He belonged to the Poetry Society of America and the Authors’ Club of London, alongside writers who shaped modern literature. Locally, he was active in Des Moines intellectual circles like the University Club and the Prairie Club. That mix—Midwest roots with international reach—defined him. He was proof that you didn’t have to live on the coasts to think seriously about culture.
Smith
wrote eighteen books, ranging from criticism to broader reflections on language
and civilization. Ships in the Port used metaphor and
reflection to explore stillness, waiting, and transition. The Mechanism
of English Style broke writing to its moving parts, treating prose
like a machine that had to work cleanly and efficiently. The Skyline in
English Literature examined how writers used cities, horizons, and
modern landscapes to express ambition, anxiety, and change.
He
didn’t chase trends. He asked how English actually worked—and what it revealed
about the people using it.
He wrote essays that reached a national audience. “Beauty in the Scientific Spirit,” appeared in The Sewanee Review. In it, he pushed back against the idea that science and art were enemies. He argued that both were driven by the same impulse: curiosity disciplined by method. Beauty didn’t disappear under a microscope. It sharpened.
That
argument fit. Smith valued clarity and structure. He believed thought should be
tested, not romanticized.
In
the classroom, he demanded precision and encouraged ambition. Writing was
serious work. It was how people made sense of a complicated world.
Smith
never became famous, but he kept teaching and writing.
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