Nicholas Johnson
Nicholas Johnson, author of Big Dead Place and a close friend, took his life on November 28, 2012. Nick’s death is a heartbreaking loss to his family, to his friends, and to so many of us that knew him as an essential part of the Antarctic community. He had a voice and a spirit unlike any I’ve known, equally cynical and generous, funny and soulful. I loved him and I miss him.
No one has done more to change the way we understand Antarctica. Nick was unflinching in his critique of bureaucracy and authority in the United States Antarctic Program, but mainly he sought to create a dialogue within and about Antarctica that cut through cliche and hypocrisy in order to describe things as they really are, in all their glory and strangeness. Not all his readers realize that Big Dead Place (both the book and the website), which can be both brutally honest and explicit, is first and foremost an expression of Nick’s love of Antarctica and of the people in the USAP. He loved the place so much that he wanted to make it better. And he did. There is nothing like Nick or his writing in all of Antarctic literature or history. Not many people can say they upended a continent’s literature.
I knew Nick very well. We were happy roommates for two seasons on the ice, and we rented a flat together in Christchurch, New Zealand, for several months while for 15 hours a day we both wrote and researched in Christchurch’s Antarctic libraries. There was hardly an hour in all that time together that we weren’t talking about Antarctica, past or present. Rozo, Byrd, Shackleton flowed seamlessly through our conversations about galley food or South Pole politics. No one will ever understand my Antarctic writing – my whole Antarctic obsession, really – better than Nick. And I watched in amazement during those Christchurch months while he transformed himself from a writer of zines and broadsides into a master of narrative nonfiction.
Nicholas was his usual kind and generous self up to the very end. He and I were corresponding until just a few days before his death about this blog, of which he is the architect, and about Hoosh; I took his silence in the final days to mean he was busy with other projects. He seemed upbeat. I wish I had realized that he was so overwhelmed by the pain of living that he was making his final plans. Like every one of his many friends scattered around the world, I would have dropped everything to save Nick. But I had no idea he would do this.
I won’t talk here of what might have driven Nick to take his life. His stints as a contractor in Iraq and Afghanistan probably darkened his thoughts, and certainly he was disappointed about being blackballed from his beloved USAP, but I assume his suicide has deeper roots than that. Whatever his rationale, he was wrong. Life without Nick in it is so much poorer, so much emptier, and I can’t help but think that his demons could have been driven out if he’d shared them with the right people. But he was as guarded about his inner life as he was fair and generous in his personal life.
If you’re reading this without knowing Nick’s work, go and read Big Dead Place and explore www.bigdeadplace.com. If you don’t know American Antarctica, it will be strange going at first. It might help to be familiar with Hunter S. Thompson’s writings on American culture and politics, but Nicholas Johnson was a better writer, I think. And if you really want to understand, go wash dishes in McMurdo or operate heavy equipment at the Pole and fall in love with the place, the people, and the absurdity of life in a big dead place. At some point, you’ll think the same thing I will for the rest of my life: Hey, I really wish I could talk to Nick right now.
Many hugs to you, Nicholas even though you were not the “huggy” type. You have used your creativity to bring humor to many of us over the seasons. Thank you for that. I wish I knew you needed someone to bring you out from underwater. I have crawled out myself and could have thrown you support. I remember when i first met you during our first season in waste, you told me you could not believe i was simply “nice” and not wanting something in return. I wondered why you would think I had an ulterior motive. Nicholas, I have thought of you many times over the years and, well, it sucks to have to say goodbye.
Thanks for this article, Jason. I had lost contact (except for an occasional facebook hello) with Nick since our winter in 2008 when he lived across the from my boyfriend and me. I always enjoyed running into him in the hall and occasionally stopping by his room for a chat. Whenever he saw my friend, Kim, in the hall he’d sheepishly remove his hat as he approached her and then stop so that she could run her fingers through that thick head of hair he had. It was almost a ritual. My sister knew him from their first season (her only season) as DA’s in the galley in 1998 and she spoke highly of Nick. We each had little schoolgirl crushes on him at one point or another. He always had a smile on his face that could brighten my day, especially if it wasn’t going so well. When I picked up his Big Dead Place book, it was almost impossible to put it down until I read the whole thing. It made me laugh out loud in public places, which earned me odd looks from many strangers. So many people adored Nick. Never in a million years did I imagine he’d do something like this, but like many of his closest friends, even those of us who didn’t know him as well felt close to him and we would have done anything to help him out of that funk.
Sorry to hear…. He will be missed.
Jason, Thank you for sharing your thoughts on Nick. You are an excellent writer, as was Nick. I lost touch with Nick after my last winter in 2008 but not in my heart and I always thought I’d see him again. Like most Winterovers, he’s family and if he were in my presence today, it would be like no time had gone by and we’d be sitting in our dorm room laughing at Wunder Showzen or some other twisted thing. He was like nobody else, a really stellar person. I am sorry for your loss and for all of us who knew him and loved him.
Darin (Nick) was my cousin and, though we weren’t close as adults, we spent our childhoods together. I can’t call him Nick…that’s not who is was to me…but Darin was in my wedding and was godfather to my oldest son. I loved him and my heart breaks for him and the rest of our family who wish we had done more, stayed in touch…anything that might have prevented this. I am so gratified to read all the comments of those who knew him better as an adult…thank you for giving me insight into the man he became. I will forever remember him as the little boy that was devastated to learn he couldn’t marry my little sister, Kerrie. They had their whole lives planned out and I dashed their hopes with the simple fact that first cousins can’t marry. Boy, were they pissed!
Thank you, Jason, for the article. And for the picture…it’s classic Darin!
Jason, thanks so much for writing this. You said exactly what I’ve been feeling. Nick had been in touch with me recently and recommended your book, as I’m a bit of a foodie and write a blog. I went through the program back in 2002-04, and that’s how we got to know each other. Although it’s been a long time since USAP, Nick always dropped me lines every now and then. I’m really going to miss those updates. He was really a remarkable guy.
I did not know Nick very well, in fact, we only met a few times (Through you, Jason) and I only wish I had gotten to know him better. I did not have a relationship with Nick but I have, over the years, formed one through his writings. It will never be the same as knowing someone in the physical sense but I am grateful to be able to read his writings and views on living and working in the Antarctic. May your thoughts and wonderful insight about life on the ice stand the test of time.
Peace be with you.
I only knew of Nick through the book. The book made me fall in love with the ice, so I went there for 2 seasons. I’m saddened to hear this news. He was a folk hero to me.
I met Nick through his publisher and got him some help with his drinking which was spiraling out-of-control at that time. I felt that he didn’t stick with the program long enough, but he did cut out drinking anything stronger than beer for almost a year after a weekend of counseling. I didn’t know him very well, but I really liked him and when I heard that he’d ended his life I was shocked. Had I not been out of the country at the time I would have attended his memorial service.
I grew up with DJ. Or Darin. Or I guess Nick as he went by in later years… He was one of my very best friends in grade school and high school. After high school, we mostly lost touch. I saw him a few times, but eventually we faded out of each other’s lives. He was one of those guys that I knew in the back of my head that I’d meet up with again randomly, and it would be an amazing walk down memory lane – and a wonderful story telling time to catch up on everything we had missed. He was a great story teller, and made me laugh so hard it hurt. I didn’t know he was in Antarctica. I didn’t know he wrote a book. When I heard the news about his passing, my heart totally sank. Months later now, I’m still really bummed out. I bought and read his book immediately, and it really felt like he was telling a story in person. I’m so glad he spent the time to write that – or anything – just to relive an imaginary in-person story telling. I can’t help but think that he was in a dark place that *possibly* could have been lighted by bumping into one of his long-lost friends from grade and high school. Like me. So many of us loved him, and surely would have loved to spend time with him to hear his stories. If that chance re-meeting had happened, maybe he would have had something to look forward to – rather than end it. I am so bummed.