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Michigan
State had two Johnsons on its recruiting wish list during
the winter of 1976-77. And then one of them, Earvin "Magic"
Johnson, told Spartans head coach Jud Heathcote that he was
coming to East Lansing. Not long after, Heathcote called the
other Johnson, Calvin of Muskegon's Oakridge High School. In
Calvin's words, Heathcote simply told him he didn't need him
any more.
"There were two Johnsons who were all-state point guards
that year ... one was 5-9 and the other was 6-9," laughed
Calvin. "I'll let you decide which one was the best choice."
On the basketball floor, a no- brainer. Magic's certainly
done a lot of good off the court, too, but read the story of
Calvin Johnson and you can't help but be impressed.
One
of seven children he has three brothers and three sisters,
Calvin Johnson grew up on an 11-acre farm. His father died
in a factory accident when Calvin was just five years old.
His mother, Bernice, later married LeRoy Stuckey, and while
Calvin says the family didn't have a great deal of material
things, "it seemed like we were very rich in love." Johnson
also singled out the influences of John Swinburne and Jack
Schugars, who taught and coached Calvin in track & field
and football from the time he was in the third grade until
the time he graduated from high school in 1977.
Johnson's career aspirations began to take shape as a
sophomore in high school. "I had a lot of injuries, all of
them small," Calvin recalled. "But I had to go to doctors
for bumps and bruises and sprains and things like that. And
I decided I was going to go to medical school." But he also
wanted to do something else, and that was to play Division I
basketball. Among the many schools that showed interest in
the three-sport young man, who incidentally was all-state in
all those sports (football, basketball and track &
field), was Dartmouth College. Johnson soon decided Hanover
was the place for him.
The Dartmouth head coach at the time was Gary Walters, the
current Director of Athletics at Princeton. "Coach Walters
was tougher on me than any other coach I'd ever had," said
Johnson. "But he taught me a lot about character and
perseverance, and that's something I've been able to carry
with me to this very day. It didn't matter how well we were
doing or how poorly we were doing, he never stopped giving
100 percent in his coaching."
Walters left Dartmouth at the end of Johnson's sophomore
year, and Tim Cohane took the coaching reins for the last
two seasons of Calvin's career. Johnson fondly remembered
his senior season, and the Big Green's tournament victories
at the Granite State Classic at the University of New
Hampshire and the Manufacturers Hanover Classic at Iona
College. He was chosen the MVP of the former event and all-
tournament at the latter. That season, while serving as the
team's co-captain, Johnson averaged 8.5 points per game and
led the team in assists with 89 (3.4 apg.). He was selected
an Academic All-American and was a member of Dartmouth's
Senior Honor Society.
All the while, a special academic program one of only six
pilot programs in the country caught the attention of the
Big Green's point guard. Dartmouth's Medical School offered
an early-admission scenario to those students who wanted to
apply. Johnson, who by the middle of his sophomore year had
fulfilled all of his pre-med requirements, jumped at the
chance. After interviews and essay writing the summer before
his junior year, Johnson was one of five students accepted
to the Med School's Class of 1985.
Basketball now behind him, Calvin set out to become Dr.
Johnson. As a first-year student he made a find that would
change his life forever. He met his future wife, Elaine, who
was taking classes at Dartmouth while running a program
called ABC, A Better Chance. The program took
underprivileged youth from the State of New Jersey and
brought them to Hanover to attend high school.
"For our second date," Calvin recalled, "she asked me if I
knew how to ski, and I said, `Sure.' I'd never been on skis
in my life. I borrowed a buddy's skis, and I bought a brand
new pair of Calvin Klein jeans, which were very much in
style at the time. By the end of the day, I had fallen so
much that these brand new pants had gotten very wet. On my
last run I looked back up the mountain, and there were blue
patches all the way down the mountain."
Johnson knew from the beginning that Elaine was the woman
for him, and despite Calvin's skiing performance that day,
Elaine eventually came to the same conclusion. They dated
for four years before they were married on the same weekend
as medical school graduation [Elaine kidded the family
that she never wanted to marry a doctor, so the wedding was
on Saturday and the graduation was on Sunday].
Although he had entered his graduate studies with the intent
of becoming an orthopedic surgeon, Johnson took a third-year
elective in anesthesiology. Fascinated by the complexities
of anesthesia, he wanted to shift gears, but it was too late
to change his concentration.
With Elaine ready to start a master's degree program at
Harvard, the Johnsons were pretty much tied to the Boston
area for their next home. Calvin, now with a firm desire to
do his residency in anesthesiology, went to see Dr. Richard
Kitz, who was the Chairman of Anesthesiology at
Massachusetts General Hospital, the place where as Johnson
noted, "anesthesia originated." He pleaded his case directly
to Kitz. "I came in his office," said Johnson, "and I told
him I may not be the brightest resident you will interview,
nor the one that will come in with the most polished
credentials, but I guarantee I'll be the hardest working.
And I told him that if you don't accept me, you'll be making
a big mistake." Kitz replied that the program would be one
of the most difficult things Calvin would ever have to go
through, and Kitz sent him away to think about it for a
couple of days. Johnson called back after the waiting
period, as instructed, and said he wanted the Mass General
program more than ever. He was accepted.
Lots of things happened to the Johnson family during the
Mass General days, but two seem to stand out in Calvin's
mind. One involved a very unfortunate episode at the
family's rented duplex in Winchester. "I was on-call one
night," recalled Johnson, "and it [the house] caught
fire. We really lost everything, and it was a week before
Christmas." He could have lost a lot more. Both Elaine and
Kevin, his son, were at home at the time of the blaze, and
both had to be taken from the second floor by
firefighters.
The Johnsons were amazed at the outpouring of support and
gifts from those who worked with Calvin, mostly because
reputation of being impersonal. "Dick Kitz put out a notice,
saying this is what happened," Johnson remembered. "It said
I [Kitz] want anyone who can to help out Calvin and
his family, and I intend to match anything that is
given."
Another Mass General employee gave something even more
special to Johnson during a late-night conversation while
the two were on-call. The conversation centered around
belief in God and applying the Bible to everyday life. "Well
I believe in God, and I try to do my best," replied Johnson
to his friend's questions about religion. And then came the
challenge from his friend. "He said, `Would you treat
medicine the same as your salvation?' And that really got me
thinking. I poured over my medical books. I couldn't read
enough about anesthesia and medicine. My only thing was my
career, and I was neglecting my wife. I could see the path I
was going down. I feel very fortunate to have had God
presented to me, and to respond the way I have
responded."
His faith walking with him every step of the way, Johnson
took his medical career from Boston in 1989 to Urbana, Ill.,
for a year and then to Hutzel Hospital of Wayne State
University in Detroit. He was the Chief of Obstetrical
Anesthesia at Hutzel for six years. He remained a very
active member of the International Churches of Christ, and
his relationship with God continued to grow.
Then, another opportunity came Johnson's way late in 1996
when he was appointed Chairman of the Department of
Anesthesiology at the King/Drew Medical Center in Los
Angeles. The hospital itself sprang out of the devastation
of the Watts riots in 1965. "You look at the pictures
[of the surrounding neighborhood], which are only 25
or 30 years old," explained Johnson. "and it looks like
you're in a third-world country." The area was in desperate
need of a first-rate health-care facility.
Through public funds from the city, county and state
governments the hospital opened its doors in 1972. The King
in the facility's title is taken from the great Civil Rights
activist, Martin Luther King, Jr., but the name of Drew
might not be as familiar. Charles R. Drew, an
African-American surgeon, pioneered techniques in blood
plasma and transfusions that are used today by the American
Red Cross and the medical community in general. The medical
school that is affiliated with the hospital also bears
Drew's name, and its chief mission is to produce doctors for
the underserved areas of the city.
King/Drew now serves a population density of 1.3 million
people, according to CEO Randall Foster. Just last month, a
brand new $65 million trauma center had its ribbon-cutting.
"The hospital is one of the leading trauma centers in the
world, and we handle about 23 percent of all trauma in L.A.
County," said Johnson.
But Johnson's motivation to head west was two-fold. The
International Churches of Christ, through an L.A.-based
benevolent arm called Hope Worldwide, allows physicians to
gain ministry training while they are practicing medicine.
"I'm training to become an elder, and I get involved with
Hope projects as they come up," said Johnson. "For example,
about a year ago Hope Worldwide established a hospital in
Cambodia. My wife and I had to make a decision on whether to
go to Cambodia to provide health care there, or come to
Charles Drew. We had small kids so it worked out best that
we should be here."
Those small kids are growing up quickly. While his son
Kevin, who is now 20 years old, already is in college in
California, his two younger children Jennifer (10) and David
(9) probably will face college decisions someday. The father
say he'd have no problem steering them toward the Ivy
League. "It's hard for me to say anything negative about the
Ivy League," said Johnson. "I think it's the model league
for scholastic athletics. It has the appropriate amount of
emphasis on, not just athletics, but all activities.
"From a black perspective, you are a minority. But I feel
that from a personal standpoint you're really a minority
everywhere you go because you have your own convictions ...
your own beliefs. Did I have experiences that occurred
because I was black? Well, yeah, but the only thing you have
total control over is how you respond to situations. You can
try to make them better or simply get bitter."
And so life goes on for Calvin Johnson and his family some
3,000-plus miles from his days of starring on the court at
Dartmouth's Memorial Gymnasium. His commitment to serve
people through his medical training and his religious
convictions is quite apparent. The NBA may have gotten "The
Doctor" and "Magic," but the nicknames in tandem seem to fit
Calvin Johnson even better.
-- Charles Yrigoyen III
***Please note, this story was written for a previous Ivy League Black History Month celebration. It is reproduced here for archival purposes and has not been updated.***
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