Jefferson County Online A part of the IAGenWeb and USGenWeb Projects Who's Who in 1921 & 1922 Henry F. Pumphrey

"The Fairfield Tribune"
Thursday, July 7, 1921
Page SIX

NO. 21

HENRY F. PUMPHREY

Most of we humble specimens of the human race are content to possess one bright, outstanding claim to fame; occasionally one of us bursts forth with the information that we have two accomplishments. But it is our pleasure to present today to your notice a gentleman who numbers his accomplishments and talents as the hairs of his head, and he isn't bald, either.

We refer to one Henry F. Pumphrey, a Fairfield native son who is by the way of being somewhat adept in almost any line of human endeavor. Taxidermist, agriculturist, horticulturist, naturalist, mineralogist, ornithologist, zoologist, biologist, physiologist, apiarist, geologist--Henry's all of these, and that's not mentioning his ability as a songologist.

You see Henry shines at any of these sciences, all of which he follows merely for pastime. We haven't mentioned his ability as artist, sculptor, musician and composer, because these talents are so well known to everyone who knows Henry that they need not be mentioned . In short, Henry is, to phrase it expressively as Doc James did, "an all-round handy cuss."

But of all of Henry Pumphrey's wondrous talents and great genius there is one which stands out alone, far above the others. It is as a vocalist he has become most famous. A member of the justly famous Old Settlers quartet, Henry, by his famous voice, has raised that organization from an obscure position in the musical world to the highest pinnacle of fame since he added his talented voice to it.

There are some people with mean, jealous, envious natures who profess to see no talent in the singing of the Old Settlers quartet. Two of these characters were standing in the park the other day in attendance at some kind of a gathering. Chancing to look over the crowd one of them remarked that he saw Ralph Lamson over near the bandstand, coming toward them.

,'My God!" Cried the other, "Go head him off quick. Henry Pumphrey's standing here behind us and if those two get together they'll begin to sing."

The fact that the fellow who made this slurring remark has an ambition to sing in public may have had something to do with its inspiration.

Sometimes you'll find a man who can write a good song but can't sing it; others who can't write a word but can sing anything. Now Henry isn't any musical piker like that--he writes a lot of his own songs so that he will have really good ones. And then he sings them himself so that all of the fire and expression in the words and spirit of the song may be brought out with proper vocal handling. Henry seems, in common with other members of the famous quartet, to have a voice of wondrous carrying power. So many people, noting the quartet singing in the bandstand in the park make it a point to go into some of the stores on the square, remarking that they can hear at that distance sufficiently well. Thousands of unfortunate people have never heard Henry sing, although they have seen him sing.

Henry spent last winter down in Florida. He came back this spring bringing back 67 per cent of the animal, insect, reptilian and mineral life of the state with him. Had about a train load of bearskins, wildcat skins, snakes, butterflies, birds, fish, shells, rocks and the like. He had been intending to devote a part of his large acreage just east of town to agriculture this year but found he had to use the ground for the specimens he brought home.

Go down to Henry's house and you'll get acquainted with a lot of strange people, birds and animals. Some of them are in plaster paris, some in oil, others mounted. It's like a museum. From all kinds of hidden places Henry will bring out valuable and rare mineral specimens, a handful or two of pearls, emeralds, turquoise and the like.

Henry is one of those poetic minded chaps who always finds the lrst (sic) flowers of spring and hear the first birds. He knows all the birds about his place, and even teaches some of them how to sing. He loves nature, every growing thing from a blade of grass to a grizzly bear. You see he has a lot of poetry in his soul; often finds expression in verse for Henry is a poeter along with his many other accomplishments.

Henry Pumphrey is just the sort of a chap that dogs trot up to and wag their tails, that babies coo to and flowers nod a welcome as he passes. That is, under normal circumstances. If the dogs howl, the babies scream and the flowers wither and die when Henry sings it doesn't follow that it is simply because of the singing--it might be only a coincidence. Fact of the matter is Henry's talent as a vocalist is merely a matter of individual opinion, anyway. Two Fairfield men were discussing it one day; one of them said Henry couldn't sing, the other, defending him, said:

"He is just as good a singer as Ralph Lamson or Doc James."

"Well, ain't that what I've been saying," exclaimed the detractor. And there you are--you seen how opinion is divided.