Sketch LV
A Bright and Shining Example—Job Loder
Away back in the early days of old Long Point settlement, before there was any occasion to organize a court to “hear and determine divers felonies, trespasses and other misdemeanors,” a man appeared on the scene who was destined to play an important part in the pioneer work of the settlement, and stamp his name indelibly on the first page of Norfolk’s history. This man’s name was Job Loder,[1] a native of Sussex County, New Jersey, and a millwright and house-builder by trade. In addition to this he possessed good business qualifications, and was industrious, ambitious and honest. A man of this character ought to prosper anywhere; but it seems that Mr. Loder’s business adventures in his native State were not crowned with success. He became hopelessly involved in debt, and, in order to get out of the difficulty he ran away, it is said, and came to Upper Canada. Is this the ‘leading and shining example?” I hear the reader ask. Wait until you hear the story. This happened a hundred years ago, before the flickering rays of the torch of modern civilization had penetrated the human skull. It happened in the days of barbarism, when a man who, through misfortune, became unable to meet his pecuniary obligations promptly and fully, might be thrown into a dungeon, and his wife and little ones left to starve or subsist on cold, clammy charity. It happened in an age when the dead body of a man might be seized by a creditor, and taken from his weeping family and exposed in a public place, like a carcase in a butcher’s shambles, until the debt was paid; and it happened at a time when men and women were hanged like dogs for the crime of theft. Nowadays, a man may fail in business whenever he feels like it, and by compromising with his creditors on a 17 per cent. basis, start up again on a grander scale than ever. If Job Loder were in business to-day in New Jersey, and misfortune overtook him, as it did a hundred years ago, the law would not permit his creditors to put their hands on his home if it did not exceed $1,000 in value, and above these exemptions they would be compelled to take a full satisfaction of their claims, provided the debtor was a fit and proper subject for the benefits arising from the Insolvency Laws.
Job Loder did not take “French leave” of his creditors in New Jersey for the purpose of defrauding them; he left them in order that he might be able some day to pay them every cent he owed them. That day came before the century had passed its second decade.
The new settlement was a profitable field in which to exercise the splendid abilities he possessed, and he prospered from the very start. When he had made a sufficient amount of money to pay off his old debts in New Jersey, he advertised that he would be at the Court house in Newton on a certain date to settle in full with his old creditors. Did he do it? It is said that he did; and in that noble act he became a “right and shining example” for all men who would prove to the world that they place a higher value on their personal honor than they do on a plethoric pocket-book. Every creditor received one hundred cents for every dollar of claim, with interest. These old claims were non-collectable here—indeed, they were outlawed in New Jersey—and their liquidation, therefore, was purely optional on his part.
His business failure had been brought about by no fault of his; and the law, by lapse of time, had forgiven the debts; but the moral obligation, which was of too high a nature to be effected by any statute of human creation, remained; and, as fortune had given him the means, he could not, as an honest man, withhold it from its rightful owners. Simply performed his duty as an honest man? Yes; but how many business men in this year of grace, 1897, would be able to stand a test of this kind? The almighty dollar is the “fire” that tries men’s souls in these times. Is it not true that all men pass current to-day, as honest men, who claim all that the law allows, and who tighten their grip on everything that the law will not compel them to give up? Job Loder’s honesty was measured by his conscience in the sight of God, and not by the limitations or prohibitions of a humanly devised statute book.
After Mr. Loder had finished his business affairs in New Jersey, he purchased the finest covered carriage in the market, and rode out of the State in it. It was the finest turn-out that came into Long Point settlement up to that time; and it is safe to assert that no man ever enjoyed a 500-mile carriage ride with a keener relish than did Mr. Loder on that occasion. How different from the first leave-taking of his native State! How brightly the sun shone, and what a melody of music came from the feathered songsters, as he drove through the forest! How gently was he rocked by the springing steel beneath his cushioned seat, as the carriage rolled over the rough and uneven way; and how his heart swelled with emotions of gratitude as he looked up through the tree-tops into the ethereal blue beyond, and thought of what he had accomplished in the past and what he hoped to accomplish in the future, in the new country which he had adopted as his own.
In 1803 Job Loder kept a tavern in the “Town of Charlotteville,” as Turkey Point was called at that time. In that year Mr. Loder’s tavern was made judicial headquarters for all London District, and the courts were held there until a court-house was built. Three years previous to this, Levi Comber[2] had taken a contract to build a jail and court-house at the “Town of Charlotteville” for £312 10s. 0d., but he failed to carry out his contract. On December 10th, 1803, Mr. Loder contracted to build a jail and court-house at Turkey Point for £250, and he was appointed jailer at a salary of £25 a year. The jail was built of logs, but the court-house was a frame structure.
Job Loder built most of the pioneer mills in the settlement, including the Finch mill that preceded the Cross & Fisher mill, and the old original Gustin mill east of Vittoria. Early in the century he went to Waterford where he purchased the mill and enlarged it, built a sawmill and engaged in merchandising. Israel W. Powell was a clerk in Mr. Loder’s store at this time. When Ephraim T. Perley built his Burford mill, Mr. Loder put money in the enterprise, and the result was, that owing to financial embarrassment on the part of Mr. Perley, the mill passed into the hands of Mr. Loder’s son.
At the beginning of the second quarter of the century we find Job Loder in possession of a mill near Ancaster run by water drawn from three mill ponds. As at Waterford, he carried on a mercantile business in connection with the milling business. In 1827 he was visited by an old Long Point friend, and he informed his visitor that it was his intention to go into Hamilton, build a steamboat, and put himself in a position where he could meet competition successfully. “Do you think you can make a success of your steamboat scheme?” asked his friend. “Make a success of it?” replied the intrepid Job, “did you ever know me to undertake anything in this country that I did not carry to a successful issue?” In 1829 he went into Hamilton in pursuance of his plans, but the steamboat proved an elephant on his hands, and he lost money in the undertaking.
Among the early names in the pioneer history of our county, that of Job Loder will ever occupy a prominent and highly-honored place. It is one of the early familiar names that stands for individual honor, business capacity and business integrity.[3]
[1] Job invariably signed his surname “Lodor”. He was born on August 22 1775 and died at Ancaster, Wentworth County, Canada West on July 25 1861 according to his gravestone in St. John’s Anglican Church Cemetery at Ancaster. Lodor’s land petition dated on May 25, 1796 stated that he was “late from the Jersies” which would make him a young man indeed when his earlier Newton, New Jersey business failed. Upper Canada Land Petition ‘L’ Bundle 2, Doc. No. 24.
[2] This man’s name was Levi Combes, not “Comber”
[3] A documented story of Job Lodor was included in The Long Point Settlers Journal, Vol. 6, No. 1.