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| This is my father, Walter Johnson Jr. It was my nineth birthday when this photo-graph was taken. If my memory serves me correctly, I was in the sweatbox for most of that day, reciting the three laws of a fine business man. He was a business genius, but a stern man. He took swift action on my brother and I if we so much as asked for a second helping of roasted ham. Everything I came to know about industry and taking advantage of immigrant women comes from him. Rest in Peace dear father... |
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| My brother, Theodore. Despite this, and much to his protest, we called him "Rosey" after his engagement in a very long game of badmitton. One can only imagine why. He was always the athlete of the family, and, although I had my share of sporting adventures, I was the businessman. Here he is posing on the lynx, with his fat-bottom knickers and poor man's cap. He was never a bugger over fashion. |
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| This is my personal staff of teachers and tutors that guided me from age 5 until I left for University at the grand age of 18. Two of these men were shot soon after this photo-still because of their teaching me wrong the use of the abacus! They paid dearly. Father never sent my brother and I to the Regular school because of the high concentration of lead on the desk tops. Once again I must thank my father for his wisdom. |
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| This is a cover of McClure's magazine, which to my understanding is a chronicle of Irish romance. My father is on the cover page for a reason I am not positive of right now. The reason I reveal this photo-graph to the public is because of the monicle seen here. It is the very same one I wear to this day! Huzzah! |