Our family moved to Boulder in 1985. For my father, this was something of a homecoming: He had started life in Helena, the son of Luke and Mary Gabse, and had graduated from Cathedral High School. He was encouraged to follow his creative and artistic talents, which led him to Missoula, where he managed the Heidelhaus restaurant and owned and operated the Monk’s Cave, a rock and roll bar.
During his years in Missoula, he met and married my mother, Debbie; and their three children—Wolfgang, me, and Morgan—were born. After a short stay in Kalispell, we came to Boulder, where Mom began her career at Montana Developmental Center. Dad worked part-time in Helena, but much of his time was spent caring for his three young kids.
Dad was known for his many stories and was more than willing to bend the ears of his friends and family. A quick trip to the post office was only quick if he didn’t run into anyone or have a reason to go visit Postmaster Mike DuBois at the counter. He enjoyed engaging with the community when we kids were in school, whether he was in Barbara Patrick’s office to discuss how to help keep the kids on track or talking to the Paces while the yellow Ford idled on the corner of Monroe and Hauser.
When the Boulder Library was planning its move across Main Street, Dad enjoyed the fundraising efforts, from selling candy to the BBQ at the fairgrounds. He loved the new library building and felt really proud that the community had accomplished the project. Of course, he also loved that it offered a great space for me and Morgan to disappear to. He was happy to drive Morgan down to the new building each week the summer that she mowed the library’s lawn with the old rotary mower.
My father really liked being involved in local politics. He helped James Madison run for the district seat in the Montana House of Representatives. When Jim Quinlan first ran for county sheriff in the mid 90s, Dad designed his election signs and helped plan his election strategy. Over the years, he was an election judge, and he provided mechanical support with the new machines.
When Wolfgang was in junior high, he and my dad helped with restoration work at the Castoria Inn. The stained glass window was broken and the frame was cracked. They ordered new stained glass, reset it, and rebuilt the frame. They also worked on the upstairs bathroom and did some exterior demolition. Wolfgang remembers learning copper pipe plumping as he worked with his dad.
In the late 90s, as the kids went through high school and out into the world, my father worked for Jefferson County as the Saturday attendant at the dump. He loved helping people and finding his own treasures to repurpose. In his later years, he really enjoyed fixing up and rebuilding the various Fords, and he’d share his latest step in the project of the moment with whomever he ran into at the grocery store. Dad truly loved the Boulder, and he deeply appreciated the community’s support of his family over the years.
