Benjamin Smith, 95; lead the Perkins School for the Blind

Woe be to bowlers who thought they had an advantage over Benjamin F. Smith just because a childhood accident left him with virtually no sight.

At the Perkins School for the Blind's candlepin lanes, Mr. Smith would raise a scope to the eye through which he could still make out a faint image. Then he would put down the scope, pick up the ball, and win the game.

"He knew mentally what pins were left and doggone if he wasn't good, he was truly good," said Larry Melander, a former superviser of the Lower School at Perkins for more than 30 years.

Excelling without sight in a world run by those who can see was a mission for Mr. Smith, who became the only visually impaired director to lead the Perkins School for the Blind, where he was a teacher or administrator for 38 years. Having retired long ago to Spruce Head, Maine, Mr. Smith died at home Aug. 7 of complications from a heart condition. He was 95.

"When I came to Perkins in June 1960 looking for a job, the first person that I met was Ben Smith," said Mike Cataruzolo, who is visually impaired and is coordinator of volunteer services at the Watertown school. "I was totally impressed with him. Realizing that he was visually impaired, I was somewhat in awe. This guy has the same thing I have, but look at him, look at what he's accomplished."

Mr. Smith wanted the same success for his students and expected no less. Along with leading the school until he retired in 1977, he found innovative ways to nudge blind or visually impaired students into the arena of the sighted.

Wrestling, which he first introduced as an activity while serving as leader of the school's Boy Scout troop, evolved into a team sport. He also adapted a form of baseball for his students so that they could use bats, instead of their arms or feet, to hit the soccer ball used in games.

"He said, 'Let's try to do it with normal bats,' " Cataruzolo said. "He did not want people to patronize him or us, and he wanted us to be as independent as possible. I'm really proud to say I knew Ben Smith."

Born in Seattle, Mr. Smith was the oldest of four children who one day were playing outside with blasting caps.

"He lit one and it didn't go off," said his daughter Pamela Boland of Bedford. "He was the oldest, so he went back to check on it, and it blew up. He lost one eye and the other was damaged."

Rather than regret that turn of events, "he said himself that he didn't know if he would have been able to do everything he did if it had not been that, and he did everything imaginable," his daughter said. "There was no challenge that he couldn't meet. To him, he was not handicapped, he was just a normal person who was put on this earth to do what he did."

Mr. Smith attended Lincoln High School in Seattle and graduated in 1931 from the Washington State School for the Blind in Vancouver. Using readers to help with his studies, he graduated summa cum laude from the University of Washington in 1936.

Offered a scholarship for graduate studies at Harvard University, Mr. Smith headed east and also began working at Perkins as a teacher and cottage master.

"He was a fellow who really did mingle with the kids," said Al Gayzagian, who was a student living in the cottage Mr. Smith supervised in 1936, and later served on the school's Board of Trustees for 30 years. "And of course, because he had a visual impairment himself, I think he may have understood the problems better than some people there."

Mr. Smith finished his master's degree at the University of Washington, graduating in 1946, and returned to Perkins for the rest of his career.

He had married Martha Fox, who died in 1945. Two years later, he married Joan Baum, who was working as a secretary at the school.

While serving in various positions before he was appointed the school's sixth director, Mr. Smith became known for encouraging students to follow his lead in carefully organizing their lives so they could succeed.

"He knew that if a regular sighted person had to be good, our kids had to be twice as good," Melander said. "He was pretty focused on achievement, and he knew what the kids were going to need."

Said Gayzagian: "It was like being with a big brother. He made sure that discipline was there when it was needed, but he did it with a lighter touch than some of the others. In one sense he was easy-going, because he knew how to talk with kids and be with us, but on the other hand, he didn't let things get out of control."

As undaunted as a parent as he was as an administrator, Mr. Smith looked beyond the prognosis doctors offered for his son, Glen, who is developmentally disabled and lives in Spruce Head, Maine.

"They told us that he would never learn to read or write or do anything," Pamela Boland said. "My father taught him to read."

Mr. Smith also taught his grandchildren to play cards. They, too, learned that he wasn't exactly a pushover.

His daughter recalled that after Mr. Smith's funeral last week, "my son Kevin said, 'I think he had an unfair advantage being blind,' and my mother said, 'An unfair advantage? How?' And my son said that my father really listened. If you were playing cards with him, you had to tell him what card you played because he couldn't see. And he would remember every card that was played."

In addition to his wife, daughter, son, and grandson, Mr. Smith leaves a sister, Dorothy Gilsdorf of Louisville, Ky.; another grandson; and a granddaughter.

A service has been held.