By Jo Zeimet
Peter William Zeimet was in the middle of 9 kids, raised up in a little house with attached general store in Pringle SD. Daddy said he liked to devil his brother Dave some when they were little. Dave was clean and tidy, so Daddy would get him down on the ground, pull his hair forward and spit on it, and rub it on Dave’s face — made him nuts. At some point when Peter was torturing Dave, it struck him that it was a stupid thing to do, so he not only stopped, but he never did anything like that to anyone else again.
Peter was good in school and went to the School of Mines in Rapid City when he was 14. He remembered translating a sentence in French Class, “Little Peter was the best student in his French Class.” It made him laugh because he was the only student in French Class. While there, he contracted measles, but continued to study (no one told him not to read.) His eyesight was already poor, but the resulting terrible eyesight kept him out of military service. Peter’s father died while he was in school, leaving considerable debt. Daddy quit school, so he and his siblings could pay off the debts. He was never able to return, which is sad because he loved studying and aspired to be a lawyer. Daddy worked on the ranch raising beef cattle, but also did conservation work for the State of SD. He had a caterpillar and road grader, building dams and roads. In 1956, he took a job with the uranium processing mill in Edgemont. Over the years, he advanced from shoveling coal in the blast furnace to superintendent. Daddy believed in community service, and did his time on the volunteer fire department and the school board. For years, he was the Mayor of Edgemont, which speaks to community respect for him, since he and mom were nearly the only Democrats in the County. As Mayor, he negotiated public access to a motel swimming pool and built lighted tennis courts so kids would have something to do in the summer, and built the airport, now the Peter Zeimet Airport.
What was he like when I was a child? Peter Zeimet was first, last, and always mild-tempered. I never heard him yell or lose his temper. He was unfailingly courteous and helpful to everyone. He was always Daddy, not Father or Dad. Some of my favorite memories were in Pringle before we moved. He would pick me up from school and drive through the worst snowy conditions and blizzards in his old 2-wheel drive pickup, singing terrible old cowboy songs. I’m so sorry I don’t have the lyrics, but they were all about burying the sad young cowboy, or the cowboy who married his sweetheart and now he can’t get his arms around her. Both mom and daddy had a great sense of humor, and in the worst times or hottest arguments, they would joke and laugh. Daddy was also, hands down, the best dancer. Although he wore heavy boots for work and was a fairly plain man, he loved music and ballroom dancing. He was wicked good, twirling and gliding, easy to follow.
I remember wonderful conversations with Daddy about politics, economics, and ethics. He said several times, “There is never a good enough reason to do the wrong thing.” That advice has never steered me wrong. When I graduated from law school, Daddy sent me a photocopy of a letter from a Custer bank, around 1900. The bank letter stated, you can loan money to the Zeimet Brothers, because they are honest people who will always pay you back. Daddy told me, as you practice law, remember who you are and where you come from.
So — easy temper, laughing, singing, dancing, community-minded, and moral to the bone. Can’t do better than that.
Source: Jo Zeimet’s StoryWorth response, provided as text. Date assigned as November 5, 2019, to match Jo’s “Favorite Toys” story; original response date unknown.
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