You've probably never heard of Frank Clark, and yet he's part of Utah folklore, the less-famous half of a great duo. Clark is the man who brought down Old Ephraim, a bear so great that he inspired books, poems, songs and a monument, and part of his skull wound up at the Smithsonian Institution.
Clark was the protagonist in a decade-long hunt. From 1913 to 1923, the sheep rancher pursued the gigantic, wily bear. As Deseret Morning News staff writer Alan Edwards once wrote, Clark was Ahab to Ephraim's Moby Dick.
"After it was over, he said he was sorry he did it," says Thelma Clark, "because he was a magnificent bear."
Thelma Clark is Frank's niece and his closest surviving relative (Frank never married). She remembers when Clark killed the bear — "Everyone was talking about it in Malad and Logan."
Growing up in Malad, Idaho, where she still lives today, Thelma and her family occasionally visited Clark at his sheep camp in Logan Canyon, which he used as his summer range.
"He told us he set traps, but the bear was just too smart," recalled Thelma on Monday. "He saw the bear several times and said he was the biggest bear he'd ever seen."
It was fitting that the bear was extraordinary — 9 feet 11 inches tall standing on its hind legs — because Old Ephraim is reputed to be the last grizzly bear in Utah. The grizzlies' departure was sad, but probably best, especially given recent events.
There have been several bear-human encounters, one of which resulted in the death of a young boy. Experts say there will be more encounters, thanks to a bumper crop of cubs. These are black bears, which are considered less aggressive and certainly smaller than grizzlies. The potential for danger might be worse if the bears were grizzlies.
"They cause livestock damage and are a much bigger threat to people than black bears, definitely," says Utah State University professor Mike Wolf. "There's no comparison."
Grizzlies have never returned to Utah since Clark dispatched Old Ephraim. Each summer Clark herded his sheep from Malad to Logan Canyon, where he and Ephraim would resume their game, with the bear pilfering sheep and Clark giving chase. Clark was an expert hunter — he killed 43 bears — but Old Ephraim continually outwitted him.
"In 1914," Clark wrote, " ... I set a trap in his wallow; he removed the trap without setting it off time and again. ... From 1913 on to the day he was caught, August 21st, 1923, was an everlasting battle every summer, but he was just too smart."
Clark's persistence was finally rewarded after he was awakened in the night by a roar. Dressed in only his underwear and shoes, he grabbed his gun and hiked in the dark. By the time he realized it was Ephraim in the willows of the creek bottom, the bear was between him and his camp, and there wasn't another person within three miles.
"I listened and could hear the chain rattle and so did my teeth," wrote Clark. He waited hours for daylight and then he moved in close enough to graze the bear with a shot. Ephraim rose up with a 14-foot log chain wrapped around one front leg and a 23-pound trap clamped to his foot.
"I was paralyzed with fear and couldn't raise my gun and he was coming, still on his hind legs, holding that cussed trap above his head," Clark wrote. "I was rooted to the earth and let him come within six feet of me before I stuck the gun out and pulled the trigger. He fell back but came again and received five of the remaining six bullets. ...
"I only had one cartridge left in the gun and still that bear wouldn't go down, so I started for Logan, 20 miles down hill. I went about 20 yards and turned; Eph was coming, still standing up, but my dog was snapping at his heels so he turned on the dog.
"I turned back and as I got close he turned again on me, waddling along on his hind legs. I could see that he was badly hurt as at each breath the blood would spout from his nostrils so I gave him the last bullet in the brain. I think I felt sorry I had to do it."
It was the last stand for the grizzly in Utah, and he didn't go without a fight. Clark regretted the kill so much that he reportedly never killed another bear. "I'm sorry he's gone," he once said. He regretted that men and bears couldn't "get on better together."
Doug Robinson's column runs on Tuesdays. Please e-mail drob@desnews.com.