Les Skramstad was not only an outspoken advocate for his town, which was horribly wronged at the hands of W.R. Grace, but he was also my friend.

I first met Les in Libby in the year 2000, shortly after news reports attributed hundreds of deaths to asbestos exposure from decades of vermiculite mining there.

We sat down in Gayla Benefield’s living room. There were about 25 people who were very ill. Over huckleberry pie and coffee, the group explained to me the horrific legacy Grace had left behind. And although I had read the reports and briefing papers on the situation, that was the first time I had seen asbestos exposure up close. And, Mr. President, it was gut-wrenching. I’ll never forget it – as long as I live.

They opened their hearts and poured out unimaginable stories of suffering and tragedy. I was absolutely stunned. It was at the moment that I vowed to myself that I’ll do whatever it takes to help Libby become whole again.

Entire families -- fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, sons and daughters are all sick. Hundreds are dead. They are bound together by one thing: their exposure to tremolite asbestos, mined by W.R. Grace.

That night at Gayla’s, when I first met Les, he watched me closely all evening. He was wary and came up to me after his friends and neighbors had finished speaking.

Les said to me, “Senator, a lot of people have come to Libby and told us they would help, then they leave and we never hear from them again.”

“Max,” he said, “please, as a man like me -- as someone's father too, as someone's husband, as someone's son, help me. Help us. Help us make this town safe for Libby's sons and daughters not even born yet.”

Les worked at the vermiculite mine starting in 1959. He told me about the dust he swept every day -- off of three separate floors at the mine. And although company officials said the dust was harmless, that’s what ultimately took his life. And that dust is what has made his wife and children sick, too.

You see, Mr. President, that dust was laden with tremolite asbestos fibers. When he got home, he’d hug his wife. His kids would jump up in his lap.

I think he was less worried about his own fate. It was as if Les had accepted that he was going to die. But the thing that got to him most was that he brought that dust home with him. He wanted justice for his family and friends.

That night I told him I would do all that I could. That I wouldn't back down. That I wouldn't give up.

Les accepted my offer and then pointed his finger and said to me, “I'll be watching Senator.”

And he did.

Over the years Les and I worked together to help Libby. We became friends in the process. I counted on seeing him every time I went to Libby. I’ve been up to Libby almost 20 times since then. I talked to Les on the phone. I visited him in the hospital.

Les is my inspiration in the fight to get Libby a clean bill of health and justice for its residents. He is the face of hundreds and thousands of sick and exposed folks in this tiny Montana community.

Les -- working with others in the community -- became an outspoken advocate for Libby. He put a personal face on asbestos contamination. He provided a straightforward look into the lives of people hurt by Grace and the poisonous asbestos fibers they left behind. Les was a true Western Gentleman. And he was very effective.

It’s been 8 years since this tragedy first came to light. We’ve made a lot of progress in Libby.

• We launched the Center for Asbestos Related Diseases, which has screened and provided health care to thousands of Libby residents.

• We kicked the EPA into gear and got Libby listed as a national Supefund site.

• We secured millions for cleanup, health care, and economic development in Libby.

But, sadly, Mr. President there is still much more do to. Much more. Libby residents deserve compensation for their injuries. They deserve health care. They deserve to see those responsible go to prison for what they did. They deserve to know that their town is clean of asbestos.

What I knew about Les makes this news very sad to me personally. I’m sad for his family. I’m sad for his friends. I’m sad for Libby.

Mr. President, I’m also angry. I’m angry at W.R. Grace, which knowingly poisoned its workers. I’m angry that justice still has not been done in Libby. I’m angry that we haven’t been able to do more.

But we won’t give up. We’ll keep fighting for Les and Libby. Les’ passing only furthers my resolve to try harder. To do more. We won’t let up. We will not stop.

When I get tired, I think of Les. And I can't shake what he asked me to do. In all of my years as an elected official, helping Libby is among the most personally compelling things I’ve ever been called on to do.

I’ll keep the promise I made to Les that night at Gayla’s house.

Les was a fighter to the end. He recently minced no words about his feelings toward Grace.

He told the Missoulian newspaper, quote: "There's not a doubt in my mind that [they] are guilty of murder."

"I started in 1959 and I was as healthy as a horse,” he said. “I knew all the guys that worked there, 135 employees when I was there. And there's five of us left alive. Five. The rest of them are gone."

Now, sadly, so is Les.

The Book of Proverbs says: “righteousness delivers from death.” And if that is true, then Les will certainly be delivered.

My prayers are with Les’ wife Norita, his family and friends, and the people of Libby.

Mr. President, I yield the floor.

*** POSTED JANUARY 24, 2007 ***