http://www.rrstar.com/news/20160219/rockford-attorney-thomas-johnson-was-gentleman-scholar/?Start=2
You come to dread reading your email in the morning. Being six-plus hours ahead of my family and most of the people I know, I constantly brace myself for bad news. A terrible habit I have developed, and one that I must shake. But every time I come close, I get that email. And, being far from those also impacted, out of range from any easy communication, you are left with your thoughts, your memories, your sadness. There is no attending visitations and funerals for final goodbyes, no seeing friends to reminisce. No exchanging stories over coffee, no hugs and no connection.
On this particular rainy Wednesday morning in Vicenza, I awoke to emails about the death of one of my mentors. The president of the law firm I first joined out of law school in the mid-90’s. The strange days that ushered in the advent of email and the internet, changing forever how lawyers researched and communicated. The final days of the dictaphone and paper log books. The end of shepardizing case law by hand, and heavy reliance on personal memory rather than cyber notes.
Left with my own thoughts, my emotional outlet was facilitated by the keys below my finger tips. And, so, I penned the following to Tom Johnson, friend and mentor, and gone too soon.
When I began as a junior associate at Willams & McCarthy, it was the end of an era. An old guard, from a generation of war-time heroes, gentlemanly exchanges, decorum and pride, was aging itself out of the firm; a generation of men that had established a prestigious and well-respected law firm, replete with links back to the Rockford Peaches and the development of Rockford Memorial Hospital. And a new guard, from a modern era that craved immediate results, pushing themselves to great achievements, focused on a growth business in an increasingly competitive world. Then, there was Tom Johnson. The Arbiter, the Referee, the Voice of Reason, the President.
Mr. Johnson was the personification of a gentleman and a scholar. Always level headed, sitting tall behind his spotless desk, where nary a file could you find covering the dark brown oak of its surface. He would look at you, without judgement, and allow you the time needed to recount your side of the story, your interpretation of events. It wouldn’t take long, but he would inevitably look through his round-framed tortoise shell glasses and steer you to the right answer. Without fail.
Mr. Johnson seemed a simple man, riding his bike from the Rock River Towers to the the bike path for exercise; driving through town in his spotless white convertible Mercedes Benz; enjoying lunches at the City Club; and presiding over numerous organizations, boards and events. Beneath the surface, he was a kind and gentle soul. A man that could smile with ease, calm a room with one glance, or break the ice with a witty quip. He was both counselor and friend, a difficult balance for one who was usually the smartest guy in the room.
I didn’t stay at WillMac long, but I took with me a lifetime of lessons learnt from Mr. Johnson. As he provided direction for me, and tried to make a lawyer out of young and clueless kid with a strong pedigree, I learned to always treat people with respect and to always listen with care. To not stray into the grey areas, but find guidance in the black and white, for there you could always find the right answer. To never leave your office without your suite jacket on, and to laugh with grace and style with others and at yourself.
Mr. Johnson was a mentor to many, and a friend to most. When I think of him, the words respect and elegance come roaring to the fore. While I hadn’t seen him in many years, following my own career first born in the office two doors down from his, I will miss him dearly. But, as only a mentor could, he left me a special gift; one of perspective and composure, fairness and humility; the gift of lessons learned from a great and generous man.
RIP Mr. Johnson.