In Memoriam: Nol Putnam (1934-2023)

Nol Putnam was one of my favorite clients.  He was a reknowned blacksmith and sculptor, to be sure, but he was a true gentleman in the full elegance of the word.

He was 87 years old when he engaged my services to design his retirement cabin, and when I shook his hand there was no doubt that he could kick my ass if he wanted to.  Yet he was soft-spoken and curious and trusting and kind, in a way that is becoming rarer and rarer.  

As I first approached his tobacco-barn-turned-blacksmith studio, I thought “well shit, who can top this?”  But he had his vision, which he patiently unrolled for me.

We spent some wonderful time together in his beloved home and workshop that he was fully prepared to abandon for a particular spot in the woods of Fauquier County that he had scouted out.  He outlined his vision for me and I sketched out some ideas, and we sat in silence watching his dog dart back and forth in the woods and occasionally check on us to make sure we were all right.  We talked about blacksmithing, and architecture and painting and photography.  He was on the verge of giving away all of his books and smithy tools to a college and that made him happy. 

Nol passed before we could see his vision become reality.  He had to choose a different parcel of land– one which was not suited to the original design (flat farmland rather than hillside forest)– but unbeknwnst to me he started with the construction anyway.  His last conversation with the builder was an apology for going into the hospital for a slight cold.  It turned out to be more than that. 

You’ve probably never heard of him. He was a gentle reminder that great artists and great men still live among us. 

He gave me an iron leaf, a defective cast-off from his work at the National Cathedral.  Click on it to see a part of his story.