“When he did something, he committed 100 percent to it. Nothing was ever half-assed. He treated every project like it was his own.”
On March 31, 2025, Bouten President Tim Thomas made the following announcement to employees: “On Friday, March 28, long-time Bouten superintendent John Johnson passed away after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year. He was 53.” John Johnson, he went on to say, “was no ordinary man.” John’s two sons, Brandon and Derek, know exactly why.
Our dad started building houses with his Uncle Larry when he was nine years old. He was homeschooled, so he graduated from high school when he was fifteen, maybe sixteen. By the time he was seventeen he’d started his own business—Double-J Construction—building custom homes in Grants Pass, Oregon. That’s about the time he met our mom. After a couple of years they decided to start a family. But it was hard for mom to raise kids on her own while they were trying to run a business. So they moved to Coeur d’Alene. That was 1998. A year later he found Bouten.
Dad never looked back. From the time he was a kid to the very end, he worked. He never sat still—if he did, he’d fall asleep—because he just wanted to provide for his family. So that’s what he did. There were probably days he wished he’d been a doctor or something, but that happens to all of us from time to time, right?
He was the most talented guy we’ve ever known. A wizard. You’ll never find anyone with his skills and capabilities that was also as humble as he was. And it wasn’t just the final finish quality that never had a flaw in it—that guy cooked a mean prime rib. Probably the best. Hands down.
He had every tool you could imagine, and he had three of every one of them. And even though his shop was always in a state of constant chaos, he somehow knew where everything was at. Always. When he got sick there towards the end, a bunch of family came up from Oregon and they thought they were being helpful and organized the shop for him. And to this day we can’t find anything because nothing is where it used to be. Dad was the kind of guy where, if the dishwasher or the computer went out, he’d be tearing it apart and fixing it himself. He wasn’t doing it to save money. He did it because he could. He liked the challenge. There was one time he hired someone to come out and put in an AC unit for him. Dad could have done it himself, but it turned out the guy was strapped for money and Dad was like, perfect. Cost of the unit plus like $500 cash for the day. And then he tipped his helper, too.
Dad never asked for help. It wasn’t pride or anything. He just didn’t want to burden anybody else. But he was definitely who you called if you didn’t know how to fix something or needed help figuring something out. It seemed like somebody from work was always doing that. And Dad always had an answer. The guy was a massive resource for so many. That’s where the humility thing comes in: He was always serving others. Didn’t matter what or when. The only time he’d say “No” is if you tried to pay him.
Dad didn’t leave us a bunch of money, but he left us a work ethic. We definitely feel his presence even today. Every time we think about cutting a corner, there’s Dad’s voice; a hand on the shoulder. “Don’t do it.” And you’re like, “Okay. I’ll do it the right way.”
