In the 1960s, George E. Johnson’s manufacturing facility drew visits from Nobel laureate Ralph Bunche, boxer Muhammad Ali and the then-president of Liberia, William Tubman.
But hosting the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was especially memorable for Johnson, founder of Johnson Products Co.
As King toured the 30,000-square-foot building on Chicago’s South Side, he asserted, “Now this is Black power!”
That’s precisely what Johnson wanted to achieve with his hair care business. He’d purposely built the headquarters alongside the Dan Ryan Expressway at 8522 S. Lafayette Ave. to be a physical beacon in the Black community. Black Chicagoans could see the success of his company — employing more than 100 people and generating millions — and hopefully be inspired.
“I wanted it to be a challenge,” Johnson said during a recent chat. “I wanted people to know that it was Black-owned. It was sitting right there in plain sight. You couldn’t miss it, and you couldn’t deny it.”
King’s visit is discussed in the first chapter of Johnson’s memoir, “Afro Sheen: How I Revolutionized an Industry with the Golden Rule, from Soul Train to Wall Street” (Little, Brown and Co.). Published in February, the book documents Johnson’s creation of Ultra Sheen, Afro Sheen and other Black hair products. Readers will learn how Johnson escaped poverty to achieve many milestones: building the first Black-owned business to trade on Wall Street, financing “Soul Train” and co-founding Independence Bank — once the largest Black-owned bank in the country.
But his passion for giving back to others, especially those who look like him, is at the heart of the story.
“When you help people, people will help you,” said Johnson, an advocate of treating others as he would want to be treated. “And if you serve them well, they’re going to make your business successful.”
Now living in Streeterville, Johnson will celebrate his 98th birthday Monday. An epiphany compelled him to start writing the book in 2021, he said. Relaxing in his home, he’d clearly heard the words, “You must tell your story.”
“I believed it was the Lord telling me what I had to do,” he said.
He partnered with co-writer Hilary Beard, who interviewed him about his life. Together, they have created a book that tells not only Johnson’s story, but the story of Black America and Black Chicago.
Born in 1927 in Mississippi, Johnson lived through the Great Depression, Great Migration, segregation and the Civil Rights Movement. He did business with or otherwise supported a host of noteworthy Chicagoans, including S.B. Fuller, Don Cornelius, John H. Johnson, Vincent Cullers, Tom Burrell, Alvin J. Boutte and the late Mayor Harold Washington. And back in 1966 at Johnson Products Co.’s cafeteria, King and the Rev. Jesse Jackson launched Operation Breadbasket, a program to bolster the economic success of Black Americans.
“This man’s life has seen a sweeping arc of American history, and he can tell firsthand the untold and suppressed Black history,” said Beard, who is based in Philadelphia. “I really want to emphasize what a groundbreaker and trailblazer he was and how important his innovations were for Black people to be able to access the mainstream workplace. He’s really a pivotal figure.”
But the book is far from a dry history text. Johnson’s journey in the hair care business unfolds like a dramatic film, complete with a nemesis who keeps popping up in the story: Chicago barbershop owner Orville Nelson.
Nelson and Johnson were originally partners; the two met in 1953 when Johnson was working in the lab for the Black-owned Fuller Products Co. Johnson helped perfect Nelson’s formula for chemically straightening Black men’s hair. Following a period of conflict, the men dissolved their partnership.
Despite relentless competition from Nelson, Johnson successfully started and sustained his company with help from his first wife, Joan Johnson. Along with Ultra Wave Hair Culture for men, they began selling a hair-straightening product for women, Ultra Sheen Relaxer, which took the business to new heights.
The products had a major impact on Black Americans, who had to assimilate into white society to obtain better employment opportunities.
For his own employees, who were predominantly Black, Johnson offered impressive benefits for the time, including health insurance, a generous amount of paid sick days, four-day holiday weekends, college tuition reimbursement, maternity leave and a profit-sharing program.
Johnson’s ability to achieve success and give back was hard-fought. In the book, he is candid about the systemic racism he navigated, from banks rejecting his loan applications to retail stores refusing to stock his product.
Reflecting on his ability to endure so many hurdles, Johnson said, “I was never afraid of failure.”
By the 1970s, Black Americans were embracing natural hairdos. Johnson sold products like Afro Sheen to help them style the natural texture. He hired Black advertising firms in Chicago to develop print and TV campaigns.
Ads created by Vincent Cullers and Tom Burrell were revolutionary at the time. They showed positive images of Black people interacting with loved ones or working in myriad professional careers.
Burrell said the promotions reflected the Black pride, Black power and “Black is beautiful” cultural movements that celebrated Black identity.
“You don’t have to be the same to be equal,” explained 86-year-old Burrell, founder Burrell Communications, who now lives in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. “Black people are not ‘dark-skinned white people.’ “
Burrell praised Johnson’s work with Black-owned firms and activists in the Black community.
“He was so generous with his time and his insight and his advice,” Burrell said.
Burrell’s sentiments are shared by John W. Rogers Jr., founder and co-CEO of the Chicago-based Ariel Investments company.
Johnson was close friends with Rogers’ mother, Jewel C. Stradford Lafontant, and stepfather, Ernest Lafontant. He worked with the couple’s law firm, Stradford Lafontant & Lafontant. Later, his organization, the George E. Johnson Foundation, became one of Ariel Investment’s early clients.
“When you’re trying to build a business, people always say it’s important to have access to capital, but having access to customers is important,” Rogers said. “He worked with me directly and was very impactful. But he did that for so many.”
Rogers also commended Johnson’s philanthropic endeavors, which included support for the Chicago Urban League, college scholarships, young entrepreneurs and cultural organizations.
Johnson’s tenure with Johnson Products ended in 1989 following his divorce. As part of the settlement, he resigned and turned over a controlling stake to his first wife, Joan, who eventually sold the company to Ivax Corp.
“Telling the truth about my mistakes and my infidelity — that was the hardest part,” Johnson said of writing the book.
He and Joan ultimately remarried and stayed together until her death in 2019.
Johnson credits his current wife, Madeline Murphy Rabb, with helping him get through sharing those difficult moments of his life.
Murphy Rabb said hearing his full story allowed her to know and love him more deeply.
“This is a man who was a visionary,” she said. “He always knew he was going to succeed. And that is audacious and wonderful and inspiring. He had a great belief in his products, and he wanted his products to change people’s lives.”
Ownership of Johnson Products continued to shift over the years, from Ivax to L’Oreal, which divested itself of multiple Johnson brands. Procter & Gamble owned some brands for a time. In 2009, Johnson Products was reestablished as a Black-owned enterprise when a consortium of investors purchased the business, but the group ran out of money.
Today, Johnson said he is encouraged by the success of Black entrepreneurs, but laments the current political attacks on diversity, equity and inclusion.
“It breaks my heart what’s going on now,” he said. “It is hard for me to even believe that people can willfully do what’s being done now. I won’t be around to know how it comes out, but I’m concerned about the future. I’m very concerned.”
But looking back at figures like Johnson can serve as a guide for today’s generation, Tom Burrell said.
“We need to know who we are, and we can’t know who we are if we don’t know where we come from,” he said. “We need to know what’s possible by what was possible at a time when the challenges were even greater. And they’re less challenging today because of all of the work, all the pioneering, all the doors that were opened by our ancestors. And we have a real penchant nowadays for forgetting.”