Wyoming is objectively not an attractive place
to live. Its winters feel brutal and endless, and reality agrees. From September through May, snow
accumulates and drifts into one of the highest totals for any state in the US, fueled by some of
the most chilling cold on the continent. But then there’s the wind—it’s ferocious. Mountains funnel
it through the state’s uniquely massive valleys, regularly speeding it to 50, 60, 70 miles
per hour. It is not at all uncommon that Interstate 80’s stretch through the state has to
close to trucks—their height acts as a sail, and the wind will quite literally just blow them over.
For those that brave the blizzards, there’s not much reward. The largest city in the state is
what other areas of the country would call a town—Cheyenne hosts just 65,000 people. Rather few
white collar industries have set up in the state, meaning the few jobs that do exist in the
cities are far from lucrative. And out in the rural areas that dominate the state is
what academics bluntly describe as some of the worst quality land in the country—with
short growing seasons, limited water supply, and poor soil nutrition, even the abundance
of open land attracts little agriculture. While the state certainly has a charm and allure
that attracts some to its barren landscapes, the simplest, most straightforward measure of state
attractiveness, population, indicates that Wyoming simply is just not an attractive place to live.
And yet, this: Wyoming is home to oodles of wealth. In fact, it is home to so many
oodles of wealth that the state has earned the superlative of the highest concentration of
billionaires on a per capita basis in the entire country. And specifically, with remarkable
consistency, they’re here: Teton County. Back in the 1980s, it perhaps seemed strange
that Harrison Ford, at the peak of his fame, opted against the glitzy, ascendent ski towns of
Aspen or Sun Valley, but rather for this 800 acre property in Jackson, Wyoming—a comparatively
sleepy cowboy town. Since then, the exclusive ranch nestled along the Snake River has become his
home away from Orange County—his vacation house. But mere Hollywood riches feel almost middle class
in Teton County. North of him, there’s Amy Wyss, daughter of a Swiss medical manufacturing legacy,
who inherited more than $2 billion and calls this corner of the country home. Just down the road
there’s former US vice-president and Halliburton CEO Dick Cheney. And a few miles further there’s
John Mars, the richest man in the state and the 33rd wealthiest person on the planet, living in
a relatively modest $6-million house nestled in a surprisingly nondescript neighborhood near the
Jackson Hole Golf and Tennis Club. But Jackson isn’t known for fame—it’s known for wealth, so
the core of its ultra-wealthy class is filled by an endless array of private equity partners
and oil executives and tech CEOs with no notable name recognition. The area just punches far, far
above its weight in terms of ultra high net worth individuals. And, of course, Teton County, the
epicenter of this absurd wealth, regularly ranks as the single county out of thousands with
the highest adjusted gross income in America. So what rectifies this paradox? Why does
the state least successful at attracting people simultaneously rank as the most
successful at attracting those with the greatest ability to choose where they live?
How has Wyoming become so weirdly wealthy? Well, for one, Teton County bears little
resemblance to the rest of Wyoming. Situated on the southern end of the Jackson Hole Valley,
Jackson—hemmed in by peaks, surrounded by glacial lakes—is arguably the most attractive spot in the
state. With easy access to two national parks, three ski areas, and millions of acres
of national forest, it’s a destination where visitors and residents alike can ski,
hike, bask in the country’s rugged beauty, and wax nostalgic for a time before modern life
while simultaneously dining at fancy restaurants, flying directly in and out, and shopping
at suburban staples like Whole Foods and Target. This is all relatively new.
A century ago, Jackson was a remote ranching town with more cattle than people. Similar to
iconic resort towns like Aspen and Sun Valley, it quickly transformed from a ranching outpost
into a vacation destination in less than 50 years. Specifically, it was the establishment
of Grand Teton National Park followed by the arrival of skiing with the Jackson Hole Mountain
Resort in the 1950s and ‘60s that put Jackson on the map—a compelling stop for road-tripping
families in the summer, and chic ski clientele in the winter. The transition from hidden gem
to national wealth magnet was quick. Not long after Harrison Ford moved to the valley, James
Baker, George H.W. Bush’s secretary of state, declared Jackson Hole to be one of his favorite
places. That year, Jackson attracted international attention when Baker brought American
and Soviet diplomats to discuss bilateral arms-control policies and clarify the U.S.S.R-U.S.
relationship with the fall of the Berlin Wall. Today, so much money continues to flow in that
the town’s services are racing to keep up with the demands this wealth imposes. On its peak day last
August, some 156 planes took off and landed at the Jackson Hole Airport—and almost all of them were
private. There are so many private jets, in fact, that in early 2024, county officials approved the
construction of a new $50 million private aviation facility for increasingly frequent Gulfstreams and
Bombardiers flying in from Teterboro, Love Field, and Van Nuys. Among approvals in this project
is Hangar 3, a 30,000-square-foot facility in which to park private planes. There are also
design plans for two more hangars totaling an additional 58,000 square feet of aircraft space.
Such expansion makes sense. Jackson Hole presents the perfect, seemingly untouched landscape for
coastal elites to project their fantasies onto, an authentic western town far from the
problems of urban life. But there are countless towns across the American West
that provide such refuge, and few have reached the absurd level of wealth as here.
While Jackson is the epicenter, there’s a broader shift occurring across Wyoming. While
wealthy residents are surging in Teton County, they’re in-migrating to other parts of the
state in large numbers too. Take Lincoln County, for example. It’s not home to the state’s
capital and most populous city, Cheyenne, nor does it contain any of the bigger cities
in Wyoming. It’s mostly rolling plains, vast skylines, and just a few people scattered every
square mile. In fact, its largest town, Kemmerer, is home to just 2,500 residents. Yet this county’s
transplanting residents have a mean income of $149,000, an outsized number for a region with
little going on. Here, like Teton County, people are drawn to its landscapes. It’s no surprise
that the second Wyoming county to experience this wealth surge is tucked into the same part of
the state, offering residents mountains, rivers, and an escape from the hustle and bustle.
But most importantly, beyond the lakes and the peaks and the trails and the streams, Lincoln
County, like Teton County, is still in Wyoming, and therefore it happens to offer another
crucially enticing advantage—tax benefits. While sections of Wyoming are as ruggedly
beautiful and wildly magnetic as the country in Colorado and the mountains of Montana, what sets
this state apart are its uniquely lax tax laws. Through a layering of partnerships, companies, and
trusts, the state has become a de facto tax haven, where everyone from Russian magnates, Spanish
royalty, and wealth-amassing Americans can park some escape plan cash thanks to a creative
concoction called the Cowboy Cocktail. What started here, in Cheyenne, as the formation
of the Limited Liability Corporation in 1977 transformed many times and with many signatures
over the decades. Today, the base ingredient is a Wyoming-based trust, which is then mixed
with layers of private companies and concealed ownerships, all created to provide protection
and secrecy to those doing business in the state. But this sits at the center of Wyoming’s
conundrum: the exact policies that attract such massive amounts of wealth to the state
prevent that same wealth from disseminating through the state. For example, the top 1% in
Teton County averages $22 million in income, and about 75% of that income is typically
passive, earned mostly from investments, meaning residents are earning the vast majority
of their wealth not by working. This echelon is setting up residency in the state en masse
in order to keep more of those gains because their exorbitant amount of money can go even
further—there is, after all, no income tax and there’s no wealth tax in Wyoming. And so when
wealth leaves billionaires pockets in Wyoming, it’s primarily to pay those in low-wage
service-sector jobs like landscaping, bartending, or ski patrolling. Like anywhere, trickle-down
economics just isn’t enough. There are massive amounts of money moving through the state, but
it’s a pass-through, not a stay-put. Without that reinvestment, or taxation, Wyoming doesn’t
gain much more than a superlative for the richest county per household or most billionaires per
capita. And that creates some dystopian contrast. Here, not far from the home of billionaire
John Mars, on this 18-hole semi-private course, a stark divide becomes apparent, as there
are the people that play the course, and then there are the people that work it.
Billionaire and mega-millionaire golfers a few holes in, for example, will inevitably interact
with the course’s beverage cart attendant, perhaps buying a round of beers and leaving a tip.
This cart employee, who just signed on for the season to serve cold Coors to parched patrons for
$15 an hour also lives nearby. With their employee contract comes guaranteed housing—but it’s not
exactly lavish. For $98 a week, they are bunking up in a double dorm room off-site, and in some
cases, living out of an RV with a free hookup site. Here, where the cost of living is 37% higher
than the national average, this employee needs to make $47,000 annually to break even, according to
living wage estimates. And yet, at $15 an hour, assuming a full schedule of shifts, they’re
barely raking in just two-thirds of that, at $30,000 a year. So, just to make ends
meet, after a day shift on the course, the attendant turns to waiter, working an evening
shift at the Snake River Grill, where a 32-ounce Wagyu steak runs $205—half of their monthly rent.
And if they themselves want to go out on their off-day, they’ll have to budget, as all of these
restaurants have an average price range of $31 to $60 per person. Local Restaurant and Bar, one
of the priciest in town, starts at $76 for two, assuming you’re having burgers. The price
quickly shoots up to $200, or $300 if one fancies a “premium” cocktail and any other entree.
The truth is, the only thing steeper than the 13,000 foot peaks framing much of the region
is the economic stratification among its residents. The top 1 percent of people in Teton
County, earning an average $22 million per year, make 132 times more than everybody else. This
gap—the highest wealth gap in the country—just keeps widening, as Jackson’s newest residents
have a mean income of $661,000 annually, while everyone else averages $94,000.To put
that in perspective, compare it to Aspen—its glamorous counterpart perhaps more often used
as an example for being unattainable. And yet, Pitkin County, home to Aspen, ranks number seven
on the list of America’s highest wealth gaps, where the average income of the top 1% is $6.6
million—just a quarter of the average in Teton County. Pitkin County is, notably, a pocket of
the country where more than 50 billionaires have homes, but the gap between those elites and
the rest of the town is counterintuitively far narrower than what’s found in Wyoming. The
stratification is on steroids in Teton County, and this increase in uber-wealthy residents raises
the price on everything, for everyone. Basic services are more expensive, childcare is costly,
a simple hamburger is even more, because those at the top are willing to pay the premium. And the
highest premium is real estate, where astronomical housing prices drive up the price for everyone.
They’re also making it harder for anyone else to get in. Those with enough money to own property
here—the Harrison Fords, the Dick Cheneys, the Forbes 100 CEOs—live on vast ranches that
manage to feel a world away from downtown. And crucially, they’ve made every effort to ensure
their properties remain that way—untouched, pristine landscapes with unobstructed views
of the Tetons. While the establishment of Grand Teton National Park ensured that much of the
valley would stay development-free, new residents have made new construction even more difficult
through one simple trick: conservation easements. Much like the Duttons on the TV series
Yellowstone, wealthy Jackson Hole residents use conservation easements as an oblique way
to protect and grow their properties’ value. Say you’re a New York stock trader wanting to
escape the daily grind. You visit Jackson Hole and fall in love with it, where you decide to buy
a multimillion-dollar property to relocate to, with a mansion and 50 acres. In discussing the
move with your financial advisor, they recommend a conservation easement to protect your new
property’s value. By transferring the development, surface mining, and subdivision rights of 49 acres
to the Jackson Hole Land Trust, you can retain ownership of the entire property, get a hefty tax
deduction, and ensure your million-dollar-view is protected in perpetuity. It’s perfect: you can
claim a charitable deduction of up to half your yearly income for 15 years after it’s appraised
and reduce your estate and property taxes. Plus, it makes your home more valuable in the long
term; as demand and scarcity inevitably rise, you won’t have to worry about any lower-income
housing being built on your property. It’s purportedly altruistic yet at almost
no downside to you, personally—although your land is conserved “for public benefit,”
you don’t have to maintain public access to it. It’ll still be your property, as well as your
future heirs’, and it ensures that your house is the only development that will ever be built on
it. Conservation easements are a practice that’s allowed Jackson Hole Land Trust to hold more than
55,000 acres in trust, in a region where over 97 percent of land is federally protected. There’s
an extremely severe limit on where homes can be built here, which has taken property values to
new, seemingly impossible, heights—a place where wealthy folks can rest easy knowing they’re
the only ones who can afford to live there. And yet, with the Cowboy Cocktail’s clandestine
structure and Wyoming’s lax tax policies, all of this wealth is sealed behind Teton
County’s gilded borders. For those who happen to live anywhere else in Wyoming, their proximity
to massive wealth doesn’t tangibly help them. Nowhere else has seen the levels of gentrification
and modernization Jackson has experienced, and in spite of other natural wonders like Devils Tower
and the Wind River Range, no other region sees as much visitation. In fact, Wyoming’s poverty
rate is nearly equal to the national average of 11 percent, even though its average cost of living
is comparatively lower. Teton County’s wealth, then, is a stagnant force that largely
circulates in and around Jackson Hole to satisfy its residents’ idiosyncratic whims.
So what pays the bills, for the other Wyoming, is that physical resource economy—Wyoming’s
located on some of the biggest shale, oil, and coal deposits in the nation. Collectively,
these deep currents have created an unrivaled treasure trove that’s still paying the bills.
Drilling and mining succeed here precisely because it doesn’t have many people. Oil and gas companies
are essentially free to drill where they want to—all that’s required is paying slightly higher
taxes. Between property and value-imposed taxes, extraction now funds nearly half of the state
budget. It’s so valuable that when it comes to higher education, a sector that’s often first
on the chopping block for state budget cuts, the University of Wyoming has a comparatively
low tuition rate—it averages less than half of its counterparts in neighboring states.
But relying so heavily on taxing a single industry could be fatal, as any loss in severance or
property tax revenue will impact crucial services. For as much carbon as there is here, it’s not
endless. Wyoming’s coal production peaked in 2011, and its natural gas revenue is down by 74 percent
in just over a decade. In 2020, Wyoming’s governor even commented that small towns may have to be
abandoned if the cost of maintaining them grows. The unfortunate truth is, when the wells run
dry and the coal fields are finally laid bare, not much will be left of Wyoming. The last
functioning economy may very well be the greater Yellowstone region, which includes Teton
County. That’s because, beyond the ultra-wealthy part-time residents who park their money here,
millions of regular people from around the world visit to see the region’s massive geysers and
towering peaks—staying in gateway communities whose economies are buoyed by their presence. In
2021, Yellowstone visitors alone generated $834 million in economic benefits to the region. Like
in Jackson, vast untouched landscapes protected from development have become extremely valuable,
but while tourism-economies have their struggles, these gateway communities are still more
livable for the working class than Jackson. But even as tourists visit and tax revenue
grows, as extraction fades and vacationing becomes a lifeline, Teton County’s pre-existing
problems will worsen. The rising cost of housing in and around Jackson Hole has driven
prices skywards across the greater region, even in those comparatively cheaper gateway
communities. For years, Yellowstone National Park has struggled to recruit employees to
work in the park because of housing prices, with a $40 million anonymous donation specifically
for affordable housing offering a measure of respite in the future. Many of those who have
been boxed out of housing anywhere in Jackson Hole now commute from cheaper communities in Idaho,
over the treacherous Teton Pass, but the rising prevalence of million-dollar homes near Driggs and
Victor threatens to push them even further away. So today’s cycle will continue: Teton County will
continue to exist, fueled by the exorbitant cash the wealthy spend on their vacations, but
the wealth divide will continue to deepen, driving out the thousands of underpaid
workers who can never afford to call this place home. Wyoming may be one of the wealthiest
states in the country, when measured in one, very particular way, but it’s simultaneously one
where a given working-class individual has perhaps some of the lowest likelihood of accumulating
wealth themselves. Wealth in Wyoming is not grown, or spread, or shared: it rather simply exists.
In the winter, Wyoming essentially has two key industries: Skiing and Coal Mining. Both are
pretty fascinating, with huge operational complexity, which is why we made two videos
about the logistics of each. Both are part of our Nebula Original series, the Logistics of
X, where we cover how the modern world works, much like we do here on YouTube, but in even
greater depth and on even more topics. Nebula, of course, is the creator-owned and run streaming
platform that we designed to be the best home to the stuff we make. For example, we decided pretty
early on that it had to be subscription-based, which might seem unintuitive. But ad-supported
video platforms have flaws—the creators on them are incentivized to chase clicks at all costs,
and there’s only so much investment in production quality that makes sense financially. But with a
subscription-supported platform, we make money by offering a good enough service that you decide to
stick around and keep paying for the subscription. That incentivizes quality, but also, crucially, it
provides the funding for us to make bigger swings with ambitious Nebula Originals. A few months
ago we shot our highest-budget show to date, called the Getaway, and while we haven’t shared
many details yet, the trailer is coming out soon which will explain the rather ambitious premise
for the show. And of course there’s plenty more creators than just us on Nebula—we’ve curated an
amazing selection of a couple hundred thoughtful creators making meaningful, entertaining content,
and we’re always releasing more and more Original, exclusive shows and movies. And best of all:
Nebula helps support the creators. It provides a predictable, stable, additional revenue stream
for us, so when you sign up at Nebula.tv/Wendover, you’re helping us keep making these videos even
here on YouTube, and to make them even better. By signing up at that link, you’ll also get 40%
off an annual plan which brings the cost down to just $2.50 a month—a great price to be able
to watch all our normal stuff ad-free, all the original content, and help support us, so thanks
in advance if you end up giving Nebula a try.
