-
A piggyback ride down the ‘family run’

Following is an updated version of a column that was first published on May 14, 2013:
One of the lasting impressions I have of my cousin Jerry D’Arcy is him walking up a ski hill with his skis over his shoulder. He was shaking his head in utter disbelief.
He could not believe that I was just standing on the top of the mountain when the whole purpose of being there was to go down it.
I had reached the first steep section of what they told me was the “family run” at Discovery Ski Area, and I was not going to go any farther.
It was my first time ever on skis. I was 11 years old, and I was not the bravest boy in town. I wanted to be, but I was not.
That I was on top of that hill in the first place was kind of an upset. I was there mostly because I could not say no to my cousins, who insisted I did not need a few runs on the bunny hill before heading up the chair lift a few of days after Christmas in 1985.
Jerry’s friend Jay Ballenger rode up the lift with me. He helped me get on the chair, and he coached me on how to get off. He was so nice and encouraging. He made it sound so easy.
His advice actually helped me get off the lift. It did not, however, stop me from crash landing and looking like an idiot after I got off the chair.
Then, as Jerry went ahead of us, Jay coached me as we glided to the part of the hill that at the time I thought was steep. Sure, it’s not really much of a hill. Little kids go down it skiing without poles. At the time, though, it felt like I was standing on top of Mount Everest.
The top of that mountain is where I lost every shred of dignity as I bawled my eyes out, refusing to go any further.
After some nice encouragement from Jay — and some not-so-nice encouragement from my brother and other cousins — Jerry decided he was just going to carry me down the hill.
Jerry, who hiked about 100 yards uphill in his ski boots, handed his poles and my skis to Jay. Then he had me climb on his back and we headed down the mountain.
My first ever ski run ended with Jerry and Jay taking turns giving me a piggyback ride down the mountain. Jerry dropped me off at the base of the bunny hill and left me there for the day, one of the most embarrassing and shameful days of my life.
To me, Jerry was as cool as they come. He was smart, funny, quick-witted, too brave for his own good and a little bit crazy. He was everything I wished I could be, and I just acted like an idiot in front of him.
I’ll never forget the time he passed our family car on his motorcycle as we drove on Continental Drive. He was driving on the skinny trail on the side of the road, and he took flight over each street that intersection the trail.
I’ll never forget the time I went on a hunt with Jerry and he took off sprinting after a coyote, just for the heck of it. He held his rifle in one hand as he sprinted and hurdled fallen trees. My 12-year-old legs couldn’t come close to keeping up.
I’ll never forget all the Atari games we’d play on the nights Jerry was charged with “watching” my brothers and me when our parents went out for the night. It was impressive to me then that he would take the time to spend nights with us, even if my parents paid him.
I’ll never forget how tightly I hung onto anything I could when I rode in the back of his Bronco because, as his driving record would surely attest, Jerry was not big on speed limits.
I’ll never forget first hearing the story about how he outran the police officer, who was about to marry our aunt, on his motorcycle.
I’ll never forget the night that he was having too much time goofing off with his friends that he forgot to make an appearance at his own birthday party.
I’ll never forget that the adults in our family called him “Little Jerry,” even though at about 6-foot-2, he was the tallest of all the cousins.
Some moments are just frozen in time, and one that I could never shake is the one on his back at Discovery. Jerry never complained, and he never mentioned the incident ever again. But I never felt like a bigger wimp in my life.
I still don’t feel like I have lived that moment down.
At the same time, I never felt more fortunate to have Jerry as my cousin. I knew that, no matter what, he always had my back.
Another moment I will never get over came early on the morning of May 15, 1988, almost two and a half years after my piggyback ride at Discovery.
I was 14 and I was working at the concession stand at Stodden Park, getting ready for a busy Sunday. Like just about every weekend back then, the park was hosting a bar-sponsored softball tournament.
I can still hear the popcorn popping, smell the coffee brewing and see the tears on my uncle Melvin’s face as he walked in the door.
“What’s up, big guy?” I said. My uncle could hardly talk.
“Little Jerry,” he said, “was killed in a crash in the Highlands last night.”
My cousin died when his Bronco rolled as he and a group of friends tried to climb a really steep hill in the Highlands. He was only 20.
The days that followed were the most difficult I remember my family ever going through. They were the toughest days of my life. The two days of the wake and funeral seemed like two weeks. The weeks that followed seemed like years.
One recurring thought seemed to comfort me a bit during that time, and it still does today. As I looked around the church, I remember thinking that everyone in the building either has lived or will live longer than Jerry. Nobody, though, will ever outlive him.
Every day Jerry lived was one to remember. He made sure that he was never cheated of one day, and I am so lucky that I was able to be a part of some of them.
This Friday marks 38 years since Jerry left us, and sometimes it still feels like yesterday.
There has hardly been any of the nearly 14,000 days since he left us that I have not closed my eyes at least once and pictured my cousin vividly in my mind.
Usually, I see him walking up that hill at Discovery, shaking his head in utter disbelief.
— Bill Foley, who still isn’t all that brave, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74 or Bluesky at @foles74.bsky.social. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.
-
No. 346: Russ and Jamie Cleveland

Every time you hear Russ Cleveland talk, you will hear another amazing story.
He documented many of those stories on his “60 for 60” videos that he has been posting on his campaign’s social media sites in the run up to the June 2 primary election.
Russ is running as a Democratic candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives in Montan’s 1st Congressional District.
He tells stories of meeting his wife when he was 14 years old, but claimed to be 16. He tells a story of working at a bank and having a gun pulled on him during a robbery. He tells the story of his oldest daughter and her courageous battle with leukemia.
Today, we hear another incredible story as we talk to Russ and his daughter Jamie. Last week, Jamie signed to compete in track for the Orediggers when she attends Montana Tech. She is following her mother into her field of study, and she is following her father as an Oredigger. Russ played football for coach Bob Green.
Jamie is a senior in high school in St. Regis, and she already earned an associate’s degree, thanks to dual credits offered through the high school.
She really seems to have a head start on college and life in general, and none of that would be possible if it was not for Russ, his wife Kate and their family.
Russ and Kate adopted Jamie when she was a freshman in high school. They first met her when Kate was coaching basketball and Russ was coaching track.
Jamie came from a life of abuse and neglect, and the Cleveland family welcomed her in as one of their own. She is not their “adopted daughter.” She is simply their daughter.
This morning, I met with Russ and Jamie at The Local on Galena Street to listen to them tell their story.
Listen in to hear what it was like for Jamie to become a Cleveland. Listen to what led her to Montana Tech. Listen to hear Jamie describe Russ as a coach and a parent. Listen as she talks about Russ’ unusual style of eating cereal, which I find to be ingenious.
You can meet Russ in person Wednesday when he holds a rally and a cookout at Stodden Park. The family event begins at 6 p.m. and hotdogs will be provided. If we’re lucky, Russ might even tell you another one of his incredible life stories.
Today’s episode is presented by the Jewelry Design Center. Let Brian Toone and Co. be your jewelers for life.
-
Episode No. 345: Max Demarais

As a sophomore in high school, Max Demarais could have probably run for any office in town — and won easily.
Around here, he was as famous as he is likable.
Max was diagnosed with a tumor behind his right eye after he struggled with the vision test while taking the driver’s education program. It was the summer before his freshman year at Butte High School.
That led to rounds of chemotherapy before he eventually made the incredibly tough decision — as a sophomore — to have his eye surgically removed.
That, did not stop Max. While the vision problem might have ended his basketball career a little early, he still went on to a great career playing defensive line for the Bulldogs. He also played baseball after the removal of the eye, hitting over .300 one season for the Butte Muckers and wiping away excuses for people like me who couldn’t hit the ball with two eyes.
Max grew up dreaming of playing football for the Montana State Bobcats. His family has long held season tickets, and Max went to his first Bobcat game in the first few days of his life.
He did not end up playing for the Cats, but this morning he graduated from the school with an engineering job already in hand. He graduated as a highly-decorated student with some prestigious scholarships in his pocket.
Before he starts that new career in Missoula — where he will not become a Grizzly fan — Max is going to spend a month traveling around Europe for a well-deserved vacation after graduating from MSU in four years.
Yesterday, I met up with Max over Zoom for a conversation on the eve of his college graduation. Listen in as Max talks about his fight with cancer and how he kept a positive attitude throughout.
Listen as he talks about the support he received from his teammates, friends and people from the community who he never knew.
Listen as he talks about his four years of college and find out how much MSU national championship gear he already owns.
Today’s episode is presented by Leskovar Honda, home of the friendly non-commission sales staff that always has your back. It is also available on YouTube:























