Oak Lawn's Hero of Mount St. Helens

• Dr. David A. Johnston, 13 hours before his death on May 18, 1980. The eruption of Mt. St. Helens and the David Johnston Community Center in Oak Lawn.

When Mount St. Helens erupted thirty-six years ago this month, the mud and rock and steam and gases spewed by the temperamental mountain reached all the way to Chicago, punching the south suburbs with an emotional wallop.

The eruption of Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980 would claim the life of 30-year-old volcanologist David A. Johnston, a former Oak Lawn kid whose warnings may have saved thousands of others from perishing that Sunday morning.

'Unapologetic Nerd'

Johnston was born at University of Chicago Hospital on Dec. 18, 1949. Like many young families living in the city in the post-World War II years, his parents broke for the suburbs, moving to a starter home in the veterans community of Hometown. A few years later, the Johnston’s would move to Oak Lawn, living at the “elbow turn on West 102nd Street.”

His father, Tom Johnston, was an engineer for Peoples Gas; his mother, Alice Johnston, was a community journalist, writing for the Palos-Worth Reporter and Southtown Economist. Both died in 2009 and 2005, respectively.

Growing up, young David aspired to be a photographer for National Geographic. He shot pictures of community events for the newspapers where his mother worked. He graduated in 1967 from Richards High School, where he was a member of the National Honor Society.

One blog tribute affectionately described Johnston as an “unapologetic nerd.”

A bad grade in a journalism class at University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign sent him to a geology 101 class. There, Johnston found his life’s passion, graduating in 1971 with “the highest honors and distinction” in geology.

'A Thing of Beauty'

Johnston enrolled the next fall in a doctoral track in geology at University of Washington. As a graduate student, he became fascinated with volcanoes, and spent summers researching Mount Augustine in Alaska, writing his dissertation on the volcano’s eruption in 1976. Johnston’s specialty was sampling volcanic gases. Much of his research work for the U.S. Geological Survey focused on the theory that volcanic eruptions could be predicted, improving advanced warning systems and saving lives.

"Dave's agility, nerve, patience, and determination around the jet-like summit fumaroles in the crater of Mt. Mageik were to me a spectacle of unforgettable beauty,” a fellow geologist told Scientific American.

'A Dynamite Keg With the Fuse Lit'

In 1980, Mount St. Helens was often compared to Japan’s Mount Fuji. Her perfectly formed snow-capped dome was the jewel of Washington State’s Cascade Mountain Range. Increased seismic activity on the mountain, which included more than 100 earthquakes alone during March 1980, sent Johnston along with a team of USGS scientists to monitor the growing bulge on Mount St. Helens’ north face.

One hundred twenty-three years since her last eruption, Mount St. Helens was giving all indications that she was stirring from her slumber, in search of her morning coffee.

As seismic activity steadily increased in the months leading up to the eruption, colleagues said that Johnston was the most fearful of the temperamental mountain. Still, Johnson performed risky tests to learn more about volcanoes and how much of a threat Mount St. Helens posed..

He because a constant presence during the news media’s “Mount St. Helens watch,” describing her for reporters as a “dynamite keg with the fuse lit.”

“I’m not trying to be an alarmist,” he continued, “and I’m usually pretty calm around volcanoes, but I’m generally afraid of this thing. I think it would be wise to get out of here.”

He was later chastised by USGS higher ups for instilling panic. A hurt Johnston is reported to have replied: “I was just trying to help.”

'Vancouver! Vancouver! This Is It!'

On May 17, 1980, Johnston reluctantly filled in at the Coldwater II outpost, 5.2 miles from Mount St. Helens, so that a colleague could attend a meeting. The next morning, Johnston radioed his last measurements assessing the growth of the bulge on Mount St. Helens’ north face.

At 8:32 a.m., a 5.2 magnitude earthquake rocked the forest around the mountain, causing Mount St. Helens to burst laterally, The eruption triggered the worst landslide in recorded history as the north face of Mount St. Helens disappeared.

Grabbing the radio, Johnston yelled his last words: “Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it,” before he perished in a landslide of timber and molten rock.

Johnston would be one of 57 souls to lose their lives that Sunday morning, including 84-year-old Harry R. Truman (no relation to President Harry S Truman), the proprietor of Spirit Lake Lodge, who became a folk hero after he refused to evacuate the red zone along with his cats.

'We Still Miss Him'

Although Johnston had only worked there for two years when he died, colleagues said his impact on the USGS was enormous. The volcanic observatory at Mount St. Helens was named for him, and the dedication of the USGS’s official report, “The 1980 Eruptions of Mount St. Helens,” was dedicated to him. Johnston is credited with providing “far more data” of the activity leading up to Mount St. Helens’ climactic eruption.

At the 1997 dedication of the Johnston Ridge Observatory in Washington State, near the place where he died, Johnston’s father told the Chicago Tribune: “We are tremendously proud of him and his place in history. And we still miss him.”

Perhaps the most poignant memorial of all, is the David Johnston Community Center in Oak Lawn’s Centennial Park. On a recent evening, some mothers were there selling candy and pizza during the Westside Youth Baseball games. Viewing a small commemorative plaque inside the community center, they were in awe of the man it was named for.

“You learn something new every day,” the mom said.

The last radio transmission of David Johnston on May 18, 1980

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