By Bev Pechan
When Marlon “Mar” Knutson died a couple of weeks ago, Keystone lost another one of its beloved “colorful” characters.
Keystone, from what I can tell, has always had its share of characters, but ones we can call colorful are a unique breed that sets them apart from the rest. They are our treasured friends, confidants, co-workers, gentle people who mind their own business (unless provoked) and sources of light-hearted or harrowing experiences whose stories are repeated again and again and enjoyed at each telling.
Mar Knutson was such a person. According to family members, Mar was quiet and kind. He loved his family, old dogs, kids and observing others – which thoughts he usually kept to himself or reflected on when he was alone. He seemingly had no malice – an important and required trait to qualify him as one of Keystone’s legendary characters.
Bullies, braggarts and dishonest predators do not fit this category in Keystone, and shouldn’t anywhere else, but this is a very small town and people know who you are and what you’re doing. Mar’s step-daughter, Dawn, says many people in town didn’t know about her Dad’s love for reading.
“We carried boxes of James Patterson novels and movies out of his place,” she said. His son, Hank, said that Mar was rarely without his video camera, which he used to record family times and the passing scene in and around town. He took lots of images of the Sturgis Rally over the years. As his work often had him in the thick of things happening in Keystone during tourist season, Mar was in a perfect place to catch first-hand the events – good and bad – that took place nearby.
Because Mar was a man of few words, people didn’t always realize how intelligent he was. He had a mind like a steel trap, said Robin Svennison, one of his closest friends for roughly 40 years.
“He could figure numbers in his head faster than someone using a machine” he said. He was a logger, mechanic, laborer, construction and maintenance worker, spending much of his time in Keystone as an employee of the Ruby House Restaurant and Red Garter Saloon, where he was remembered by his friends and family last Sunday.
I have a favorite memory of Mar:
He was not one to outwardly show emotion, other than a quiet smile and perhaps a nod, but his often deadpan look was one of his trademarks. One day at the old Rushmore Bar in the 1980s, Mar was getting ready to go to work, but decided he wanted to get in a game of pool first. I can’t recall what I was doing there at the time – working on a story maybe – but here came Mar up the little hill from near big Thunder Mine, wearing his long johns, traditional cowboy hat, bandana and boots, carrying his work clothes on his arm. He was not embarrassed, nor did he care what others thought: it worked for him. Without saying much and no apologies to anyone, he racked the balls and worked the table with his clothes still over his arm. When Mar was done, he simply put on his clothes and left the building.
Anyone else doing this anywhere else would have brought gasps from the gossipers and a visit from local law enforcement. But in Keystone, no one thought it was unusual. They would grin and say, “Oh, that’s just Mar.”
Happy trails, gentle man.
When Marlon “Mar” Knutson died a couple of weeks ago, Keystone lost another one of its beloved “colorful” characters.
Keystone, from what I can tell, has always had its share of characters, but ones we can call colorful are a unique breed that sets them apart from the rest. They are our treasured friends, confidants, co-workers, gentle people who mind their own business (unless provoked) and sources of light-hearted or harrowing experiences whose stories are repeated again and again and enjoyed at each telling.
Mar Knutson was such a person. According to family members, Mar was quiet and kind. He loved his family, old dogs, kids and observing others – which thoughts he usually kept to himself or reflected on when he was alone. He seemingly had no malice – an important and required trait to qualify him as one of Keystone’s legendary characters.
Bullies, braggarts and dishonest predators do not fit this category in Keystone, and shouldn’t anywhere else, but this is a very small town and people know who you are and what you’re doing. Mar’s step-daughter, Dawn, says many people in town didn’t know about her Dad’s love for reading.
“We carried boxes of James Patterson novels and movies out of his place,” she said. His son, Hank, said that Mar was rarely without his video camera, which he used to record family times and the passing scene in and around town. He took lots of images of the Sturgis Rally over the years. As his work often had him in the thick of things happening in Keystone during tourist season, Mar was in a perfect place to catch first-hand the events – good and bad – that took place nearby.
Because Mar was a man of few words, people didn’t always realize how intelligent he was. He had a mind like a steel trap, said Robin Svennison, one of his closest friends for roughly 40 years.
“He could figure numbers in his head faster than someone using a machine” he said. He was a logger, mechanic, laborer, construction and maintenance worker, spending much of his time in Keystone as an employee of the Ruby House Restaurant and Red Garter Saloon, where he was remembered by his friends and family last Sunday.
I have a favorite memory of Mar:
He was not one to outwardly show emotion, other than a quiet smile and perhaps a nod, but his often deadpan look was one of his trademarks. One day at the old Rushmore Bar in the 1980s, Mar was getting ready to go to work, but decided he wanted to get in a game of pool first. I can’t recall what I was doing there at the time – working on a story maybe – but here came Mar up the little hill from near big Thunder Mine, wearing his long johns, traditional cowboy hat, bandana and boots, carrying his work clothes on his arm. He was not embarrassed, nor did he care what others thought: it worked for him. Without saying much and no apologies to anyone, he racked the balls and worked the table with his clothes still over his arm. When Mar was done, he simply put on his clothes and left the building.
Anyone else doing this anywhere else would have brought gasps from the gossipers and a visit from local law enforcement. But in Keystone, no one thought it was unusual. They would grin and say, “Oh, that’s just Mar.”
Happy trails, gentle man.