Richard Smith Reflects on Service, Faith, and Family - Retires after Career Farming, as Carlisle Town Justice

Justice Smith with his beloved wife Deborah doing their life's work, farming. Special thanks to Richard Smith for the photo.

CARLISLE — The Hon. Richard Smith, who served Carlisle as its justice for more than a decade, is one of the best examples of public service in Schoharie County’s history. He recently retired from the bench amid a difficult battle with pancreatic cancer but took the time to sit down with me at the Cobleskill Diner to discuss what makes him so well-respected in the community and beyond.

At 79 years old, his mind is as bright as ever and there’s more than a little wisdom flowing through his eyes. He’s a bit slower than he was before, and his appetite is reduced due to the growth of the cancer. Despite this, he knows that things will get better, on this earth, or after.

Despite the diagnosis, Smith said that he feels blessed knowing and it brings great comfort that he will be reunited with his late wife Deborah, who passed away three years ago after 53 years of marriage.

As good as Judge Smith is, Deborah was even better than he was in his retelling of her. He said that she had “more common sense and morals than I think I ever had.” She was “always cheerful,” and ultimately a near “perfect person.”

His marriage had its roots well before our conversation. He was drafted into the United States Army on Christmas Eve 1967. When he was home on leave in a “blinding snowstorm,” he went to visit his girlfriend.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he told her.

They went down Edward R. Murrow’s driveway in a scene that was “so quiet and peaceful.”

Smith promised to get home from the service and get married, and Deborah just “curled up in my arm.”

Smith became Carlisle Town Justice in Nov. 2011, appointed to the role due to a vacancy. It wasn’t his first time in a similar role. He did sideline work as part of the state’s Small Claims Assessment Review (SCAR) court system for twelve years.

Despite his flawless record on the bench, farming was his “ultimate and only true career.”

Smith said that it was “the one job where I could go to bed at night after a tough day’s work and hungry that when I put my head on the pillow I was looking forward to tomorrow.”

Agriculture was, of course, “a lot of hard work,” and “couldn’t be done” without the support of his faithful wife, Deborah. She helped in nearly every aspect of the farm, while supporting him and being a “fantastic mother.”

“If she had been deprived of motherhood, the world would have been left with a big void,” he said. He spoke glowingly of his children, Steven, Benjamin, Rebecca, and the marriage that built his family.

Even Will-A-Way Farm showed that same determination.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” said Smith.

Deborah didn’t know anything about farming but said, “I’ll try.” It was at that moment that Smith said that he knew “I had a soulmate.”

“It hit me like a ton of bricks.”

The justice grew up “very poor” and realized the great sacrifices his parents made for him and his family. His mother would often claim not to be that hungry, and he witnessed firsthand his “parents went without so that the kids would have food and decent clothes.”

“I wouldn’t trade my youth for anything,” Smith said.

Throughout this childhood, Smith learned the value of hard work, honesty, and family.

“We had a good life,” he said.

Justice Smith grew up in Carmel, in Putnam County, before it became built up. His family line had an interesting background, with his great-great-grandmother being a Mahopak Indian.

In time, his family was “squeezed out of Putnam County” for farming possibilities so they started on a rented in Dutchess County, later years making the key move to near Fort Plain in 1977.

Smith worked hard as a dairy farmer, chronicling his efforts through his book Something New Every Day.

And despite his efforts for his family and agriculture, Smith found time to build a sterling reputation. He graduated from SUNY Cobleskill with an AA in Animal Science and a BT in Ag Management and Ag Economics, and later earned an M.Ed. in Adult Education from Penn State.

Smith said his bucket list included giving the commencement address at SUNY Cobleskill.

The justice put immense effort into his studies, but even these accomplishments came with a partner. Deborah helped him deal with dyslexia. She was a natural at these sorts of things and “had a real nature at caring for others about her.”

Perhaps it wasn’t in his nature, but Smith refused to procrastinate. When SUNY Cobleskill started offering Bachelor’s degrees, he considered further education in case he had to sell his farm and needed to become more employable. When Deborah suffered from Farmer’s Lung, and the option to build a second home away from barns wasn’t available, Smith transitioned to becoming a loan officer.  (He attempted to build a new house, and when that wasn’t to be, he said, “If I couldn’t have a family farm, I didn’t want to farm,” and transitioned into becoming a loan officer within two years.) That didn’t work for him, and returning to farming became his goal.

But in the end, Smith beat his own path. He came back to his family farm, which was “like picking up all over again,” but unfortunately, a devastating barn fire caused another setback to his dream of starting over.  He didn’t give up, renting a farm in Cobleskill and slowly rebuilding his herd. He went to work as a loan officer as he built up his herd again. In five years, he purchased a farm at an auction in Fort Plain and again “moved the cows up there” to Montgomery County. Family farming was again an option, and one that Smith identifies with still so closely.

He continued his studies, writing “gobs of papers” that Deborah would review for him. She would be woke in the night at all hours to correct spelling and grammar, “never balked,” he said, and would studiously assist him after sleeping. When Smith finally printed his thesis, and he and Deborah were driving by Olive Garden, he got a bit of a playful ultimatum.

“I’m calling in all those nights for lunch,” she said.

Deborah’s helpful nature was a reflection of who she was.

“She didn’t talk the Faith, she walked it.”

Smith, in time, would give up his SCAR role, which had encompassed six judicial districts, as well as his certified appraisal business, because he has one eye with vision.

His time in the appraisal business was particularly interesting. He was qualified to appraise any property. Some of the various appraisals ranged from a chicken farm, to a funeral home, to even a few Amish farms.  He did this for about twenty years, including for the federal government with special certification.

Smith was looking for something to do as he grew older. He considered taking a role as a local code enforcement officer. He talked to then-Carlisle Town Supervisor Larry Bradt “just to be involved.” He made a joke about possibly running for town supervisor but said “wouldn’t mind being the judge…but wouldn’t run against a good judge.”

When an opening came up and Smith was appointed to the role, he said that it was a natural fit.

“I loved doing weddings,” he said. He averaged about five weddings a year and has about 50 under his belt. This included a memorable one at the Sagamore. After the ceremony, the DJ asked people to stay on the floor if they had been married for more than 10, 20, 30, and 40 years. The Smiths were remaining on the floor, losing out to the groom's parents, married only a month, to Deborah and Richard, showing the great strength of their love. When Deborah passed away, the couple he married from the same wedding came to the funeral.

“Talk about touching your heart,” she said.

Smith performed a variety of wedding types, including elopement at Howes Cave. In one case he had a couple that married at the Bulls Head. Smith had to leave the hayfield to perform it, showed up and saw the groom-to-be “all dappered up.” The couple had been together for 25 years and the only people present were their kids and grandkids.

“Take your time kissing the bride,” said Smith, to the snickers of the grandchildren of the couple, the assembled family.

“You had to be there,” he said.

Smith said that he always “liked to know something about the wedding so I can add something.” In one case, the couple wanted to get married at the end of the greenhouse at the Carrot Barn in Schoharie, where they met and where the couple was engaged.

“Everyone is different,” Smith said.

“It means something to me.”

Being on the bench was similar to Smith. He said that it’s hard for those in the courtroom to listen. After all, Smith said, “God gives us two eyes, two ears, and one mouth.”

This included himself, and taught him to always be thoughtful. A judge doesn’t want to offer an “opinion or suggestion you might have to backtrack.”

He especially credited Justice Lynn Hait of Jefferson for years of mentorship. Hait is an “excellent judge” with decades of experience. Learning through experience is “critical,” said Smith.

In one case, Smith had a young man who had done a high rate of speed on a motorcycle. His mother dragged him in on an off-day.

“She was madder than a hornet,” said Smith.

The defendant asked, " If I plead guilty, what will it cost me?” He then pleaded not guilty.

After no one else was in the courtroom, Smith said that he normally wouldn’t have revealed such an answer, but said it would be a $700 fine, a $93 surcharge, and a “shredded license.’

Smith spoke with an attorney in court who suggested that the defendant write a college-level essay on speeding and return to court for sentencing. When the new court date came the justice looked it over with orange highlights, reading it through, when he asked questions about the material, including what the average age of a motorcycle fatality is.

The answer was 27. Smith pointed at the Assistant District Attorney, asking what their jobs were.

“Making sure you have birthdays,” said Smith to the defendant, who received a fine and six points on his license.

The defendant’s mother cheered.

Years later, Smith was at Central Tractor, the young guy bagging his order said: “You don’t remember me, do you?” The young man was behind him in line and told the justice that his ruling was “the best thing that ever happened to me” and that he no longer rode a motorcycle.

The ruling, Smith thought, might just have saved his life.

In one case, the ADA had a case against a “little old lady”  of “modest means” of 85 who had never had a ticket in her life. The offer was parking on pavement, with no fine and a $25 surcharge.

At the end of the same day in court, an older man with broken English said, “I’m a man of modest means on Social Security,” and asked if he could have the same ruling, which Smith granted.

Being a judge is about “being fair and equal,” said Smith. He did his best to see “what I would want to happen to me.”

In the role as a local justice, he was “no different than you, but I get to sit down, thank God, and wear a robe.”

What was the moral of the story? For Smith, he has been “blessed to be a farmer” and “tried to treat other people the way I wanted to be treated.”

He cited common sense, stating that his father said that it was “so needed and not common. That’ll get you through anything.”

He cited Debbie’s favorite prayer, “Oh Lord, there isn’t anything I’ll go through today I can’t face with you by my side.” He has been blessed to have grown up in the United States in the aftermath of the Second World War.

“People would do anything for kids after the war,” he said.

“My parents, my earthly parents, I tested them more than all their children combined,” he said. Despite this, Smith’s parents never closed “the door.” He would “always come back.”

He was like the Prodigal Son, who showed his loyal earnestness to his parents, his country, his wife, his children, his farm, and his community. And we have been made better because of it.