Papa’s Prodigy
Living the 'best life' in Bozeman, Patrick Hemingway embraced legacy while creating his own
This was originally published in the Bozeman Daily Chronicle.
Editor's note: Patrick Hemingway died peacefully in his sleep on Monday, shortly after this piece by local author Canyon Hohenstein was written and to be submitted to the Chronicle. Says Hohenstein, who visited Hemingway frequently at Hillcrest Senior Living: "He carried the Hemingway name with dignity, but his father was an interesting footnote in his life. Patrick was a wonderful person in his own right: Kind, curious, and loved by many. He will be greatly missed."
He sits in his retirement home, surrounded by Kipling, Tolstoy, and his father’s books. Priceless Picassos hang on the wall. When talking with him, you see echoes of his dad: The eyes, the smile, and the love of hunting.
Yet he is his own fascinating man, forever connected to his father, but as distinct as Christ from the cross.
He is the son of Ernest Hemingway, and his name is Patrick.
Pat isn’t a native Montanan, but after a half-century here, he’s earned honorary status.
Over his 97 years, he has lived in Spain, Tanzania, and eventually made Bozeman his lifelong residency, drawn by an encounter with a couple who also worked for the United Nations.
Pat had been working in Tanzania for 25 years and was planning what came next. This couple told him of their plans to retire in Mexico. This held no appeal for Pat, but the woman’s hometown did.
It was a small Montana town named Bozeman — a perfect place to hunt and fish, two of Pat’s favorite hobbies.
On a whim, he bought a ticket, got an idea of what the town was like, and purchased a house in Gallatin County in the 1970s. But he didn’t move there right away. His career in Tanzania hadn’t reached its natural conclusion.
“When you get old, you’ve got to make some arrangements,” Pat says. He let the previous owners live there until he was ready to start his new life in Montana.
Pat faces all the expected physical ailments of age. But packed within his inner citadel is nearly a century’s worth of knowledge and experience.
It’s easy to see why. In addition to a life well lived, he is a voracious reader. A stack of books is nearby. Pat’s vision isn’t what it used to be, so a writer for National Geographic comes and reads aloud to him: the latest book is about the Amazonian cities that inspired El Dorado.
One memory evokes another, and a conversation about Bozeman transforms into stories about Pat’s life in Spain. The coastal city of Málaga was his home for years.
“I think I was as happy as I’ve ever been there,” he says.
You feel awe not just at the scope of Mr. Hemingway’s life, but at how quickly he can recall memories, such as a bear hunt with his dad in Wyoming.
Not many people have renowned parents. But Pat’s dad isn’t just well-known. He is possibly the most famous writer to ever put pen to paper.
Pat was in his 30s when his father died. It’s easy to think Ernest would forever cast a shadow over his son, never allowing the child to establish a life outside his father’s legacy.
You might expect this legacy to cause some annoyance when people bring up his dad. That is not the case. He is not just the son of Hemingway, but a fan of his work. His dad’s short stories are his favorite. He has also edited Hemingway’s posthumous books, such as "A Moveable Feast" and "True at First Light".
It’s wonderful to see a son who appreciates his father’s literary greatness, but doesn’t feel trapped by it.
Why should he?
Being Hemingway’s son has been a vital part of Pat’s life, but by no means the whole story. The best parts of his odyssey have been the life he carved for himself.
If you want a sense of Patrick, read his book "Dear Papa", a compilation of letters between him and Ernest over Pat’s life. They range from his schoolboy years to a few months before his father’s death.
“People ask me if I really knew my father,” he says. “The answer is yes, but only because I made an effort to do so.”
Everyone who meets Pat must also make an effort. Not because he’s hard to know, but because there’s so much of him to know about.
But take it all away — the famous father, encyclopedic mind, a life spanning several continents — and you still have the most important part of Patrick Hemingway: He is a kind human being.
He’s quick to laugh and curious about others. A steady stream of family members is always at his side. His presence exudes a welcoming warmth.
Hunting and fishing weren’t the main reasons Pat came to Bozeman. His core concern was ensuring his adopted daughter had a chance at the best life possible.
“When you adopt someone, you make all sorts of commitments — which I’ve carried out, actually," he says. "I’m very fortunate to have done so, because things have worked out very well.”
In the epilogue of his book, Pat writes about his father, “What lay in the coffin could hardly be called the grace of a happy death.”
Back in his living room, the shelf of books fades to the background. Whatever artist created the paintings seems unimportant. The focus is the smiling man sitting in front of you, telling tales of a world much different than today. He reflects on what was and shares the vivid dreams he’s had recently.
An Italian woman from Nairobi came to Tanzania in search of a husband. Pat flew her with his personal plane over the snow-crested, volcanic slopes of Kilimanjaro. She was impressed, but eventually settled down with a guy working in Lake Manyara.
“They had a great life together, but I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I had been a more suitable choice for her,” Pat says with a laugh.
These types of what-ifs are inevitable with age. But there is no remorse in this statement, only curiosity and appreciation.
Nobody can know what might have been. But one thing is certain about Patrick Hemingway: Even when pondering the lives not lived, he is a happy man.