Dan Johnson, a former teacher from OHS, recently passed. This article was written by Dan before the 2010 reunion.
After leaving Ondossagon, he moved to Tomahawk, retiring from the Tomahawk school system in 1991. After serving 27 years as a teacher, coach Daniel C. Johnson, of Woodruff, passed away on Sunday, July 15, 2018. He was 80 years old.
Following his essay is his obituary.
MEMORIES OF ONDOSSAGON
By DAN JOHNSON (Ondossagon, 1961 -1964)
My first formal teaching assignment was a position at Ondossagon High School for the 1961-62 school year. I was assigned three classes of 9th grade English and two classes of beginning Spanish in addition to monitoring a study hall for one hour each day. My contracted yearly salary was $4,400, to be paid in 12 equal monthly payments of $366.66
Looking back to that distant time, little did I know when I accepted that teaching assignment, my true education was about to begin. That said, despite the many challenges that were associated with my early teaching experiences, the three years I taught at Ondossagon were, in many ways, the most beneficial and rewarding of my entire educational career.
For that reason, I will always be indebted to the Ondossagon community and retain fond memories of a time long ago when I, too, was an “Aggie.”
This narrative about an unplanned visit to the Ondossagon school building years ago was taken from a book of memoirs written shortly after that visit. Aware that those long-ago adolescents who shared my time at Ondossagon are now senior citizens about to partake in a much-welcomed reunion, perhaps this writing will spark some memories for that soon-to-be special gathering.
In the summer of 1991, my wife and I decided to take a short trip and spend a leisurely day visiting the Apostle Islands. After a brief stopover in Ashland, intended to reacquaint ourselves with a home we had shared many years ago, we began the scenic drive along the south shore of Lake Superior. This familiar stretch of highway passed by the Ondossagon High School, a special place with special meaning, the starting point for my 30-year career as an educator in Wisconsin.
As we turned north on Hwy 13 and were nearing Ondossagon Road, I found myself deep in thought, remembering my long-ago acquaintance with the Ondossagon School District. Aware that it had dissolved a year or so earlier, I wondered what had become of the school I had known so well years ago.
Realizing that 27 years had come and gone since I’d said goodbye to Ondossagon, my growing curiosity urged me to spend a few moments visiting my past. As we neared the country road leading to Ondossagon, I caught a glimpse of the vacant building in the distance. Time being of little importance, I thought, why not?
A quick turn and a short drive passed some unknown farm buildings, and we arrived at the school. As I parked the car and quietly studied the building, my thoughts went back to a time years ago when I sat in that same parking lot, debating my future.
Having accepted a new teaching assignment in another school district, I had formally submitted my resignation from Ondossagon. I told myself I had made the right choice for my growing family and me, but I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to say goodbye to a community that had given me so much. Of greater concern, I was leaving a special group of students who made my task of going to work each day a fun experience, the true goal of every teacher.
Then again, I thought, the decision had been made. There was no turning back. We left the parking area and drove to the back of the building, quietly studying the remains of the old school.
Aside from the need for general upkeep, the structure looked pretty much as I’d remembered it. A little messy perhaps, but no noticeable vandalism had yet taken place. Still, the various bits of farm machinery scattered around and next to the building looked out of place.
Satisfied there was no more to see, we were about to continue our planned journey when by chance, I noticed an opened door in the back of the building. My interest sparked by the possibility I might do some exploration, I parked the car and approached the open door, hoping to meet someone who would give me permission to look around inside. I shouted loudly into the darkened interior, waiting patiently for someone to answer my call.
With no response to my persistent greeting, “Hello,” I found myself faced with a dilemma. Hesitant to trespass, yet wanting to go into the old school building, temptation beckoning, I decided to take my chances and enter the school prepared to explain my presence to anyone I happened to meet. As I walked through the open door, I paused a moment peering into the darkened interior. The quiet ghost-like stillness inside the empty building seemed so different from what I remembered.
As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, I took note of various items scattered around the floor. Discarded books, papers, and other school-related debris lay in disarray — seemingly abandoned in the confusion of closing down the school. With sunlight streaming in from uncovered windows allowing me to find my way, in a short while, I was at the bottom of the well-worn stairway that led to the 2nd floor. Walking up the steps, I paused a moment, surrounded by the quietness of the empty building.
Viewing the vacant classrooms, I tried to recall the names and faces that went with each: Mr. Strom, Mr. Larson, Mrs. Lamoreaux, and Mr. Schmidt, a good guess, I thought. My classroom was the corner room facing Lake Superior. It had been specially equipped for teaching a foreign language.
As I walked through the opened door, I gazed around the room, feeling a sudden strangeness as I studied my surroundings. The once-familiar classroom was, at best, a distant memory. No chairs, desks, or any furniture, hardly a trace of the sophisticated language laboratory that once occupied a large area on the far side of the room. (In the early 60s, the newly-installed language laboratory at Ondossagon was a modern teaching tool in its infancy. Designed as an aid in teaching and learning a foreign language, it was among the first of its kind to be established in northern Wisconsin.
As a Spanish teacher, I had the good fortune to be trained in the use of this unique teaching tool that became commonplace in most schools in later years. Again, a reason to feel indebted to the Ondossagon community). Feeling nostalgic as I looked around the empty room, I found myself opening a chest of memories as I scanned the once-familiar surroundings. I slowly walked around, remembering names, faces, and happenings of a time gone by.
I stood a moment by a corner window and gazed at the empty shoreline of Lake Superior, remembering the many times I stood at that same window and watched as large ore boats sailed in and out of Ashland harbor. I thought for a moment how nostalgia is such a great thing; it lets us remember another time, perhaps more pleasant than it once was.
I was about to end my visit when I glanced up at the PA outlet mounted on the wall. Kindling a spark of remembrance, my thoughts raced back to an unforgettable moment, November 22, 1963. It was Friday afternoon, and classes had just begun. As I stood in front of the room teaching 9th grade English, our lesson was interrupted by the shocking announcement that our president had been shot while visiting in Dallas, Texas.
Alarmed by this unexpected announcement, our class abruptly ended. With textbooks closed, we sat in silence, waiting for more news of this tragic event. A minute or so passed, and a second painful announcement filled the room. Our country’s leader, President Kennedy, was dead. A stunned, emotional stillness filled the room as we all came to grips with what we had heard. What followed was a confusing display of mixed emotions, a few whispers, but mostly silence.
A further announcement stated that school was to be dismissed as soon as the buses were ready to transport everyone home. We sat in silence and waited. In a short time, the busses were ready, and the school day came to an end. I stood a moment, reflecting on that tragic event, and thinking of all that had happened in the years that followed. I wondered what had become of all the young men and women who sat with me that eventful November afternoon as we listened to the news that our president had been assassinated. I wondered if they, too, remember that sad moment in time we shared together (Now approaching half a century).
With my wife Loretta no doubt wondering of my whereabouts, my pleasant journey back in time about to end, I took one last look around the room. Noticing an eraser and a long-forgotten piece of chalk, I felt a sudden urge to mark my visit. Pausing a moment, searching for words that fit the occasion, meaningless words to most I thought, yet fitting, I scribbled my goodbye on the dusty chalkboard, “Gracias por las memorias.” It was time to move on.
Born in Hurley, WI, in 1937 to William C. and Rita (DeRosso) Johnson, he graduated from the J.E. Murphy HS, in Hurley, WI. A veteran of the US Navy, in addition to other assignments, he served aboard the destroyer USS Harlan R. Dickson during the Suez Crisis of 1956, where his ship assisted in the evacuation of American citizens from Haifa, Israel, as the Israelis and Egyptians fought for control of the canal. He was a long-time member of the Minocqua American Legion, Post 89.
Upon honorable discharge from military service, he enrolled at the UW Superior. Graduating with a Bachelor’s Degree in education in 1961, he began his work career at the Ondossagon High School, Ashland, WI, teaching English and Spanish.
Relocating to Tomahawk in 1964, he was employed at the high school teaching Spanish and coaching various sports, including football, wrestling, and baseball. A highly successful baseball coach, in addition to winning numerous conference championships, on two occasions, his teams lost their only game of the season at the state quarter-finals.
Upon completion of his Master’s Degree in guidance and school administration in 1968, he became the guidance counselor at the Tomahawk Junior HS, serving as their first counselor. Reassigned to the position of high school guidance director in 1973, he served 18 years as an administrator and guidance counselor for the Tomahawk HS retiring in 1991.
Upon retirement from the school district, Dan began a second work career as a field supervisor for the US Department of Labor, managing the “Green Thumb” senior work program in Northeastern WI. Assigned the task of assisting elderly citizens in their efforts to find meaningful employment, in 1993, he received special recognition on a national level for exceptional achievement in job placement of needy elderly Americans.
Retiring from the workforce in 1995, he and his wife Loretta traveled throughout much of the world. A visit to ‘Machu Picchu’ in Peru, and a journey down the Amazon River in Brazil, were two of his fondly recalled special ventures. A long-time member of the Bradley Township governing board in Lincoln County, he devoted much of his efforts as a board member to the development of various community projects, including the planning and development of Theisen Park in Heafford Junction. He also served as a volunteer little league baseball coach for many years. Additionally, he was an active member of many local and state civic and academic organizations, most often serving in a leadership role. A carpenter and all-around handyman, Dan took particular delight in doing it for himself.
During retirement, he and Loretta resided for many years in their self-built home in Harshaw, on the shores of Heiress Lake, where “Papa” experienced the love and special joy of spoiling his grandkids during frequent family outings. For many years during retirement, he and Loretta made their winter home at a senior resort in Pharr, Texas, in the Rio Grande Valley. A long-time “Winter Texan,” in addition to square dancing, frequent golf outings, and lengthy sessions playing billiards, he also served as a volunteer teacher, teaching Spanish and memoir writing to other senior retirees.
A lifelong resident of northern Wisconsin, he took personal satisfaction in living in the north woods. In addition to hunting and fishing, he especially enjoyed kayaking the many tranquil, pristine waters of Vilas and Oneida counties. A cancer survivor, confronted with persistent health issues, he and Loretta gave up their home in Harshaw and relocated to Woodruff in 2015.
In addition to Loretta, his wife, best friend and traveling companion for 60 years, he is survived by two children, Keith (Linda) Johnson of Tomahawk, and Katherine (Michael) Larsen, of New Bern, North Carolina. He is further survived by a sister, Sandra, and husband, Terry Tadyzck, of Milwaukee; a sister-in-law, Joan Johnson of New Mexico and brothers-in-law, Ervin Kaste of Big Flats, WI and Richard Daul of Simi-Valley, CA. Other survivors include 7 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents; brother, Kenneth Johnson and sister, Audrey Kaste.
In accordance with Dan’s wishes, cremation will take place. A private family memorial will be held at a later date.
After leaving Ondossagon, he moved to Tomahawk, retiring from the Tomahawk school system in 1991. After serving 27 years as a teacher, coach Daniel C. Johnson, of Woodruff, passed away on Sunday, July 15, 2018. He was 80 years old.
Following his essay is his obituary.
MEMORIES OF ONDOSSAGON
By DAN JOHNSON (Ondossagon, 1961 -1964)
My first formal teaching assignment was a position at Ondossagon High School for the 1961-62 school year. I was assigned three classes of 9th grade English and two classes of beginning Spanish in addition to monitoring a study hall for one hour each day. My contracted yearly salary was $4,400, to be paid in 12 equal monthly payments of $366.66
Looking back to that distant time, little did I know when I accepted that teaching assignment, my true education was about to begin. That said, despite the many challenges that were associated with my early teaching experiences, the three years I taught at Ondossagon were, in many ways, the most beneficial and rewarding of my entire educational career.
For that reason, I will always be indebted to the Ondossagon community and retain fond memories of a time long ago when I, too, was an “Aggie.”
This narrative about an unplanned visit to the Ondossagon school building years ago was taken from a book of memoirs written shortly after that visit. Aware that those long-ago adolescents who shared my time at Ondossagon are now senior citizens about to partake in a much-welcomed reunion, perhaps this writing will spark some memories for that soon-to-be special gathering.
In the summer of 1991, my wife and I decided to take a short trip and spend a leisurely day visiting the Apostle Islands. After a brief stopover in Ashland, intended to reacquaint ourselves with a home we had shared many years ago, we began the scenic drive along the south shore of Lake Superior. This familiar stretch of highway passed by the Ondossagon High School, a special place with special meaning, the starting point for my 30-year career as an educator in Wisconsin.
As we turned north on Hwy 13 and were nearing Ondossagon Road, I found myself deep in thought, remembering my long-ago acquaintance with the Ondossagon School District. Aware that it had dissolved a year or so earlier, I wondered what had become of the school I had known so well years ago.
Realizing that 27 years had come and gone since I’d said goodbye to Ondossagon, my growing curiosity urged me to spend a few moments visiting my past. As we neared the country road leading to Ondossagon, I caught a glimpse of the vacant building in the distance. Time being of little importance, I thought, why not?
A quick turn and a short drive passed some unknown farm buildings, and we arrived at the school. As I parked the car and quietly studied the building, my thoughts went back to a time years ago when I sat in that same parking lot, debating my future.
Having accepted a new teaching assignment in another school district, I had formally submitted my resignation from Ondossagon. I told myself I had made the right choice for my growing family and me, but I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to say goodbye to a community that had given me so much. Of greater concern, I was leaving a special group of students who made my task of going to work each day a fun experience, the true goal of every teacher.
Then again, I thought, the decision had been made. There was no turning back. We left the parking area and drove to the back of the building, quietly studying the remains of the old school.
Aside from the need for general upkeep, the structure looked pretty much as I’d remembered it. A little messy perhaps, but no noticeable vandalism had yet taken place. Still, the various bits of farm machinery scattered around and next to the building looked out of place.
Satisfied there was no more to see, we were about to continue our planned journey when by chance, I noticed an opened door in the back of the building. My interest sparked by the possibility I might do some exploration, I parked the car and approached the open door, hoping to meet someone who would give me permission to look around inside. I shouted loudly into the darkened interior, waiting patiently for someone to answer my call.
With no response to my persistent greeting, “Hello,” I found myself faced with a dilemma. Hesitant to trespass, yet wanting to go into the old school building, temptation beckoning, I decided to take my chances and enter the school prepared to explain my presence to anyone I happened to meet. As I walked through the open door, I paused a moment peering into the darkened interior. The quiet ghost-like stillness inside the empty building seemed so different from what I remembered.
As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, I took note of various items scattered around the floor. Discarded books, papers, and other school-related debris lay in disarray — seemingly abandoned in the confusion of closing down the school. With sunlight streaming in from uncovered windows allowing me to find my way, in a short while, I was at the bottom of the well-worn stairway that led to the 2nd floor. Walking up the steps, I paused a moment, surrounded by the quietness of the empty building.
Viewing the vacant classrooms, I tried to recall the names and faces that went with each: Mr. Strom, Mr. Larson, Mrs. Lamoreaux, and Mr. Schmidt, a good guess, I thought. My classroom was the corner room facing Lake Superior. It had been specially equipped for teaching a foreign language.
As I walked through the opened door, I gazed around the room, feeling a sudden strangeness as I studied my surroundings. The once-familiar classroom was, at best, a distant memory. No chairs, desks, or any furniture, hardly a trace of the sophisticated language laboratory that once occupied a large area on the far side of the room. (In the early 60s, the newly-installed language laboratory at Ondossagon was a modern teaching tool in its infancy. Designed as an aid in teaching and learning a foreign language, it was among the first of its kind to be established in northern Wisconsin.
As a Spanish teacher, I had the good fortune to be trained in the use of this unique teaching tool that became commonplace in most schools in later years. Again, a reason to feel indebted to the Ondossagon community). Feeling nostalgic as I looked around the empty room, I found myself opening a chest of memories as I scanned the once-familiar surroundings. I slowly walked around, remembering names, faces, and happenings of a time gone by.
I stood a moment by a corner window and gazed at the empty shoreline of Lake Superior, remembering the many times I stood at that same window and watched as large ore boats sailed in and out of Ashland harbor. I thought for a moment how nostalgia is such a great thing; it lets us remember another time, perhaps more pleasant than it once was.
I was about to end my visit when I glanced up at the PA outlet mounted on the wall. Kindling a spark of remembrance, my thoughts raced back to an unforgettable moment, November 22, 1963. It was Friday afternoon, and classes had just begun. As I stood in front of the room teaching 9th grade English, our lesson was interrupted by the shocking announcement that our president had been shot while visiting in Dallas, Texas.
Alarmed by this unexpected announcement, our class abruptly ended. With textbooks closed, we sat in silence, waiting for more news of this tragic event. A minute or so passed, and a second painful announcement filled the room. Our country’s leader, President Kennedy, was dead. A stunned, emotional stillness filled the room as we all came to grips with what we had heard. What followed was a confusing display of mixed emotions, a few whispers, but mostly silence.
A further announcement stated that school was to be dismissed as soon as the buses were ready to transport everyone home. We sat in silence and waited. In a short time, the busses were ready, and the school day came to an end. I stood a moment, reflecting on that tragic event, and thinking of all that had happened in the years that followed. I wondered what had become of all the young men and women who sat with me that eventful November afternoon as we listened to the news that our president had been assassinated. I wondered if they, too, remember that sad moment in time we shared together (Now approaching half a century).
With my wife Loretta no doubt wondering of my whereabouts, my pleasant journey back in time about to end, I took one last look around the room. Noticing an eraser and a long-forgotten piece of chalk, I felt a sudden urge to mark my visit. Pausing a moment, searching for words that fit the occasion, meaningless words to most I thought, yet fitting, I scribbled my goodbye on the dusty chalkboard, “Gracias por las memorias.” It was time to move on.
Born in Hurley, WI, in 1937 to William C. and Rita (DeRosso) Johnson, he graduated from the J.E. Murphy HS, in Hurley, WI. A veteran of the US Navy, in addition to other assignments, he served aboard the destroyer USS Harlan R. Dickson during the Suez Crisis of 1956, where his ship assisted in the evacuation of American citizens from Haifa, Israel, as the Israelis and Egyptians fought for control of the canal. He was a long-time member of the Minocqua American Legion, Post 89.
Upon honorable discharge from military service, he enrolled at the UW Superior. Graduating with a Bachelor’s Degree in education in 1961, he began his work career at the Ondossagon High School, Ashland, WI, teaching English and Spanish.
Relocating to Tomahawk in 1964, he was employed at the high school teaching Spanish and coaching various sports, including football, wrestling, and baseball. A highly successful baseball coach, in addition to winning numerous conference championships, on two occasions, his teams lost their only game of the season at the state quarter-finals.
Upon completion of his Master’s Degree in guidance and school administration in 1968, he became the guidance counselor at the Tomahawk Junior HS, serving as their first counselor. Reassigned to the position of high school guidance director in 1973, he served 18 years as an administrator and guidance counselor for the Tomahawk HS retiring in 1991.
Upon retirement from the school district, Dan began a second work career as a field supervisor for the US Department of Labor, managing the “Green Thumb” senior work program in Northeastern WI. Assigned the task of assisting elderly citizens in their efforts to find meaningful employment, in 1993, he received special recognition on a national level for exceptional achievement in job placement of needy elderly Americans.
Retiring from the workforce in 1995, he and his wife Loretta traveled throughout much of the world. A visit to ‘Machu Picchu’ in Peru, and a journey down the Amazon River in Brazil, were two of his fondly recalled special ventures. A long-time member of the Bradley Township governing board in Lincoln County, he devoted much of his efforts as a board member to the development of various community projects, including the planning and development of Theisen Park in Heafford Junction. He also served as a volunteer little league baseball coach for many years. Additionally, he was an active member of many local and state civic and academic organizations, most often serving in a leadership role. A carpenter and all-around handyman, Dan took particular delight in doing it for himself.
During retirement, he and Loretta resided for many years in their self-built home in Harshaw, on the shores of Heiress Lake, where “Papa” experienced the love and special joy of spoiling his grandkids during frequent family outings. For many years during retirement, he and Loretta made their winter home at a senior resort in Pharr, Texas, in the Rio Grande Valley. A long-time “Winter Texan,” in addition to square dancing, frequent golf outings, and lengthy sessions playing billiards, he also served as a volunteer teacher, teaching Spanish and memoir writing to other senior retirees.
A lifelong resident of northern Wisconsin, he took personal satisfaction in living in the north woods. In addition to hunting and fishing, he especially enjoyed kayaking the many tranquil, pristine waters of Vilas and Oneida counties. A cancer survivor, confronted with persistent health issues, he and Loretta gave up their home in Harshaw and relocated to Woodruff in 2015.
In addition to Loretta, his wife, best friend and traveling companion for 60 years, he is survived by two children, Keith (Linda) Johnson of Tomahawk, and Katherine (Michael) Larsen, of New Bern, North Carolina. He is further survived by a sister, Sandra, and husband, Terry Tadyzck, of Milwaukee; a sister-in-law, Joan Johnson of New Mexico and brothers-in-law, Ervin Kaste of Big Flats, WI and Richard Daul of Simi-Valley, CA. Other survivors include 7 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents; brother, Kenneth Johnson and sister, Audrey Kaste.
In accordance with Dan’s wishes, cremation will take place. A private family memorial will be held at a later date.
This is a beautiful remembrance of our lovely school! Thank you for sharing it here for us to admire.
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