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ELDER J. A. NASH

TO the zealous, philanthropic labor of Father Bird, Elder Nash and Father Brazil rightfully belongs the founding of the religious and educational element in social life of this city, as evidenced by the ninety-six houses for religious worship and the sixty-two schools.
   Rev. John A. Nash, or "Elder," as he was familiarly called, came to Des Moines January Third, 1851, as a Baptist missionary preacher, fresh from college, and made his home in a log cabin where Walter Reed's harness store now is, on Walnut Street. The first Sabbath after his arrival he was invited to preach by Father Bird, and then began that strong and unusual friendship so notable to their lives. It was indeed remarkable. Always united in thought and deed for the religious and educational advancement of the community, they walked or rode together over their circuit, heartily greeted everywhere. As an instance of this fellowship, on one occasion when Father Bird was going away to be absent several days, he wrote the Elder as follows:

   "REV. J. A. NASH, Dear Brother——Incase of death of my wife during my absence, I wish you to conduct the funeral service, with such assistance as you may select. My lot in the cemetery is Number One, in the northeast corner.

"Yours, as ever,

"THOMPSON BIRD.

   DES MOINES, OCTOBER TWENTIETH, 1865."

   Quite singularly, the good woman outlived them both.
   The diversity of their belief on some doctrinal points was often the source of quaint humor, though both were firmly grounded in their faith. Once, they were going away some distance on horseback, and, arriving at a stream which had been filled by hard rains, they stopped to consider, when the Elder said:

   "Brother Bird, you are better acquainted with this stream than I am; suppose you go over first."
   "That is the first time I ever knew a Baptist to attempt to force a Presbyterian into a stream," said the other, with a smile.
   At another time, when departing from an evening meeting during a heavy downpour, the Elder said:
   "Brother Bird, it is raining hard."
   "I always supposed you were not afraid of water," was the quiet response.
   Immediately on his arrival, the Elder began the formation of a Church, and January Eighteenth, with a few of his faith, at the log cabin of John Reichenecker, was organized the First Baptist Church. He was elected pastor, and plans were formed to secure a meeting-house. In 1848, the County Commissioners donated a lot on Mulberry Street, between Fifth and Sixth streets, where Shank's undertaking rooms now are, for a Mission Baptist Church, conditioned that a building of frame, brick or stone, not less than twenty-four by thirty feet, be erected thereon before January, 1851. The conditions having failed, and to prevent a reversion of the gift, William McKay purchased the lot and deeded it to the Church, and measures were at once taken to build a house. The membership was small, and generally poor. funds came in small contributions; brick had to be made by hand, and lumber hauled from Burlington. Progress was slow. The Elder worked like a laborer, but never faltered nor lost faith. Optimism was his peculiar trait. He met the future always with a smile. Finally, after many delays and discouragements, the building was completed in 1856. The seats were plain pine boards with straight backs, and oil lamps were used for lighting.
   The membership increased so that in 1866 a larger edifice became imperative. The old site was inpracticable; and, as with all the others, the church was kept busy getting away from the encroachments of business and trade. A location was selected at the corner of Eighth and Locust streets, and a large, fine building erected, but before its completion, the Elder resigned the pastorate to devote his time to educational work.
   In 1853, he began a select school, to give a higher education than could be obtained in the public schools. There were no school-

houses. The County Commissioners granted the use of a room in the Court House, and there Des Moines Academy, the first high school in the town, was held, until 1855. The school at once became overcrowded and popular. It was subsequently removed to Ninth Street, just south of University Avenue, and finally to the corner of Seventh and Center streets, under the title of Forest Home Seminary. In 1863, Elder Nash withdrew from the school, its management passing to Leonard Brown, until 1866, when the school was closed.
   In May, 1855, at a meeting of the State Conference of the Lutheran Church,it was decided to establish a college for that denomination. A site was purchased on Pleasant Street, between Fifteenth and Sixteenth, where Younker's residence now is, and a building commenced. The corner-stone of what was to be Iowa Central College was laid May Twenty-third, 1855. Money and material were scarce, progress slow, and after many delays and reverses, the project was abandoned, and Elder Nash got possession of the property, through purchase by the Baptists of the state, completed the building, and in November, 1865, opened the University of Des Moines. He devoted his time and talent, as President, Professor, Teacher, Solicitor, or in any capacity, to aid in establishing the institution on a firm foundation, and lived to see it fully equipped and affiliated with the University of Chicago, a notable testimonial of his labor and zeal. It is now Des Moines College.
   The Prospect Park Land Company, owning a large tract of land which had been annexed to the city on the north, donated a block at State and Ninth streets for a college site, and the Elder at once embraced the opportunity to merge his school into an institution of wider scope.
   If solitude was deemed essential to a successful school, the location, at the outset, was certainly isolated enough, for northward was open, unoccupied space to Devil's Gap, a weird, uncanny place suggestive of spooks and goblins; on the east was dense forest, and the young women students were wont to tell of destrous exploits in chasing will-o'-the-wisps over the field to the Gap on murky evenings. A few years, however, changed the scene to one of beautiful homes.

   In 1852, the Elder was elected a member of the first Town Council, with Father Bird, and at the first meeting he presented a motion that he "be discharged from serving in the Council of the village," whereupon a member facetiously moved to amend the motion by changing the word "village" to "city," but the Elder would not have it so, declaring he would not serve. His resignation was accepted, and Judge Casady was elected to fill the vacancy.
   The Elder was much interested in horticulture, and the second year after his arrival occupied a tract on Sycamore Street (now Grand Avenue), between Fifth and Sixth streets, where the Catholic School now is, extending north to Bird's Run and east to Isaac Cooper's lot, where the Water Works office is, on which was a nursery of fruit and ornamental trees and shrubs. Along the street he planted the row of Maple trees, which grew to immense size, and for years were the pride of the city, but, like his nursery, they succumbed to the ruthless hand of progress.
   In 1868, he was elected County Superintendent of Schools, served one year and resigned.
   As he and Father Bird did all the marrying in the early days, it was natural that they should be recognized at the anniversary of those events. December Twenty-fifth, 1875, "Billy" Moore, Lamp Sherman and Doctor W. H. Ward celebrated their silver weddings. "Billy" was married by the Elder, Sherman by Father Bird, and Ward by Rev. Sanford Haines. The Old Settlers' Association gave each couple an elegant silver service set, three pioneer judges, Casady, Williamson and Phillips, making the presentation addresses, Elder Nash responding for the recipients, Father Bird and Elder Haines having deceased.
   In 1884, the Elder was persuaded, against his wishes, to permit his name to go on the Prohibition Party ticket as a candidate for Congress, and though defeated, he ran ahead of the party.
   While the life of the pioneer preacher was usually somber, there was sometimes a flash of sunshine in it. The Elder was wont to

tell this on himself: He was going to fill an appointment to preach in one of the settlements, and reached a double log cabin at night. He asked permission of the settler to stay over night, which was cheerfully granted. A wedding was on, the cabin was filled with guests, some of whom must stay over night, having come some distance. On disposing of them, there was left a small room just large enough for a bed. The door, also, could not be opened only sufficient for a person to squeeze through. With the smallness of room there was also a shortness of bedclothes. There was but one sheet on the bed. The Elder accepted the situation with thanks and his usual smile, turned in and slept soundly until early the next morning, when, before daylight, he was awakened by a shaking of his shoulder, and tugging of the sheet on his bed. Arousing himself, he said, with great surprise: "What is it? Is breakfast ready?" "No, but I must have this sheet to set the table with," said the hostess, as she gave it a final jerk and carried it away.
   He was very popular with the little folk, and greatly enjoyed their Sunday School picnics, on which occasion he was a boy with the boys. When going to a picnic, the average boy takes his appetite with him, and the mothers often declared they could not understand how a boy could eat all day at a picnic and not suffer the consequences. When the time for lunch came, the Elder would say to the youngsters: "The boy who eats the most sandwiches will get the largest piece of pie." When they got through eating sandwiches, there was no room for pie, which explained the mystery to the mothers.
   Resulting from an accident while attempting to board a moving train, he died February, 1890, at the age of seventy-five years, leaving a record of having built more churches than any other man in the state, and the impress of a beautiful life everywhere. To perpetuate his memory, his name has been given to a public park on the block of his late residence.
May Fifteenth, 1904

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REV. J. F. BRAZIL

IN 1854, Bishop Matthias Loras, of Dubuque, purchased two lots at the corner of Sixth and Locust streets,paying eight hundred dollars therefor, and donated them to the Catholic Church. G. A. Plathe was sent here as a parish priest. In 1856, two small frame buildings were erected on those lots for church and school purposes.
   Father Plathe was a benevolent, courteous, conscientious man, and entered upon is labors with zeal and was highly esteemed. He was physically frail, the labor was hard, his strength failed, he relinquished the field, and was succeeded, in 1860, by John F. Brazil, or "Father" Brazil, as everybody called him, a grand, good man, who exerted a powerful influence for the uplifting of not only his own parishioners, but society generally. Though firm in his religious faith, he was tolerant toward all that would develop his theory of good government——education, industry and sobriety. He was kind, courteous, affable, energetic, public-spirited, and always diligent in advancing the welfare of his church, his schools and the city. A notable instance occurred during the memorable contest in 1870 to prevent the larceny of the Capital of the State, in which for once Des Moines was united, for it was her against the State. After years of struggle the Seat of Government, a proposition came before the Legislature to provide funds for the erection of a new State House. A formidable opposition developed, which evidently expected that by defeating the measure the removal of the Capital to some other locality would be possible. The bill was in charge of Hon. John A. Kasson, who fully understood that the subject demanded the exercise of his best judgment, skill and diplomacy. There was intense enthusiasm in both houses. By good management, he worked the bill to a third reading in the lower house (it had passed the Senate), beyond which he dare not attempt to go, for he discovered

that with every member in his seat he could get but one or two majority. For three weeks he waited for a favorable opportunity to fix the day for the final vote. One of the men he relied upon was inclined to dodge, and on the morning of that day he discovered he was not present, and was told that enemies of the bill, had, the night previous, taken advantage of the bibulous inclinations of the man, and attempted to put him in a somnolent condition, to last several hours. Knowing that Father Brazil had great influence with the man, he hurriedly sent a messenger and carriage to him, requesting him to find the man and bring him to the State House at once, and not let him get out of his sight. The good father responded instantly.
   He found the man by 'Coon River, sitting on a log, evidently ruminating over the deceitfulness of the liquor dispensed in this city, and shortly after had him in his seat on the floor of the House, just as the final roll was being made. Everybody was keeping tally, the clerk gave ample pause for responses, and when it was ended there was a tie——there was one vote short——the man on the log had not answered to the call. Father Brazil, standing behind him, seized him by the collar, exclaiming: "Stand up, sir; be a man, and vote." He arose and voted "Aye." The victory was won, and the shouts and cheers that followed shook the buildings to the foundation. That ended the Seat of Government fight.
   Father Brazil quickly discovered after his arrival here that his charge must yield to the progress of events, and, with excellent foresight and judgment, he purchased half a block at the corner of High Street and Sixth Avenue, a tract at the corner of Sixth and Grand avenues (then Sycamore Street) and a large tract at Fourth and Ascension streets, and awaited future demands.
   In 1864, he displaced the frame buildings at Sixth Avenue and Locust Street with a brick edifice, now stores and offices, which was dedicated as St. Ambrose Church. It was also used for school purposes until 1872, when a three story brick school building and a residence adjoining for teachers at Sixth and Grand Avenues were erected, and the foundation laid in a small way for the present magnificent Mercy Hospital, at Fourth and Ascension streets.
   Father Brazil gave to his school special care. Often I saw him going about the streets, and finding children idling or playing

"hookey," he would march them to the schoolhouse with a reprimand they did not forget.

   In 1891, the magnificent stone church was completed at Sixth Avenue and High Street; the hospital, after several enlargements, lavishly equipped, was completed in 1894, but Father Brazil did not live to enjoy the fruition of his hopes and ambition; he died suddenly in September, 1885, at near the noon of his life, widely mourned. But the churches, schools, hospitals and many other beneficent things he founded, cherished and labored for, are eloquent testimonials, not only to the two thousand communicants of his church, but to the community at large, of his noble character and spirited interest in the welfare and betterment of the community in which he lived.
   As the governing head of his parish, he ruled with firm hand. He would shake the plate before a member of his congregation if he did not contribute what he though he should. And yet this dominant trait in his character was accepted by his parishioners with reverential spirit, for they knew he was always striving for their advancement and improvement.
May Fifteenth, 1904.

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DANIEL O. FINCH

DANIEL O. FINCH, or "Dan" as old-timers knew him best—in the early days everybody was called by his "front" name—came to Des Moines in 1853, and joined Curtis Bates in the law and banking business, their office being on Second Street, nearly all stores and office then being on that street near 'Coon Point. He was one of the foremost lawyers in the state, his civil and criminal practice extending far and wide, the latter being usually for the "under dog in the fight." He was a natural orator, genial, courteous, alert, humorous, convivial and fond of society. He at once became an important personage in the body politic.
  In 1854, P. M. Casady having resigned as District Judge immediately after his election, he recommended "Dan" to Governor Hempstead as his successor, but the Governor appointed C. J. McFarland, of Boone County, a very eccentric man, ostensibly on the ground that McFarland received the next highest vote in the convention which nominated Casady, but “Dan's” friends claimed it was because McFarland could control the most votes for the Governor in his race for Congressman. “Dan” said nothing.
  In 1857, he was nominated State Senator, and was defeated by a very small majority. He ran far ahead of his party ticket, receiving one hundred fifty votes on the East Side in the Whig stronghold of Lee Township.
  He was the leading attorney for the Des Moines River Land Company in the memorable extended litigation, disputes and neighborhood disturbances among settlers, resulting in a most deplorable state of affairs. The trouble arose from the vacillating and conflicting decisions of the Government Land Department at Washington respecting grants of land made to the State of Iowa under an Act of Congress in 1846 for the improvement of the Des Moines River by a slack water system of locks and dams. By that act every alternate section of land within five miles of the river, from

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its mouth to Raccoon Forks, was donated for this improvement. The state began to make the improvement, but in 1854 got sick of the job and sold out to the River Navigation and Railroad Company, who agreed to complete the work, and Congress transferred the grant to the state, which was to transfer the land to the company as the work progressed. In the progress of events, the company claimed that the grant extended to the north line of the state, and the Commissioner of the Land Office so decided, but was over-ruled by the Secretary of the Interior, and the question was bandied between the Land Department, the courts, the state and the company, and finally the right was vested in the company. Prior to this claim of extension, the United States, and the state also, had disposed of land to settlers which was within this grant, above Raccoon Forks, and on which they made homes and improved farms, and when the River Land company attempted to oust them, the trouble began, for the settlers could not see the difference between a legal and moral right. That the State of Iowa was most outrageously cheated in the deal there can be no doubt. Felix G. Clark, for many years Register of the Government Land Office here, and whose knowledge of land laws surpassed that of any official in Washington, said to me one day: "There," putting his finger on one of the Government field maps, "are over nine thousand acres that River Land Company got they had no more right to than you have to put your hand in my pocket and take my money. If I wanted a to homestead a farm, I would go there and take it, and I would defy the company to get it away from me."
   The energy with which Dan served his clients came near ending his days on one occasion. The trouble among settlers had got into court at Fort Dodge. At he hearing, the Court House was crowded to the doors, the excitement was intense, and there was evidently bad blood present. The evidence had been closed, all the attorneys had made their arguments except "Dan," who began his just after dark, when immediately the lights were extinguished and a row was on. "Dan" quickly comprehending the situation, got away to his hotel and escaped the bodily assault intended on him. Securing two revolvers, he went back to finish his argument, but the judge had wisely adjourned court for a week.

   These cases were of a class wherein his conscience rebelled against his professional duty to his client, for "Dan" was the very soul of honor and justice.
   In 1854, Curtis Bates, editor of the Star, was nominated for Governor, to run against Grimes, the Whig candidate, and, that he might devote his time to the campaign, "Dan" was selected to edit the paper, he being a politician in all that the name implies, but he soon concluded that ink-slinging was not his forte. He resigned, and soon after the Star twinkled out.
   He was a leader in the Democratic party, and an orator unsurpassed in the state. He was a delegate to the National Convention in 1862, 1864 and 1868, and President of the State Convention in 1876.
   He was very successful before a jury. His descriptive powers and wonderful use of language would often secure him a verdict against the law and facts, hence he was the popular attorney of defendants in criminal cases, but he was not a pettifogger nor a shyster.
   He was a special favorite of Judge McFarland, the like of whom was never seen on the bench in this state. He was a rugged, unconventional man, a good lawyer, had a keen sense of exact justice, with a heart in the right place, but of gross, bibulous habits and given to swearing, like the army in Flanders, regardless of place or persons. His decisions were often appealed from, more because of his peculiarities than otherwise, but were rarely reversed.
   At one time "Dan" was defending a criminal I will name Smith, who was convicted by the jury, whereupon the judge at once sentenced him to pay a fine and be imprisoned in the county jail for a term. "Dan" arose and suggested to the court that she——the judge always called his court a "she"——had made an error. "The statute provides," said he, "that the penalty shall be a fine or imprisonment, not both."
   The judge looked at "Dan" a moment, and, pointing to the jail, retorted: "Daniel, do you see that building over there?"
   "Dan" replied that he did.
   "Well, take your seat," said the judge; and "Dan" subsided.
   The next morning, on opening court, the judge said: "Mr. Sheriff, bring that man Smith into court." He was brought in,

much to the surprise of "Dan,", who could not imagine what was coming next.
   "Mr. Smith," said the judge, "I have changed my mind and concluded to change your sentence to imprisonment, and remit the fine; for if I fine you and let you go, I'll be d——d if I would know where to find you when I wanted you."
   On another occasion, one Rain was accused of stealing six hundred dollars from Taylor Pierce, a prominent early settler, who for many years was City Clerk and Auditor, and, in fact, practically ran the whole town government. He was an Indian trader, spoke their language fluently, and the Tama County Musquakies always made him a visit when they came to the city. As I could not understand the inconsistency of names here when I came to the city——the city was called a city of monks, one river the same, and another river the Raccoon——when Indian names were much more musical and applicable, I asked Taylor to give me the Indian names of the two rivers, and he said the Indians called th 'Coon "As-e-po-lo," accent on the last syllable, which means the raccoon, or "As-e-po-lo-sepo," the terminal "sepo" meaning river. The Des Moines was called "Ke-o-sau-qua," which means dark, black, inky, as the water usually had that appearance in the Spring and Fall, when they hunted along its banks, caused by drainage from the prairies burned over and covered with charred, blackened debris of grass and weeds. Taylor said he once met a band of Fox Indians one hundred miles north from Des Moines, who were hunting, and, asking them where they were going, they replied, "Up Ke-o-sau-qua-sepo." Sometimes they would be headed towards Des Moines, and their answer would be, "Posse [pony] puckache [going] Asepolo," meaning that they and their ponies were going to the Raccoon, as they always called The Fort.
   But, to get back to my subject. When the hearing had been closed, the judge told the jury to retire to their room and prepare their verdict. They started, when "Dan" laid before the judge some instructions and requested that they be given the jury.
   "Hold on, jury! Wait a minute," said the judge. Running his eyes hastily over the papers, and brushing them and brushing them aside: "Go on, gentlemen, to your room; (turning to "Dan") he is guilty as h——l."

   The jury returned a verdict of "guilty," and the judge sent him to the pen for five years. "Dan" immediately asked leave to file a motion.
   "Daniel, do you see that blue house over there (the jail)? Sit down, or I'll send you there in five minutes." "Dan" sat down.
   On another occasion, "Dan" and John A. Kasson were stumping the Congressional District during a hot political campaign, in joint debate, as opposing candidates. They rode together in the same buckboard; ate and slept together at hotels. The temperature was torrid, it being mid-Summer. At one hotel, during the night, Kasson discovered an extensive system of blood-sucking going on all over his anatomy, and, bounding out of the bed, he seized "Dan" and, giving him a shake, said: "Get up, Dan, or the bedbugs will eat you up."
   "Dan" opened his eyes, muttered in sepulchral tones: "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise," then turned over and went to sleep.
   "Dan" is still living, but has retired from active business.*
May Twenty-second, 1904