Editor’s note:
Each Monday, The Daily Journal will be featuring excerpts from the life journals of the late Don Johnson. Johnson and wife Layna made their home and living, year ’round, on three islands within a range of a mile and a half on Rainy Lake.They were the parents of Don (“Buck”) Johnson, Byrne Johnson (who presents the journals), Beryl (“Sally” or “Babe,”) Jernberg and Karen Gustafson.
Part 3 will publish on June 30.

Don Johnson Journal and Letters
1936 - Camp Koochiching
Part 2
A major activity for Don Johnson during the winter of 1936 was the building of a sail boat for Camp Koochiching. This boat was built using all hand tools except for a gasoline engine powered band saw. The workshop was heated by a wood stove and was barely big enough to contain the boat.

Boat building (as Jim DiOnne tried to make clear to us) is a trade in itself and not something to be picked up by a couple of bums in a few weeks. I never did think it was as easy as Vance seemed to think it was going to be but then again, I must confess that I never thot it would be as hard either.
Jan. 16 Max -15 Min -5 Light N wind.
As Jim warned me, the boat is a “pot bellied S.O.B.” and therefore presents a few problems in planking that would make even a boat builder scratch his head. That being the case, there is an excellent chance that this amateur shall have his hair torn out by the roots before the planking is on.
Jan. 17 Max -24 Min -10 Light N. wind.
Four o’clock rolled around before I knew it and I had to knock off in order to meet Buck. On crossing the lake, I saw where a big moose had come from the north and gone into Bancroft [now Frank’s] Bay. Met Buck at Jespersons and had a row with their damned dog. Made a kick at him that would have joined him with his deceased bitch of a mother, but missed. I’ll time it a little differently next time. It was 15 below so we stopped in at Ben’s [Haskell] to warm up. He was cursing fate because he hadn’t got a crack at the moose. I don’t blame him. The critter had walked right up to his door early this morning.
January 18 Max -32 Min -12 Light N wind.
... the plank split slightly. In my rage at such an un-looked for calamity, I threw the hammer hard enough to break a hole in the floor. (I wish it had been Jespersons dog!) Layna comes down every day and shoulders all blame for each catastrophe. With her aid and sympathy, together with Jim’s information, I’ll make it despite my blundering.
Jan. 19 (Sunday) Max -25 Min -10 Wind north.
I tried putting on the piece that was cracked yesterday. After kidding myself that the crack wouldn’t show up much now that the plank was hollowed out. Such an illusion! It loomed up like one of those crevasses that Admiral Byrd lost his tractors in at the south pole. That would never do. I got it where I wanted it shortly after noon when someone rapped on the door. It was Carl Harrison. He listened to my ravings for a while and then decided I needed a change rather badly. He suggested we go fishing. No sooner said than done. We snowshoed over to the nearest house and gave it a try. We saw three and got one. About the same average as I get on the planks. The Harrisons left about 6 o’clock taking Buck with them. Layna and I both noticed that he had behaved very well on this visit home. He resented my telling him that at the rate he gobbled his food, he would have an ulcer like Vance before he reached thirty. I asked him how he would like to be awakened every morning with a belly ache. That stimulated those over active tear glands of his. I asked him why he didn’t cry every time someone gave him a little information and that helped a lot. Evidently he hadn’t thot of it as mere information. Funny about kids. They will sit for hours while you pump information of all kinds from natural history or geography but the moment they feel you are trying to help them form better personal habits they immediately jump to the defensive. Oh, well, I guess that is a trait that most of us carry over to manhood.
Couldn’t find the paper when I got ready for this sheet. Had a row with Layna over it. I’m making a determined effort to take care of my stuff and it burned me to think the paper was missing. Was sure I had left it on the table with the typewriter. We finally found it under Byrne’s bed. Maybe the kids put it there. I hate to believe that I was to blame. If that were the case, there is small hope for me ever getting organized.
Jan. 20 Max -20 Min -10 Moderate NW wind.
This has been a dandy day, cleaning up the shop and helping Layna remodel the old toboggan. I can’t help but feel that some unknown pitfall awaits me. This fatalistic attitude is something new to me. There is a reason, however. I am in unexplored wilderness and to date the going has been anything but smooth. It all has a horrible fascination for me. I have never lived more fully than the last few days. That damned boat has made me forget to write down that I still find time to read at least an hour a day. Will soon finish Byrd’s Discovery. Layna baked bread, fixed the toboggan and did all the chores. Her time can’t be called wasted. She is now reading the Ladies Home Journal. Don’t feel qualified to comment.
Jan. 21 Max –36 Min –15 Moderate NW wind.
The coldest day of the year so far. Hated to start for the shop early as usual because I knew it was practically impossible to warm the place up. The wind was strong enough to make things miserable. At ten o’clock the thermometer said 20 below so I decided to go. The place got reasonably warm in about an hour and soon after Layna came down with the kids. Byrne has another loose tooth (his second) and every now and then I catch him off to one side with a far away look on his face as he wiggles the loose member back and forth. Too bad for most of us that we haven’t such a perfect excuse when a similar look spreads over our features.
Jan 22 Max -42 Min –30 Strong north wind.
I really believe this to be the coldest day since we came up here. The mercury has dropped lower in years past but never has it been below forty accompanied by a high wind. It keeps us busy firing the stove. I went out the first thing this morning to get some wood. The pile is only about 100 feet from the door yet one of my ears got frost bitten. The fact that it didn’t get warmer than –30 all day was also unique. As I walked home along the path, I stopped a bit to watch the stars. They are far more brilliant on these cold nights than at any other time. The cold weather does have its compensating features. Both Layna and myself have been reading to Byrne out of the poetry book that George Ray sent Buck for Xmas. He seems to have a natural aptitude for it and learns to recite with very little difficulty. That is a trait I believe can be found in all normal kids. It is merely a question of the parents think it worth the trouble of developing. I have never begrudged the time spent in learning the few poems I know. I am sure the kids’ time can’t be spent in a more profitable manner.
Jan. 23 Max –42 Min –20 Light north wind turning to SE at noon.
A conversation I overheard went like this: Byrne, “Mother, read me a story.” Mother, “I did read you one today.” Byrne, “Yes but read me another.” Mother, “What will we do when all the stories are read?” Byrne, “Don’t worry, by that time it will be Xmas again.”
Jan. 24 Max –25 Min –10 Strong W. wind. Clear.
There was but little chance that Clara would let Buck start for home in this cold but we realized it would be a mess in case she did and no one went to meet him. As we were getting low on chuck anyway, Layna left about noon for town. She plans on staying till 2 o’clock tomorrow. I wonder how close she will come to making it on time. I kept the kids with me in the shop but the Babe complained of a stomach ache so I took them home about noon. The kids had been alone long enough so I went home and made them supper. Started to read Richard Halliburton’s New Worlds to Conquer after getting the kids in bed.

The reference to a Mando scholarship, as it appeared in the original front page Don Johnson story on June 16, should have been attributed to the life of Don’s son, Byrne Johnson.
Also, Don Johnson was raised in Hibbing but was born in Minneapolis.