Lasting Legacies

by Anderson Smith

Stuart “Stu” Keck and I met a decade ago in the Missouri Ozarks; he wanted to become more involved and increase his support for conservation. We had spoken on the phone several times, but 
face-to-face was what Stu preferred, and the only way one could understand his larger-than-life personality.

Stu chose the meeting location as the Current River, a crystal-clear, spring-fed stream that grows large trout. As fog burned off the water’s surface by mid-morning, we stood together taking turns catching trout in a deep pool at the end of a fast riffle. After landing a few nice rainbows, Stu said, “I think I’m good for today. Why don’t you keep fishing, and I’ll sit down?” He took his place on a rock near the bank and lit a cigar. We traded stories and, by noon, I knew I had a new friend.

We ate lunch on the tailgate of a truck before fishing again. Stu told me about his annual deer camp, pheasant hunting, smallmouth fishing and how he was consulting for Orvis as they opened new stores across the country. After losing track of time, I threw wet waders and boots in my travel bag, exchanged handshakes and sped north to catch a flight home. The next time we spoke, I told Stu how water and sand from my waders fell on a passenger’s head as I stowed my carry-on-bag, and his laughter rang loudly through the phone.

Last fall, I received a call from Stu. He wanted me to have a fly rod he owned, one which I had a personal connection to as it was built by my brother, who owns a rod company. It was his way of telling me that his days on the water were done. Not long after, RMEF, conservation and this world lost a really good one, as Stu passed away in the spring of 2025 at the age of 73.

Stu was born in St. Louis, and at age 12, moved with his family to a small town north of Niagara Falls, New York. He met Sue, his wife of 52 years, on the first day at his new school in November 1964. He and Sue became friends and five years later, had their official first date as seniors. After graduation, Stu returned to St. Louis to attend Saint Louis University, and Sue stayed closer to home at the State University of New York College at Geneseo. They later married and settled in Missouri. Stu loved hunting and fishing, taught hunter safety education courses and gave fly casting instruction. Sue worked for the St. Louis-based Fortune 500 company Emerson, where she made her way to an executive position. Stu played rugby, drank good bourbon and laughed hard 
at his own jokes; they rode Harleys together.

The only thing bigger than Stu’s laugh and his heart was his love for his wife and best friend, Sue. Their interests were shared, and together they gave back to the organizations that sustained their passions. Stu supported his passion for American history by giving to the American Battlefield Trust and Missouri Historical Society. Sue supported her passion for Forest Park Forever and the National Alliance on Mental Health. Stu also supported his love for the outdoors by committing to RMEF.

Stu intended to include RMEF in his will, but in illness never had the chance to, which is why Sue called me shortly after his passing to ask for information on how she could include RMEF in her will. After some reminiscing and my deep expression of thanks, Sue told me, “Of course I would do this, the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation was very important to Stu.” Furthermore, Sue recently turned 73 and decided to make a very generous contribution from her retirement account, now being of the age for “required minimum distributions.” Sue’s commitment to her late husband’s passion through a gesture to RMEF and conservation is the embodiment of creating a lasting legacy.

With Sue’s planned giving commitment, the Kecks are now part of RMEF’s Trails Society. The Trails Society recognizes those who have included RMEF as a beneficiary in their estate plans through a will, life insurance policy or retirement account. As Trails Society members, supporters receive exclusive conservation information, invitations to events and recognition in the RMEF Visitor Center in Missoula, Montana.

I recall the early summer of 2018 when Stu and I spent the day fishing the Yellowstone River below Big Timber, Montana. The morning started out unusually humid and warm, and all of that early summer moisture turned a bluebird sky into a nightmare. We kept an eye over our shoulders at a storm moving east from the Crazy Mountains, but the good sense to put down our rods and maneuver our boat to the takeout came just a tad too late.

When the storm caught up to us, the fury of a microburst spawned winds over 100 mph and smashed our drift boat into riprap. We laid face down in willows on the riverbank, pelted by grape-sized hail. As we watched our boat float unmanned downstream, lightning struck a cottonwood tree across the river, setting it ablaze. It was apocalyptic. Stu shouted a joke over the sounds of chaos, the tension was cut, we laughed, and the storm seemed to fade into the background. As usual, Stu was larger than the moment, larger than life.