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| This is the very last known life-capture of my Mother, Mary Gross Johnson. Odd how just her head burned out of this photo-portrait as if purposeful. I'll blame George for it. |
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| By the "J" insignia on this young lad's sleave you can tell he worked for the family. He was ordered to pull my brother and I around town wherever and whenever we pleased. Don't feel pity for him, my father paid him in oats and fine Connecticut red clay. May it be also told that he was an immigrant wretch. |
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| As I mentioned before, I was just as involved in athletics as any young Gentleman. Here, I am shown with my base-ball squadron during University at Vassar. We were the "Nifties," hence the "N" on our baseball uniforms. I was the manager of the team. But I was not some stereotypical, half-wit like other teams boast. Nay! I ran that team likea fine corporation, right to the "T" or "N" as it were. |
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