet--covers the restored hardwood floors in the lobby, just like the postcard.

When the dining room's new sound system was installed, another historic detail was uncovered: the ornate ceiling lighting fixtures, painted white, were actually brass. After hours of scouring and scrubbing, the brass shines again. One spring, 200 mahogany-paneled guestroom doors were stripped to the bare wood, then coated with the original shade of English oak stain, followed by three coats of polyurethane. And when the decision was made to open the hotel year-round, the winterizing process began with new windows--800 of them--that match the architectural style.

"I shudder to think what would have happened if some big chain had come in and bought the hotel," says Erin Conway-Rizzo, concierge. "They might not have preserved the heritage and feel of the place." Instead, the grand hotel is embarking on its 2002 centennial celebration with the same optimism that marked its 1902 opening. The pipes are in working order, the red roofs are freshly painted, and the guests are plentiful and enthusiastic.

Celeste and John Barrett have been visiting the hotel for nearly two decades. They make two or three visits a year from their home in South Lawrence, Mass., almost always with their two grandsons in tow. Each year they settle into the same adjoining rooms--Numbers 137 and 139. In the dining room, they always sit at table Number 84 and are served by Sebastian, who has become a friend.

"I wish I could live at the Mount Washington," says Celeste, only half joking. "I don't see how anybody could make a complaint about the place." She hardly pauses for breath as she details the things she loves. "For one thing, it's immaculate. Plus the food, the service--everything. They treat us like kings and queens."

But what really sets the Mount Washington apart, hands down, is the staff. "There's nothing like the warmth you get from the people here. They always greet us by name. Our housekeeper, Bonnie, gives us a big hug each year." And then there's Jim Drummond. "He and his crew can never do enough for you," she says.