William Archer Purrington

The Century’s monthly meetings will not be entirely the same without the presence of William Archer Purrington. When a controverted question was before the gathering, Purrington came into his own. It was not that he argued for either one side or the other; his remarks were apt to suggest remotely the court’s charge to the jury, a resemblance not lessened by the grave solemnity with which the humorous aspects of the discussion were reviewed. It was the debate on the somewhat complicated amendment to our by-laws, eight years ago, making provision for unfettered nomination of a committee of nominators, which elicited from Purrington his well-remembered eulogy on the Spartan simplicity of the lump of dough. Nothing else in the Century’s proceedings resembled the subtle thrusts which enlivened the controversy when that tall figure with the formal manner and the roving eye had risen.

In professional reminiscence at the Century’s dinner table, Purrington equally gave flavor to the conversation. The peculiarities of two generations of lawyers and politicians were with him the recollection of yesterday; yet he rarely talked of his own professional achievement, which had not been negligible. Purrington had the leading part in bringing William J. Bryan to book, twenty-five years ago, for inducing a wealthy free-silver client to leave a bequest to him with administrative powers, instead of leaving it to the legal heirs. The record of the case is not now procurable; yet no Centurion will have difficulty in imagining Purrington’s lightly sardonic description to the court of the proletariat’s friend, the enemy of unearned fortunes, putting the leverage on his simple-minded constituent. The court threw out the will on the ground of undue influence, and Bryan was left to Chautauqua, The Commoner and Miami land promotion.

On Purrington in his younger days, with no professional credentials except an evident capacity, a likable personality and a college acquaintance with the family, General Grant leaned heavily in the period of the disastrous Grant & Ward experiment, when Purrington conducted most of the unfortunate ex-president’s legal business. The old general’s granddaughter writes of how well she remembers “his companionable presence during the dark days” of the general’s last illness; his “faithfulness and loyalty, covered with a wit and banter which only dropped in an emergency.”

Alexander Dana Noyes
1927 Century Association Yearbook