After my father's death, a state lake and park near our home in West Tennessee were named for him and dedicated to his memory in 1964. At that time, four friends whose names I believe you will recognize paid tributes, portions of which I wish to share with you.
Gene Keatley owned a sporting goods company in Beckley, W. Va., and often squadded with my father at the Grand American. He wrote, "Yes, I am glad I knew Herb Parsons. I knew Herb as a man, as the world's greatest exhibition shooter, as an expert trapshooter, but most of all I knew him as a friend, and I treasured his friendship. Herb Parsons was clean and decent in his thoughts, words, and deeds.
"When Herb gave his exhibitions at the Grand American trapshoot in Vandalia, Ohio, each year, he created more interest than any other event or any type of shooting. I looked forward to it each year, and each time I saw him it was just as wonderful and just as impossible as the first time I saw him. The name of Herb Parsons will never be forgotten, and the miraculous shooting he did will be remembered and talked about so long as sportsminded people get together.
"One of Herb's happiest times was when he had large groups of young boys and girls lying on the ground around the shooting circle so he could see them and talk directly to them. He always told them how important it was to get a good education and to be an expert in whatever they did. He told them to try hard to get to the top of the class, to be a good citizen and a leader in their school, work, or play.
"Herb Parsons will never die in my memory. He left something of value to me, and I am sure the world is a better place for his having been here."
Jimmy Robinson, who needs no introduction, wrote, "I knew Herb, not only as a shooter but as a dear friend, since the time he first shot clay targets. We all know he was the greatest shot of all times, and he was a member of my AllAmerican skeet and trapshooting teams a number of times. I was a judge at Stuttgart, Ark., when he won the world duckcalling championship, and I think this gave him his greatest thrill because he loved to hunt ducks. Herb was a delightful companion and a great teacher for our youth. We all miss him very much."
My father worked for Winchester for 30 years. John M. Olin, chairman of the board of Olin Mathieson Chemical Corporation, wrote, "As you well know, Herb was a very close friend of mine. We had many, many happy days and experiences together. I found him to be a true sportsman in every sense of the word. He served our corporation in a very worthy manner,
especially his appeal to the coming generation. He was a wonderful marksman with both rifle and shotgun, and I doubt there will ever be a shooter who can even approach his ability and his charm."
Nash Buckingham: "I knew Herb when, as a youngster, he was ambitious to tackle a dream that became glorious reality. From boyhood he worked to perfect himself as the greatest exhibition gunner the world has ever known. And having myself watched the world's best Carver, Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley, the Toepperweins, and vaudeville stars, I know whereof I speak. Herb Parsons was a perfectionist summa cum laude. In his more than 30 years of ceaseless international travel for the Olin Mathieson Chemical Corporation, Winchester Western Division, Herb Parsons fired millions upon millions of shots 'heard round the world,' earning global plaudits for his magnificent skills, showmanship, and outdoor educational benefits to youth, national gunning morale, and sportsmanship.
"From motion picture screens and lecture platforms, nations listened and applauded Herb Parsons. He neither needed nor employed professional writers for the quipped wisdom and humorous facets of his exhilarating exhibitions. Hidden from motion picture cameras, it was really the unerring rifle of Herb Parsons that made or unmade scores of heroes and villains of film history.
"Words of an old tribute reach me through the mists of time. 'To every man is granted opportunity for some definite expression in life of some particular virtue. To a few men comes opportunity to express all the virtues. He who has given more of good than of evil to the life he has lived, and carried out of life more love than hatred has, we can truly say, rounded out his career. But when there falls by the wayside one who has never received the hatred of his fellow men, one who has held for always the love, the admiration, and the respect of his intimates, there is indeed a vacancy mantling his comrades in a pall of sorrow.' When Herb Parsons died, he carried to his grave the heart of every man, woman, and child who knew him well."
Throughout my father's life, love of hunting and shooting, after love of his family, was the essence of it all. He somehow got me to squeeze the trigger on a .22 rifle so he could say his son fired his first shot at age one. Our bottle weaning was accomplished by his telling my brother Jerry and me anyone still taking a bottle was too much a baby to shoot. We must have wanted to shoot. It worked!
My father's vacation time always somehow fell during the hunting seasons, especially quail in Tennessee and duck in Arkansas. A vacation for him was time spent in the field hunting with his sons or friends. At the end, before his operation for hiatal hernia, his physical stamina was diminished. The last words he ever spoke to us in his hospital bed just hours before his death were, "I've had this operation so I can be well and we can hunt together again."
Most certainly my father still lives in the hearts of the many who knew and loved him. Induction into the Trapshooting Hall of Fame is one of the greatest lasting tributes which has ever been paid to his memory. My entire family and I appreciate it.
This was one of the exhibits I saw at the Cody Firearms Museum...
Part 2 on Herb Parsons.....well worth reading... he was one of the worlds best shooters, but besides that a true gentleman of our time..I never got to see him shoot in person, but the films they had of him shooting at the museum, even though they were made in the 50's were still amazing....Miss S Address of Hon. David D. Givens, Tennessee State Representative, at the dedication of the Herb Parsons Lake, July 26, 1964, Fayette County, Tennessee
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This afternoon we gather here under these majestic trees in the sight of this beautiful lake to honor the memory of Herbert Parsons, the greatest exhibition shooter the world has ever known. It is well that this sports area be dedicated to his memory. As the sun rises in the east and leaves us in the west, so it was some 56 years ago Herbert came into the world in the east side of his beloved Fayette County and now we are honoring his memory in this, the western extremity of the county, and, as the sun sets in all its beauty, so he has left to all of us glorious memories of sportsmanship unsurpassed, citizenship at its finest, and a personality as radiant as the noon day sun.
It would, indeed, be superfluous for me to recite to you the many accomplishments of Herbert's in the sports world. Voluminous material has been written and much, much more could be written, but, this afternoon I want to talk about Herbert Parsons, the man, and Herbert Parsons, our friend.
He was born with a quick mind, developed a healthy body, and attained a ready wit; all of which, with his determined efforts carried him to heights in his profession none have equaled or will ever excel. A poem, whose author is unknown, best describes Herbert when he said:
Let me live, oh Mighty Master,
Such a life as men shall know,
Tasting triumph and disaster,
Let me run the gamut over,
Let me fight and love and laugh,
And when I'm beneath the clover
Let this be my epitaph:
Here lies one who took his chances
In the busy world of men;
Battled luck and circumstances
Fought and fell and fought again:
Won sometimes but did no crowing,
Lost sometimes but didn't wail,
Took his beating, but kept going,
Never let his courage fail.
He was fallible and human,
Therefore loved and understood
Both his fellow men and women
Whether good or not so good;
Kept his spirit undiminished,
Never lay down on a friend,
Played the game until it was finished,
Lived a Sportsman to the end.
Herbert wasn't born the world's greatest shot; he made himself the greatest by hard work. This same determination for excellence was carried into other areas of his life. It was in those areas I knew him best because of our very close association.
He was truly an outstanding citizen of this County and the community of Somerville. When asked where he was from, whether he was in the labyrinths of New York City or hunting bears in the wilds of Alaska, he would grin and reply, "I'm from Somerville, Tennessee, half way between Warren and Laconia." More people knew of Somerville because of Herbert than any other dozen citizens of our town. When he would return home from a long, arduous exhibition tour, one of his first acts would be to go around the Square greeting his friends with his customary wit and geniality, always interested in the town he loved and who loved him. How well I remember when little league baseball came to Somerville. No man in town was more enthused and did more during his brief visits home than did Herbert. Those of us who know him so well quite often became amused when he would pass an unkept lawn in town and how vexed he would become.
I knew Herbert as a churchman since we were both officers in the local Presbyterian Church. He worked in the Church with the same enthusiasm he did everything. He was never happier than when he was standing over a washpot of hot grease frying fish or perspiring rivers of sweat cranking an ice cream freezer for an outing of the Men's Bible Class of his Church. How well I remember his vexations over the lethargy of some of the people in the Church.
I knew Herbert as a family man. Many times I have heard him say when he would return home how much he missed his family. I don't think he was ever more contented than he was sitting in his customary big chair in his den with a roaring fire on the hearth, surrounded by his family, a few friends, and his many trophies and mementos. When his boys were very young he would express to me his hopes for them, their education and place in life. His concern for his wife and parents was ever foremost in his mind.
The sincere love of family, church, and community is the real criterion of good citizenship, but his contribution to citizenship didn't stop here but was carried over into his work as an exhibition shooter. At each of these exhibitions where there gathered groups of admiring youths who watched his feats with a gun with wishful hope that they, too, might be able to duplicate such wonderful marksmanship, Herbert would turn to the youth and remark that one of the reasons he could shoot as he did was that he never used alcohol or tobacco. Who knows what such a simple truth of clean living has meant to thousands of American youths. Not only were his remarks on citizenship made to youth, but to parents as well. None of his clichés are better known than the classic which touched so many: "If you hunt with your boy, you won't have to hunt for him."
We have all read many tributes to Herbert's memory; and we have heard here this afternoon others so expressive; but to me, I never heard a tribute more beautiful in its sincere simplicity than the one paid him by an old Negro, Uncle George, who had known him all his life and had worked for him for many years. Five years ago last Sunday I stopped by Uncle George's and told him of Herbert's passing; and as he stood overcome with emotion, he looked up at me through a river of tears streaming down his face and said in a choked voice, "Mr. Herbert's gone, he was the best friend I ever had." That remark of simple sincerity of Uncle George's was to me one of the greatest tributes any man can have.
This park we dedicate to the memory of Herbert Parsons will always serve as a reminder of this great man; but so long as hunters thrill at the point of a welltrained bird dog, or sit in a cold wet duck blind, or gather around a camp fire, so long will the feats and life of Herbert be remembered. So long as these majestic trees shall drop their leaves each fall to bud again in the spring, so long will we all remember that broad grin and ready wit. To all of us who knew and loved Herbert, may his memory ever linger in our lives and may we ever recall that our lives are richer because we knew him.
And, now, we dedicate this park to the memory of Herbert Parsons; and as he, for over thirty years, brought so much joy and happiness to so many people, may this park ever serve to bring happiness to all who use it.
PART 3 About the MAN..How he changed the life of a 12 year old boy....
“Thoughts About Your Dad”
e-mail from Jack Evans, Delta, British Columbia, Canada, January 13th, 2002
Hello Lynn:
What a nice thought and gesture on your part to take the time to rekindle a flame that has burned very strong within my being for so many years. I first met your dad at the Victoria Gun club located on the outskirts of Victoria, British Columbia where Herb was to put on a shooting exhibition sponsored by Winchester Canada. I was just a very young and enthusiastic farm boy who was dirt poor then. I could not afford expensive store bought ammo for my single shot 22 Cooey rifle, which was made in Canada by Winchester. However, I was fortunate enough to have a friend and neighbor that worked at the military base and was responsible for the maintenance and up keep of the training ranges. He would give me ammo for helping him clean up the ranges and it was this old gentleman that gave me the opportunity to watch and to finally meet your dad.
I was asked if I would clean up all the garbage (in reality the left over targets and spent ammo, which there were tons of). In return, I would get to meet the Winchester Pro who was on tour. I had never heard of him, let alone try and understand why any company would pay someone to shoot all their guns and blow away vast amounts of ammo. Anyway, I was in love with shooting and figured that just maybe I might end up with some more military ammo.
When I first met your dad, I was lost at what he was trying to say as he spoke so fast and everything that he did say was either funny or above my level of intelligence. I was not up to speed on current events or famous sports figures. At one point in the show, Herb asked for someone in the audience to come forward and try the latest high power Winchester 22 rifle by trying to hit a stump some distance off in the horizon. (It was a very small stump) Not one person in this very large audience would step up and try the shot. Herb looked over at me, busy about cleaning up the blown away cabbage, melons, eggs and whatever he had in his shopping cart at the time, and said “Come over here, son”! I will never ever forget that phrase as it was the spark that ignited the burning flame that still burns within my soul to this day.
When asked if I had ever shot a rifle, my reply was no, only a 22 single shot. “Son”, he said, “that’s a mighty fine rifle”, and when he asked “what make is it?”, all I could think of was Cooey. I was too unsure of any other name or model. “Well now is your lucky day because from now on you will be a Winchester man, after you blow away that there yonder stump with this Winchester auto 22 rifle”.
There I was in front of about 200 sportsmen and media officials standing next to the greatest shooter on earth. At the time, I was not aware of his greatest feats - the ones with his Model 12 shotguns. Herb adjusted the sights on that beautiful little gun, and as he handed it to me he said “Believe in what you can do and it will happen more times than not!” As I touched off that shot some 50 years ago, I will always remember the confidence that he instilled within me, and yes, it’s still with me to this day. I was not aware at the time, but that far off yonder stump was loaded with blasting powder and at the shot, one of Herb’s assistants pushed the plunger down and that stump was gone! “Now that’s a rifle, son, even if it’s only a 22!”
I did get a chance to shoot his Model 12 short barrel skeet gun and was truly amazed at just how smooth the action worked. I was totally blown away when your dad held up a big handful of clay targets, threw them up into the air himself, and yes, broke every one of them before they hit the ground! WOW, I was hooked on Herb Parsons and Winchester.
After the show was over and all the guests were on their way, your dad was still on the grounds talking with others. As I finished my clean up chores, he asked if I had a way home and I answered “Yes, it’s only 4½ miles and I can run it in no time”. “Would you like a ride home and maybe you can show me your Cooey?” he said. I did get a ride home that day and Herb was introduced to my Grandparents who were my guardians as I was from a split home. Your dad put on a private show for us there on the back pasture of our farm with my little 22 Cooey after showing me how to adjust the rifle sights. Those moments are still with me to this very day.
Over these many years I have been fortunate enough to have had the chance in life to help others not only in business, but also in the shooting sports as I spare as much time as possible with youngsters and try to emulate your dear dad’s passion and outlook on life the best that I can. Yes, it really does work, because like they say, the more you give, the more does come home. I still have that old Cooey rifle and cannot even start to count just how many new shooters have got away their first shot on that very special Winchester.
Oh yes, Lynn, in 1975 I did earn a berth on the Canadian Olympic Shooting Team (Shotgun), but was unable to attend due to a very large contract that required my time. But, as I always say, I went for the real Gold and have never looked back.
I owe so much to your Dad, especially the incentive that he instilled within me and I always admired his sense of humor. Even the part I did not understand or could keep up with. He sure could make people feel comfortable without even trying. One shortcoming that is always there when I think of your dad is that I never did find a Model 12 Skeet gun similar to the one he let me shoot so many years ago. When I asked your dad how he got it so smooth when pumped, he said that he spent many hours with it full of fine southern river sand and just kept on ‘a pump’n!
Thanks for giving me this opportunity to relive those cherished moments that took place so many years ago with one of the greatest shots that ever looked down a barrel.
May this new year we are just starting into be one of positive and blessed events in your life and filled with enjoyable and treasured memories that last forever.
