Rift in the valley: longtime locals and wealthy jet-setters wage a decades-old battle over Telluride's future. Should they develop the Valley Floor, or preserve it? The sides taken by the combatants might surprise you.

• Author: Titus, Stephen

Next to skiing, it is the most-discussed subject on the lips of Telluride residents: The Valley Floor. And next to religion, it is the quickest topic to start a fight in Telluride.

Since the Rio Grande railway arrived here in 1890, the roughly 579-acre flat expanse of land welcoming visitors to the box canyon where the town is built has been one of Telluride's calling cards. It has also been the historic battleground for local conservationists and developers--even being designated by the National Trust for Historic Places as one of the 11 most endangered historic places in the nation.

But not even Edward Abbey, the late author of the "The Monkey Wrench Gang," could come up with a plot to compare with the most recent conflict. It pits commerce against open space, conservationist against developer, voters against elected officials, old-timer against new owner and even neighbor against neighbor.

The Valley Floor conflict has more than two decades of history behind it, but it's not the only big development with a history. Nearly every large project in or around the city, from the Idorado Mine redevelopment to the Aldasoro Ranch has stories of town residents, some relatively new to the area, monkey-wrenching the development process for landowners who have lived or worked in the valley for generations.

Many of these projects are bankrolled--and later lived in--by big names in business and entertainment. One example: the West Meadows project, which is just west of the entrance to Mountain Village (the Telluride ski resort's base area), was developed in part by Joann Corzine, wife of New Jersey Sen. John Corzine. Today it is home to the likes of novelist Clive Cussler and NBC Sports executive Dick Ebersol.

The Idorado project--owned by Denver-based Newmont Mining Corp., a multinational minerals extractor--was thwarted, in part, by the local environmental group Sheep Mtn. Alliance, at least until the company dropped plans to annex the property into Telluride. Instead, the project remained governed by county development regulations that allow one home for each 35-acre lot.

And several years ago environmental groups also tried to stop expansion of the ski-area, but the activists missed by one day a Forest Service deadline to file paperwork protesting the expansion; their attempt to stop it was denied.

Yet the Valley Floor has been considered a regional treasure and a prize through all those battles. And the influx of big names and big money to the "to-develop-or-not-to-develop" battle front has opened a gulf of suspicion between a variety of parties: new locals who have a sense of entitlement to their adopted town and its beautiful surroundings; wealthy part-time residents who have built big homes that often become part of the scenery; old-timers who realize that development of certain pieces of property may be the only way they will ever be able to cash in on their longstanding faith in the town's growth and...