When Navajo woodcraftsman Tobie Beneli was considering starting a casket-making business, he took the question to a medicine man, wanting to know if it was the right thing to do.

"We were told that it was OK," he said. "He thought it was a good thing."

But the medicine man also told him a cautionary tale about how the Navajo in the old days would cut or mar the blanket they wrapped their dead in. This was because they didn't want it to be so nice that the spirit would be tempted to stay.

Beneli got the message. He makes his caskets with subtle flaws.

"They're all imperfect," he said.

He's also taken to heart another thing the medicine man said: "Don't ever just turn it into 100 percent money."

Seeing a need

Making caskets wasn't what Beneli, 54, set out in life to do. About 10 years ago, he was making cabinets and Southwest-style furniture when a cousin died. To help the family, he crafted one the best he could.

The experience opened his eyes to a need among his people. Though Navajos have mostly adopted a mainstream approach to burying their dead, they often are ill-prepared to navigate the complicated funeral process and are vulnerable to being taken advantage of.

"It's something that really bothered me," he said.

The average cost of a funeral in 2004 was $6,500, according to the National Funeral Directors Association.

"How are they coming up with this much money?" Beneli asked, noting that some on the reservation still live without electricity.

Beneli, the youngest of 12 children, thought that making affordable but well-made caskets could be a way to help his people. But with the first ones completed, he found funeral homes, used to the established brands, were reluctant to carry his. So he hit the road, traveling to Tuba City, Flagstaff and Winslow, Ariz., Gallup, N.M., and other communities with large Navajo populations to sell them directly to the people.

He discovered the need he'd sensed was there. As his business grew, funeral homes began accepting his caskets on their showroom floors. Now they are responsible for most of his business.

Expanding the business

Beneli's operation, Summit Ridge Wood Design, is located behind the house he shares with wife Lin Grady, whose job description with the company could basically be summed up as gal Friday.

Situated between Mancos and Dolores on Colorado Highway 184, the business originally started in their garage but has now expanded to three buildings, the largest of which houses a CNC (computer numerically controlled) router, a $150,000 piece of machinery that cuts wood according to precise specifications controlled by computer.

The versatility of the machine puts it in high demand, and about 20 percent of Beneli's business is not casket-related. This includes cutting the cores for Silverton-based ScottyBob Skis.

Once the casket pieces are cut, they are assembled and sanded in a room heavy with dust and the smell of aromatic cedar, the wood used to make nearly all their caskets. Next the wood pieces go to another room to be lacquered, and finally to an upholstery room, where they are lined with Summit Ridge's signature Pendleton blankets.

"It took a long time to get an account" with the more than 100-year-old maker of Southwest-style blankets, said Grady, a 58-year-old Minnesota native.

The caskets also can include etched drawings on the inside of the lid. The Navajo-themed artwork includes landscapes by a Shiprock artist, who created them based on Beneli's childhood memories of life on the reservation. The drawings are scanned and etched by a machine.

Beneli, who has seven employees besides himself and his wife, said that in three days they usually produce about four caskets. The number of orders they receive varies; on their busiest day, they received 21 orders. Prices listed on Summit Ridge's Web site run from $1,245 to $2,430. Casket prices at some area mortuaries start at $965 but run up to $4,295.

Beneli's popular caskets have attracted imitators, prompting him to add difficult-to-reproduce angles to their design.

Though most of their business is through funeral homes, they still sell directly to individuals. If someone is confused about the funeral process, they don't hesitate to offer information and guidance, Beneli said.

Many buyers are American Indian, but they are finding the style also appeals to others, particularly ranchers.

"A lot of people don't want to be buried in satin," Grady said.

Heeding the medicine man

When Beneli's 93-year-old mother, who spoke only Navajo, died in 2003, he made the casket she was buried in. He feels that he has continued to stay true to the ideal of helping people in their time of grief.

The confirmation comes in the form of letters and phone calls.

"Thank you for crafting the beautiful casket for our dad," reads one card.

Another says simply, "You have been good to us."

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