Jane Hickcox
By Katie Klingsporn

Jane Hickcox was under a lot of pressure this year. As the face of the Valley Floor Preservation Partners, she was spotlighted by a community passionately attuned to her every move, the target of skepticism, hope and urgency. And she had an improbable $24.5-million task to complete.

You wouldn't know it now, though. Hickcox is the picture of tranquility. She leans back in a chair and says, "Wait'll it's over. It's going to be a huge story." She pauses. "It's a great story."

It is the story, of course, of 570 acres of verdant bottomlands at the entrance of town called the Valley Floor. It's the story of Telluride's decades-long battle to acquire the land from its owner, the San Miguel Valley Corporation, to preserve it as open space. And how, in 2006 and 2007, events unfolded rapidly and resulted in the Town gaining possession of the land.

At the core of this last step was Hickcox herself, who, as she tells it, was just there in the final stretch to carry a baton that had been touched by many hands. "It was not so much only me," she says. "It just happened to be me in this particular lap." Hickcox headed the Preservation Partners team who promised early in 2006 to raise the additional money the Town needed to purchase the land through eminent domain. A year later, when a Delta jury rendered the verdict that the land would be valued at $50 million, the Partners were left with $24.5 million to raise in just three months.

The team launched a fevered around-the-clock campaign to shoot off emails, make phone calls, re-check figures and solicit. There was skepticism, doubt, anxiety and worry, but throughout, Hickcox retained remarkable composure and unwavering focus. She smiled bravely and assured naysayers because she simply knew they would do it. "Never did we get to the place where we allowed ourselves to imagine that it could not be done," she said. And in the end, two weeks before the money was due to the court, the community gathered in Elks Park to celebrate victory: The money was in the bank. May 9 was named “Valley Floor Day,” and residents drank beer and hugged gleefully in the streets. But not before giving a thundering applause to Hickcox, who was celebrating her sixtieth birthday in Europe. For her efforts, Hickcox was named the Telluride Foundation's 2007 Citizen of the Year, along with Mayor John Pryor, who also devoted tremendous energy to the campaign.

The book on the Valley Floor is not closed. An appeal casts uncertainties on the horizon. And although Hickcox has a lingering uneasiness about the outcome, she remains infinitely optimistic—at this point, she can't fathom it being off-limits to future generations.

But her story didn’t start with the Valley Floor. She was born in Pasadena, California, the daughter of a marine colonel and a housewife. Because of her father's military ties, her childhood entailed many moves and many rules. It also ingrained in her the fastidiousness, organization and tenacity that made her such a bulwark in the Valley Floor campaign.

She was attending freshman orientation at the Riverside Campus at the University of California when a sophomore named Gary noticed her pale green eyes and girlish smile. They were married soon after, when she was 18 and he was 19, and have been together for 41 years since. After college, they lived east of Los Angeles. They were teaching and raising their son Geoff when the air pollution started becoming unbearable. Their plan was to relocate to the leafy town of Ashland, Oregon, but they decided to spend a winter in Telluride first. And, like the story often goes, they never left.

The first time Hickcox laid eyes on the valley is an indelible moment in her life. It was July of 1975, and the family had camped in Dolores the night before so that their first sighting would be in daylight. They came down Lawson Hill, turned right at Society Turn, and she was smitten. "I can't express how emotional it was," she says.

A few days after their arrival, they landed jobs, Gary in construction and Jane making beds at the Bushwacker. Between them they made six dollars an hour, but they loved the surroundings, made friends and uncovered opportunities. "It was obvious to us that it was a great place to put roots down and to raise a child, and politically, to make a difference," she says.

They slowly scraped together the money to buy land on the sunny side of town. Jane worked for the San Miguel County Assessor's Office for 18 years before leaving in 1999. Gary worked in various forms for the local government, then became the executive director of the San Miguel Conservation Foundation. So by the time the Valley Floor fight came to a head, her heart was too entrenched to just sit back and watch. But as she poured herself into the effort, she also witnessed incredible sacrifices—doubling her conviction that she will call Telluride home until her final days. People donated twice, three times, sacrificed vacations, refinanced homes. "It was absolutely magical to share those stories of sacrifice and generosity on the part of the local community," she says. "It was unbelievable how everyone came through."

And after her celebration in Europe, she and Gary returned to town, driving past the land that had pulled at her heart so many years before. The experience was parallel to the first time, she says. "You just feel so lucky to be here."