No man of more exalted personal character ever entered public life in Alabama than Governor John Gill Shorter. He had all the virtues of a Christian statesman. Gentle, refined, highly cultured, modest, he was yet a firm and faithful official. His presence produced an atmosphere of purity and awoke the profoundest respect.

A graduate from the University of Georgia in the class of ’37, for Georgia was his native state, he removed with his father, General Reuben C. Shorter, to Eufaula, then called Irwinton, and after a course of study entered on the practice of the law. Six years afterward he was appointed by Governor Fitzpatrick solicitor of the judicial district in which he resided. In 1845 Mr. Shorter was elected senator from Barbour County, the first from that county after it was formed from Russell County. His bearing and service at once attracted attention, his ability was promptly recognized, and when Honorable George Goldthwaite was promoted to the supreme bench, Mr. Shorter succeeded him as the judge of the judicial circuit, in which capacity he served for nine years, being elected from time to time without opposition.

When the question of withdrawal from the Union was before the secession convention of Georgia, Judge Shorter was sent as one of the commissioners from Alabama. He later became a member of the provisional congress of the Confederacy, and soon became a candidate for governor of the state in response to a popular demand. In 1861 he was elected governor.

The storm of war breaking over the country, there was imposed on the governor an unprecedented burden, attended with unique embarrassment of an appalling nature. Questions of a complicated nature arose in consequence of the haste necessary to meet the tide of hostilities bearing southward, and in the excitement of the hour and the extremity of the period, the people were divided on numerous important issues, and from the outset, the administration of Governor Shorter was beset behind and before with most perplexing entanglements. The strenuousness of the times imposed burdens on him never before borne by a governor. The difficulty was enhanced by the fact that on the governor reposed the settlement of all questions on which public sentiment was divided. The most conflicting demands arose from the turbulence of the times and the passion of the period, but the serene man at the capitol sought tranquilly to do his duty, unswayed by aught else than a supreme sense of public responsibility. His patriotic and philanthropic disposition led him to seek to provide for the families of soldiers on the field, but this produced adverse sentiment on the part of many. With zeal and interest, he sought to protect by every possible means the exposed borders of the state against a hostile army, and gave special attention to the fortification of Mobile by garrisoning the outposts of that city as strongly as possible.

As the war progressed and the demand for additional troops grew, it became necessary to conscribe many who had failed to volunteer, and this became the occasion of fresh difficulty, as it always does. In the execution of the law enacted by the Confederate Congress relative to the tax in kind for the support of the army, Governor Shorter had to stem a current of popular opposition, and was held responsible by the masses for that which he did in compliance with the laws of congress. Added to all this was the necessity of the imposition of increased taxation for the support of the state government, and for the redemption of its bonds. In the prosecution of necessary tasks like these he became the victim of much popular wrath and unjust abuse. But duty was clear, and without wavering the breadth of a hair, or without chafing under the conditions, Governor Shorter met his obligations with steadiness and firmness. To have done less than he did would have made him recreant to his obligation, and everyone who did his duty at that time, and under conditions so stressful, fell under the same unreasonable public condemnation. A man of less nerve and less granite in his soul would have been swept off his feet in a public ordeal like this.

On the expiration of his term, in 1863, he was a candidate for re-election, opposed by Thomas H. Watts, then attorney general of the Confederacy, and an opponent of Governor Shorter at the previous election.

Public sentiment had grown so morbid during the tempestuous times of the former administration, that Governor Shorter failed of re-election. There was a burst of ungrateful expression of popular feeling, but the result was not unexpected. Governor Shorter had borne immense burdens in the face of popular clamor, and naturally and logically he preferred the indorsement of a people for whom he had done so much, while, on the other hand, it was a relief to be unburdened at the end of two years.

After facing the odds, formidable and imposing, during the first two years of the struggle, and after resisting the inertia of popular discontent at every step, he retired from office with a stainless reputation, and, viewed at this distance, his course during the trying period of his administration is thoroughly vindicated, and in the galaxy of Alabama governors none has ever been more patriotic, none more firm in the prosecution of public duty, none calmer in a storm than John Gill Shorter. With the same serene temper with which he had deported himself in office, he retired to private life and resumed the practice of the law in the city of Eufaula.

With this distinguished statesman the claims of religious obligation rose supreme. His life was a living sermon. His honor was never questioned, nor was his religious character impeached, nor his personal piety ever challenged. In his character was the happiest blend of childlike gentleness and robust manhood. In a period of doubt and storm he publicly insisted that “there is a truth in religion; it is all true; and there is a power in the atonement of Christ. It is a glorious reality. The atonement of Christ will stand firm as the everlasting hills.”

Governor Shorter died in the prime of manhood, being only fifty-four when he passed away. At the time of his death there was no more popular man in the state. An account of his triumphant death was broadly published throughout the country and created a profound impression.

With faith unnerved by the presence of death, he closed his earthly career with words quoted from an old and familiar hymn:

“To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.”

Having quoted this couplet, he said, “I want to be off”—and died.