Bill Wagner

Bill Wagner (Lisa's dad, Jerry's brother, Clariesa's papa, Catherine's cousin) passed away suddenly late on the night of Oct. 23.

Born in Hamilton, Montana in 1941, to grateful parents Clare "Hap" and Zella Wagner, Bill was the first of their two sons. They lived in St. Ignatius, where Hap worked in farming, living near his brother Jim, Olga and their daughter Catherine. Just three years older than Bill, (a fun fact that he brought up at least once a year) Catherine and he grew up very close, raised more like siblings than cousins.

Hap, Zella and Bill lived in what Bill called a "shack," that lacked more than good insulation. When it snowed and the wind blew, they woke to snow covering the floor and their blankets they were sleeping under.

Bill was a helpful, friendly child. When he was about 4 or 5, he picked all the "balls" off Grandma Wagner’s prize peony bush for her. He also kept his mother's secrets. Once, she was asked to bring an apple pie to a gathering but all she had available were pears. "Don't you tell anybody," she told him. "No one said anything about it, except that “the pie was good," he would proudly tell, "and I never said a word."

Zella's youngest sister, Faye, was only 11 years older than Bill and they shared a lot of things, including a healthy sense of humor and a quickness to laugh. Once she came for a visit and found the house (shack) door open and Bill's goat standing on the kitchen table. Oh, how Bill and Faye laughed.

Bill’s first paying job was with a neighboring farmer doing work with the tractor, igniting his love for the machines. He loved old cars, but tractors held a special place in his heart. A couple years ago he and I went to Kalispell to "meet" the first Big Bud tractor. (Look it up, it's impressive.)

In September of 1955 Libby was doing well, the economy was growing, and the Wagner family moved to Libby. Hap went to work at the mill, Zella took in laundry and ironing, and our Bill went to school – where he created all new stories to tell. My goodness have I heard him talk of Bubba Conn and that car. Working at Sleizers Grocery, delivering groceries. That one time with Barb, Chloe, Marge and Sandy when, ''if anyone ever asked, he was driving.''

He graduated in 1959, just months before his brother Jerry was born. The day after graduation he went to work at the mill himself, "Because, that's what we did then."

Selective Service put him in the Army, and they took him to Germany. Raising his hand when the group was asked if anybody had "ever cut hair," Bill suddenly found himself as company barber. Similar to how he became assigned as the captain’s driver. Which provided him with adventures and earned him awards.

Back home in Libby, Bill learned that his cousin Lorry Dotson, whom he'd never met, was now in town, so he introduced himself. A simple encounter that would re-direct his whole life, as Lorry and Sue - who was then teaching with Ruth Sutton, saw that Bill and Ruth should meet. So, they arranged it to happen. (Now Ruth always gave Sue the credit for the introduction, but upon being asked, Bill seemed to be oblivious to it. "No," he said, "there was just a get-together, like we had in those days and we met there." Well done, cousins.) 

In May of 1968, Bill and Ruth were married. July of that year they purchased The Place where the two would live their lives. A single, square house that Pete Erickson built on a portioned-out plot of land. No fences, no buildings. Only two houses nearby with neighbors; Mrs. Edith Tallmadge, in her little green house across the highway, and Erickson's down the hill in "the cabin."

Those first years there was snow like we do not see today and Bill shoveled the driveway by hand. Coming in one day, exhausted and covered in snow, he told Ruth that he wasn't doing this next year. 

"We may be living on beans and rice all year but by next year we will have a tractor." 

And they did. Never without one again and never forgetting the hardship of doing it by hand, he plowed out the neighborhood for years. Usually plowing through the night. He and Pete would take turns clearing the driveway that they shared and worked together to build into a stable road. Neighbors were like family then, everyone knew everyone, meals were shared, horseshoes clanged, cards played, phone numbers (all 5 digits of them) were memorized and remembered by all.

1970 had the young couple expecting their first child. Bill, working full-time and being so far from the hospital, took his wife to her mother, a nurse, in Kalispell. But without the advancements that we have now the doctors couldn't see the trouble and the wee girl, Mary, never drew a breath. "All that preparation," he said once, "and we came home with nothing." 

Ruth's dad had also died that year, but he'd told her that he had a dream where she was holding her blond-haired, blue-eyed baby. I've often thought that dream was the only reason either of them had the courage to try again. Ruth, a teacher, so enjoyed children and was a "try, try again" person, but Bill's heart was deeply cracked by the first loss, he said he couldn't go through that fear again. Still, one year later Lisa came along and I don't know which one of us loved the other more.

Lisa's milk sensitivity prompted getting the first goat, Bill's fond memories of his mischievous pal from his childhood solidifying the purchase, neither of them imagining how it would expand into a thriving herd of purebred Nubian dairy goats. They chose the herd-name "Dry Rock Nubians," because of all the rocks (so plentiful that just with what was dug out to create the garden spot Ruth was able to build an actual wall at the back of the front yard) and the shallow water well that was so quick to run dry, "this place is on a big dry rock."

Bill followed the mill from St. Regis to Champion, then went to work for Ron Halsey and finally Richard Schrade. All the while working businesses from home - several of which offered travel opportunities, Rome, Italy and Nashville, Tennessee being the two favorites. He retired early, due to Ruth’s health, they purchased a computer, and once again built a business.

As Ruth's illness slowly took away her mobility the two of them continued to try new things to make life work. When she couldn't walk up the hill to the barn Bill pushed her in a wheelchair. She’d do the milking (all by hand), he’d water and feed. 

Coming back down one evening, bucket of milk on her lap, her arms wrapped snug round it, one plastic grip slipped off the handle of the old chair and away they went. Bill only holding one handle and basically chasing the chair as it swerved to the side. Ruth yelling and Bill laughing so hard he could barely recapture the runaway wife. But you could always count on Dad to save the day, there were no injuries and, thanks to the good lid on the bucket, no spilt milk.

1999 brought his next great love, his granddaughter, Clare. He loved Jake and Kaela. He loved those pictures and updates on their children, especially Benji, who he'd really connected with on their first snuggle/meet. 

But no one could compare to his love for Clare. They would cuddle and chat and dance in the house to the music from the Big Joe Polka Show. They had late night snacks, mid-night chats, would sneak cookies behind my back and were genuinely good friends. This last year, I don't know how many times I heard him bragging to folks that he "had his whole family with him right here."

When Jerry got pneumonia, Bill brought him out here to take care of him; when Bill had his hip replaced, Jerry stayed to take care of him. Soon, the brothers began their road trips to visit family and friends, and see the sites, Oregon, Texas, Arizona… Bill always liked to travel. He also liked to be home. He told me once, "We moved around a lot when I was a kid. When I got here, I stuck in my roots. I guess I buried them too deep, because I really don’t want to go anywhere, anymore." 

So, we’ve brought him back home.

Bill was preceded in death by his parents, his wife, and most recently, his dear Aunt Faye. 

He is survived by his brother, Jerry Wagner; daughter, Lisa (Wagner) Johnson; granddaughter, Clariesa (Clare) Johnson; cousins Catherine McClung, Theresa [and Dennis] Bauman, Teri Reiken, Mike Reiken, Pat Reiken, Larry Dotson and numerous other cousins; sister-in-law, Kathy (Sutton) Paull [and Dave]; "adopted" daughter, JoLisa Erickson-Sorbo [Steve], grandkids-in-love Kaela Johnson [and Alex], Jake and Ceara Johnson; neices, nephews and friends.