Frank Joseph Heilig

Frank Joseph Heilig

1/2/1952 – 8/13/20

I would often introduce Frank Heilig as my homeless neighbor. He was that, but he described himself with a far more colorful montage; mountain man, logger, survivalist, mechanic, ham radio operator, provider of security services, fire fighter, former marine and helper to all who ask. Some of his neighbors knew him only as "GI Joe" or "Camo Guy." And some found his dress and demeanor a bit intimidating. But he wrote "I bring people together." I can attest that that was true.

I first met Frank in 2007, when my wife and I bought a 20-acre parcel in the forested hills west of Whitehall Montana. Frank and his trusted K9 companion, Dobie, lived in his "fox hole," essentially squatting on the neighbor's property. Their cozy underground home was carefully crafted by spanning an excavated arroyo with felled trees. Inside, he had an old Army-style bunk bed frame that kept his arctic sleeping bag off the dirt floor. A woodburning stove sat near the entrance and shelving was suspended by ropes from the cross-members that made up the ceiling. His quarters included a make-shift horizontal surface that served simultaneously as kitchen, radio shack and work-space. The tools for his minimalist life style were neatly stored away; a couple of chainsaws, a shovel, a pickaxe. His short-barreled shotgun was leaned carefully against the head of the bed frame, protecting the muzzle from the dirt wall.

His life style was rather shocking at first. But as we grew to know Frank as a person, his chosen existence became simply a part of the whole package. Perhaps most defining was the fact that Frank would do virtually anything to help anyone. Over the last dozen years, I am sure, Frank has had hundreds of interactions in which he would provide assistance to people, often at significant personal expense. He happily served as chauffeur to at least two elderly neighbors. He befriended a local family, assuming the role of protector of their property and their many children. He would shop for groceries using his own food stamps and deliver them to their crowded household. That family has told me they have lost the only "grandparent" they have ever known.

In the 19 Mile Wildfire of 2012, the fox-hole roof beams, most of his possessions inside and everything outside in his Camp were destroyed. And while his place was actively burning, he didn't evacuate as ordered. Instead, he worked tirelessly to save other's homes. Thirty-six hours later, when residents were finally allowed back in, we found the exhausted GI Joe sound asleep on our deck with his shotgun dutifully leaning up against the wall near his head.

After the fire, Frank began rebuilding his existence by purchasing an 8' by 20' cargo container. Using a small tractor borrowed from a neighbor he excavated a spot to bury all but the doors. He outfitted it with his few things that remained after the fire, slowly adding some critical items from a small donation fund that was set up to help him recover, to pay him back for his heroic efforts during the fire. His dimly lit Dobie Den, named after his companion, and his radio equipment was powered by a new 100-watt solar panel. One family purchased a brand-new Stihl chainsaw and delivered it to him as a way of saying thanks.

When his faithful German Shepard was killed in an accident, Frank put his friend to rest after hand-digging a deep grave in the rocky soil near his old fox hole. Even though I often encouraged him, Frank never took on another partner. But he did become the always-welcoming friend to all the other dogs in the neighborhood. He was quick to share whatever food he had and not just with the dogs. After learning Frank was no threat, the "goldies" that lived in his wood piles would regularly share a bowl of cereal with him. The Dobie Den would remain his home for the next seven years until his death.

Frank described his childhood home life as completely dysfunctional. I never saw Frank drink or use drugs, perhaps because of his difficult up-bringing. Indeed, he was quick to espouse the evils of both. I admit I was surprised when a woman briefly moved in to his Dobie Den. But I was not really surprised when he just as quickly kicked her out for taking pain killers. His revulsion at ingesting chemicals may well have contributed to his death. He was supposed to be under treatment for high blood pressure, but he felt just fine taking supplements here and there. He declined to take his prescribed medications precisely because they were prescription medicines.

Frank's days were filled with preparing for the worst that nature could throw at him, helping his friends and neighbors, and constantly improving camp. He used collected rainwater to wash his clothes and maintain his high level of personal hygiene in spite of the rugged living conditions.

I have a vague sense of irony as I think back to Frank's last selfless act of helping me. Just two months ago, my family made the difficult decision to put down our old dog. But I couldn't fathom pulling the trigger. As is prescribed for these matters, Frank revealed that he owned a .22 revolver and hollow point ammunition. He, as he often seemed to do, mustered the strength to do what I could not. After a perfect shot, Frank left so I could grieve the loss of a dear friend. me. With the support of his doctors, the decision was made to remove him from life support.Now, here I am again-greiving as a dear friend is so quickly gone. Thank you, Frank. You will be sorely missed.

Frank Heilig has no known living family members. His friends and fellow community members have committed to raise the funds needed to pay the cost of his cremation and thus take possession of his cremains. In keeping with Frank's style, funds donated to the Frank J. Heilig Memorial Fund at https://www.gofundme.com/f/es2a6 will be used to cover expenses for a minimalist celebration of his life. With that, it is planned to scatter his ashes near the grave of his faithful German Shepard. Any funds remaining will be deposited in an account expressly to cover the many needs of his "adopted grandchildren."