Any which Ray you can

(Note for blog-headline conoisseurs: The 1980 Clint Eastwood/Clyde the Ape movie "Any Which Way You Can" was shot in Jackson, Wyoming. While Ray Dillard would have been working in Jackson Lake Lodge at the time, he didn't mention running into either Clint or the chimp.)





(This originally ran in the Jackson Hole News and Guide.)

Fifty seasons and counting: Ray Dillard
by Ray Sikorski


Though he is 83 years old and has worked in Jackson Lake Lodge for 50 consecutive seasons, Ray Dillard insists he is neither the oldest nor longest-serving employee of the Grand Teton Lodge Company. That honor, he claims, belongs to a man in his 90s by the name of Russ Stone, who travels from Idaho once a week or so to check on bus maintenance.
But being the second-oldest and second-longest seems to suit the understated newsstand manager. Of course, he really does hold the title. Stone only works once a week, whereas Dillard routinely logs over 40 hours a week, and pays his dues in more ways than that: He still lives in the employee dorms, and he still dines in the employee cafeteria.
“It has been basically pretty good,” Dillard says, referring to the cafeteria's offerings. He notes that the increase in staff hailing from south of the border the last few years has resulted in fare with a distinct Mexican flavor.
“And that's okay with you?” I ask.
Dillard shakes his head no. Despite the silver and turquoise tie that complements his crisply pressed shirt, he is, was, and will always be a mid-westerner – with the taste buds to match. “So I go to the salad bar.”
Despite his years, Dillard emits a youthful innocence that I've grown accustomed to. We meet on the comfortable sofas of the lodge's grand upper lobby, its floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the splendor of the Tetons. But this isn't a first-time encounter; we're old comrades. I worked at Jackson Lake Lodge myself, serving a respectable six seasons in the Pioneer Grill lunch counter, where Dillard was a daily presence. He would come in on his breaks for coffee, or iced coffee if it was hot out – or, if he really wanted to throw you a curve, root beer. He would say, “Hello, Ray!” and I would respond, “Hello, Ray!” Somehow, we never tired of this, taking simple pleasure in the notion that two people could share the same first name.
A junior high school teacher in Jefferson, Iowa, Dillard came to Grand Teton National Park in the summer of 1958, visiting a fellow faculty member who had taken a job at Colter Bay. Dillard himself had planned to work in Yellowstone, but was taken by the scenery and imposing architecture of the fortress-like lodge, which had opened three years earlier. When his friend mentioned an opening in the lodge's gift shop, Dillard decided to stick around.
And he continues to stick around, returning for the camaraderie of tourists and coworkers, even after retiring from his school in 1989. He has endured four concessionaires, five general managers, and countless coworkers. I recall waiting on former employees, some of whom returned to Jackson Lake Lodge to vacation with their new families: “I just saw Mr. Dillard – I can’t believe he's still working there!”
Sometimes Dillard can't believe it himself. “Many times at the end of the season I'd say, 'Boy, that's it.' But by January I began to get a little anxious to come back.”
Which is basically how we all did it. Dillard just did it over and over and over again.
Remarkably, despite being surrounded by miles of hiking trails made famous in glossy magazines, Dillard claims he has never set foot on a trail, preferring to spend his days off lunching in Jackson or taking lodge-sponsored bus tours. He recalls with fondness visits by luminaries including Grace Kelly and Harvey Firestone. And he appears a bit perturbed by what he considers one of the biggest changes over the decades: “Men used to wear suits at night for dinner. Now they go in Bermudas.”
I prod him on this, hoping to break past what I sense to be a politician's veneer. Does he approve of it? “It's hard not to approve of it. It's just a national transformation into informality.”
I suppose one does not last 50 years at any job by flapping one's tongue. But chances are he won't get fired if he refers to modern-day tourists as slobs, so I prod some more.
“You come to accept it,” he says, betraying not a whit of disdain. “People are still mannerly.”
Perhaps it's just better to play it safe. After all, Dillard plans on coming back next year.