Harold Keyser: More reminiscences

"We've had lots and lots of people come back and say, 'This is the best job I've ever had' or, 'This is the best place I've ever worked' We like to mix some good times with work. When there's work to be done, we work, and if we've got some time to enjoy ourselves, we do that too ... Everybody knows their job, and they know exactly what they have to do. That's what they do." - Harold Keyser

Here, in his words, are a few more of veteran bus driver Harold Keyser's reminiscences from his days on the road:

It was July of 1966. I was hauling a class of back-packers; we'd go with them to different areas about every day, and it was on one of these trips that I had an experience that I'll remember all my days.

This particular day, I was to go to the National Bison Range, pick up a guide and go to certain areas of the range. As planned, I picked up the man and he guided me around the foot of the range from left to right; we skirted the east and south fence lines, using a road that wasn't the normal one people use to drive through the range.

But, as we were going along, I couldn't help but notice the tightness of some of the corners we were going around. In fact, a couple, I couldn't make in one shot with this 72-passenger school bus that I was using. Anyway, as we were going toward the web boundary line, the road took a turn and started right up the south face of a mountain.

I can remember asking, 'Are we going to go on that road?' The guide said yes, so up we started. Bus soon I was getting a little angry because I kept coming to these sharp switchbacks, and the road kept getting worse and worse. Finally, I said to this guide, "Are you sure you take buses over this road?' He replied, 'No, not buses, but we take our Jeeps over it.'

Well, it was all I could do to keep my cool, because by this time I was going what seemed to be practically straight up. And also, by this time, I'm probably 3500 feet up the mountainside with about that much yet to go. As I continued, I came to this switchback that even a Jeep could hardly make. I was furious. No way could I go up any further or back down, either. I was in trouble.

I made everyone on the bus get off except one kid, Floyd Baldry, who was my foster son. I asked him to stay on and work the emergency brake, and he agreed. The only thing left to do was turn the rig around. That was going to take two people and a lot of overseeing from the Lord.

I had about three feet to go back and forth and work myself around. As I would back up as far as I'd dare to, Floyd would put on the emergency brake. I couldn't do that since I was using both my feet - one on the clutch and one on the foot feed (accelerator.) I was sweating sweat from work and frustration; I couldn't believe I'd gotten myself in this mess.

As I would back to the edge, my bus would hang over the road into space - no trees or anything to catch the bus if I went over the edge. About the time I got cross-ways in the road - and as I backed up about as far as I figured was safe - I went to go forward again. But in my frustration, I had negected to shift from reverse to low. As I let out on the clutch to go forward, the lunged backward, instead. My reactions were quick enough to avoid going over the edge - or perhaps the Lord was helping me out, too.

I froze on the brake. I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I reached over, turned off the key, got out of the bus and walked up the road a few yards. I just sat there for a while until I got hold of myself and my nerves. But, after a while I got back in the bus, finished the job of turning around, loaded my people and took them back down.

I remember well, to this day, that no one on the bus said a single word all the way back to the Bison Range office.

For Keyser, there were other unnverving experiences. For example, he remembers the night that his unmanned Beachliner smashed through a garage door at Beach headquarters:

It was about three in the morning, and Herb (Roehl) and I had gone out oto the airport to pick up the football team. We got the team and came in. I was ahead of Herb's bus, and after we let the team off, I pulled up in front of the Beach Transportation garage.

My bus was one of our newer Beachliners and had an automatic transmission in it. I also drove a car that had an automatic transmission and in which "Park" was straight forward. I wanted to hurry up and get the garage door open so I could get my bus in and so Herb could get his in without having to wait. So, I pulled up in front of the door and I pushed the shift lever of the bus forward. Unfortunately, in the bus, that was low gear. All in the same motion, I jumped out of the bus and ran and opened the old office door so I could get to the garage door. About the time I opened it, I heard this horrible crash - falling glass and everything. There was my bus going through the door of the garage!

It was still trying to go through the door when I ran back and kicked it out of gear. I was relieved to see that no damage had been done to the bus. I knew the door probably could be repaired.

How could anybody run through a door with it closed? I wanted to find a hole to jump into and pull down over the top of me.

Another Keyser reminiscence:

In 1970, we were using our first Beachliner and a bus from a Whitefish company to take two loads of Missoula Sentinel High School Choir members to Billings. I was driving the Beachliner, and on the way home, just east of Bozeman, we hit a bad snow storm.

This was before Interstate 90 had been built, and about a mile before the Bozeman city limits I saw the Whitefish bus driver start into a skid. I hollered to Bob Marum, the choir director, to look at the bus, which was skidding sideways. Then, in a couple of seconds, it was on its side.

Bob and I parked our bus and ran to the overturned Whitefish bus to give aid. By that time, screaming and hollering kids were climbing out through the windows and were on top of the bus - actually, the side of the bus. It was pandemonium. I remember this one girl standing up. She was pretty hysterical, so I told her to slide down and I'd break her fall. Instead she took three steps and jumped - just started "flying" at me. When she hit me, it was like a ton of bricks. I broke her fall, all right, but I was flattened on the ground like a pancake.

It was a very frightening incident, and about 13 students were slightly hurt. One was injured seriously and had to be hospitalized. It took a long time before we got under way again. I think it was about 11:00 am Sunday when we got back to Sentinel. I was very impressed with Bob Narum; he took control of his students' anxiety by praying with them and calming them down.

Keyser, who stopped driving school buses in 1967 to become Beach Transportation's dispatcher, said that his job "gradually got more complicated" as the company expanded. He added, "When I started, the dispatcher's job was certainly nothing like it is now. My mind now is tunneled to just exactly what I have to do, which is be responsible for the buses coming in and going out, the scheduling, knowing where every bus is every minute, and being able to remedy a situation where, if you have a breakdown, you know what buses are close and who can get there the quickest ... As long as you're with it all the time you're all right. But you can't leave the desk and be gone for two or three days and come back and find everything as it was when you left ... And, in order to stay on top of everything, I have to give up a lot of (Beachliner) trips that I wouldn't mind being on ... Once in a while, I have two or three favorite trips that I go ahead and go on, but in order to keep up with my job, I've got to stay on top of it everyday.

The hardest thing about Keyser's job is when the demand for buses and drivers exceeds the supply. Said Keyser, "I can keep my cool until that point, but I came close to throwing up my hands and saying, 'I give up.' just before Christmas 1985. We were going crazy with the airlines, which needed to get people places like Spokane and Great Falls when the Missoula airport was fogged in."

This story has been excerpted and edited from Second to None: the story of Beach Transportation Co. and its buses written by former newspaperman Steve Smith and published for Beach Transportation by Pictoral Histories Publishing Company in 1986.