2006 - Volume #30, Issue #6, Page #05
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Harold Johnson, Rest In Peace
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I worked for Harold for 16 years and I can honestly say we never had a disagreement of any kind. He was the best boss a fellow could ever have because as long as you did your job, he stayed out of your way. Everyone liked Harold because there wasn't a mean bone in his body. He was a bit of a character who liked to make people smile. Next to his family and church, there was nothing Harold liked better than a good joke. So at his funeral, funny stories were flying as thick as snowflakes in January. He also loved FARM SHOW, the magazine he started from scratch in 1977. In fact, he asked to have a copy of the very first issue of FARM SHOW placed in his casket. His daughter, Julie, also spread copies of FARM SHOW around the funeral home, complete with subscription coupons. "Dad was always trying to sell a few more subscriptions," she told people.
Harold was born and raised on a farm near Beresford, South Dakota. After a stint in the army in Germany, he earned an ag journalism degree from South Dakota State University and a Master's Degree from Iowa State. He worked as an editor at Webb Publishing in St. Paul for 20 years, eventually helping to launch Farm Industry News and serving as its editor for 7 years.
In 1977, with three children approaching college age, he left his job to launch a first-of-its-kind "no advertising" magazine unlike anything ever published. He started FARM SHOW from scratch, going from 0 to 25,000 subscribers the first year. After five years, FARM SHOW had more than 150,000 paid subscribers in the U.S. and Canada. Today the publication is approaching 200,000 subscribers and is completing its 30th year. The magazine still accepts no advertising, relying solely on subscriptions from readers.
Harold retired in 1994, and spent the past 12 years surrounded by friends and family. He traveled a great deal, including a trip to the 2000 Olympics in Sydney, Australia, and could often be found "down at the farm" in South Dakota, where he still owned his family's original homestead. Although he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease shortly before retirement, he did not let it keep him from getting out in the world, and he continued to actively "make the rounds" of friends and family, always ready to brighten the day of any and all who got to spend time with him.
In addition to publishing, Harold was an active member of his church, singing in the choir and soloing for weddings and funerals. He was also an active member of a local barbershop chorus for many years. In fact, members of the chorus sang hymns "barbershop style" at his funeral.
His wife Joan, who co-founded FARM SHOW with Harold and worked here for 17 years, passed away in 1997. He is survived by his sister, three children, and six grandchildren.
If Harold were here today, he'd tell me not to make too much of a fuss. Then he'd probably tell a joke. Since his favorite jokes often involved those hapless Swedes, Ole & Lena, I thought I'd pass along a few of the ones he was especially fond of:
• So, one night Ole was sitting reading the paper when he looked out the window and saw that his barn was on fire. He quick jumped up and called the fire department and said, "Hurry, come quick, my barn's burnin' down!" The fire chief replied, "Ole, slow down. Now how do we get there?" And Ole said, "Well don't you have that little red truck anymore?"
• In the middle of the show, Ole stands up and yells at the ventriloquist, "Hey! You've been making jokes about us Swedish people long enough! Cut it out!"
And the ventriloquist says, "Take it easy.They're only jokes!"
And Ole says, "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to that little guy sitting on your knee!"
• Ole and Sven grabbed their poles and headed out to do some ice fishing. As they were augering a hole in the ice they heard a loud voice from above say, "There are no fish under the ice."
Ole and Sven moved about 25 ft. over and started to make another hole. The voice said a little stronger, "There are no fish under the ice."
They both looked around and then looked up. Ole said in a humble voice, "Are you God?" The voice spoke back, "No ya idiots! I'm the ice rink attendant."
• A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he could buy him a drink. "Vy sure," comes the reply. The first man then asks: "Ver ya from?"
"Sveeden," replies the second man. The first man responds, "Ya don't say, I'm from Sveeden too! Let's have anudder round to Sveeden."
Curious, the first man then asks: "Vere in Sveeden are ya from?"
"Stalkhome," comes the reply.
"I can't believe it," says the first man. "I'm from Stalkhome too! Let's have anudder drink to old Stalkhome."
Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks: "So, vere did you live?"
"On a boat, at da fishin docks," replies the second man.
"Dis is unbelievable!" the first man says. "I lived on a boat at da fishin docks, too!"
About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar. "What's up?" he asks the bartender.
"Nothing much," replies the bartender, "Ole and his brother Sven are getting drunk again."
• A neighbor asked Ole why the Swedish government doesn't draft men until age 45. Ole exlpained, "Dey vant to get dem right outta high school."
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