Brookneal newsman dies at 99

By Alicia Petska

Published: November 29, 2008

Herman Ginther was a veteran newsman and published author. He was also an artist and musician. A historian. Quick wit and unwavering friend. Not to mention a human encyclopedia.

“You really don’t have enough time for me to tell you about Herman,” boomed Brookneal merchant Billy Guthrie. “He was a very unique man. Just amazing. A real peach of a fellow.”

Ginther, a newspaper publisher and true Virginia gentleman to all who knew him, passed away Nov. 3.

He was 99. Next month, he would have been 100.

“We always described him as a real Renaissance man,” said Barry Rice, who performed with Ginther, a clarinet player, as part of the “No Name Band” for years.

“I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t overwhelmed by his intellect,” Rice said. “He didn’t forget much. Generally, if anyone wanted to know anything about Brookneal’s past, they’d just call Herman and he’d tell them.”

Ginther, born in the same year the world was introduced to the Model T Ford, was editor and publisher of The Union Star in Brookneal for close to 30 years.

His father ran the weekly paper before him, starting out as an editor in 1941 and working his way up to owner.

Ginther took over in 1950.

“It was a more positive newspaper back then,” reflected Brookneal Mayor Phyllis Campbell, whose government office is decorated with drawings of town done by Ginther.

Before jumping into journalism, Ginther worked as a commercial artist in Depression-era Richmond. He continued to pursue art throughout his life, and examples of his handiwork include the Brookneal town seal.

His early career in the capital was upended by the onset of World War II. The bombing of Pearl Harbor occurred just a week before his 33rd birthday and promptly “turned the world upside down,” as Ginther put it in an interview with the Union Star last year.

Ginther joined the Army and fought in the Pacific Theater for the next four years.

He would later use a picture of himself from that period — a young soldier staring off into the distance on some far-off shore — as the author photo of his 1968 book, “Captain Staunton’s River,” a collection of his past feature articles.

The brief biography attached to the black-and-white image reads simply: “In 1945 I sat under my own private banana tree on the island of Luzon and dreamed of Captain Staunton’s River ten thousand miles away.”

Those dreams guided him back to Brookneal when the war ended. He returned home and built a new house for himself and his wife, Elizabeth, who he married in 1936.

Elizabeth Ginther (nee LaPrade) was a schoolteacher who grew up in the Brookneal area. The couple first began dating at age 18. Ginther, in a Union Star article written about their 66th anniversary, confessed to battling a case of nerves when he decided to pop the question.

“I was sort of timid when I asked her to marry me,” he told the paper. “My knees were shaking when I went to ask her mom and dad.”

The couple built a home on Virginia Avenue and lived there the rest of their days. Elizabeth passed away four years before her husband.

Over his decades in Brookneal, Ginther built a reputation as a courtly and good-natured man, one who had a fascination with history and preferred to clack away on his old manual typewriter even as he shepherded the newspaper into modern methods of publication.

“He was very conscientious,” said his daughter, Beth Winkler. “He wanted everything to be right. He definitely didn’t want to offend anybody by printing negative news.”

Outside of his work at the paper — which the family sold in 1978 — Ginther also earned admiration for his many other talents.

Listening to him play the clarinet could make cold chills run over, say his friends. He wrote a second book, “Sage of Sugar Hill,” a volume of short stories. And his immense contributions to the preservation of the area’s history resulted in him being honored by Campbell County last year at the behest of a local historical committee.

“Herman was just a joy to be around,” said his caretaker, Trudy Elder. “He was so gracious and had such a good attitude. He was always in good spirits.”

Earlier this year, the Brookneal Lions Club bestowed its citizenship award on Ginther. The group made the following report of the award presentation, which took place in the honoree’s home:

“At the age of 99+, he welcomed us in graciously and entertained us with stories of his many pursuits. He told a few apropos jokes, shared some of his and his wife’s art with us, as well as some photos from his musical hay days. We were honored to be there, in awe of his talent, and warmed by this sweet man with a twinkle in his eye.”

When Ginther was laid to rest, longtime family friend Pam Pursely shared memories of his many accomplishments and interests, including his deep connection with the Staunton River and his fascination with trains, which were once so essential to the world he knew.

“So when you hear the train whistle blow and you see the Staunton River flow and you remember Herman, he’ll be here,” Pursely said at the funeral earlier this month.

In the midst of the service, a train roared past, filling the country church with the sound of its low, melancholy whistle and giving goose bumps to those in the audience.

Pursely, focused on making it through the emotional eulogy, failed to hear it.

“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t,” she said later. “I probably would have crumbled to the floor.”

“He was such a special person and good friend,” she added, tears beginning to silently slip down her cheek. “I guess I’m still grieving a bit. I miss him very much.”

“It was a privilege to know him,” she concluded. “I’m blessed to have the memories.”