Remember When

40 YEARS AGO • JUNE 20, 1978

SINCE I LAST WROTE FOR THE LEDGER

By Harry L. Billings (AKA Peanuts, TFHS Class of ’29)

Gretchen and I are pinch hitting for “Doc” and Gladys while they are on a flying trip to Connecticut to see their family.

Except for an occasional letter to the editor, it’s been a spell since I did any writing for The Ledger…some 50 years plus to be more specific.

Like so many Sanders County rural teenagers of another day, I spent my high school years living in the old “dorm.” At that time we didn’t have a four-year high school in the Hot Springs area, so each September our folks would bundle 20 or more of us off to Thompson Falls. The dorm cost $18.50 a month for board and room.

It was near the end of my freshman year I persuaded Editor San VasBinder that The Ledger, being the county seat paper, should carry some news about the reservation. The result was a weekly column and the quality of writing left much to be desired. That experience in 1926 plus learning the trials and tribulations of a “printer’s devil” in my mother’s Camas Hot Springs Exchange, initiated me into a field which eventually became my profession for most of my working years.

Old Sam was quite a character. He had a waistline of more than ample girth. He invariably wore a vest which revealed portions of the gastronomical delights he had indulged in for at least the six months previously. He chewed tobacco and rarely appeared fresh shaven. He was typical of the country editors of another day who brought so much color to the weekly press of pioneering days in Montana.

The years in the dorm were happy and carefree. The joys of living were dampened only by the need to secure acceptable grades and in more extreme cases, being “campused” for varying lengths of time for getting caught at rules infractions, such as off campus smoking and drinking, making life hell for teachers and various other forms of juvenile hijinks. We did a lot of hiking and fishing. Fishing was uniformly good in those days. We swam in the reservoir in season and in winter ice skated on that same body of water. We shinnied down a cable in to the Wild Woman’s Cave. There were only a couple of student-owned Model Ts, so for the most part everything was “shanksmare.”

There was a saxophone-tooting kid named Glenn Larson from Heron, who later became a banker, and a state senator. Nearer to Thompson Falls were the Graham brothers and little sister Winnifred Graham Puphal; Steve and Johnny Previs (Previs Field is named after Steve who was a basketball and football coach at TFHS for years); the Butte, Garrison and Hallonen families. There were others, but a half a century later, the names slip by me.

Unsung heroines

Up Prospect Creek there’s a gal who’s getting awfully tired of having her husband around the house day in and day out. In fact, Shirley Miller looks upon Jerry’s constantly “experting” on how she handles household business with something of a jaundiced eye. Marlyn Conlin reached a similar conclusion a few months back when Don was laid up for quite a spell with a blood clot in his leg. Incidentally, Jerry is recovering at a satisfactory rate from his near-fatal woods accident of a couple of months ago.

Unsung Hero

Mel Hoy, when he was in the workforce was a “doer.” He was president of his local union and served in various capacities on the Lumber & Sawmill Workers District Council. Now retired for several years, he’s still a “doing.” He’s taught the rudiments of woodcraft and backpacking to a number of boys and girls in the area, and, as chairman of the Little Bitterroot Services association, has put in many long houred days free gratis in helping that non-profit group provide a better life for more than two dozen developmentally disabled people. Mel Hoy was Bev Hanson and Barb Laws’ father and Chadd Laws’ grandfather. Mel would probably be surprised to see how much Little Bitterroot Special Services has grown since its infancy.

Me, Too!

Now, after putting out a single issue of The Ledger, I remember why I quit editing a weekly newspaper 10 years back. Meeting deadline, week after week, month after month, year after year for 23 years, was just too darned hard work. Hurry home, Doc, I’m pooped, already yet!

One final comment, Doc. When you told your readers last week you had a great crew you weren’t a woofing. From the way they took care of their ends of the job while you were gone one might just get the impression you’re a pretty good boss to work for.

I started working for The Ledger in 1977 and Harry Billings was right. We did have a good crew and Doc and Gladys Eggensperger were great to work for. For over 40 years I’ve met the deadline, week after week, month after month, year after year and I can still say that I enjoy making a newspaper.