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E. Richard Benedict died at his home with his family beside him on Wednesday, February 1, 2012, at age 92.  He was born in Missoula, Montana, to Ruby R. Jewett Benedict and Thomas Richard Benedict at the Tooele Avenue home of his maternal grandparents, Aurora and Myron Jewett.  Within a few days of his birth on August 27, 1919, Richard and his mother returned to their home in Gilmore, Idaho, on the Gilmore and Pittsburgh, to rejoin Thomas.

For his first few years, Richard lived in Gilmore with his parents who owned and operated the Benedict Butcher Shop and, eventually, the Gem Saloon—which his father won in a poker game.   Writing about Gilmore and his parents, at the insistence of his children, Richard’s memoir creates a vivid picture of his childhood home: “The butcher shop had two small rooms in the rear of the building and that was to be their home for the next two years.  Must have been an idyllic little place for honeymooners: gasoline lamps, no water, wood-burning stove, outside toilet.  Gilmore is at 7300 feet and in the winters, it can be compared unfavorably with Siberia.  Ruby recalls the window curtains standing out from the window when the wind was blowing and the temperature was around twenty degrees below zero.  The only source of water, unless you hauled it by sled several miles, was snow melted on the kitchen stove.  This had to serve for the laundry, which was done by hand on a washboard.”  

A year or so after the birth of his son, Thomas built his family a small home near the butcher shop and saloon, complete with an upstairs and covered access to the wood-shed.  The home must have seemed enormous because within a short time, Thomas’ aunt, Sarah Lily Palmer and her husband, Charlie Jones, moved into the new residence with them—sleeping in the kitchen and living area.  When Ruby and Thomas separated and later divorced, Richard stayed in the house under the supervision of his great aunt and uncle while Thomas initiated a short-lived homestead at the head of Tex Creek and then started Benedict Trucking.  Not yet old enough for school, Richard spent his summer days pushing his marvelous pedal-car up the rocky streets of Gilmore and then roaring back down through town to his home or to the Anderson Pool Hall or to the Gilmore Mercantile, visiting with Mrs. Anderson, Sadie Wedgewood, Roy Cope, Carl Engquist, and other Gilmore residents.  The winters, however, must have proved challenging at best.    

Richard remembered several adventures with “Auntie and Charlie”: “Charlie got a job doing assessment work on some mining claims up in Silver Moon Gulch and on Big Eight Mile Creek and took Auntie and me with him.  I must have been about four years old—no, probably five.  I remember carrying water up a steep dirt road in two lard pails and how hot and tired I was; I remember the cabin, and playing on the  floor with the bars of soap and Uncle Charlie reading the funny papers to me.  One strip was “Happy Hooligan.”  I remember Auntie holding me down on the floor and forcing worm pills down me, and I can still remember how bad they tasted.  Why did she give me worm pills?  I don’t know.  I was a robust, healthy little kid, and I know that I didn’t have worms.  Auntie, however, removed all doubts.  This was at the Silver Moon mine.  Things got a little more hectic at the Big Eight Mile claims.  Someone set me astride Roy Cope’s saddle horse and an errant yellow jacket bit the horse who jumped and threw me to the ground with enough force to render me unconscious.  Then we had a forest fire that drove us from our homes to refuge above the timberline where we spent the night.  I remember that I enjoyed this adventure immensely.”

When it was time for him to attend school, Auntie moved him to Leadore where he fell hopelessly in love with his first grade teacher, Margaret Kirkham. It was his fondness for her, he insisted, that spurred him to extra effort and his promotion from first to third grade.

But his adventures had just begun. Richard spent over a year with his mother Ruby, attending schools in Lewistown, Montana, and in Seattle, Washington.  In 1927, Richard returned to the Lemhi Valley, again, on the G & P, and spent the next seven years living with his grandparents, Jessie Palmer and Ernest Richard Benedict and their children on the ranch near Leadore.  When his father settled in Salmon, Richard who was nearly thirteen, moved into town to live with Tom and his second wife, Maude McClaskey, and their new son Ralph.

He finished school in Salmon, enjoying many an excursion under the guise of “the Lone Weasel and his Band of Wily Cutthroats,” hobnobbing with his father’s truck-drivers, and working for his father.  In 1936, he met Ruby in Washington and spent some time traveling with her.  Some of that time was spent on the Grand Coulee Dam project.   Richard worked first in the tunnel below the dam, but when it was discovered that he was just sixteen, he was moved above ground.  He then worked in the mess hall, serving thousands of workers three meals a day.

He was, however, too homesick for Lemhi County to stay away long.

Richard married Betty Andrews in 1940, and they have one son, Ernest Richard Benedict.  They divorced four years later.

Drafted in 1944, Richard served in the Philippines near the end of World War II and served in the occupational forces in Osaka and Kyoto after the surrender of Japan.

When he returned to the United States, he worked in Pocatello for Garrett Brothers’ Trucking, and became reacquainted with Bernice Moore, another Lemhi County native, who was finishing Registered Nurses Training at Pocatello General Hospital.  They married January 27, 1947.  They have two daughters, Eletha Lynne and Hope Ann. 

Even in the 1940s and 1950s, making a living in Salmon was problematic.  He owned a Diamond-T semi-truck and worked hauling supplies, cattle, and sheep; he also worked as a heavy equipment operator at Cobalt in the 1950s.   When the mine closed, Richard managed service stations for Monte Bair in Dillon and Idaho Falls.  In 1966, when mining at Cobalt recommenced, Richard, Bernice, and Hope moved to Cobalt and reopened the Panther Creek Inn.  Although it took months to reclaim the building from the years of neglect, Richard and Bernice re-established that thriving business—doing all the cooking, bartending, and cleaning. Richard also worked everyday at the mine operating heavy equipment.

Until his retirement—which strictly speaking didn’t come until he was nearly 80—he worked with a couple of local construction companies, including Ray Stricklan Construction and Dahle Construction.  But he most enjoyed his years mining with his friend and partner, Clint Green.  They not only did contract mining in Lemhi County and in Arizona, they staked and mined a couple of ore bodies for themselves, including a mine on Sandy Creek and one at the mouth of Fourth of July Creek that Richard always called “Benedict’s Folly.”

It took a variety of jobs to enable Richard Benedict to remain in Lemhi County, but his sense of the place did not permit otherwise.

His memories of Gilmore, the Benedict ranch, and his family ties kept Richard in and around Salmon all of his life. When asked about Gilmore, he said:

I seem to follow a sort of set pattern in my visits:  I drive up and park on the main lateral street, get out and wander aimlessly around, kick a few rusty cans, remark at the deterioration since my last visit.  If anyone with me is interested, I explain about the various building sites:  such as, the location of Mihlburger's Saloon, the Anderson Pool Hall, Eliot's Boarding House, my father's butcher shop, his home, and, of course, the mines up on the mountain above.  I sit for awhile on the back foundation where the old Gem Saloon stood and remember my father and his cronies sitting there on the old board porch . . . I remember the money hunts we'd have and how my father found quarters and half-dollars and dollars, and I would find an occasional penny and think he was the best money hunter in the world.  I always end my day with a look in his old two-roomed house, or rather what's left of it . . .

And on the topic of Lemhi County in general, he said:

"As I have aged, I tend to find it difficult to be sure of the reasons for everything, but perhaps I have stayed because of a natural desire to remain with the familiar.  And, of course, there is the desire to stay in the same place with my family and my friends.  I have traveled rather extensively and have always, on my return, felt a strong sense of relief as I entered the Salmon River valley.  In short, I like the damn place.  I don't want to live anywhere else."

Richard and Bernice took several winter trips into the desert Southwest after they both retired, but he especially enjoyed forays into the hills and down the Salmon River, and picnics with his wife and children.  He climbed Freeman Peak with his son, Rick, in 1953, and the two of them floated the Middle Fork that same year with Dick West—with very little experience but much courage and luck.  Without a word of complaint, in fact with a great deal of love, patience, and humor, he raised his children and spent lots of time with his grandson; he read them stories, he took them fishing; he taught them all to drive; he attended their events, he applauded their efforts; and he mourned with them when they were sad.  He helped move his children to their various places of residence--he must have moved Hope at least 20 times until she finally landed across the street.  He loved history, he loved to read; he wrote wonderfully well—he could write a story just as well as he could tell a story; he loved that 1950 Willys Jeep, and the 1971 green Chevy pick-up, and his 1959 Black Ford; he luxuriated in the smooth ride of his 1977 Lincoln Continental.  He could complete a cross-word puzzle in nothing flat; he’s the only we know who could actually do that miserable celebrity cipher in the newspaper—in his head; he grew a great garden with quite a bit of help from his wife; and he made a wonderful home at the corner of South Saint Charles and Lovers Lane.

Dad worked hard, he played hard, and he had an incredible sense of humor which saw him through his difficult childhood, but most of all he loved his family and his family loved him.  He was both parent and best friend; he was his wife’s biggest fan and her greatest admirer—he told the crew in the Steele Memorial Emergency Room just a few weeks ago, that Bernice Benedict was the best-looking, most well-proportioned 86-year old anyone would ever see.  They were the best of friends and each other’s greatest confidantes.  Dad always felt better when Mom was close by. There has never been a second when his son, his daughters, and his grandson, didn’t know that he was there for each of them.  He was always on our side.  He was the best, most perfect father and husband in the world.

He was preceded in death by his parents, numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, and dear friends, including, Bill Cannon, Tommy Madole, Bob Taylor, Richard and LaRae West, Tommy Chandler, and others with whom he shared great adventures and memories. 

He is survived by his wife of 65 years, Bernice; his son Ernest Richard Benedict of Las Vegas, Nevada; his daughter, Eletha Lynne Benedict Summers and her husband, H. Dean Summers of Boise; his daughter, Hope Ann Benedict and her husband, Stewart Carrington of Salmon; his grandson, Richard Benedict of Boise; and two brothers, Ralph Benedict of Salmon and Wayne McMurchie of Ketchikan, Alaska.  Richard is also survived by his aunt, Helen Brown, and numerous cousins, including two with whom he spent many a happy hour, Dorothy Ellis Miller and Nellie Bradley Bunce; and many good, good friends.

Graveside services were held on Tuesday, February 7, 2012 at Salmon Cemetery with Military Honors provided by Idaho Honor Guard and Amercan Legion Lloyd Shaw Post #67.  Arrangements were under direction of Jones & Casey Funeral Home of Salmon.   Memorials may be made to Lemhi County Historical Museum, 210 Main Street, Salmon, Idaho 83467.