Terry Fiedler, the man known as “Mr. Snowdown” for his part in creating the annual winter celebration in Durango, died at the age of 77 on Thursday after a long battle with Alzheimer’s disease.
“For anyone who thinks they haven’t met Terry, you have,” said friend Mike Smedley, who met Fiedler in 1990. “You do know him because you participated in Snowdown, a celebration filled with laughter. He has one of the best legacies you could possibly leave.”
Fiedler grew up in Indiana, according to his friend, Peg Ochsenreiter, but found Durango and planted roots here some time in the late 1960s.
As legend has it, the year was 1978, and in the living room of Fiedler and his then-wife, Linda Mannix, along with their friend, John Murrah, the idea of Snowdown was born over Budweisers and a Broncos game.
The hope was to give a needed jolt to the lagging winter season by organizing affordable, outlandish events during the last weekend of January – to “shake up the town when we are tired of cold, short days,” Mannix said in 2014.
The friends secured some seed money from The Durango Herald – about $1,000 – and off they went creating events, designing posters and getting the word out. In the end, The Herald’s investment was repaid, and the event became the most popular festival in Durango.
“Its mission is to promote fun, tourism and commerce, in that order,” said Smedley, who pens the weekly Action Line column in The Durango Herald.
“And sure enough, they pulled it off and it just grew and grew and grew.”
Snowdown celebrated its 40th anniversary this year.
Friends will remember Fiedler for his generosity, humor and unfailing dedication to the betterment of Durango. Through all the years he served as coordinator of Snowdown, he never received a dime, Smedley said.
“Terry mostly was just about having fun, telling jokes and having a really good time,” he said. “But he had a very serious and dedicated side to him.”
When Fiedler wasn’t in his role as “Mr. Snowdown,” he worked in the telecommunications industry.
One of his favorite pastimes was bringing people out on his houseboat at Lake Powell, called the “Sun Bum.” Ochsenreiter, who met Fiedler in 1984, said the houseboat is where many of Snowdown’s event ideas were hatched.
“We’d sit down at Lake Powell and think about crazy ideas for Snowdown and just laugh,” she said.
About five years ago, Fiedler began losing his memory as a result of Alzheimer’s, Ochsenreiter said.
In September 2013, he left Durango for good and moved to Philadelphia to be closer to his children and sister. He was placed in a care facility for people with Alzheimer’s.
“Those of us who know and love him will mourn, each in our own way,” Mannix wrote in an op-ed at the time. “He is no longer in Durango but will always be with us ... We must keep the party going, keep the laughter coming and do it all for Durango. That is what Terry would want.”
Davitt Armstrong, who shared a letter he sent to Fiedler’s daughter, said he wore many hats: “Professional. Community Organizer. Man-About-Town. Social Director. Captain. Stand-up Comedian. Decision-Maker. Father-Friend-Brother. Etc.”
“Perhaps those of us lucky enough to share time with your Dad when he kicked loose were blessed with a glimpse behind the veneer, but it seemed to me just to be a different filing cabinet altogether!” Armstrong wrote.
Fiedler’s last Snowdown was around 2011, but for those who knew him, his legacy continues on through the annual festival, and the memories he created in the Durango community.
“I have a lot of them,” Ochsenreiter said of memorable stories about Fiedler. “But they probably shouldn’t go in print.”
jromeo@durangoherald.com