When Beth Klehr hired 74-year-old plumber Herman Bennett a few years ago, she was hoping to get her leaking pipes repaired. What she didn’t expect was that her plumber would give her a taste of “Old Austin” too.
With his light build, wire-framed glasses and long gray braid on his back, Herman was not Beth’s “picture of a plumber”. While working under her sink, Herman shared some personal stories – things like how he did the plumbing for the Ritz on Sixth Street before it opened, and that he used to run with Janis Joplin.
Beth was fascinated.
“I’ve only met him once,” she says, “but he’s totally committed. Very nice, interesting, has been around for a long time and can tell some great stories. “
Despite being here for over 30 years, Beth says she feels like she missed Austin’s legendary past. But when she met Herman, “It was kind of a realization that [Old Austin] is still here and sitting in my kitchen. “
Herman made an impression on Beth. He also left her some CDs of his music. Herman is not just a plumber; He’s Herman the Singing Plumber. That’s what he walks past – even though he doesn’t actually sing while he’s working.
Beth realized that many of her Travis Heights neighbors were Herman fans too. So she nominated him for KUT’s “Hi, who are you?” Project.
How did he end up in Austin, she wondered, and “What kind of magnetism is that on Herman?”
We decided to find out.
Something to fall back on
“I’m Herman Bennett,” says Herman, getting up from his chair to gently shoo a cat off the kitchen table. The living room of his house in Clarksville is floor-to-ceiling with shelves filled with CDs and books.
“I’m a person here in Austin,” he says. “I’ve been here since 1974.”
Herman grew up in Port Arthur. His father owned a plumbing shop. His mother worked as a secretary.
Herman’s music career began in the middle school choir. It turned out that he really enjoyed singing and was good at it. In high school, he joined a friend’s rhythm and blues band called The Rockin ‘Knights. He tried to learn the baritone saxophone, but it didn’t last. His friend convinced him to be their lead singer instead.
“My father said, ‘Society could be here without doctors or lawyers, but not without plumbers.’ So I got my license. ”
Herman Bennett
Herman attended the local commuter college and graduated with a degree in psychology. He continued to sing with local bands. And yes, he knew Beaumont’s most famous musician.
“Well, my sister was Janis Joplin’s best friend, and Janis taught me how to curse. Bless her heart, ”he laughs. “F- – – – – – great.”
In 1974, Herman was ready to leave Port Arthur and begin his music career.
“I moved to Austin to play in a band because everyone went to California or Austin,” he says, “and I thought Austin was closer.”
But he had a backup plan.
“My father said, ‘Society could be here without doctors or lawyers, but not without plumbers.’ So I got my license. … [It] was something I could fall back on when Ed Sullivan said no. “
Herman’s best-known song, “P to G: the Plumbing Song”, is, as he describes it on YouTube, a “semi-autobiographical revisionist story of the plumbing of the generations”.
P to G The Plumbing Song by Herman Bennett
The refrain is:
And he said plumbing
That comes
All the pipes, they have to run
If you look you will see
The way it should be
You should be a plumber like me
Over the years outside of the plumbing business, Herman has been a singer and washboard player in a few bands: The Basic Things, Lowdown, and Uncle Uh Uh and the Uh Huhs – everything from R&B to Jug Band, Hard Rock, Blues, jazz and swing. Eventually he and his friends formed a band called Ain’t Misbehavin ‘.
A cosmic coincidence
Here Herman’s story of plumbing and music takes a turn and becomes a love story.
One evening, Herman was playing a show at the Waterloo Ice House when a woman named Rebecca Smith walked in with a mutual friend. She later told Herman that she saw him sing and thought, “One day I’m going to marry this guy.”
Rebecca married someone else.
But years later, Herman got a letter from her. “I’m getting divorced,” she wrote, “and I would like to see you.”
They eventually reconnected at a mutual friend.
“And that was just that magical moment,” says Herman. “The hug she gave me when I left our friend’s house – I’ll never forget it. This is cosmic chance that explodes into something that will be very important in your life. “
Herman and Rebecca were married in 1988. Their daughter was born a month later. Herman loved being the father and stepfather of Rebecca’s two sons. They had a good life together. And even though Herman struggled with addiction, Rebecca kept him on the floor.
“Hakuna Matata”
In 1992 Rebecca was diagnosed with breast cancer. Three years later, Herman was sitting by her hospital bed and her eyes began to flutter.
“I said, ‘Are you okay? ‘And she looked into my eyes, which was a fight for her at the time, and she said,’ Hakuna Matata ‘that we sang with the kids as they went through the Lion King thing. And I said “what?” And she said, ‘Hakuna Matata’ because she wouldn’t worry anymore. Then she closed her eyes and I heard her take her last breath. “
Gabriel C. Pérez
Bennett holds photos of his late wife Rebecca and her family. Becca, who had breast cancer, died in 1995.
Herman says Rebecca changed his life in many ways.
“Although she never said, ‘Go to work, stop using drugs,’ she made me a better person without asking me to be a better person,” he says.
After Rebecca’s death, Herman felt lost. Focusing on his children and playing music kept his head together, but he was lonely. He tried a couple of relationships; He even had a short marriage. But none of them stopped. He reluctantly gave up on having a long-term partner.
“You did well honey”
In 2008, Herman was doing plumbing for a young couple. They talked and discovered that the woman knew an old Beaumont friend of Herman’s. Herman has had no contact with Marsha Fehl since 1976. Over the years he had tried unsuccessfully to find her online. The customer connected them, and after a flurry of emails and phone calls, romance blossomed.
“Marsha and I have been together for 11 years now,” he says. “My longest relationship ever. And that’s how she understands Becca. “
One night, Herman had a dream that he and Marsha were at a party and Rebecca was on the edge of a wall.
“And she walks over with her arms crossed, walks up to me and Marsha and looks Marsha up and down, looks at me. “Is that Marsha?” And I said, “Yeah, it is.” And she said, “You did well, honey,” he says. “And I was like, ‘Man. Many Thanks.'”
Herman told Marsha the dream and wasn’t sure how she would react to it.
“And without saying a word, she turned and put her arm around my chest and said, ‘I want to say one thing. If I had been friends with Becca and known you, that would have been my preference. But you are everything you are because of Becca. I understand. I owe you Becca. ‘She’s a goalkeeper. “
‘We are a family’
At 74, Herman appears only once a year: at Octoberama, an annual fundraiser for Mathews Elementary that Rebecca was present as secretary.
At the last festival, students and parents wander from stand to stand in the schoolyard, eat popcorn and chat with friends. The MC announces over a loudspeaker: “Welcome to Octoberama … 2019!”
On a stage area in front of a large tent with rows of metal folding chairs, Herman and his band play family favorites such as “Puff, the Magic Dragon” and his popular plumber’s song. Herman’s daughter, now in her thirties, is in the audience singing along.
They end their set with the chorus of the same song they started with, a cover of one of Herman’s favorite songs, Joel Johnson’s “The Family Song”:
We are a family
Bloodlines do not haunt our fate
We are a family
The MC takes the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, applause for Herman Bennett and the Power of Family Band. They are Clarksville’s favorite band! “
Herman has been with Octoberama for almost 30 years. Is he doing it for Becca? He smiles, lost in memories for a moment.
“I have a feeling that when Becca watches she would be disappointed if I didn’t.”
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