We were going to have lunch this week.

Since coming back to the Bigfork Eagle last year, I’ve enjoyed my meetings, interviews and chats with Mike Felt. I love his big laugh, the way he enters a room with purpose. 

But we won’t be having lunch this week. Mike died last Thursday.

Mike had his fans and his detractors in Bigfork. He took big chances, some of which paid off, some of which did not. 

The one that did pay off was Eagle Bend Golf Club, which became synonymous with Bigfork in the 1980s.

I admired Mike for how he held his head high, despite those in the community who could not move on after he lost the golf course in the 1990s. 

Our breakfast meetings (which he never let me pay for) covered a wide range of topics, including faith, business, government and local gossip. I learned from him what a work ethic could do, and I learned where he came from; Mike did not come from money, but he knew how to work. 

I think Mike sensed I was to the left of his stance on issues, and I never felt as if he discounted my moderate to liberal leanings. I think Mike was a practical man who was able to see both sides of an issue.

This summer I spent several hours with Mike, filming a documentary on Eagle Bend’s 30th anniversary. I’m glad I got him on film and captured that big laugh and gregarious smile.

If it hadn’t been for Mike, I never would have met Jack Nicklaus, the greatest golfer who ever lived. It was in 1988, my first year out of the University of Montana School of Journalism, and I was a wet-behind-the-ears pup with no real world newspaper experience. Eagle Bend was dedicating its clubhouse and Nicklaus was there to help cut the ribbon.

Six years later, when Nicklaus was here to dedicate the new “Nicklaus” nine holes at Eagle Bend, I’d learned a few things about celebrity, namely, not to be intimidated by it. After a press conference with Nicklaus, I approached Nicklaus and asked him how his elk hunting was going. 

“Come on inside and let’s talk about that,” Nicklaus told me. I followed him sheepishly into the makeshift locker room, which I think may been Felt’s office. So, I sat there and chatted with Nicklaus and his son, Jack Jr., as they, shirtless, cleaned up after their 18-hole round. I couldn’t believe this was happening — here I am having a private conversation with golf’s greatest legend. I excused myself a bit too early from the room, thinking I was intruding. I wish I’d stayed longer.

Moments like that would not have happened if it were not for Mike Felt. I’m sure many people in the community can say the same thing. 

I knew Mike was having health issues, but when he was in my office last week he assured me he was on the road to health. “Now I just got to stay healthy,” he said, as he held on to a railing in my office. We set up a tentative lunch meeting for this week. As he walked out to his car, which he was trying to sell (“That thing’s just too damn big,” he said.) I noticed he was walking with a bit more of a limp than usual. 

I did feel a bit worried, but thought I’d see him this week.

I was shocked and saddened to hear of his passing. Mike was my connection to the Bigfork that I knew nearly 30 years ago — a time when life was fresh and new, my career just beginning.

Felt had taken the time to reconnect with me after all these years, and he offered kind words of how the newspaper was doing.

Every time Mike left my office I always thought, “There goes a great man.”

Mike, I’m glad I knew ya.