Johnson fought hard for the people of Big Sky, its lands and waterways
By Jack Reaney ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Many who know Steve Johnson, at least since he moved to Big Sky in 2001, will make a point of three things: his deep love for fishing and hiking, his extensive activism through local service and conservation projects, and his straight-shooting advocacy for anything he believed in.
With Big Sky’s volunteer-hungry governance and leadership structure, and its proximity to fragile rivers, trails and wilderness, those virtues did not stray far apart for Johnson.
“It’s people like Steve that make this community tick,” said Kevin Germain, a fellow Big Sky Resort Area District board member.
Johnson held various public service roles, most recently as board treasurer for BSRAD. He served on the board of the Big Sky Community Organization, and the local fire and parks and trails districts. He volunteered as a firefighter, ski patroller and with search and rescue. He would teach veterans to tie flies for the Warriors and Quiet Waters Foundation.
“Any one of the issues that Steve immersed himself in, to the degree he sunk his teeth into them, would have been an achievement for any community member,” said David O’Connor, a longtime community member who leads the Big Sky Community Housing Trust. “But he had like 10 of them… And Steve wasn’t interested in doing a drive-by.”
O’Connor met Johnson in the early 2000s. For the Big Sky Chamber of Commerce, O’Connor was hosting a strategic planning committee to discuss topics including Big Sky’s potential to incorporate as a municipality. Johnson joined, and became a “fierce advocate” for incorporation, lending to his desire to have the community’s back.
“I learned really quickly how smart Steve is,” O’Connor recalled. “And also how willing he was to listen. Steve was never too proud to go find the expert and pick their brain, on his quest to learn more about the things he was interested in.”
O’Connor said you couldn’t talk with Steve for long before understanding his commitment to conserving parks and trails, and waterways. He fell in love with Big Sky for its skiing, hiking and fly fishing and the sense of freedom they provide, and could not stand the idea that those beloved pastimes may not be as pristine or accessible in the future.
“He received a lot from Big Sky, and he felt like he needed to give back to Big Sky in a big way,” said John Loomis, a close friend.
Johnson’s love for fishing overlapped with his tendency toward solitude.
“That’s his personality. He liked being alone,” Loomis said. “So fishing really suited him.”
Loomis remembers Steve disappearing from an end-of-season party. He was off in the river by himself, his happy place.
“He just had the ability to cut to the chase and call a spade a spade… And particularly when he would talk about the responsibility he felt to give back and take care of our wild places and rivers.”
Barb Cestero, The Wilderness Society
Ron Edwards remembers Johnson telling him that he has close to 100 fly rods in his collection.
“I mean, who’s got that,” Edwards said, laughing. “Some were rods he used, I’m sure. Some were art.”
Edwards is wrapping up his three-decade stint as general manager of the Big Sky County Water and Sewer District. After Johnson retired from a business consulting career of 30-plus years at Andersen Consulting—now Accenture—and moved to Big Sky, he dove into local involvement and made his presence known to leaders like Edwards.
In a word, Edwards painted Johnson’s legacy: Engagement.
“He always used to complain that people weren’t paying attention to what’s going on,” Edwards said. But Johnson showed up and did his homework. He’d sit in on water and sewer district meetings, and when the board would open public comment, he was “very vocal and always feisty.” Johnson was a sounding board for Edwards for years.
“He’s certainly in the hall of fame,” Edwards said. “I’ve been here a long time and watched residents come in, and get involved in various endeavors… And then they leave the area. I think that Steve would be the captain of the hall of fame in Big Sky as far as a citizen volunteer.”
“He volunteered almost everywhere,” Loomis said. “… He wasn’t talked into it. He just did it of his own free will. I respect it so much, and I wish we had more people around like that.”
Incisive
Johnson pushed hard for the recent creation of the Gallatin Canyon County Water and Sewer District, which he saw as a benefit to the Gallatin River—it could remove roughly 150 homes from septic systems near the river, and pump sewage into Big Sky’s new Wastewater Resource Recovery Facility, with improved treatment capacity and quality.
He was also behind the additional “1% for infrastructure” resort tax that helped fund that $50 million WRRF and included an arrangement that reserved a certain portion of its upgraded capacity for workforce housing.
“Instrumental in the 1%, and without it, we wouldn’t be building this plant,” Edwards said. O’Connor says the workforce housing tie-in was the smartest thing the Big Sky community ever did.
“And a good part of it came out of Steve’s brain… There were six people who dreamed this up, and Steve was one of them,” O’Connor said. He added that the housing trust wouldn’t look anything like it does without Johnson.
On land, Johnson was involved with a community-led effort to permanently protect the Gallatin Range.
Barb Cestero is director of the Greater Yellowstone-High Divide Landscape Program, under The Wilderness Society, a national public lands conservation organization rooted in Montana. She remembers spending late nights at her office in Bozeman with Johnson trying to advance the mission, which includes “a package of conservation designation” for about 250,000 acres across the Gallatin and Madison ranges. The project is ongoing.
“Steve was a real ambassador and champion for this work in the Big Sky community,” Cestero said. “And really wanted to make a positive impact on how we take care of this corner of this Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.”
Johnson believed that the Big Sky community had a responsibility to care about land and water conservation.
“The last time I saw Steve, in March, he told me he really wanted to stick around to see it all through,” she said. “I feel like our efforts going forward are part of Steve’s lasting legacy.”
She collected adjectives from peers who worked with Johnson. They described him as kind, thoughtful and smart, but several contributors offered another, less common word: incisive.
“He just had the ability to cut to the chase and call a spade a spade… And particularly when he would talk about the responsibility he felt to give back and take care of our wild places and rivers,” Cestero said.
“Once he had a passion, I don’t know much more of a devoted person than he was,” Loomis said. “Just a pitbull.”
Kevin Germain said he and Johnson were not immune to disagreement on the BSRAD board, but always came away from those discussions “respecting the heck out of one another.”
“If you didn’t know what he was thinking, all you had to do was ask him,” Ron Edwards said. “And a few cuss words into it, you would know exactly where he stands on any issue in Big Sky.”
Johnson was everywhere for almost 25 years, until suddenly, he wasn’t.
“There was a noise in the community when Steve dropped out from going to all these meetings,” Edwards said. He hopes to see an enduring recognition or memorial of Steve Johnson, who asked for nothing in return for his service, save for the fortification of his beloved surroundings.
An intentional father
Chris Johnson, the youngest of Steve’s four children, will remember his dad’s intentional and genuine love for the outdoors. Steve would bring the kids along, sometimes pausing to impart his wisdom about some natural wonder—the Gallatin River, Lone Mountain or Yellowstone National Park—so they could understand its magic and the importance of protecting it.
“And we are now teaching that to our children. So Steve’s grandchildren are reaping the benefits of that,” Chris said.
His parents fell in love with Big Sky on their first visit in the mid-1990s. They stayed at Lone Mountain Ranch. Steve knew that’s where he would retire and live out his final years.
“You could not take Steve Johnson out of Big Sky. He absolutely loved that place from the moment he stepped foot in it,” Chris said. “… That’s why he was so giving to that community. Because he was head over heels in love with it.”
Born in 1947, Steve Johnson grew up in Hammond, Indiana. For the better part of his 77 years, he stayed involved and engaged, but by the end of 2023, extensive health complications finally forced him to the sideline.
“I think we’re all going to miss him, a lot,” said Barb Cestero.
“He was just the consummate community member, there was hardly a public meeting that he did not attend,” said Kevin Germain. “We owe him a big debt of gratitude.”
“Heartbreaking,” said Ron Edwards. “He will be missed around here, for sure.”
In his final months, when Johnson disappeared from volunteer boardrooms and left his rivers and trails for the next generation, those who visited his bed said he was private and independent. As ever, he asked for no attention.
Steve Johnson passed away on April 8, and will be survived by his four children: Gwen, Tim, Pete and Chris. Steve joins his beloved wife Jeanne, who passed away in 2022, as a fixture in Big Sky’s fond memory.
