We lost a Montana original this week

The Mission Valley lost a giant this week and I lost a best friend. Bob Gauthier passed away Saturday after an 18-year battle with prostate cancer.

He traced his lineage here to at least 1824, when fur trader Jocko Finley’s three sons arrived in western Montana and married into the tribe.

He grew up in Arlee. As a sophomore he was an all-conference pulling guard. His family fell apart after that and by his junior year he was living in Missoula essentially homeless. But he was so likable that many friends took him home and kept him fed.

I met him in 1967. I was not homeless. I was living in my 1957 Chevy. In theory, we were attending Sentinel High School.

Without adult supervision, we lived colorful lives. We were too busy getting an education to have time for school. Neither one of us graduated.

Both of us were able to talk our way into college, promising to go back and get the high school sheepskin later. And man could that guy talk. His first year in college he supported himself by selling pots and pans and insurance door-to-door.

One of his roommates at the time was Bill Owen, now of Polson. Bill was only 19 but soon had gold medallion life insurance and enough kitchenware to start a small restaurant.

Bob attended the University of Montana and Montana State but, as he put it, both schools invited him to try another college.

Bob moved back to the reservation around 1980. His achievements over the next 50 years are almost unbelievable. Starting as tribal police dispatcher, he went on to tribal housing director, successful restaurateur of Gauthier’s Steak and Seafood, tribal consumer credit counselor, appellate court judge, and chairman on national commissions like the National American Indian Housing Council.

He managed KwaTaqNuk Resort and was tribal economic adviser. He was the driving force behind the creation of Eagle Bank and Amerind Risk Management Corp., the first national Native American insurance company. He was a longtime board member of S&K Technologies and Energy Keepers.

I was along for this ride because Bob and I always found ways to get in windshield time for storytelling and matching wits. The annual antelope hunt to Jordan was 12 hours each way, and we never turned on the radio. One time I had a trial in Chinook on the Hi-Line, and Bob went along just for the talk time.

So it was a gift that last fall that he let me drive him to his chemo treatments in Missoula. We were aware these were our last rides together. We talked about everything, including death.

He was the most jovial dying man I ever knew. Without bitterness or fear, he just expressed gratitude for a life well lived, for having his wonderful wife, Myrna, and four great kids and a passel of grandkids. He figured his cycle of life was coming to an end and he was satisfied with his life.

Bob had pictures of himself with people like George Bush and Muhammed Ali. But for all his success, he never judged anyone else. He was usually the smartest guy in the room, but never tried to show it.

He was just as comfortable in the humblest home on the reservation as in the governor’s mansion in Helena. He never looked down on anyone except when he was leaning over to help them up.

Before I left his room Saturday afternoon, I stood looking down at this big man who was now half his previous size. I knew the battle was about over. I put my hand on his bony shoulder and – I will never forgive him for this – he made me cry out loud.

At 8:20 that evening, Bob passed on to his next adventure, probably talking all the way.