Power of the pen
Letter from the editor
During my first month as the new editor for the Bigfork Eagle, Elmer Sprunger threatened to quit at least three times.
I didn't run his cartoon correctly or it came out too dark. The people writing the checks forgot, again, to pay him on time, etc.
At first I was simply annoyed, but then I was mortified. I grew up in Creston, and I've spent most of my life in the Flathead Valley, so I knew who Elmer was. If Elmer, an icon, quit as soon as I showed up … Well, I didn't want to imagine the consequences.
In spite of our imperfect beginning, I began to look forward to Monday mornings when Elmer would stop by and drop off his cartoon. I'd read his cartoon, and he'd try and get me to tell him what was going to be in the newspaper that week.
We quickly discovered that we had a common bond - our love of the outdoors, especially the Swan Range. I'd show him photos of my latest hike, and he'd regale me with fishing tales. Elmer and his fishing buddy, Jack Whitney, dropped flies in every high mountain lake and stream from here to Condon.
"Flyfishing is an addiction," he would say.
His tales were a mixture of joyous remembrance and a longing nostalgia. Elmer's days of traipsing through the mountains looking for trout were long gone, and I could tell he missed them deeply. The look in his eyes made me appreciate each one of my trips all the more.
News of Elmer's death last week was saddening, but not unexpected. Throughout this year, Elmer stopped by less and less, and his son, Jerry, dropped off Elmer's cartoons more and more. Elmer's trips to the hospital increased, but there was always a cartoon on my desk each Monday.
His dedication was matched only by his stubborn refusal to let a week go by without injecting his viewpoint into the weekly dialogue.
We have an archive of newspapers here at the Eagle, and I've gone through many old issues to read Elmer's work. As far as I'm concerned, he has owned the editorial page from his first cartoon. Editors have come and gone, and no one has been able to write anything as timeless, as funny or as pointed as what Elmer drew.
You were a good man, Elmer, and I join the chorus of those who say, "We will miss you."