Abstract

John J. Johnson—one of the giants of the field of Latin American history, and indeed Latin American studies in general—passed away peacefully on May 28, 2004, in Gunnison, Colorado, at the age of 92. Johnson hit his stride in the late fifties and early sixties, just when the profession was exploding. He contributed mightily to its newfound success and rapid growth.Born on March 26, 1912, on a farm in White Swan, Washington, Johnson took pride in growing up on an Indian reservation. He received his A.B. from Central Washington College of Education in 1940, the first college graduate in his family. He earned his M.A. (1943) and Ph.D. (1946) from the University of California, Berkeley. Johnson served as professor of history at Stanford from 1946 to 1977, during a time when this university was quickly rising to academic prominence. In the early 1950s, he also worked in the State Department as acting chief of the South American Branch of the Division of Research on the American Republics. Throughout his career, he loved sports, fishing, people, and reading—especially history. Above all, Johnson was devoted to his wife, Maurine, a librarian, whom he married in 1942. Maurine, who passed away in 1996, shared his dedication to learning and students. He is survived by his son, Michael Johnson.Johnson’s scholarship and many publications were vastly influential. In them he explored uncharted territory and opened up vistas for future research by scores of investigators to follow. Some of his writings sparked heated debate, but Johnny (as his friends called him fondly) insisted, “It is better to be criticized than ignored.” His first books reflected an ardent interest in the political sociology of the tremendous transformations sweeping post–World War II Latin America. His interdisciplinary approach and concentration on modern politics led some readers to assume he was a political scientist, although he vehemently denied any such accusation.Without a doubt, Johnson’s first book was his most powerful and enduring. Political Change in Latin America: The Emergence of the Middle Sectors (Stanford Univ. Press, 1958) won CLAH’s Bolton Prize. Political Change placed the kaleidoscopic swirl of political instability in the sociological context of the rise of the middle classes, an interpretation that was echoed in the Alliance for Progress and that has engaged scholarly discussion ever since. Johnson quickly followed with another colossal and controversial subject, editing The Role of the Military in Underdeveloped Countries (Princeton Univ. Press, 1962) and authoring The Military and Society in Latin America (Stanford Univ. Press, 1964). The Military and Society in Latin America blazed new trails by analyzing the social backgrounds and attitudes of the armed forces. Its analysis of their political interventions also revealed Johnson’s abiding concern with broad policy issues. As in some of his other studies, he introduced unusual sources, including fictional texts. During this same period, he edited one of the most widely read interdisciplinary collections in the burgeoning field of Latin American studies, Continuity and Change in Latin America (Stanford Univ. Press, 1964), a magisterial collection of state-of-the-art knowledge about social actors in the region. His last study of internal politics and political ideas in Latin America journeyed back in time in Simon Bolivar and Spanish American Independence, 1783–1830 (D. Van Nostrand, 1968), with the collaboration of Doris Ladd. On the reputation of these publications, few U.S. specialists on Latin America rivaled Johnson’s stature.Johnson then turned his research to U.S.–Latin American relations, including the groundbreaking book Latin America in Caricature (Univ. of Texas Press, 1980), a collection and analysis of U.S. editorial cartoons about its southern neighbors. It became popular not only for its brilliant unmasking of the ethnocentric, racist, and gendered nature of U.S. stereotypes toward the region but also as a gold mine of poignant cartoons for classroom use. Johnson the followed with A Hemisphere Apart: The Foundations of United States Policy toward Latin America (Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1990), another assessment of arrogant U.S. attitudes toward Latin Americans and the socioeconomic factors underlying those relations. After retirement, the indefatigable Johnson plugged away on a companion to his earlier book on caricatures, crafting a manuscript tentatively entitled “Foreign Images of the United States, 1860–1992” that sadly never reached publication.Another of Johnson’s monumental legacies is the large number of graduate students who became Latin Americanists under his guidance, not to mention countless undergraduates. For his Ph.D.’s in Latin American history, he pioneered in training women, including Silvia Arrom, Margaret Chowning, Patricia Fagen, Mary Felstiner, Doris Ladd, and Catherine LeGrand. Also nurturing students from the lesser sex, he was the principal doctoral adviser to Russell Bartley, Charles Bergquist, Paul Drake, Rollie Poppino, George Schuyler, Carl Solberg, Steve Stein, Richard Walter, and John Wirth.1Like a Latin American “patron,” Johnson offered his graduate students a regimen of tough love. From his first contact with newcomers, he communicated heartfelt friendship and rigorous expectations. He urged upon us all the importance of responsibility to the profession, familiarity with and respect for scholarship by Latin Americans, devotion to original research, and commitment to comparative and interpretive history. Although some of us emulated his concern with the social origins and consequences of politics, he never imposed his topics or viewpoints on his apprentices. Johnson did, however, insist on clear writing. When our prose became too leaden, he would scrawl in the margin, “I need a drink.” Sharing that need, the graduate students relished the obligation of bartending at his faculty parties and then lingering afterwards for dinner and poker.Johnson also made enormous institutional contributions to the field of Latin American studies. One of the architects of LASA, he served as its president and received its first Kalman Silvert award for lifetime achievement—one of his most treasured honors. He also supported CLAH, presiding as chair and generously endowing the coveted Bolton Prize for the best book of the year (converted into the Bolton-Johnson prize in 2000). One of Johnson’s most cherished accomplishments was serving in the early 1980s as managing editor of the Hispanic American Historical Review. He directed the Latin American Center at his beloved Stanford, turning it into one of the finest Latin American area studies centers in the country.A towering figure with a shock of white hair, a zest for life, a sparkling sense of humor, and feisty opinions, Johnson cut a wide path. To his many admirers, he embodied academic professionalism, high standards, and tireless work. Especially for those of us who enjoyed his unflagging support and affection over the years (even when we disagreed with some of his outspoken points of view), he will remain a profound presence. Long after we had left Stanford, Johnson continued to take an avid interest in our families as well as our careers. We will miss his warmth and wisdom. Even those who never knew Johnny can still appreciate the heritage of his contributions to the literature, people, and institutions that have shaped our field.

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