The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1909-10-21
A FINE TRIBUTE.

A FINE TRIBUTE.
Referring to the late John A.
johnson, Thomas w. Lawson has
written for the Boston Journal this
beautiful tribute:
have ridden with him the hot
day through in the dusty, nerve
racking railroad train and I've been
with him when he listened to the
fealty message of he leaders of his
party which cooed about that crown
and throne which is the dream of
all red-blooded Americans; and I've
brought him the taunt of his great
rival, and yet in all never once saw
that childish, merry twinkle leave
those wonderful love-begetting eyes,
and never heard discord in that
voice of trust and faith and charity
and good will to all. All! but he
was such man, such good man.
John Johnson's vision was all out
ward. He had no mirror and had
he one he would have held it to re-
fleet the beauties and the goodness
of his fellows.
The other evening Er1nan Ridg-
way, his good wife and myself were
in the bus with this great man on
our way to hear him lecture We'd
had jolly good dinner and he was
snuggled into the corner muffled in
his big fur coat, and we thought he
wanted to be alone to tell over his
great speech, when, as he neared the
church where his lecture was to be
delivered, he said, "Pm nervous to-
night, Lawson, for I'm going to make
my lecture the simple story of how l
pardoned a boy and gave him back to
his old mother and father. l want
you to hear it, but l know I'll cry
and make a country BOBBY of my
self, and then these eastern people
will wonder what my great state was
thinking of in electing such a gov
ernor.''
Twas big audience, big in intel
llgence, big in sympathy with this
latter day Abe Lincoln of the people
and Governor Johnson told his story
and the tears trickled down his
cheeks and his gentle voice was
gentler than it's wont, but we, his
audience, yes, all of us, men, women
and children, we cried, and at the
close of the story l said to the big,
strong manish governor of New Jer-
sey, who had sat with bowed head,
as johnson, the man, told the simple
story of how Governor Johnson of
the great state of Minnesota gave
their boy back to the old father and
mother, Governor, l notice that
you, too, forgot that Governor John
son was of the enemy"
Yes, yes, forgot everything but
the story and the man who was tell
/ ing it," and he tried to sneak away
the trail the story had left on his
cheek. And if all democrats were
like Governor Johnson, there would
be no enemy"
That night at the Ridgway house,
after the family had retired, l sat in
front of the open crate with this
all-around best big man l have ever
met until the gray dawn was tapping
at the panes and time and time again
as listened to his clear analysis of
times and things and humans and
their goodness, l would break in and
try to make him put on my smoked
glasses and see the out-there black,
but he met each attempt with his mer-
~ laugh. Eyes, yes, I'll agree that
there is lots that might be made
better, but, on the whole, Lawson,
it's good world and a good people.
4 can never bring myself to believe
but the world and the people are
getting better all the time" All,
put he was such man, such a good
man.
God was good to John Johnson.
He endowed him with all those
riches which made for happiness,
Mere and hereafter Birthed from
the womb of the common people,
graded in that greatest of all world
luxuries, poverty, he came to the
starting line moral Hercules, burst
ing with love of mother and adora-
ton of wife, bristling with affection
for humanity and charity and for
giveness for his enemies and mus
cled with a superb honesty and
veneration for God and nature. The
starters bell for him was joyful
Ego" AS he ran he saw no mire, no
boulders, no bitches, only God S
great blue; he felt only Gods warm
ing sun rays, and as he ran for them,
not himself, tbs no wonder that his
track was fast and his feet winged.
God was good to Governor John
son. He took him as He took the
sainted Lincoln, and all His very
chosen, while yet they ran, while yet
their fellows cheered, while yet their
souls were radiant with the intoxica-
ton of ambitions rays.
To us who were blessed with the
privilege of his presence is left the
consolation that he was, and is yet
Let us rain our tears, but not for
him. Let us weep for her whose
sun is set and for the nation, which
SO sorely needs her valiant sons, and
for humanity, whose champion has
gone over yonder. For myself, my
sadness is mellowed by the thought
that knew him and by the faith
that his shadow will for ages be 6
dream-cradle for countless despair
ing souls.