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February/March 2007
Volume I; Issue 1
Special Report:
Trans Texas Corridor

Standing on Shoulders of Giants
Tribute to Wayne Hage and Frank Duran
By Margaret Byfield

You might say Stewards of the Range is in large part, the product of a lifelong friendship between two men; one thrust into the public with his cause, the other standing squarely behind ensuring the course. Neither could have contributed quite as much to the property rights agenda they treasured had it not been for their loyal bond.

Wayne Hage and Frank Duran met as teenagers in the Air Force in the early 50’s. While Wayne knew immediately his enlistment was a mistake, too far removed from the Nevada ranches and lifestyle he loved, Frank was certain the training would help him reach his dream to fly planes. The two became instant friends, somehow managing to have as much fun as independent teenagers can, while keeping each other out of trouble, although most of the details of how this was done was kept between them.
W
hen Wayne was discharged, he went on to pursue his goals in higher education. First finishing high school by earning a GED, and then following his love of books eventually earning a Masters Degree in livestock nutrition.

Frank completed two tours of duty as a fighter pilot in Vietnam where he earned high marks for bravery. He often volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, and on one such mission pinned down the enemy so that a helicopter could land and remove American troops. People came home alive from that war, thanks to Frank. He never let a friend fight alone.

After spending 20 years as an officer and pilot, he retired from the service and began a career as a pilot for Western Airlines, eventually merging with the passenger airline company, Delta. Twenty-eight years and four children later, he retired again, purchased a cattle ranch in South Dakota and prepared to spend the rest of his days attached to the land and lifestyle he treasured most.

The two friends couldn’t be more different from each other, and yet have so much in common. Frank was a full blooded Oglala Lakota Indian, whose ancestors were native to the western lands that would be the center of Wayne’s controversial property rights battle. Wayne was half Norwegian, a descendent of immigrants who eventually migrated west hoping for better in the new country. His grandfather, once quite wealthy, was ruined by the depression and as a result, Wayne’s childhood was one of modest means.

Wayne found Jean Nichols while earning his Bachelors at the University of Nevada, Reno. They graduated together, married and raised five children into adulthood.

Time and distance played no role in their relationship, they remained the best of friends. When Wayne wrote his book, Storm Over Rangelands in 1989, Frank helped get it published and was one of its biggest promoters. When Wayne found himself embroiled in the mother of all property rights battles, his tried and true friend Frank stood steadfast beside him.

Purchasing Pine Creek Ranch in Monitor Valley, Nevada was what Wayne had worked his entire life for. He’d learned how to cowboy from the best of the old school buckaroos found on the big open range outfits in Elko County, Nevada. He’d disciplined his mind in a multitude of subjects: animal husbandry, history, organic chemistry, economics and law. He even spent time in politics, lobbying for the California Chamber of Commerce, while running the small cattle operation he and Jean had purchased from Jean’s mother, Ruth in Sierra Valley, California just after finishing his Masters. By 1978, he was ready for the challenge of making one of the best ranches in Nevada even more productive.

But from the moment he brought his family into Monitor Valley, he was under attack from several national environmental groups including the National Wildlife Federation and Sierra Club, and federal and state land use agencies who had plans to turn the pristine Pine Creek Ranch, tamed by generations of ranchers, into a national wilderness area. They aimed to take Wayne and Jean’s ranch.

Frank was quick to step forward, fly cover you might say, for his old friend Wayne. He helped found an organization, along with Jack Swanson and a handful of other great friends that would tell the story of the property rights battle westerners faced through the events surrounding Pine Creek Ranch. He worked tirelessly to raise support for the resulting Fifth Amendment case brought by Wayne and Jean, which challenged the government’s actions to shut down the ranch without due process and just compensation, and posed the critical question before the court to determine what property rights ranchers owned in the western lands. He served as President to Stewards of the Range, to ensure that it would help other landowners facing similar encroachments.

Together they educated neighbors and friends while helping to mold a property rights organization that would be forever loyal to the land as they were, and attached to the principles of private property they worked every free moment to support. They did this for fifteen full years, molding, guiding and defending, when necessary, an organization poised today to carry their vision into the next generation.

Two years ago, Frank learned he had cancer. A year later so did Wayne. Frank sought the best medical treatment available, approaching his new challenge the way he’d faced every other, with realism and practicality, thankful for each day, and full of vigor to fight each new round. Wayne, his illness far more advanced than he’d realized, returned to his ranch prepared for whatever path God had in store for him. Frank never did give up on his old friend, however. While lying in his hospital bed, swarmed by nurses hooking him up to the monitoring and medical equipment necessary for his stem-cell transplant beginning within the hour, he was on the phone with Wayne, concerned more with his friend’s future than his own.

It would be hard to measure which of the two was braver: the one who showed true grit staring down the goliath of his time, or the one who would never stop fighting for his friends. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the two.

Early June 2006, as aspen leaves tossed in the spring breeze, Wayne passed away in the place most dear. Frank was unable to attend the services due to his own illness, and sent a plane instead. It circled the house three times, with instructions to let those who were attending know that “Ghost Rider” was there.

Wayne was taken to the gravesite by a team of young grey Clydesdales, and placed next to Jean at the base of Jefferson Mountain. His wife of seven years, Helen Chenoweth Hage dutifully oversaw every detail. She would follow him just four months later.

It would be a short five months minus one day that Frank would also pass on November 4, 2006. He spent his final days working to ensure the people who would be left in charge of Stewards understood the mission at hand. He also made sure Wayne’s children were grounded and prepared for what might lie ahead.

Fred Grant made two trips to see Frank during this time, and although they didn’t know each other quite as long, Fred learned early that if you made a friend of Frank, he was your friend for life. Just hours before he passed, Fred asked Adrian, Frank’s wife, to make one more special request of Frank, that he put in a good word for him to help him pass through. Frank smiled and acknowledged that he would. That meant it was as good as done.

Frank was laid to rest in the Veterans Memorial Park outside Salt Lake City, Utah, under the guidance of his faithful wife and daughter Nicole. It was a cold and wet November afternoon, but as family and friends gathered around his grave, the clouds uncovered the sun long enough for the American flag to be properly folded and delivered to Adrian, while Taps was trumpeted across the quiet hillside.

The following day, friends of Wayne and Frank, members of Stewards, and some who didn’t know the men but were there because of the cause, met for the annual conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. It had been set in the city to make sure Frank could attend. Whether knowingly or not, all who were there helped pick up the reins and advance the cause a great friendship had sparked so many years before.

We’d like to believe that Wayne and Frank received high honors in heaven. We can say for certain, however, that they left this earth in the highest of regards by those who love the land and appreciate the long wars they waged to ensure it remained in the hands of the people. We know for certain, that Stewards was built on the shoulders of giants, whose wisdom and warrior spirit will forever guide our work.

Well done, Dad. Well done, Frank.