FAIRLEE — Russ Smith never aspired to prominence, but that didn’t stop the residents of Fairlee from dubbing him “mayor.”
Smith was no politician; he was a postmaster, a Little League coach, a substitute teacher, a long-time volunteer firefighter.
But his presence loomed large over the town of roughly 1,000 people. He knew every inch of the place and everything of significance that happened within its boundaries.
He was familiar with the most fruitful fishing and hunting spots and could relate the town’s historical quirks —he’d tell stories about Queenie, the trained elephant that lived in Fairlee for years and was trained to waterski on the Connecticut River.
For decades, Smith could rattle off the name of every child attending Samuel Morey Elementary School. He held more positions within the town than could comfortably fit in his obituary.
“He truly believed in the town and he believed in its people, especially its young people,” said Jay Barrett, who served as chairman of the Fairlee Selectboard for 18 years. “He didn’t ask for anything in return. He wasn’t showy about it. He didn’t have to be making headlines.”
Smith did hold tight to one claim to fame, according to Town Clerk Georgette Wolf-Ludwig, a longtime friend. Smith, who died on Feb. 18, 2019, at 86, would pound his fist on the desk and exclaim that he was the oldest Fairlee resident who was born in the town, she said. “That was something he was very proud of.”
Born in Fairlee in 1932, Smith was the son of a painter and a waitress. He grew up as a child of the Depression, with five siblings and little money. He graduated from Orford High School in 1950 and when he joined the United States Air Force two years later, he had to stuff himself on bananas so that he’d be heavy enough to enlist, according to Wolf-Ludwig.
He spent four years in the military as an equipment mechanic, including three in England. The experience instilled in him a lifelong patriotism.
Smith returned to his birthplace in 1956, where he resided for the rest of his life.
His career aspirations were modest; he delivered oil and followed in his father’s footsteps as a painter. He worked as the town’s postmaster for 13 years. He never went to college.
But over that period, there was hardly a position in municipal government that he didn’t hold. He was town moderator and school moderator, serving in each post for nearly two decades. He served as grand juror and fence viewer and held seats on the civil defense committee, the recreation council and the school space needs committee. He was a volunteer firefighter for 42 years, as well as an EMT.
Smith chaired the historical society and led an effort to make the Fairlee Town Hall handicap accessible.
Fairlee residents described him as a man who took immense pride in the institutions of town government.
He chastised members of the fire department when they veered from Robert’s Rules of Order during their meetings, said Win Ameden, who served alongside Smith as a firefighter and is now deputy chief. Smith organized the town parade for the 4th of July every year and insisted that it be held rain or shine, he added.
And he taught elementary school students each year how to properly handle and raise the American flag. “He was a great patriot,” Ameden said. “He (kept) our institutions strong and going and operating correctly.”
His life wasn’t without tragedy. His step-daughter, Sharon, was killed in a car accident in 1981, the day before her senior prom. His wife Barbara died in 2014. Smith would visit their graves multiple times a week, according to Wolf-Ludwig.
In their absence, “Fairlee was his family,” she added.
Smith eagerly took on the responsibility of helping to raise the next generation. He was a Babe Ruth umpire, a Little League coach, and a basketball referee. He led the local Boy Scout troop and helped out with the Girl Scouts as well.
In December, he paraded up and down Main Street wearing a Santa Claus costume, ringing a bell and bellowing, “Merry Christmas,” according to Wolf-Ludwig. On Halloween, he often handed out candy to more than 300 kids; one year he dressed up in a dark cloak and a mask to scare the trick-or-treaters who approached the house.
When he retired from the post office, he substitute taught or volunteered in the library at Samuel Morey Elementary School almost every day for 25 years. He organized the card catalog and returned books to their shelves, said librarian Joyce Russell. He’d tell stories to the students and occasionally, he’d bring in an old wasp nest or a photo of a bald eagle snapped near Lake Morey.
Norwich resident Rebecca Holcombe, a school principal in Fairlee at the time who went on to become Vermont secretary of education, said Smith was a “volunteer grandfather” to many students. He was dedicated to them and had a “heart of gold,” she said.
Up until the months before his death, Smith also stopped by the Town Hall every afternoon, taking a seat in his designated old wooden chair. He’d read old town reports or review Robert’s Rules of Order. He kept slips of paper in his pocket with jokes he’d tell to passersby, and he offered everyone a hug.
“He was the town welcoming committee,” said state Sen. Jane Kitchel , D-Caledonia, who represents Fairlee.
Now a sign is erected over the chair where he used to sit: “Reserved for Russ Smith.”
Those interactions gave him insights into the nuances of the town and the character of its residents — a skill plumbed by those in elected office.
When the Selectboard was trying to tactfully encourage an aging police chief to step down, Barrett, who was serving as chairman, went to Smith for advice. He could count on Smith not to gossip and to offer a common-sense approach, he explained.
“He intuitively understood the town and he understood the people,” Barrett said, noting that Smith was the antithesis to the national political scene and President Donald Trump.
“We live in this age of celebrity politics,” he said. “Clearly, Russ — it was never about him.”
One day, during Fairlee’s annual Allen Avery Memorial Raptor Run around Lake Morey, Smith perched on the guardrail to watch runners pass.
Every runner greeted him by name, and he responded in kind, according to longtime friend and golfing partner Don Weaver.
“Hi, Russ,” they’d exclaim as they passed one by one. “Always ‘Hi, Russ,’ never Mr. Smith,” he said.
That was characteristic of Smith, Barrett agreed: beloved not for his extravagance, but for his unobtrusive simplicity.
“How he interacted with Fairlee was pretty down-to-earth, pretty Norman Rockwell New England,”
Barrett said. “He was just dealing with the folks at their homespun level.”
Katie Jickling can be reached at katiejickling@gmail.com.