Herbert Stanley Johnson, Jr.

Herb Johnson was a self-made man. Born and raised on the tough streets of Dearborn, Michigan. Son of a railroad man and a city politician. He served his country during World War II and was injured in combat. Because of the GI Bill, he was able to pay for his education. He studied chemical engineering at Wayne State University, but was a few credits short of graduation. Nobody ever actually asks to see a copy of your diploma. He built his house and his family in Downers Grove, just outside of Chicago, Illinois. He was a globe-trodding, jet-setting TITAN of Industry. He did business in Hong Kong, vacationed in San Francisco, drank Budweiser and smoked Lucky Strikes. He once said, "Every man should build a house, have a child and write a book." He did all three.

"He once had an awkward moment... just to know what it felt like."
"If he punched you in the face... you'd have the uncontrolable urge to thank him."
"Every time he goes for a swim... dolphins appear."
"His legend precedes him... like lightning precedes thunder."
"He wouldn't be afraid to show his feminine side... if he had one."
"At museums... he's allowed to touch the art."

Old Herb was the kind of man you respect. He was the kind of man you look up to. The kind of man you want to try to be.

How about that beard, huh!?