The Golden Rain

Six thousand feet up in the Swiss Alps, in St. Moritz' Palace Hotel, 1,000 guests washed down a dinner of caviar and filet mignon with vintage champagne, then danced the night away until 7 in the morning. Among the merrymakers were Shipping Tycoon Stavros Niarchos, Cinemastars Linda Christian and Hildegarde Neff, Liechtenstein's Prince Constantine, Irish Beer Heir Loel Guinness. As the evening glowed to a climax, roly-poly Winston Churchill II, 16-year-old grandson of Sir Winston, leaped on a table, grabbed a cane, gaily began popping the balloons.

Last week, at the height of the season, 6,500 well-heeled guests crammed every room in St. Moritz' 47 hotels. They schussed down the powdery slopes overlooking the little valley, tried the Olympia Ski Jump, which drops a perilous 200 ft., hurtled 1,346 yds. down the ice-banked Cresta Run, one of the world's first artificial toboggan slides (built 1884) at better than a mile a minute. Evenings, the women doffed ski suits for Dior and Balenciaga gowns, and bobsledders slid into tails to mambo through the night. Others simply spent their time quietly breathing--for St. Moritz' crystal-clear air has 18% less oxygen than sea-level air, forces visitors to breathe deeper and faster, bringing color to pallid cheeks.

Bronze Age Lumbago. A resort town ever since Bronze Age lumbago sufferers took its waters 3,000 years ago, St. Moritz' modern beginnings date back just a century ago to the day in 1856 when Innkeeper Johannes Badrutt bought the little Kulm Hotel. Johannes was modestly prospering on summer trade when one autumn he wagered four departing British guests that they could stroll around St. Moritz in midwinter without overcoats. That winter the four struggled upland through the snow, arrived in St. Moritz to find the sun so warm that Johannes was waiting in his shirtsleeves. He won his bet. Next winter the four came back with friends, and the town was on its way to fame as a winter resort. Johannes enlarged the Kulm to accommodate 400 guests, furnished it with fine paintings and sculptures, and in 1880 installed the first electric lights in Switzerland.

After Johannes died, son Caspar bought the nearby Palace, later turned it over to his 22-year-old son Hans, who furnished it with Gobelin tapestries, the finest crystals, magnificent antiques. In the palmy days before and after World War I the Palace became a kind of winter home for the very rich and the very royal. The Maharaja of Hyderabad would arrive with 500 trunks and a personal cook, who sprinkled gold dust on the rice before serving his master's curry. On arriving, the Aga Khan would give Head Porter Chasper $10,000 to be handed out when the Aga Khan needed pocket money; the hotel would provide the Aga Khan (an Ismaili Moslem) with a compass, so he could determine the proper direction to face while praying. Once King Albert I of the Belgians, a hotel guest, greeted Host Badrutt: "You are King of St. Moritz. I am King of the Belgians. I greet you as a colleague."

New Generation. World War II cut the supply of rich vacationers, forced the Badrutts to tighten up; the Kulm was sold to Swiss Businessman Albert Ernst. But the Palace is still run by Hans's widow Helen, and two sons, Andrea and Hansjurg, and a new generation scrawls its names across the guest book: Henry Ford II, Rita Hayworth, Barbara Hutton. For its 400 guests the Palace maintains a staff of 300, including 40 cooks, who daily turn out half a ton of fancy meats and 1,000 pastries. The wine cellar is stocked with 60,000 fine bottles, the tanks with 800 live trout.

Palace rates are reasonable--$25 a day in midseason for a good room with meals --but many guests spend a great deal more, often throw little parties for 30 or 40 friends, pick up a $4,000 check. Once, tiring of the Palace's three orchestras, Niarchos and Chilean Magnate Arturo Lopez ordered a band from Milan, heard one number, sent it packing and hired another. On the insistence of wealthy guests who wanted an ultra-exclusive ski club, the Palace agreed to manage the Corviglia Ski Club and operate a skiers' restaurant atop 10,000-ft.-high Piz Nair. Devoted Guests Loel Guinness and Niarchos put up the $500,000 to build a cableway to the restaurant.

Cognac Farewell. Such luxurious attentions pay the Palace well. The hotel (which stays open for the summer and winter seasons, closing April-June and mid-September to mid-December) grosses about $2,100,000 annually, plus $275,000 from three swank restaurants around town (Chesa Viglia, Golf, Piz Nair).

Last week, as the New Year's guests began departing for trains to London, Paris, Rome and Vienna, Host Andrea Badrutt said goodbye in six languages, gave each a small bottle of cognac to ease the parting journey. As snow fell onto the white peaks, his mother looked fondly at the flake-filled sky, cried: "Ah, golden rain, golden rain."

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