‘All it takes is for one person to stand up’

LIBBY — It was six funerals in six weeks that prompted Gayla Benefield to lay down her torch a couple of years ago.

Libby’s tireless advocate for justice and health care for asbestos victims was worn out, physically and mentally. She had accomplished a lot, gotten people to listen, moved them to action.

But she’d been at it since 1974 when her father died from asbestos disease.

He and Benefield’s mother were among the more than 300 Libby residents who have succumbed to the razor-sharp asbestos fibers that slowly turn lungs useless.

“That’s when I started fighting them,” Benefield recalled about her years of going up against W.R. Grace & Co., the corporation that operated the vermiculite mine from 1963 to 1990.

Five of those six funerals two years ago were for family members, including two relatives who died on the same day.

The sixth was for Les Skramstad, her right-hand man when it came to rabble-rousing for the cause. Together Benefield and Skramstad hammered Grace and every local, state and federal agency with the tough questions about why no one was watching all those years ago when the first reports of asbestos problems began surfacing.

Benefield resigned from every board and organization, and at one time or another she was involved with most of the plethora of groups formed in the aftermath of Grace’s asbestos poisoning of the community.

“The weight was lifted off my shoulders,” she said last week, gazing out the window of her log home on the Kootenai River.

In the same breath, in typical brash Benefield style, she retorted with a hoarse laugh: “I think I have PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). It was a war. It consumed me but it was necessary.”

Benefield, though, hasn’t completely cut herself off from advocacy.

She was a speaker at a University of Montana symposium last week that focused on what’s next for Libby. She’s a guest speaker a few times a year at high-profile asbestos conferences throughout the country, and if victims call for help she steers them in the right direction.

Losing her friend Les was heart-breaking, even if they both knew his days were numbered. Les suffered greatly for years from asbestos disease and died just 10 days after he was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a deadly asbestos-related tumorous cancer that strikes with a vengeance.

“I finally gave him permission to die,” she recalled, remembering the last time she saw him. “Before that, when he’d say he was going to get some pine boards and build a coffin, I’d tell him to build me a bookcase.”

The two tried for years to shine the spotlight on Libby’s asbestos troubles, but it wasn't until the story hit the local and national news media in 1999 that federal and state agencies finally sprang into action.

Their advocacy didn’t win them any popularity contests. They were shunned by many who wanted to sweep the asbestos dust under the rug.

“It got so political,” Benefield said, “And it never should have.”

Benefield knows that, but still she’s had to do some soul-searching of her own.

“I have to tell myself you’re not responsible for these people dying,” she said. “I felt like we were on trial, felt we were the guilty ones. I’ve had to do a lot of self-talking.”

Benefield also is dealing with her own worsening asbestos disease. At 66, she can’t walk upstairs and carry anything without getting winded. She works out, but knows the nature of the disease is unpredictable at best. Her husband, Dave, has the disease, too, but so far her five children have been spared.

Ever feisty, she’s determined to keep her vices, which include smoking cigars.

“I’d rather have my vices kill me,” she said. “But I got my H1N1 shot because I’ll be damned if I’ll die of the flu.”

There’s some sense of satisfaction in what she helped accomplish.

“I look back and 10 years ago only the symptoms were treated, not the disease. Nobody was saying the word out loud.”

Benefield is encouraged by the improved facilities for health care and ongoing research.

“All it takes is for one person to stand up. I stress that when I talk to students. When all is done, I didn’t gain a thing,” she said, pausing, “except I did something that probably changed the world.”

 Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com