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Rufus W. Johnson 92nd Infantry Division |
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April 29, 2006 - A full and storied lifeKERRVILLE — His life's been so incredible, it's hard to tell when Rufus W. Johnson is recalling facts, embellishing or being misled by a memory that's finally faltering after 95 years. Even so, there's no questioning the character, humility and warmth of the orphan-turned-warrior-turned-Bible-teacher. "I've had an interesting life," conceded the resilient retiree in his usual understated manner. Among the highlights of Johnson's resume are being a lifeguard and butler at the White House, Army citations for combat heroism and a distinguished career as an attorney. Footnotes include spilling soup in the president's lap, kicking a general in the rear and helping American Indians win the right to use peyote in religious rituals.
"It seems that every time I talk to him, there's another facet to his life that comes out that's just remarkable," said Cameron Baird, 60, of Fredericksburg. He'll be among Johnson's family and many friends gathering at 1 p.m. today to honor him at Lady Bird Johnson Park in Fredericksburg. Baird has lost track of the compelling and humorous accounts Johnson has shared since they met at a Veterans Day event in 2004. "His story ought to be told," Baird said. "It needs to be a movie." He'll get no argument from Albert Barrera, an independent screenwriter from San Benito who began work last year on a script about the twists and turns of Johnson's life. "Rufus is just fascinating," Barrera said. "He's really a deeds-not-words guy. That kind of sums up how he was as a lawyer and a soldier: Get the job done, no matter what it takes." Born in Maryland on May 1, 1911, into a family of African American and Cherokee lineage, an aunt and uncle reared Johnson in Pennsylvania after his mother died when he was 4. It was there that he first confronted racial biases he now charitably refers to as "being partial." Repeatedly robbed by bullies, Johnson was aided by a prizefighter who trained at the YMCA. "He taught me boxing," Johnson said. "By the time I finished high school, I was really able to beat up anybody necessary." Johnson enrolled at Howard University in 1928, where his ROTC training included becoming certified as a lifeguard. That skill, and family ties, landed him a job in 1939 as a lifeguard at the White House pool where President Franklin D. Roosevelt swam daily. "I never had to help him," he recalled of the chief executive whose legs were crippled by polio. "He was an independent guy. He didn't want nobody touching him unless they had to." Johnson's strength led to his selection in 1941 as FDR's butler, a job that often included lifting the leader. Once, Johnson recalled with obvious admiration, FDR used him to unnerve a political adversary during lunchtime negotiations in the Oval Office. As soup was being served, Johnson recalled, the president deftly tipped a bowl off the tray and into his own lap, but kept talking without pause. "If FDR were alive today, he'd still be president," Johnson said. When Eleanor Roosevelt learned the butler was pursuing a law license, she recruited Johnson to serve her tea in the afternoons, but set up a table where he could study for two hours rather than work, he said. FDR knew better than to intercede, recalled Johnson, saying, "He didn't control her. She did what she pleased." To get into the Army in 1942, the 5-foot, 6-inch Johnson said he stood on tiptoe during the prolonged physical screening to meet the height requirements. "I practiced standing on my toes without moving," he confided. "I could do it two hours." A Bronze Star and Purple Heart are among the medals he received in 1945 fighting German troops in Italy, as a captain with the 92nd Infantry Division. He's nearly as proud about kicking a general Johnson described as "partial" and who tried to assure the all-black unit's failure by giving it an impossible mission. By 1953, when Johnson left the military as a lieutenant colonel, he'd also served as an adjutant inspector general and judge advocate general in Korea. After the war, Johnson opened a law office in San Bernardino, Calif., where he pushed for a public defender position and is credited with creating the pro bono system by which attorneys provide free legal services. The peak of his legal career came in 1964 before the California Supreme Court where he successfully appealed drug convictions against Navajos arrested two years earlier during a religious ceremony involving peyote, a hallucinogenic cactus. That precedent-setting case is one reason the Southern Winds Intertribal Clan will drum and dance at today's party. "It's an honor to know him and it's even a bigger honor to be called his friend," said Jaime "Brown Eagle" Garcia, a Kiowa-Apache member of the cultural group from San Antonio. Between the kudos, dancing and lunch, there's no doubt Johnson will find time to share a few more memorable nuggets. His stepdaughter, Yvonne Smith, has heard most of the stories so many times she can step right in when Johnson loses his train of thought. "The war stories, all those are accurate and true," said Smith, whose mother, Vaunda, died in 2005 after 34 years of marriage to Johnson. "A lot of the later stories are true, but in some he makes himself grandioso." Her admiration for Johnson, who's lived in her Kerrville home since 2004, has only grown over the past 30 years, she said. "Nobody knew of his accomplishments until he retired in 1978 and started sharing them," she said Friday. "He stood up to everybody and everything. He felt invincible. He still feels invincible." Johnson, who says he's worn a knife on his belt since battling pirates off the coast of North Africa during World War II, attributes his longevity, in part, to never smoking tobacco or drinking alcohol. But he said overcoming so many obstacles to reach age 95 "is a special gift from God." San Antonio Express (subscription) - San Antonio,TX,USA |
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