Remembering Reber: A man of promise
The 10-year-old boy was selling newspapers outside the newly constructed, luxurious Finlen Hotel in Butte. His torn jeans and ill-fitting shirt reflected life in the mining city: grit, scruffiness, determination and the promises of tomorrow. No one passed without hearing the boy's insistent shout, "Hey, paper here — get your newspaper here."
He had stood on that street corner about a half hour when it began to rain, first a drizzle then a downpour. Putting the newspapers under his shirt, he ran for Finlen's front doors and ducked into the lobby. Watching the rain through the hotel's front windows, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Turning he saw the manager who roughly pushed the boy back through the doors and into the storm. "One of these days," the boy yelled at the man, "I'm going to buy this hotel and fire you!"
Four decades later, that young ragamuffin, Joe Reber, did buy the Finlen. Even though that early manager was long gone, the purchase gave Joe immense satisfaction as did the Reber Company, one of the nation's largest individually-owned plumbing companies. He later incorporated the Reber Realty and Development Company and expanded his holdings throughout the Rocky Mountain West.
Strong-willed and smart, Reber made a lasting mark on this state and this region's economy as well as on our politics. He was appointed to the Montana State Senate in 1968 and during his short service created the state's system of vocational education, which he saw as his best achievement.
Probably no one in Montana history attended and was a voting delegate in as many Democratic Conventions as Reber. He was one of the few business people I know who would rationally defend the necessity of both taxes and regulations.
It was through politics that Joe and I became friends. First as a state legislator and later as Montana's congressman, I was helped by Joe. His encouragement, and, yes, financial generosity were of value to me as a young politician.
Joe and I always agreed about policy but seldom saw eye-to-eye about either campaigning or candidates, especially at the presidential level.
After some years of disagreement, Joe and I drifted apart, his encouragement and contributions stopped and that lifelong dyed-in-the-wool Democrat even endorsed one of my Republican opponents.
Our disagreements could not long withstand what really bound our friendship: Butte and political policy. Four years ago the stubborn Reber wrote the stubborn Williams a note of apology — or as close as he could get to mea culpa. I wrote him back immediately and we resumed our long friendship.
The Kennedys, particularly Sen. Ted, were fast friends of Joe; a Montanan seldom visited with Ted when he wouldn't inquire about Joe. It was Reber who flew Ted to Miles City and that famous ride on the bronc, Sky Rocket. And it was Reber who flew the badly limping Kennedy back to Helena to resume the 1960 presidential primary campaign for his brother Jack.
Joe Reber — newspaper boy, WPA laborer, truck driver, welder, plumber, CEO and state senator.
That little kid standing in the rain storm was then, and for the remainder of his life, promising himself that he would succeed; he would be somebody. He kept that promise.
Williams served nine terms as a U.S. representative from Montana. After his retirement, he returned to Montana and is teaching at the University of Montana.