|
Friday, January 16, 2004-- Asher I. "Dick" Kelty, widely credited
with making backpacking fun through his many innovations in pack
design, died Monday of congestive heart failure at his home in
Glendale, California. Dick was 84.
Originally a carpenter by trade, Kelty
began in the early 1950s by making lightweight backpacks in his
garage for himself and his hiking companions out of modern materials,
utilizing aluminum tubing and nylon instead of the wood (or steel)
and canvas in use at the time. In 1952 he used $500 of borrowed
money to start his own company, fabricating the frames in his
garage while his wife sewed the packs. Kelty continued to experiment
with his designs in a process that eventually led to his most
important innovation (among many), a load-bearing waist strap
that allowed hikers to get the weight off of their shoulders
and onto their hips. Prior to this, hiking with a multi-day load
was more akin to a misery mission for all but the most hardcore.
Aching shoulders and backs were the norm, and hikers were limited
in what they could carry by how much pain they could bear. Kelty's
packs changed all that, and led directly to the popularization
of backpacking as a sport in the 60s and 70s.
As demand for his frame packs grew, Kelty
moved his manufacturing operation out of his home and into a
tiny, former barber shop, on San Fernando Road in Glendale. Dick
continued to improve his product, coming up with a "hold-open"
frame that kept the profile of his packs clean while allowing
easy access to the contents of the upper compartment. He used
the best materials he could find, beefy nickel-plated metal zippers
instead of the cheaper plastic kind, durable nylon, and aircraft-grade
aluminum, making it possible for Kelty Pack Inc, as the company
came to be known, to offer a no-strings-attached lifetime guarantee,
establishing an outdoor industry warranty standard that is today
still followed by a few of the very best manufacturers.
Eventually Dick's basic frame pack design
was copied by many other makers, but Kelty's products remained
the Cadillac of packs as a new generation of backpackers took
to the hills, discovering the beauty of nature, the reward of
a solid climb or a long hike, and perhaps even becoming more
environmentally aware along the way. By the early 70s Dick Kelty's
little niche company had become a bustling business, employing
more than 200 people and generating sales in the many millions
of dollars annually. Kelty sold the company in 1972 to Boston-based
CML, a firm that had gone on a recreation industry company buying
spree that also included Sierra Designs, Boston Whaler, Nordic
Track and Erickson Yachts. Dick stayed on with the title of Chairman
(though he had no real role in the actual running of the operation)
and as a product development consultant with the company that
continued to bear his name. Luckily for me, he was still there
when I went to work for Kelty Pack at their large Sun Valley,
California, headquarters as 19 year-old product designer in the
fall of 1975.
By the time I began working at Kelty, Dick
was already an icon in the sport and an extremely successful
business man, but he was at heart still a tinkerer. He maintained
an office and workshop that was attached to the factory. It was
here that Kelty would spend his time working on ways to improve
the durability and functionality of the company's signature frame
packs. Dick would build all kinds of cycle testing equipment
and other types of test machines in a constant quest to improve
every design detail imaginable. And although he loved to work
with these machines, and from them obtain valuable data, it was
Dick Kelty that taught me about the limitations of bench testing
gear designed to be used in a dynamic activity. Dick recognized
that there was absolutely no substitute for thorough field testing,
and he spent a lot of time working with long distance hikers
on the Pacific Crest and Appalachian Trails.
|
Sometimes I would go with him to meet hikers
along the trail that we were working with as gear testers. Kelty
would pour over their gear looking for unusual wear, quizzing
them about what was working and what was not. Dick really had
fun doing this, not only because he was interested in the testing,
but because Dick Kelty loved people. All kinds of people. Like
a lot of folks, Dick liked to travel and see how others live.
But beyond this, he just liked to hang out with people from all
walks of life. I learned quickly that if I went over to Dick's
office around lunch time and he wasn't there, I could probably
find him out in the parking lot, sitting in the the bed of his
old green pickup in the hot sun, eating a burrito from the lunch
truck "roach coach" while practicing his Spanish with
the factory workers. |
 |
|
Dick Kelty checking out some of our PCT hiker's
test packs at Lake Arrowhead, Califormia, April 17, 1977. Photo
courtesy Carl Siechert |
|
Whether he was out there in the parking
lot with the sewing machine operators and the welders, or socializing
at the Explorer's Club with world class climbers and adventurers
(going to those meetings with Dick where he was held in such
high esteem was always a memorable experience) Kelty maintained
a twinkle in his eye and an enthusiasm for life's experiences
that made him a joy to be around. And I always saw him treat
everyone with the same respect, whether you were like me, a 19
year-old wet behind the ears kid who had done some long distance
hiking and little else, or one of the most accomplished mountaineers
(like Rick Ridgeway) or rock climbers (like Yvon Chounaird) of
your generation. You could be a high-rolling CEO (like Charles
M. "CML" Leighton), or a guy running the forklift in
the warehouse, Dick would want to know what he could learn from
you...and in the process of witnessing how he did this, Kelty
taught all of us who had the pleasure of knowing him important
things about ourselves... things about how we wanted to be too.
I've never met anyone quite like Dick,
he had the most amazing ability to convey a genuine love of all
mankind. It wasn't with words, you simply saw it in his warm
eyes felt it emanate from within his spirit.
I hadn't talked with Kelty in a long time,
but a few year's back I ran into his lovely wife, Nena, who told
me that Dick was doing well, still occasionally getting out on
his bike, despite a few physical challenges. She encouraged me
to give him a call and come up to the house for a visit. As so
often happens in life, I got busy with stuff, moved a little
ways away, got married (again),
started a little project called Telemarktips, and I never made
that call. This morning I can't help but feel bad about this,
yet nothing could ever diminish the warm and fond memories I
carry with me everyday of one of the finest and most memorable
human beings I've ever known. While Kelty reportedly died of
congestive heart failure, it was undoubtedly the only time this
great man's heart ever failed him.
Dick Kelty is survived by his wife of 57
years, (and recently published
author) Nena. A son, Richard, two daughters, Anita and Angie,
five grandchildren and three great grandchildren. |