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His Work for Temperance

Closely connected with missionary work was the temperance work. When the Tabor colony first came to the region, merchants kept a barrel of whiskey in their back room with the head knocked out and a dipper always at hand for customers, and few were those who refused to drink. A county temperance society was organized and held regular quarterly meetings for about twenty years. Free whiskey soon disappeared, and the county voted for the Prohibition Amendment by several hundred majority.

His last effort was for temperance; to stay, by petition if possible, the passage of the Mulet law.

His Work for Tabor College

His main work, aside from that of pastor, was for Tabor College. President Brooks, who was president for nearly thirty years, writes: "When Rev. John Todd left his first church in Clarksfield, Ohio, at the solicitation of his friend, Deacon George B. Gaston, it was with no hope of worldly gain. He left a united church and an assured salary to go to a new and sparsely settled country. No church awaited his coming, no society commissioned him to go. Deacon Gaston alone commissioned him, inviting him to join the little company who had set their faces toward western Iowa. He said: 'Come with us and while I live you shall live.' Beginnings were made in faith and hope though the the present many times did not seem bright.
    "Mr. Todd was one of the incorporators, in 1857, of Tabor Literary Institute, the Academy which preceded Tabor College. He was chairman of its Board of Trustees, and also the first chairman of the Board of Trustees of Tabor College. He was one of the Trustees of the College from its incorporation in 1866 until his death. He was one of the most liberal givers to the College: he gave not only money but time and thought; he gave himself to promote its interests. At the opening of the College Mr. Todd, from a salary of $800 pledged $1,000, which he paid with interest; then gave another $1,000, and afterward gave in smaller sums. Besides these gifts in money he taught for three years without pecuniary compensation, and gave time without limit in arranging courses of study and in doing every kind of necessary work.
     "In educating his family, three of whom graduated from Tabor College, he never availed himself of the free tuition given to the children of ministers in active service but said he preferred to pay in full. He never failed when in town to be present at the opening of a new term. At different times he served as Secretary, Treasurer, Librarian, and Auditor, and always with the same faithfulness and interest in the success of the institution which he came to the West to help establish. He was not a born leader nor one with unbounded enthusiasm, but he was one who had the genius for doing well a large amount of work. He always worked with his associates without friction unless he thought some principle of right was violated. His death one of the earliest and best friends of the College passed away."

His description, according to his enlistment paper, was "5 ft., 6 inches high, light complexion, blue eyes, grey hair, age 45."

He was of slender build and light weight, but very active. His habitual quick step was often a subject of remark and means of recognition.

A young professor in the college relates: "As I was taking my trunks over to the house where I was to live, having been in town only a few hours, as I climbed in, there was Father Todd standing in the wagon, and we rode slowly along and I began to get acquainted with that man I have learned to love so well since. And as the wagon drew up to stop just a moment before his home, without the least hesitation, he lightly leaped over the wheel to the ground, standing erect as he was, leaving me - well, somewhat scandalized that a man over whose head so many years had passed should have so young a body, but I have learned since that his soul was just as young as his body."

In early life he often wore a scowl, which was more apparent on his unshaven face; in middle life the scowl was less marked; he wore a short beard with shaved upper lip; but in later years, having a full, long beard, he presented a benignant and venerable appearance admired by all.

His leading characteristics have perhaps been sufficiently illustrated already, but it may be well here to take a parting glance at them.

The fundamental factor in his life was unfaltering trust in God. From this sprang his consecration for a noble cause, his perserverance amid discouragements, and his calmness and unflinching courage. Linked with this was his faithfulness to duty. The voice of conscience was to him the call of God, to be followed unhesitatingly. As one said who knew him well (Rev. J. W. Cowan, his successor): "If he thought that a thing was right for him to do, you could count upon his doing that thing just as surely as you can count on the sun rising tomorrow morning. If he thought a certain thing should be said from the pulpit would be absolutely sure to be said the next Sunday morning. It was not because he did not care for the good opinion of his fellow men. It was not because he did not like to have his neighbors think well of him."

He possessed a logical mind. His appeal was constantly to reason, and if he was convinced of wrong reasoning he was not slow to acknowledge an error. If in doubt he was quite sure to err on the side of self-denial rather than on the side of self-indulgence.

Closely akin to this was a love of truth, and hence that qualifying of strong statements which to some may have seemed lack of confidence or of enthusiasm. It was because he saw the truth more clearly than some.

Though habitually sober, another trait was love of sport. He had times of unbending; in fact, he considered duty led in this direction not infrequently. He played with children. He keenly enjoyed a harmless joke. He enjoyed such extravaganzas as Baron Münchausen, and still more, fun with a point, like that of Mark Twain or Burdette, but he quickly sobered if sport was made of things sacred or serious.

He was not at home in any labored display, and while attending social functions from a sense of duty, recognizing their necessity and bearing himself well in them, he was not there for pleasure.

He was a lover of nature and enjoyed giving instruction, as he did for a time, in the Natural Sciences.

An important factor in his success was his delight in neatness and method. He was scribe of the Council Bluffs Association for many years, and he was presented with a gold pen in recognition of his marked success in that office. His manuscripts were clear as lithographs. He kept careful record of all marriages, baptisms, and other notable events of his parish, and yet method or accuracy simply for its own sake he thought of little value. Red tape was irksome. He enjoyed a nicely labeled and systematically arranged cabinet. Closely akin to this accuracy were his habits of promptness, neatness of dress, and also of keeping things in place. A common injunction to his children was: "Be sure to put it back in place." "Leave it where you found it."

Another trait was his impartiality. He believed in doing his part and expected every one else to do his. Hence he would treat all equally and fairly. He was also slow to believe a man wilfully deficient, and when he had proved to be so, he felt bound to treat him as he deserved. He had no sympathy with a clannish or aristocratic spirit. He was above holding a position or carrying a point by pretense or intrigue, and was slow to believe it of others.

Yet he was not blind to the faults of others and his caution saved him from many a deception. He was always ready to give another the benefit of a doubt, and to suffer wrong rather than to do a wrong. His loyal and charitable spirit was beautifully illustrated in his welcome to Rev. J. W. Cowan, his successor in the pulpit which he had filled for thirty years, and which he had resigned on reaching his 64^th year. This is the Rev. Cowan's tribute: "I would that I had time to speak of what he has been to me individually; of how that gentle, modest, unassuming spirit has shown itself so constantly. Almost a dozen years ago I came to this place to take out of his hands that work on which he had lavished the thirty best years of his life, into which he poured his heart's blood through three toiling decades. It was dearer to him, I doubt not, than any other earthly interest. What wonder would it have been if there had been something of jealous watchfulness, something of ever wakeful criticism in the attitude of his spirit as he came to turn that prized work over to the hand of a stranger who, perhaps, might mar wonder would it have been if there had been built at so great sacrifice and toil? Yet I say today, with all of my heart, without the slightest shade of reservation, that not one word, not one breath of opposition or unfriendliness has ever escaped him in all these years. And that were small thing for him to do - step aside and leave it for another unmolested; that were but little. He has done far more than that. He has stood beside the new pastor, an active co-laborer, earnestly, cheerfully, constantly doing all in his power to build up the work. There has been none in all this church upon whom I could count more absolutely for loyal and faithful support. None who spoke more frequent or more hearty words of encouragement and affection. None more ready for any duty, however small, however obscure, however unrewarded, by which he might serve his Master and his church. A faithful worker he has been.

July 20, 1888, his companion in the morning and mid-day of life passed on before. His family, with the exception of two daughters, had all married and lived in homes of their own. He spent the following winter visiting a married daughter in southern California and other friends on that coast. The following summer he spent on a homestead in South Dakota, securing a claim for his daughter, Minnie. In the autumn he returned and lived at the old house in Tabor with this daughter. Pleasant acquaintance sprang up with a widow of gentle grace and earnest, Christian character, who had come to Tabor for the education of her family, and on March 26, 1891, they were quietly married, and she made a sunny home for his declining years. These in some respects were probably the happiest years of his life, like the Beulah land of the immortal allegory. Her children, in freshness of youth, enlivened the home with sport and song. He was conveniently situated to the College which he had been largely influential in founding and perfecting. He was constantly in close touch with the church, which had been his care for decades, on familiar terms with its new and talented pastor, sharing in the pulpit services to the end, and esteemed as a father and friend by the whole community. He could rejoice in the fruits of his labors and watch the kind hand of Providence blessing them, as has been granted to few on earth.

One of his last blessings of which he spoke most appreciatively was a visit to the Columbian Exposition. His physician had at one time thought that he must forego that pleasure. But he had strength, and spent a week or more in seeing with his own eyes that crowning exhibition of modern civilization, and its triumph in all lands, even in some that within his memory had been won from heathen superstition, so that he was able to look upon it as a triumph largely of the kingdom of his Master. He met there also many old time acquaintances, that added much to his joy.

HIs general health and activity continued to the last. As before mentioned, he was circulating a petition against the repeal of the prohibition law, which he looked upon as hostile to the welfare of the State. It was a crisp winter morning; he felt well and had made several calls, when he entered the home of Reuben Reeves, a mile from home. He sat down while the man of the house signed the paper, who, when he turned to him again, found that he was gone without a cry and without a struggle. The scripture came to many minds: "He walked with God, and was not, for God took him." As Pastor Cowan well expressed: "To such a life as his the end how fitting! He who abhorred idleness as few men abhor it, God did not compel him one hour of idleness. He fell in the harness, his sword uplifted to strike again. He fell in the furrow, his hand upon the plow, his face turned resolutely toward the task he hoped still to accomplish. He whose spirit would chafe at the thought of dependence upon the care and labor of any one, however lovingly and eagerly rendered - nor wife nor child need to smooth his dying pillow or wipe the sweat from his suffering brow even for one hour. In the midst of his labors he was called. He walked with God and was not. Faithful to the last, busy to the last in the Master's service, in his place last Sunday morning ministering to the people to whom he so long ministered, in his place last Monday afternoon pronouncing the words of solemn prayer over the casket of a fellow soldier fallen at his side, in his place last evening as a member of the official board of the church, with kindly question and loving counsel aiding those soon to confess their faith at the altars of the church, in his place last Tuesday evening in the prayer meeting in his own parlors, in his place Wednesday morning bearing from house to house that protest against what he believed to be gigantic and conscienceless wrong, that prayer for the burdened and the tempted and the lost, the last stroke of his pen the signature to that petition, his last living breath spent in urging others to aid in that great cause, so he fell. So he passes from us. Oh, worthy apotheosis! Oh, fitting upward flight for a spirit such as his has been!
"Sometimes death comes to men about us doubly terrible because of its suddenness, but here is a death as sudden as any could be, yet without terror. Aye, and so appropriate. This man of God waking that morning saw before him a day of labor for the Master, and expected, no doubt, that that evening he would be, as his wont was, among the people of God in the house of prayer. He did not know that he would be there only as an invisible presence. When he walked up the hill yonder to his neighbor's house that morning he did not know that he would not come down again in a few moments as strong of limb, as bright of eye, as he was then. When he passed into that door he did not turn and take one long, last look at the beautiful world that he might not see again. When he drew the paper out for his friend to sign he did not say, 'That hand, with its years of busy toil, has now done its last small act; its work is over.' There he stood, separated from eternity but by the ticking of the clock. What mattered it to him? to close his eyes and open them again and, having done it, to find himself beyond the valley of death, beyond the deadly Apollyon, beyond the open mouth of hell and beyond the dark, rolling river, already up the heights, already on the golden shore.

the College claimed the privilege of paying a special tribute of respect. On Saturday afternoon, after a brief service of hymn and prayer, the students carried the body to Gaston Hall, which they had appropriately decorated. Here he lay in state until Sunday, visited by many.

"On Sunday morning, shortly before half past ten, the bearers, members of Father Todd's Sunday school class, all venerable men, reverently lifted the casket and bore it forth, when a procession was formed as follows: Pastor Cowan and Revs. Rice and Nutting; six pall bearers with the casket, flanked on either side by a file of old soldiers of John Allen Post, G. A. R., and visiting comrades as a guard of honor, commanded by a member of Father Todd;s own regiment, the draped colors being borne by another member of the same regiment, and others in the ranks; the family of the deceased; college professors; students, and other friends. At the church, drapery and a profusion of flowers, the most beautiful and fragrant, were placed about the casket and pulpit.

In the evening again a full house gathered for less formal memorial services. Brief tributes were given by Rev. R. R. Hanley, of the Baptist Church, who spoke of "My Next Door Neighbor;" Deacon A. C. Gaston, of "Planting the Colony;" Deacon S. H. Adams, "The Founding of this Church;" Deacon, J. M. Hill, of "Father Todd as Chaplain;" Mrs. J. M. Barbour, of his "Impressions on the Second Generation;" Professor J. T. Fairchild, of "His Constant Activity in the Church;" Professor L. J. Nettleton, of "His Influence on Those He Rarely Met."

The last speaker moved that the church erect some lasting memorial to his memory. Pursuant to that a marble tablet has been placed on the wall inside the auditorium of the church, recording in clear and simple words his long and successful work therein.

His grave may be found in the cemetery, on an eastern slope, overlooking the church and college which were so largely the objects of his life's work.

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