Email Article | MONTANAN WINTER 2010 

All Roads Lead To Montana

Montana and UM connections reach around the world, as demonstrated by this collection of essays shared by alums and University employees.

Compiled by Brianne Burrowes '07

In the summer of 2006, I had just moved to a major city for the first time in my life. Born and raised in Montana, I quickly realized that New York City was a different kind of beast. I was accustomed to walking across the UM campus and saying “hello” to or smiling at nearly everyone I met.

I soon realized that while it was easy for me to make friends through my internship at Seventeen magazine or through social gatherings and friends-of-friends, I missed Montana—my real home. During this homesick phase, I received a call from my dad that perked me up right away.

Dad called to say his friend’s girlfriend, Marie, was coming to New York City. Coincidentally, Marie’s boss was a UM alum, and because any daughter of her boyfriend’s friend was instant family, she invited me to accompany her to dinner with her boss. I was instructed to wear a black dress.

At dinner, I had the privilege of meeting Harold Gilkey ’62, at that time chairman and CEO of Sterling Financial Corporation. As soon as I heard his name, I knew who Harold was. He and his wife, Priscilla, had just donated a naming gift to break ground on the Harold and Priscilla Gilkey Executive Education Center at UM. And here I was, a twenty-two-year-old journalism student from UM, dining with Harold; Marie Mahugh, my family friend and Harold’s associate; and John Duffy, CEO of Keefe, Bruyette & Woods (a financial services firm based in the city) at the upscale Lever House. I didn’t speak much during that dinner.

Later that evening, I accompanied Harold and Marie back to their hotel for a post-dinner drink. I had the opportunity to pick Harold’s brain, and a discussion ensued that I have never forgotten. “Let’s play a game,” he said. “Pick a town in Montana,v and I will tell you who I know and you can tell me who you know.” So, we started with Whitefish and discovered we knew quite a few people in common aside from the obvious UM connections.

“I’ve found throughout my life that if there are two people who claim they’re from Montana, and if you can’t find within three names someone in common that you know, then one of you isn’t telling the truth,” he said. This sounded like a grandiose declaration at the time, but because we had just learned that we knew so many people in common, I believed him. Since becoming Montanan editor and hearing others’ stories, I’ve realized how true it is, and I hope you do, too.

The intent of this feature, “All Roads Lead To Montana,” is to spark that Montana connection in your life. Maybe you have a story of a time you ran into another Montanan in a foreign country, like Charles Pickard ’71. Maybe your Griz gear has elicited a cheer of “Go Griz” from a passing stranger, as is a regular occurrence for UM Executive Vice President Jim Foley. Or maybe your Montana and UM connection led you to fall in love, like Verna B. Krout ’05.

Regardless, I hope you make Montana and UM connections wherever you are. Just keep in mind, all roads lead to Montana.

Brianne Burrowes '07 Editor-in-Chief, Montanan

Montana On My Mind (And My Head!)

During my life I have had the pleasure and the opportunity to work on Capitol Hill with both the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate before I had the privilege of coming to work at UM. Working in politics was a great rearview-mirror experience. During those fifteen years, UM and Griz Nation were a frequent topic of conversation on the Hill. As I am sure many folks can relate, in the many times I came back and forth from Washington, D.C., to Montana, a simple T-shirt or hat bearing the Griz paw always prompted someone to say “Go Griz” across airport corridors. Folks always would strike up conversations about the campus and the many memories they have about their connection to UM. But no “Go Griz” was quite like the one I received during a trip to New York.

In 1999, I entered the New York City Marathon. I wore my Griz hat proudly as I ran the 26.2 miles through all five boroughs along with more than 33,000 other participants. I was running through the Central Park portion of the race focusing on keeping my pace, when all of a sudden I heard shouts of “Go Griz” from the spectators. Of course, I was running and could not respond, but it gave me that extra boost to push through the last few miles.

Montana and UM are special places with special people and special programs. People often talk about the Montana “family.” This family extends from coast to coast and around the world. Once you become part of UM, you become part of this extended family, and you will have more than 80,000 relatives all over the world—ready to welcome you with a hearty “Go Griz.” And you never know when you might hear it . . .

Jim Foley
Executive Vice President, The University of Montana

How Are The Grizzlies Doing?

As a teenage combat infantryman in the European Theatre in World War II in the winter of 1944-45, I was captured by a German tank unit near the French-German border.

Following that very traumatic event, I was subjected to a lengthy interrogation along with other American captives they had gathered together in a village in the area. The interrogation team consisted of a very proper Oxford English-speaking German captain and a very intimidating sergeant with a Luger pistol lying on the table in front of him. He did not say a word but instead scowled and picked up the pistol frequently.

The Geneva Conventions required only revealing one’s name, rank, and serial number to the enemy if captured. After several refusals on my part to offer other information such as unit, numbers, etc., and being banished to stand outside in a blizzard for hours, I returned to the interrogation deciding I needed to offer something. Fortunately, the next question was, “Tell us where you came from in the States.” I croaked out a feeble “Missoula, Montana.”

With that harmless information, the burly sergeant smiled and said in perfect American English: “HOW ARE THE GRIZZLIES DOING?” To say that the atmosphere changed is an understatement! I was informed that I was dismissed. I then asked my new friend how he knew the Griz. He had come to Seattle in the 1930s to find work. He ended up with a job there for seven years and became a fan of American football—particularly the Washington Huskies, who played the Griz as part of the old Pacific Coast Conference. He returned to Germany just before the war to see his ailing mother and was conscripted into the German army because of his language skill.

Howie Hunter ’49
Fircrest, Wash.

A Chance Meeting

In May 1968, I had just returned to Da Nang, South Vietnam, from a five-day R&R to Taipei, Taiwan. The previous six months, I had been in near-constant combat attached to the 3rd Batallion, 4th Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division in the Con Thien and Khe Sahn areas of I Corp. I was a medical corpsman attached to a front-line maneuver battalion. Much of my time was spent on the hills surrounding Khe Sahn Combat Base, which was primarily the responsibility of the 26th Marine Regiment.

I had just stepped off one of many transports I had been using in an effort to fly back north to the Khe Sahn area, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. As I turned around, I came face-to-face with Ed Herber, who was wearing a Marine uniform. Ed had been a Griz football player and a Phi Delt brother. He was four or five years older than I was and considered a legend at the Phi Delta Theta house at 500 University Avenue.

Ed and I talked a hundred miles an hour in an effort to get as much in as we could before we had to depart. Ed was attached to the 26th Marine Regiment existing inside Khe Sahn Combat Base. I was existing on the many hills surrounding Khe Sahn. I only knew it was him because of his distinct voice. How he recognized me with my weight loss of 60 pounds baffled me. I guess Ed was more observant than I gave him credit for, because his reason for picking me out was a scar he recognized on my face. All this in spite of the 60-pound weight loss! Ed survived the Vietnam War.

I enrolled at UM in 1970 to finish my degree. After getting married in 1971, I was hired by 3M and moved to Billings. My wife and I were out on the town one weekend when we ran into Ed Herber. We sat and talked of the odds involved in living meters from each other in what turned out to be one of the biggest battles of the Vietnam War and not knowing it. Then, the odds of our chance meeting in Da Nang. Both Montanans and both Griz.

Ed Herber is now deceased. I will never forget that Griz!

Charles D. Pickard ’71
Billings

Rivalry, Friendship Span Continents

In October 2009, I traveled to a number of universities in Europe to establish new agreements for student and faculty exchanges or to renew existing agreements and find ways to make them work more effectively. As it happened, I anticipated and very much enjoyed the opportunity to meet and talk with about a dozen UM students studying in various fields at University College Cork in Cork, Ireland. University President Michael Murphy arranged my schedule so I met the UM students, as well as the faculty and administrators of the programs hosting the students. In addition, I had a wonderful tour of the campus and the community, which helped me understand why students love the Cork experience.

For the last evening of the visit, President Murphy invited a number of people from the campus and the community to an elegant dinner in the historic President’s House on campus. Presidents no longer reside in the house but use it for special and ceremonial purposes—a venue most presidents would love to have. Imagine my surprise to learn when I arrived that the president had invited another special guest following a conversation that afternoon, indicating that this guest knew me well. I had not a clue who had followed me all the way across the Atlantic and Europe to Ireland.

Indeed, however, I did know Shane Colvin well, a young man who grew up in Bigfork and chose to attend Montana State University in Bozeman. I came to know and admire him by observing his leadership skills as he represented students exceedingly well during 2008-09 as president of the Associated Students of MSU. However, certainly the most memorable image of Shane occurred when he had to sing “Up With Montana”—the unforgettable Grizzly fight song—for the Board of Regents and all in attendance at the meeting in March 2009, after the Griz defeated the Cats in the football game in November 2008.

The recipient of a Mitchell Scholarship—the U.S.-Ireland Alliance awards twelve annually to support outstanding students for a year of postgraduate study in an Irish university—Shane opted to study music therapy at Limerick, a short trip from Cork. Following his year in Ireland, he will attend medical school. He and some new Irish friends had come to enjoy the jazz festival held annually in Cork. After a delightful but unexpectedly brief conversation, Shane excused himself from dinner to return to the festival, undoubtedly on the assumption that he would benefit more in his studies by doing so rather than frittering away the evening in conversation and good food. It does, indeed, appear that all roads lead to Montana.

George M. Dennison, ’62, ’63
President and Professor of History, The University of Montana

Meet Me In Montana

My best Montana connection happened during Freshman Week at UM in 1942—although I didn’t know it at the time!

In those years, it was still the tradition of the freshman men to paint the M on Mount Sentinel. This meant trudging up the hill, carrying bags of lime and buckets of water to slosh on the big white rocks. Meanwhile, the freshmen women were delegated to prepare a lunch table with hot dogs and lemonade for the perspiring men.

As the men started through the line to collect their food, I was behind the table, doling out hot dogs and lemonade. One particular young man received his bun and hot dog and held it out for me to put mustard on. I figured he could do that himself and said so, thinking no more about it.

A short while later, I settled down on a nearby rock to consume my own lunch when the aforementioned student came by and dropped some ice cubes down my neck. It was hardly a good way to start an acquaintance.

I shrugged that off with a somewhat pained laugh and forgot about it until that evening, which was the occasion of a freshmen mixer-dance at the Student Union.

Another male student, Duane, assisted me with my coat, pocketed the ticket, and asked me to dance. Then, who arrives and strikes up a conversation with me but my ice cube nemesis, Jack. There was a thaw, and he asked if he could see me back to the dorm after the dance. The only problem? The coat check ticket belonged to Duane. But Jack managed to con Duane out of that, and a friendship began between us.

There were movie dates and other activities with Jack that fall, but I was semi-engaged to someone back home, so intimacy progressed no further than handholding. Fast-forward to December 8, 1942. Jack enlisted in the Army Air Corps and departed. The hometown boyfriend enlisted in the Army and departed soon after. Jack wrote almost every day and finally two years later, after completing pilot’s training, we rekindled the spark.

It didn’t happen overnight, but on April 24, 1945, we were married. I was no longer a junior at UM, but an Air Force wife. The Montana connection was now permanent.

During the following year, when we could not be together, I managed to complete all but a few credits toward graduation. But in the fall of 1946, I was shipped off to Japan to be with my husband, who was then in the occupying Air Force contingents at Itazuki Air Force Base in Kyushu. Jack completed almost thirty-two years in the Air Force in 1974. As of April 2008, we completed sixty-four years of marriage, and in 2005 I received my bachelor’s degree in journalism from UM—completing my goal set in 1942.

Verna B. Krout ’05
Petaluma, Calif.

Guessing Game Gone Right

I was skiing in California with a professional friend from Kentucky. All morning long I told my friend how small Montana is. We all know everyone, I repeated over and over. Finally he had enough. While standing in line at the chairlift for a return trip up the mountain, my friend looked over at two ladies standing near us.

“Do you know anyone in Montana?” he asked them. “You see, my friend from Montana thinks he knows everyone who lives in the state.” The two ladies exchanged glances and then said they only knew one person—a friend from California named Gina who met her husband-to-be at a wedding and then eventually moved to Montana when they married.

I quickly told the ladies that Gina’s husband’s name is Steve and that they live in Libby. The two ladies were stunned and replied that I was correct. My friend was, to say the least, more than frustrated by this revelation. I simply said the only Gina from California I knew who met her husband in a wedding and then moved to Montana was my parents’ neighbor in Libby. Coincidental? No, Montana is a small state after all.

Bill Johnston ’79, M.P.A. ’91
Director, Office of Alumni Relations and Alumni Association

Tell Us—

What’s your favorite story of a Montana connection? E-mail all essays to themontanan@umontana.edu. The best submissions will be considered for publication in an upcoming issue of the Montanan. All entries must be fewer than 500 words, include the writer’s name and, if applicable, graduation year.

Email Article | MONTANAN WINTER 2010 

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