Jefferson County Online A part of the IAGenWeb and USGenWeb Projects Who's Who in 1921 & 1922 Edward Russell Smith

"The Fairfield Tribune"
Friday, February 11, 1921
Page SIX

NO. 2

EDWARD RUSSELL SMITH

Yeh, it's Russell--the E. R. Smith that you know. Never knew his name was Edward, did you? Few people do because he hasn't worn it very much since it was bestowed on him down in Van Buren county some fifty yearsa go, or a bit less maybe. He always did like the Russell better but he has carefully refrained from writing it E. Russell Smith for fear people might think he was highbrow. And if there is anything Edward Russell doesnt' (sic) like that one thing is to be thought highbrow. So he writes E. R.

You will observe that Russell is shown here in his favorite attitude, with his hands behind him. By keeping his hands behind his back Russell attains two very important objects in the little game of life--he doesn't have to show his hand, and he can always have something up his sleeve without you knowing it.

Fact of the matter is, Russell is always enabled to give you a surprise by keeping his hands hidden--you never know what he has in them. The odds are about even that he will have an overdue note or account against you, or a big carrot or other garden product in his hands when he shows them. It's just as likely to be one as the other, for he is lavish with both. The only difference is that he is very discriminating about the notes and accounts and will present them only to those who chance to have a bit of unfulfilled obligation; with the garden truck it's a different matter--he distributes that to everybody who will believe that the stuff was grown in his own or his farm garden. It's a very common sight to see Russel pull a peck or so of string beans or something of the kind out of his pocket and present to an acquaintance he chances to meet.

But it was as a collector of bad accounts that Edward Russell became really famous. Not long after he moved up here from Birmingham he cast about for some way of making some easy money. He had graduated from Parsons college, but that fact alone didn't seem to cause any particular excitement in the community nor bring a rush of offers of good jobs. So he dabbled a bit in real estate. He found this a very pleasant and renmuerative (sic) business, but was constantly afraid that some unprincipled trader wold take advantage of his innocense and ignorance of the law. So he went to Iowa City and took a course of law and was admitted to the bar.

Russell wasn't an attorney--he was a lawyer; he preferred the latter term as he felt there were already too many attorneys here in Fairfield. After he had become schooled in the law he learned what a powerful thing it was when, by his knowledge of it, he was enabled to collect a little debt of $12.80 that a fellow had owed him for three years. It was pretty soft and it set him thinking. He figured the collection game wasn't a bad one for an honest and ambitious young man to engage in.

"Now, if A owes B $100, B would probably give C ten percent, or $10, for collecting it," he reasoned. "Now there are lots of A's in this county, and for every A there is a B, and every B wants a C; I think I'll play the C end of the game for a while."

So Edward Russell Smith began on his career as a collector of bad debts. He was particularly fitted for it because his hide was a tough as a Fairfield mayor's and the debtors couldn't make a dent in it with their choicest bit of profanity. Russell got a lot of the people in the town and county mad at him--some are still mad. He was threatened with a licking as frequently as the average newspaper editor is. Some people say that is how Russell got into the habit of carrying a few choice vegetables and fruits about in his pockets--to have them handy to present to belligerent debtors in an effort to placate them. However that may be, certain it is that he was about as popular with the A's as a revenue man is among Kentuncky mountineers (sic).

Finally, the collection business got distasteful and Russell has been out of it for a long time. He is human enough to want people to meet him in a friendly way and he couldn't remain in the collection business and have them do so. So he's been giving his attention to abstracting and real estate. When he quit the collection business there was a lot of A's breathed more freely--and a lot of B's sighed. But he liked the real estate business better--it was more friendly. And he knew the law so well by this time that he wasn't a bit afraid of the local land sharks.

Dealing in other people's land so much got him in the notion of acquiring some for himself. He has done this. He has one very nice farm down on the creek bottom which would grow tremendous crops if it wasn't for the fact that about the time the crops ought to be growing Cedar creek is using the land for a channel. Aside from this trifling drawback it is a very nice farm indeed.

Russell would have made a fine newspaper reporter--he always knows where there's a good story and he knows a good story when he sees it. Not only that but he has another very essential qualification--he has the repuisite nerve of a good reporter.

Way back in the misty past some place Russell's ancestors must have been Indians or Indian traders. Russell would rather sleep in a tent with Indian blankets about him than in the finest bed to be had. He brings his family near to the verge of privation frequently by his profligate purchases of untanned furs, beads, Indian relics and the like. He will abandon very good white company and walk five miles over a desert sun to exchange "How's" with a band of Indians--he has done this--in Arizona. His love of the primitive is seen in his purchase of a ten-acre spot down on Cedar where he has established a natural park--Wayside park he calls it. Place isn't fit for anything except for picnicking and Russell leaves the gate wide open for picnic parties.

A lot of people call Russell a blamed fool for putting a bunch of money into this waste land and maintaining a park just to please people he never even sees. But then there's been a lot of people have called him worse than that--and it never penetrated Russell's epidermis in the least. He just goes on handing out his prize tomatoes and carrots and he seems to be getting along very well. But he doesn't confine his philanthropies to these small items of garden produce and there's many a poor devil in Fairfield who will swear by Edward Russell as he recalls an annual gift of a Christmas turkey. And when it comes to doing something for the community good, you'll never fail to find his name well at the top of the subscription list and will always find him in the ranks of willing workers who give time, money and effort to worthy causes.

Yes, Edward Russell Smith keeps his hands behind his back and unually (sic) has something up his sleeve. His left hand may not know what his right hand doeth, but we'll say Russell knows what they're both doing. And if you've been on the square with him you'll probably find that the hand he brings from behind his back has a bunch of nice grapes in it--or maybe a turnip.