Stephen M. Leach

Stephen Michael Leach was no ordinary man. He lived on the edge, he swung for the fences, and he always encouraged those he loved to “Go for it.” And go for it he did. 

 Steve was a river, desert and gym rat, who loved to move and made a mean turkey soup. Horse packing trips into the Bob, adventures down the Middle Fork of the Flathead, triathlons in CDA, South Fork and North Fork River trips, playing tennis and G, poaching dog patch golf courses, trips to Kona and East Glacier, he always entered the fray. He was often seen wearing his “Eddie Would Go” t-shirt, a tribute to the great Hawaiian Waterman, Eddie Aikau, but truth is, Eddie wasn’t the only waterman who had a propensity to push the limits, “Steve would go,” and when he’d go, he’d go big. 

 Stephen Leach was a man of men, a devoted husband, father, grandfather, father-in-law, son, brother, uncle and friend. He was a legend to all who knew him best. The king of wing, a master salesmen and street fighting man—literally a street fighting man. 

 Born in Chicago, Illinois, to the son of a schoolteacher and Episcopal priest, Steve was proud of his parents, Ruth and Keith Leach. Steve spoke often about his father’s activism, quick to reference how he marched with Martin Luther King Jr., along with KL’s work to desegregate neighborhoods, providing equal housing opportunities for Black people in Chicago. Steve and his siblings Jeff Leach and Janet Hogan lived in India for five years, where his parents taught English and the entire family spoke fluent Hindi. A three-sport-athlete in high school, he went to the University of Illinois to play baseball for the Fighting Illini, a path derailed by his protest of the Vietnam war. 

 Steve and his wife April left Illinois, landing on Windsor Street near Trolley Square, graduating from University of Utah. From Salt Lake City they journeyed west to Pacific Northwest where their children, Michael Wayne Leach and Ashley Isabel Sherburne were born in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Steve and April raised Michael and Ashley in Bellevue, Washington; that 90’s decade in Seattle were some of the best memories of their lives.

 Steve was a passionate Democrat and in recent months, he relished listening to the Obama’s stumping for Kamala Harris. He had disdain for Trump and loved to yell profanity out his car window as he drove by an RV flying the Trump flag near his house. “I can do meth before I can do Trump.” 

 In recent years, if he wasn’t watching a game or CNN, he was mowing his lawn or shoveling his driveway. Everything was a competition with Steve, and he always claimed that he had “The best grounds in Bozeman.” 

 The king of one liners and nicknames, if he gave you one, it stuck. Stickman. Burnside. K-Bird. Meer. Ry. Comando. Davy Jones’ Locker. Foots Walker. Jedidiah. TRW. The Centa Man. The Misery Brothers. Cartier. Doons. Chippy Le Pew. Cole Burner. Dumb Skud. McGarret, Dano, Chin Ho. Just to name a few. 

 Generous and gregarious, he never saw a tab or restaurant bill he didn’t pick up. Steve was a giver and knew what most mattered: family, friends, sports, politics, music and wilderness. 

He loved his Zags, Mariners, Sonics and Seahawks. He admired Lebron James, Muhamad Ali, Walter Payton, Roberto Clemente and Luis Aparicio.

 He was quick to quote a movie he loved, “Sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand,” or “All the way up with a red-hot poker.” 

 A talented musician and songwriter, he performed at many of his close friends’ weddings and at his own son’s weddings he sang ‘When you Say Nothing at All’, and ‘Thinking Out Loud’ with his daughter (what a duet they were) and at Ashley’s wedding he sang his own song that he wrote for his wife of 53 years, with a chorus, “You have given me a life worth living.” The street fighting man had the voice of an angel and the heart of a wolverine.

 His love for Montana’s rivers were chronicled in his son’s memoir, Grizzlies On My Mind—The Poor Man’s Steelhead Run. He was haunted by water, loved a good campfire and marveled at a night full of stars. He loved to fish, he could cut an old-school telemark turn and was a skilled slalom and barefoot water skier. 

 He had the looks of Michael Douglas and the voice of James Taylor—and he was a freakishly good athlete, a master of ball sports. From Pacific Northwest Tennis Championships to epic basement ping pong matches, to barroom pool tables, Steve was a shark, competitor and hustler. 

 With Billy Jean King by his side, he beat Joe Theismann in a doubles match at Hilton Head; he presented framed Sports Illustrated covers in front of packed arenas and stadiums to Ken Griffey Jr., Alex Rodriguez, Randy Johnson and Clyde Drexler; he kicked it with Emmitt Smith and Shaquille O’Neil and for a decade he hung out with whichever supermodel was on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, always coming home with a scandalous note from the cover girl penned on a poster for his teenage son. 

 After a long sales career in the magazine industry working for Time Warner, Hearst and the Source, he took over as the Executive Director at Stafford Animal Shelter. With the support of his trusted sidekick Alicia Davis and a couple of solid board members, they took the shelter to new heights and with the help of his wife April and daughter Ashley, they started the Rez Dogs program that has been popularized throughout the state. 

 Steve took great pride in April’s deep Wyoming roots. Though April’s grandfather was the youngest to ever win the saddle bronc competition at Cheyenne Frontier Days in 1914 and was inducted to the Cowboy Hall of Fame, another Wyoming cowboy is credited with being the state emblem on the license plate, but Steve knew better, and was unwavering. “That’s Grandpa Doc and nobody is going to tell me it’s not” and chances are, even at 73, if you tried to argue otherwise, he’d hall off and cold cock you.

 Loved by most, family friend and actor, Carter Roy recently described him as “A kind of masculine prototype for being a man and a man who cares.” 

 He took chances, was unafraid of what others thought, always showing up true to form, unabashed and unapologetic. He was dealt more than most, but he was resilient and tough.

 From cowboy boots to slick suits, walking the mountains of Montana to the streets of Chicago, Steve fit in wherever he went, always taking the high line. He had an uncanny ability to assimilate and find common ground and once you started speaking to Pop’s Leach, you were sold, hook, line and sinker. 

 He loved his kids more than anything; they were his pride and joy. He extended that same love to his daughter-in-law, Amanda and son-in-law, Ryan. With the birth of his grandchildren Kamiah and Mirabelle, “Grandpa” upped his game and became a legend once more—this time to his granddaughters. 

 Whether crafting the ‘Under Pants Song’ with Kamiah on their drive from Hilo to Kona, making Mirabelle laugh and shake her head in East Glacier, or instructing Kamiah that she needs to be a fighter whenever she wears her Utah Utes sweatshirt, Grandpa always elevated his granddaughters and those around him. 

 On October 4th (his son’s birthday), 2023, he lost his high school sweetheart and wife of 53 years, author, wilderness advocate and attorney, April Christofferson Leach. One year later to the day, he spread her ashes in the Lamar River—her favorite place on earth. He was proud and happy, though saddened and brokenhearted. 

 On November 20th, wearing his Gallatin High School basketball sweats and a Raptor football shirt, with sixty bucks, car keys and a TV remote in his pocket, he took flight to the spirit world. Steve fought to the end and after taking one last swing (attempting to get to the hospital), he rejoined the love of his life. He lived a full life and a life of purpose with his pets, son Michael, daughter-in-law Amanda and granddaughter Kamiah in Bozeman—with his East Glacier daughter Ashley, son-in-law Ryan and granddaughter Mirabelle visiting often. 

 In the wake of his passing there’s been an avalanche of stories from friends and family and enough tears to fill the Yellowstone River that he loved. Steve was a fallible human, far from perfect, but he was the best. As Steve liked to say when releasing a feisty trout, “Gone, but not forgotten.” Steve may be gone from this physical world, but one thing’s for certain, he’ll never be forgotten and his legacy as a fighter who would go will always live on. 

Donation page to a project Steve loved to come…