Sir Edmund Helped Others Climb Their Own Summits

If you ever wanted to find Sir Edmund Hillary, who with his Sherpa guide became the first to scale Mount Everest and stand atop the roof of the world, all you had to do was look under H in the phone book. He lived in the same house in Auckland, New Zealand, for most of his adult life. It was bought with the proceeds from his first book, back in the 1950s. While he was that rarest of men -- a true epic hero in an age of 15-minute wannabes -- there wasn't an inch of self-aggrandizement in his mountainous frame.

When I was interviewing him once in his living room, back in 2003 when the world celebrated the 50th anniversary of his ascent of the world's tallest peak, there came a knock on the door. A man had brought his son -- maybe 6 or 7 years old -- to meet the famous Sir Ed, as he was always known in New Zealand. The father almost bowed and stumbled over his words, thanking Sir Ed for everything he had done for the country. The boy just stared. The then-83-year-old adventurer smiled -- and what a smile it was, Desmond Tutu-esque in its power and warmth -- and patiently thanked him. It wasn't uncommon for strangers to visit him this way.

It was representative both of the enduring generosity and humility of the man, and of his standing in New Zealand, where he was part George Washington, part Neil Armstrong -- the best of us, and the boldest. I wouldn't have dared say that to his face, however. Adulation could make him grouchy.

As he walked back down Everest, having "knocked the bastard off," Sir Ed didn't expect much fuss from anyone outside the mountaineering community. He was never one for fuss. He knew his own mind. Yet there on a Himalayan mountain trail, he learned that throngs in London had cheered his name on the day of Queen Elizabeth's coronation and he was to be knighted.

Arriving home in New Zealand weeks later, he was met by more crowds. He realized the fuss was going to be with him the rest of his days and, as he famously said, he would have to buy a pair of new overalls. He is the only nonpolitical figure outside Britain to be a member of the queen's exclusive Order of the Garter, and was reputed to be the only living person who wasn't a head of state to be pictured on New Zealand's currency. Such recognition is rare because it carries the risk that the person will somehow tarnish his reputation later in life. New Zealanders never feared.

One of the most remarkable features of Sir Ed's life is that his reputation was never diminished or deconstructed. He was steadfastly self-deprecating, insisting he was "no great shakes" at school and not even an especially gifted mountaineer. His gifts were guts, grit and good humor.

I asked him about being a hero once, and he harrumphed, calling Hillary the Great "an imposter."

"I was never a heroic figure. Not in the way I look at it."

So how do you deal with it? I asked.

"I say thank you very much and carry on doing the next thing."

Does the mythology surrounding you annoy you? I pressed.

"Not really," he shrugged. "I refuse to take it seriously."