"I've learned....
that simple walks with my father around the block on summer
nights when I was a child did wonders for me as an adult."--one verse from an Internet "pass-along-and-add-on" poem that is a compilation of the important lessons people learned from life.I did not write the verse above, but I could have. It describes the kind of wonderful father I have. He taught me the names of the stars and the constellations as we stood on the front porch watering our azaleas to the tune of crickets late in the evening He told me stories about all the animals he had when he was a boy. When I think of him, I feel loved and it is natural like breathing to love in return.Van Johnson was born in the city of Macon, Georgia in the fall of 1915 to Daisy Burnette Johnson and Thomas Cleveland Johnson, Sr. Van was their second child. At that time the family lived in a white house beyond a dairy on the edge of Macon at the end of the street car line. Cleve, my grandfather, would ride the streetcar to his job downtown at the big Dannenburg- Waxenbaum Department Store. My grandparents had met while both worked as clerks there. Mrs. Dannenburg had been matchmaker. Cleve and Daisy's first date was to a stage play of Ben Hur. They had a home wedding. The next year Cleveland. Jr. was born. It was five more years before my father arrived.
My father's first memory was when he was two years old. My grandfather had accepted a job as sales representative of Endicott Johnson shoe factory, so the family had to move briefly to that company's headquarters in Knoxville, Tennessee. Grandmama traveled to Knoxville from Macon on the train with Cleve, Van and my aunt Sudie who was a tiny baby. During the trip, Grandmama had to take Sudie to the restroom to change her diaper. Daddy and Uncle Cleve were asleep. Two nice ladies sitting nearby assured Grandmama that they would look after her little boys. My father woke up and was horrified to find himself on the strange train without his mother.
Any account of my father's childhood definitely should include tales of his animals --his pets and livestock he raised to sell for profit. He always had a beloved pet dog. One of these dogs slept at Daddy's feet and would protectively get up in the night every time my grandmother had to care for one of the babies. Another dog was so close to my father that it found him at school and rejoined the family even though it had been given away and had been moved some distance. One dog died from eating sour snap beans --so now none of the Johnsons will eat snap beans because of that, dramatically saying, "If it will kill a dog, it will kill me!" My Uncle Jack later named his childhood dog Snap in memory of that. There was also an amazingly smart family cat who figured out how to use the toilet, probably because it had the benefit of observing so many little children using it. When my father was given the chore of mowing the yard, he got a goat so it would graze and save him from mowing. The goat ended up being more of a pet. Daddy liked his goat. Unfortunately the goat butted my Aunt Sudie, so Grandmama made Daddy get rid of it. It broke Daddy's heart to have to sell his goat, particularly since he recognized that it would likely end up as barbecue. When the man who bought it came for the goat, according to my aunts and uncles the goat cried, "Van! Vannnnn!" all the way down the street as it was carried away.
Daddy had six brothers and sisters (also see the links to their stories). Because his father was a traveling shoe salesman away from home visiting merchants all over the Southeast during the week, Van came to be particularly close to his mother. He assisted her, and she relied on him. Once he had sold some guinea hens and had earned a bit of pocket change which he earmarked for a treat, so he bought himself and his mama each a candy bar. When he gave the candy bar to her, she took a knife out of the drawer and began cutting hers into sections. Daddy realized that she intended to share hers with his other brothers and sisters. He told her, "No, Mama. I got that for you. Let's just eat this now and not mention it to anyone." Whereupon she gave him back the candy bar, saying, "I would enjoy it only if I could share it." This made quite an impression on him. He retold that story to his daughters a number of times, to shape us to be like her.
Many of my father's fond childhood memories are about food. He thinks that my grandmama was the best cook who ever drew breath. (Actually, I disagree, because I never liked that she put a splash of vinegar in almost everything she cooked, even mashed potatoes.) She made spectacular big breakfasts every Sunday. Homemade biscuits were standard table fare for every meal. Grandmama knew how to make good milk gravy flavored with sausage. My grandfather would drive to Culloden, Georgia to buy homemade sausage from a farmer named Mr. Pearson. Grandmama kept her own chickens in the back yard for fresh meat and fresh eggs. Her homemade jelly roll and homemade sweet potato pie remain unsurpassed. My grandfather highly valued good eating. Daddy said Granddaddy would say, "We'll always have enough groceries in the house even if we lack something else." At Christmas Granddaddy would bring home a big box of raisins, a big box of assorted nuts, a box of hard candies and a bushel of oranges to keep in the house to snack on for a holiday treat. Daddy said he never cared for the raisins because back then they had seeds in them. My father also has fond memories of eating with a neighbor family. The father worked for the railroad and would shoot wild turkeys that got near the tracks, then bring them home for his wife to cook. Daddy was playmate with that neighbor's children, so was invited over when they feasted.
My father attended public schools. My grandparents bought a big yellow brick home on Beech Avenue near Lanier High School. At that time, Lanier was for boys only --the girls went to Miller High School. Daddy particularly enjoyed making wooden furniture in a shop class. Just one week before he was to graduate from Lanier, his chemistry teacher got mad at him for laughing with friends during class and threatened that he would keep him from graduating. My father replied, "You can't do that." The very grouchy teacher snarled back, "Oh yes I can, and I will!" Daddy got up and walked out, so he never got diploma in hand. Thus his childhood ended, and he went to work running a clothing store in Fort Valley, Georgia, opened as a speculative venture by my grandfather.