Anthony Johnson, Kansas City land surveyor who loved math and dominoes, dies at 55

Editor’s note: This feature is part of a weekly focus from The Star meant to highlight and remember the lives of Black Kansas Citians who have died.

Anthony Johnson was laid to rest on Tuesday, more specifically the 22nd of February, a perfectly palindromic 2/22/22 that turned the date into an unofficial holiday for those with an interest in math and once-in-a-generation happenings.

Johnson, a 55-year-old land surveyor who died about one month ago, would have unabashedly loved the day dubbed Twosday, his cousin and close friend Jonathan Smith said. Numbers were his life.

In his work for the City of Kansas City, Missouri, a company behind a construction project would bring him to the site to meticulously look over the unfinished structures, scrutinizing every detail to give it a thorough safety review. Precision was key, said Smith, 51 — he determined the density of the cement, checked that metal rods were inserted correctly, cross-referenced measurements he took with the requirements of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The mountain of data, instead of overwhelming him, let him know he was in the right place.

He often felt that way in his personal life, too, perhaps best evidenced by his lifelong passion for games that called for problem-solving. He was a fan of dominoes in particular, playing in an online league called The Domino Mob and serving as the group’s self-appointed statistician, compiling past wins, losses and relevant percentages into an Excel spreadsheet.

Johnson — known to family as Tony — was introduced to dominoes through relatives and the game would inevitably come out at family gatherings or when he and Smith were spending time together. They would sit around a table, in Smith’s home or even at a 24-hour IHOP, slapping down tiles.

But as the games carried on through long nights, often bubbling into intense competition and smack talk, they also gave way to conversations about life, love and the value of spending time doing the things you care about.

“We would talk about relationships. We would talk about politics. We would talk about our various careers,” Smith said during a phone interview this week. “We would talk about a plethora of things.”

Johnson’s death on January 24 came following a short illness, dealing a blow to relatives and loved ones across Kansas City, Kansas, and Kansas City, Missouri.

His love of numbers and equations was a big part of who he was, a man who gleefully posted to social media on days like Pi day or when an interesting analytical thought popped into his head. But what his family says made him so valued to so many — and so missed now — was that he put his brain to good use.

Developers and builders lost a surveyor known for his careful, unbiased consideration, who was willing to tell a large organization to redo a part of the job if it meant the structure would be up to code and safer. He worked on ambitious undertakings like the Cerner campus in North Kansas City, as well as projects at places like the Ward Parkway Center, Plaza East Bridge and Zona Rosa. He was proud of an environmental sustainability certification he received last year, allowing him to further expand his work.

Though Johnson could be quiet around people he didn’t know, once a person connected with him, he opened up and became the type of friend who would offer a ride home or help in a moment of crisis. Smith remembers he once came to jump start his car. Some of his buddies had a nickname for him: “Captain Love.”

“His birthday happened to be Valentine’s Day,” Smith noted. “So that’s kind of a connection — how loving he was of people.”

Johnson was born on February 14, 1966, in Paris, France, to father Albert Johnson, who was stationed in the city with the U.S. Air Force. His mother, Anna Jean Smith, who goes by Jean, recalls they lived in a row of townhomes for about two years. Cattle roamed in fields in the distance.

They first moved back to North Carolina, where his parents were from, before settling down in Kansas City, Missouri. Johnson was the only child they had.

At a young age, he was bright, happy-go-lucky and well-behaved, Jean recalls. He showed early signs of his future career in the way he stacked his Legos with purpose. He dreamt of building things.

He had aspirations of being an architect.

After he graduated from F.L. Schlagle High School, he went on to the University of Kansas, and then to Kansas City, Kansas Community College and then to Longview Metropolitan Community College in Lee’s Summit where he studied land surveying and drafting technology. He first worked for Performance Contracting Inc. for a few years before he accepted a position with the City of Kansas City, Missouri.

He periodically held extra jobs, including positions at Gates and Applebee’s. A self-professed entrepreneur, he also kept hordes of products on-hand — laundry detergent, energy drinks, vitamins — and sold them to his own regular buyers, believing good service would keep them coming back, Smith said.

Then there was all the work he didn’t get paid for, like the hours he put in as an ambassador with his church, the Walnut Boulevard Missionary Baptist Church, setting up affiliate groups in countries like the Congo and the Philippines, connected by virtual bible study.

In between his many engagements, family recall, he would play online dominoes. One of the things he liked to do most was “set up shop” at his local Waffle House, as Smith described it, plopping down at a table, ordering food and pulling out his phone.

He chatted with the wait staff, all of whom knew him by name. They inquired over the last month about his funeral service.

Johnson, who wasn’t married, managed a busy social life between his upwards of a dozen cousins and several friends, along with occasional dates. Friends sometimes teased him for the waves he put in his hair, his curly locks brushed into fine ripples in an effort to impress the ladies. His friends would joke in pictures they took and sent that they too had “waves for babes.”

But he didn’t change too much for women in his life, Smith said. There was one time he invited someone to play dominoes with the two of them, and she was surprised at how intense it got.

“We beat them real bad and the lady friend got very upset,” Smith said. “Before she came to town, I said, ‘Tony, have you told her what to expect?’”

He feels Johnson’s infatuation with the game had something to do with his upbringing as a bookish kid, not always excelling — or wanting to excel — in sports like football. With dominoes, or even a hard equation on the board, he could beat you with his mind.

His favorite subject was always math because it showed him how to “see what numbers can do,” his cousin said.

If he could have known his funeral was held on a palindrome, Smith said he would’ve been ecstatic and appreciative they paid so much attention in choosing the date. Then he would’ve posted about it.

“If he had a chance to post on social media about his own funeral, he would’ve posted about it,” Smith said.

Other remembrances

Helen Johnson

Helen Johnson, a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother with a passion for bowling and listening to the soul and gospel music of her youth, died February 15, according to an obituary from Serenity Funeral Home. She was 83.

Born on September 4, 1938, Johnson was the first child in her family, later welcoming a younger sister. She went to RT Coles Vocational School in Kansas City, Missouri, and later worked for Walkers Donuts on 35th and Prospect for three years, the obituary said.

Her longest career was with Gasket Engineering, a Kansas City manufacturing company, where she worked for more than three decades.

She married Willie Johnson Jr. at a young age and they had four children. They were together for 68 years.

She was described as a people person who liked to cook homemade meals — she preferred to not go out to eat — as well as bowl in her regular bowling league, play cards and go out on her boat. She loved the blues, and the music of Aretha Franklin and Mahalia Jackson. She was famous for her potato salad.

She’s survived by her husband, Willie Johnson Jr.; children, Margaret Bell, Sylvia Johnson, Miranda Marshall and Alfred Johnson; eight grandchildren; eight great-grandchildren; and many nieces and nephews.

Eric Kitchen

Eric Kitchen, affectionately known as Stevie and known for being the sharp-dressed life of any party, died January 29 inside The Groves Therapy and Long-Term Care Facility, according to an obituary shared by Golden Gate Funeral & Cremation Services. He was 61.

Born on December 27, 1960, he was the fifth child of seven, the obituary said. He attended Kansas City, Missouri public schools and in 1979 graduated from East High School.

He had two daughters as well as two granddaughters.

Kitchen had a reputation for making grand entrances at parties, and loved to sing and dance, as described in the obituary. He also cherished time spent with family and friends.

He’s survived by his daughters, Erica Pulluaim-Kitchen and Trenika Kitchen; two granddaughters, Makiyla Shepheard and Imani Magnolia-Rose Kitchen; five siblings, Vicki Lenard, Virgil Kitchen, Perry Kitchen, William Kitchen and Jon Kitchen; and several nephews, nieces and cousins.

Floyd Newman Jr.

Floyd Newman Jr., a father of six, Navy veteran and postal employee of more than 40 years, died February 18, according to an obituary from Duane E. Harvey Funeral Directors. He was 84.

Born on July 11, 1937, in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, Newman’s family moved to Kansas City, Kansas, when he was 3. He went through KCK schools, graduating from Sumner High School in 1955.

He was in the Navy for 22 years and then worked for the U.S. Postal Service for 41 years. He retired in 2001.

He raised six children with his former wife and was a devout Christian. He was a member of the Bethel Baptist Church from the time he was a kid and later joined Concord Fortress of Hope Church, where he served in the senior ministry and occasionally led bible study sessions.

Additionally, he was part of the Black Angels Motorcycle Club.

He’s survived by his wife, Joyce Newman; three daughters, Carmen Lee, Lucinda McDowell and Nichole Daniels; stepson, Jason Mcneil Sr.; two daughter-in-laws, Carol Thompkins and Mahasian Pledger; 19 grandchildren; 11 great-grandchildren; and several other relatives.