Hope and Dreams

Big Problems, Small Steps

Jim Johnson wouldn't be where he is today if it hadn't been for Doc. That's what students at Central called the late Theodore Speigner. Doc taught them that geographyis more than learning the names of exotic cities and countries; it is understanding those places and discovering the demographic, sociological, and political forces that shape them. He taught them that geography is as much the study of people as it is the study of place. Part of the fieldwork involved mapping social problems in Durham's lower-income neighborhoods -- some of the same areas that Johnson is trying to rebuild today.

He was captivated by Speigner's multidisciplinary approach, and he was moved by the professor's story of personal perseverance. Speigner, an African-American, was denied the chance to pursue a doctorate until he was in his fifties. After founding the geography department at Central in the early 1960s, he set about mentoring the next generation of geographers, which included Johnson. When Doc recognized that one of his students had the talent and the discipline to handle graduate school, he took that student under his wing, offering constant encouragement, writing letters of recommendation, and providing contacts. In return, he expected them to do nothing less than earn a PhD. More than a dozen of his students delivered. "He made me realize how much of a difference one person's life can make in others," says Johnson.

Doc was a master motivator. Initially, Johnson felt overmatched in the master's program at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. Doc's calls would come when Johnson needed them most. "What the heck am I doing here?" Johnson would groan. "I know what you're going through," Doc would reply. "Remember, it's about perseverance. You can do this."

Johnson persevered, earning his master's degree in geography at Madison and his PhD from Michigan State University. The young Doc and the old Doc stayed in touch right up until the retired professor's death in 1982. Even now, nearly 20 years later, Johnson still feels Doc's hand in his work. After all, it was Doc who led Johnson to Walter C. Farrell Jr., who became another mentor and longtime collaborator. Together they have researched and coauthored hundreds of papers, newspaper columns, and grant proposals.

Johnson's outreach work grew out of his academic research. After Michigan State, he joined the faculty at UCLA, where he taught geography while becoming more and more interested in LA's declining inner city. South Central la epitomized the disparity and the isolation that cripples many urban communities. With the help of Farrell, who was teaching at the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee at the time, Johnson chronicled the area's litany of problems: tens of thousands of jobs lost because of plant closings; health risks resulting from hazardous chemicals stored in those abandoned plants; high rates of gang violence and teen pregnancy; inadequate schooling and job training; escalating ethnic tensions among new immigrants; and economic scars caused by the 1992 riots. Johnson directed one of the most comprehensive studies done on urban inequality in years -- surveying 8,600 households and 4,000 businesses in Atlanta, Boston, Detroit, and Los Angeles. The results revealed what Johnson had seen at the local level: a widening gap between underserved urban residents -- blacks in particular -- and middle-class residents.

Because of his expertise in urban issues, Johnson began testifying in death-penalty cases involving African-American defendants from the inner city. They had already been convicted of capital murder. The question was, Did they deserve the death penalty or a life sentence? When he testifies for the defense, Johnson puts the young men's lives in a sociological context, describing them as a product of their troubled communities. Based on interviews with defendants, their families, and counselors, he outlines a pattern of instability, abuse, and violence. Out of the 30 or so criminal trials in which he's testified, Johnson says that all but a few defendants have avoided receiving the death penalty. He considers that a hollow victory, though. Each trial, Johnson says, begs a larger question: How do you prevent young men from committing heinous crimes in the first place? Maybe the answer is midnight basketball.

With Triangle Nightflight, a late-night league in Durham, Johnson had used basketball to lure streetwise 18- to 25-year-old men into attending a self-improvement program from 10 PM to 2 AM. Players were asked to think of the glittering new downtown YMCA as more of a workplace than a gym. In order to play, they had to show up on time and attend pregame seminars and group discussions on fatherhood, table etiquette, putting together a r?sum? -- even on literature. Cell-phones, beepers, profanity, and untucked shirts weren't allowed. Neither, of course, were weapons of any kind. To assuage the Y's security concerns, Johnson provided metal detectors. The play was intense, but there were no fights, according to Johnson, whom the players called Dr. J (in deference to his job more than to his game).