Baseball to banjo — Don Johnson left mark on Niagara Falls
Don Johnson loved baseball so much, he didn’t want to leave the house to watch it. So when it came time to move nearly 20 years ago, he wanted one specific house on Temperance Avenue because it overlooked the ball park where the slo-pitch league he formed would play.
Only problem? It wasn’t for sale.
“Dad said to (the agent), ‘I want to buy that house, so you go see if they’ll sell it to me … go knock on the door,’” recalls Johnson’s daughter Theresa. “So the guy did, and it turns out the family did want to move. Dad bought the house.”
A few weeks ago, knowing he was dying of cancer, Johnson had one request for his nurse: He wanted his bed propped up so he could look out the window. So he could watch baseball one last time.
Johnson, one of the most decorated and recognizable figures in Niagara Falls, died Saturday at 91.
He didn’t want a funeral, says Theresa. Or an obit. Or any kind of function where people he barely knew would gather around and be sad. When he received his terminal cancer diagnosis in early August, he gave his family a simple message: “People that care about me will find out.”
And they did. During his final month, they visited frequently. Friends, family, even former mayors. Johnson’s reach went far in this city, and they came to say goodbye.
“Dad was very principled,” says Theresa. “Dad always visited people that he cared about.
He would make sure he knew what was going on.”
Beloved by both the sports and arts community in the city, Johnson was born in St. Catharines but spent the last 65 years of his life in Niagara Falls. He first made his mark in the ’70s, when his friends convinced him to devote part of the 20-hectare farm he owned with wife Katherine on Beaverdams Road into a baseball diamond for the over-40 slo-pitch league they formed.
It opened in 1977, with donated bleachers from Stamford Collegiate. There were four teams to start. Among the rules: No collisions at home plate.
As it grew in popularity, there were concerns about liability insurance. In 1982, the city helped the transition to the former Memorial School grounds. Over the years, Johnson would help pay for improvements himself.
In 1992, the city renamed it Don W. Johnson Park.
“He’s the only person I’ve ever known to have a park named after him years before he passed, so you know he did something right,” says grandson Chris Zimmerman.
But Johnson had another identity in town: The smiling musician. For decades, he could be seen playing his four-string banjo — which was as old as he was — at parades, city events, dedications, even Niagara Square. He started playing in his 40s, and was remarkably better than ever this summer, says Theresa. People applauded him during the Canada Day parade, and even during his last month — when he knew he would be gone soon — he played a stirring 90-minute set at a Niagara-on-the-Lake museum.
“(My sister) said, ‘Theresa, that was the best dad ever played. I couldn’t believe how fabulous all the music sounded.’ I mean, as far as I was concerned, he played for 50 years — it was damn well time he got better.”
The arts ran in the family: Among his daughters is Niagara Falls artist Nancy Zimmerman, whose son Joel is better known as music superstar Deadmau5.
“He was always very proud of Joel,” says Theresa.
Zimmerman’s brother Chris is currently filming a travel show which he was eager to show his grandfather. But the day after he returned from a recent trip, Johnson died.
“He may not have ever changed his outfit — red flannel every day since at least ’83 — but he for sure brought a lot of change to Niagara and to those who knew him,” he says. “He’ll be missed.”