I was deeply sorry to hear about the death of Peter Johnson. I have fond memories of the self-made businessman who, in my eyes, was ambitious, smart, confident and witty.
While the former-chairman was not without failings and mistakes – such as proposing ground moves to Aintree and then Cronton, signing Samways and Simonsen and, of course, introducing DJ Spuddles to the world, he invested his own money into the club via a rights issue, attracted several top footballers to Goodison, and lifted some silverware.
My recollections are captured in the following extracts from my books Everton Crazy and Everton Proud:
After years of depraved indifference, the club was teetering on the brink of insolvency when the self-proclaimed Red grabbed control. His coronation was a quiet affair on Merseyside. To the best of my knowledge, there were no street parties and banks, schools and post offices remained open. That said, it was rumoured that there was an extra public holiday in the Norwegian cities of Oslo, Bergen and Trondheim to allow his fellow Kopites to celebrate.
Secretly, I was confident that the savvy Merseyside businessman would re-establish the secure foundations required to return Everton to the elite. He had worked miracles at Tranmere where, with the help of Johnny King – our former-player, he had guided them from the very foot of the old Fourth Division to the gates of the new Premier League.
At Goodison, Johnson showed more ambition than the previous regime. After his hounds chased Mike Walker out of his lair, he made substantial headway by constructing the club’s Megastore and refurbishing the bridewell featured on the club’s badge. Of course, there was the small matter of him arranging for the funds to smash the club’s transfer fee record three times in consecutive years. He underwrote kitties of £40 million for Joe Royle to sign Daniel Amokachi, Duncan Ferguson, Andrei Kanchelskis, Gary Speed, Nick Barmby and Slaven Bilic and another £20 million for Walter Smith to attract Olivier Dacourt, Marco Materazzi, John Collins and Ibrahima Bakayoko. His greatest successes? He captured the FA Cup and the FA Charity Shield and – wait for it – decided not to sign mercenaries named Ravanelli and Muller.
Still, many Blues remained unhappy. To them he was Agent Johnson. Peter Johnson and his faithful lieutenant Clifford Finch could do nothing right in the eyes of those who saw their reign littered with insensitivities. These included replacing ‘Z-Cars’ with ‘Fanfare for the Common Man’, evicting the supporters’ club, supplying season-tickets with red covers – I know, you couldn’t make it up – and planning to abandon Goodison. More important, the increasingly skeptical fans criticized his failure to attract a top manager to replace Joe Royle who had left after being prevented from signing Tore Andre Flo from Brann. The recruitment fiasco included a drawn-out rejection from experienced and accomplished Bobby Robson and a sharp snub from inexperienced and raw Andy Gray.
By then, Johnson’s popularity was low. I received a poignant sign of his fall from grace in the most unlikely of locations – the Valley of the Kings. My wife and I were accosted in the Luxor souq by a young shopkeeper named Mr Happy who was wearing an Everton shirt. He offered the usual patter: ‘Come inside. Asda prices!’ I asked him which team he supported. He looked at me with polite puzzlement: ‘Mr Happy loves One & One.’ Next I enquired his source his fine article of clothing. After much reflection, he admitted to finding it in a rubbish bin. It seemed ironic. Since then I’ve wondered about the previous owner. I imagine that he was a young Blue from Merseyside who took his prized shirt on holiday and discarded it in disgust, possibly after discovering that the yellow, white and blue hoops were different to those worn by the players.
Throughout the 1997-98 season, the club was a laughing stock and hung on to its Premiership lifeline by goal difference. At that time, I was invited by Johnson to submit a proposal to reduce costs and enhance revenues as well as provide a strategic framework for longer-term operations. My approach involved a team of four diehard Blues, experts in legal, management, accounting and public relations issues, who would volunteer their time. Yes, for free. No consulting fees. No expense claims. No percentage of savings. The chairman embraced the idea but claimed to have received little, if any, support from his fellow directors of longer standing. I understand that one gentleman in particular – I’ll let you decide who – was suspicious of our intentions and asserted that my team lacked football experience.
When Norman Jones, our mutual lawyer, and I dined with the new Everton chairman in Chester, I detected no preference towards the dark side of Stanley Park. That was until he asked me about my favourite goal. ‘Was it Alex Young’s header that won the title? Or was it Derek Temple’s shot that captured the FA Cup?’ I told him: ‘No, it’s the next one we score against the Reds’. He didn’t laugh. His muted riposte was surprising because he had been both charming and jovial all evening. Indeed, my lasting impression of Johnson is his ego confronting me about the caricature planned for inclusion in Gwladys Street’s Blue Book. Vainly he asked: ‘Did you have to make me look so bald and so fat?’ He blushed when Elizabeth responded: ‘Of course not. But I do think that it makes you look virile.’ The chairman countered: ‘Don’t worry; I’ll have the last laugh.’
In spite of the amount of hope invested in Johnson’s reign, it ended in controversy with the banks pounding on his door shortly before he sold our prized asset. On November 23, 1998, Johnson transferred Duncan Ferguson to Newcastle for a handsome fee but without the full knowledge of Walter Smith. To this day, I’ve wondered about the deal – especially since Smith and Ferguson had the same agent. I attended the match with Alex Young and remember Brian Labone greeting us in the Joe Mercer Suite: ‘We’ve sold the big man to reduce the overdraft.’ I assumed he was joking and waited for his punch-line. It never came. Alex was flabbergasted. No ambitious club sells its most popular player behind its manager’s back.
After four tumultuous years, during which his personal fortune shrunk allegedly from £150 million down to £50 million, the Everton chairman resigned in late-1998 and, after another 12 months of negotiations, sold his controlling stake for £20 million to True Blue Holdings. Johnson returned to Prenton Park where Tranmere embarked on a dazzling cup run – eliminating several Premier League clubs – to reach the 2000 League Cup final.
As for the last laugh? Johnson’s Tranmere side – including our former-players Paul Rideout and Graham Allen – humiliated Kenwright’s Everton in the fourth round of the FA Cup. It occurred on January 27 – now observed on the south bank of the River Mersey as St Yates Day. Surely, no Blues will disagree that Tranmere out-played their hosts and won deservedly thanks to two goals from Steve Yates and another from Jason Koumas. Vividly, I can visualize the scenes after Tranmere went 3-0 up. Their supporters sang loudly and danced wildly as the home fans headed for the exits. One chant reverberated around Goodison. It can’t be erased from my brain: ‘One Peter Johnson – there’s only one Peter Johnson’. This unwanted giant-killing remains one of the most embarrassing afternoons I’ve experienced as an Evertonian.
Even though he was not every Evertonian’s cup of tea, Peter Johnson should be remembered for his meaningful contributions to the welfare of our club as well as Tranmere Rovers and his philanthropic support to many people throughout Merseyside.