The Johnny Chronicles
By Joe Doherty

When Johnny was born the doctor and the priest advised my parents to leave him at the hospital, destined for an institution, never to be a part of our family. They ignored that advice, which was a blessing for John and for us.

When I began taking photographs at age 13 Johnny was one of my few eager subjects. Five years younger than me, he didn’t shy away and often struck a pose. Over time photography became a bonding activity for us, where he would pose for me if I let him shoot, too. On one occasion I gave him the camera and he spent a roll of film chasing our dog Moose around the yard.

As my photography progressed over the next ten years, from beginner to early professional, I kept photographing Johnny and his world. The schools he attended, family events, the Special Olympics, and our staged encounters were all documented.

The thing is, I had no intention of creating a documentary. I don’t consider myself a documentary photographer.

I had long promised myself that I would scan all of the film I still had from the 70s and 80s when I had the time. When COVID hit I had the time. As I digitized roll after roll I began organizing the images into separate collections, and the Johnny Chronicles began. I posted them on Facebook with captions that were true – but rarely factual. After a short time they became popular, and friends revealed their own stories about a Downs family member. After a somewhat longer time friends began asking when I would make a book.

In the middle of all of this, in April 2022, Johnny passed away from a lung infection. He was 57 years old. His death caused me to reflect on what his life had meant to us – his seven siblings – and to the larger community to which he belonged. He was known as loving and funny, and an absurdist of the first rank. For several years he would only sign his name, “Marty McFly.” It was this spirit that is reflected in the captions of my photographs.

On occasion my images were compared to those made by Diane Arbus. She photographed people with Downs living in an institution from 1969 – 1971. These were Johnny’s contemporaries, and it is the kind of place he would have lived if my parents followed the advice of the doctor and the priest. Arbus’ subjects appear isolated, at a distance, foreign. They are The Other.

What I’ve concluded after creating this body of work is that Arbus was stumped. She did not understand the fullness of lives she photographed, which were so very different from hers. How different? Johnny and his friends were rarely angry, they were not competitive, they shrugged off failure, they always had a good time, and they were very loving. They were Utopian. Johnny taught us empathy, and expanded our ambitions beyond the confines of our social and religious inheritance.

That is what the photographs in The Johnny Chronicles are about. His was a life lived in full, and his influence was widespread. He was seen by me and by others, and he never missed an opportunity to quote Jack Torrence from The Shining: “Heeere’s Johnny!”

The Johnny Chronicles. Great Party Press, 2025. www.greatpartypress.com