Fletcher Johnson

Published 3:54pm Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Mr. Fletcher Johnson of South Street, Franklin, Va., 71, a beloved, husband, father, brother, grandfather and father-in-law transitioned to the celestial city on December 9, 2012.

Fletcher was born on February 23, 1941, in Franklin, Va., to the late Henderson and Rubie Johnson.

He was preceded in death by two brothers, Henderson Johnson Jr. and most recently, Pretlow Johnson.

Fletcher with confidence and style approached Doris Jean Biggs to be his wife. They were married on September 21, 1960, and to this union, six children were born, two daughters and four sons.

His memory will be eternally cherished by his beloved wife, Doris Jean Johnson; two daughters Andrea Johnson of Newport News, Va., and Robin Johnson of Hampton, Va.; four sons; Roney (Lena) Johnson of Charlotte, N.C.; Marvin Johnson of Virginia Beach, Va.; Pastor Terrance (Annette) Johnson and Daryl (Lashan) Holloway of Bowie, Md., a special son, Feshun Scott; and grandchildren, great-grandchildren, several nieces, nephews, cousins and three sisters-in-law.

A homegoing service will be held at 11 a.m. Friday, December 14, 2012, at Apostolic Faith Church of God, 680 Oak Street, Franklin, Va., with Bishop Felton Hawkins delivering the message of comfort; Elder Ronnie Warren is pastor.

The committal and benediction will be in Southview Cemetery.

On the day of service, his remains will be placed in church for viewing by 9:30 a.m.

A traditional service with dignity will be conducted by Wm. M. Johnson & Sons Funeral Home, Inc., 224 S. Main St., Franklin, Va. Please share your condolences with the family at www.wmjohnsonandsons.com


































  • Makalani

    Fletcher — Peter Vaughan — an older brother next to me — and Morris Jones — our next door neighbor on Cemetery St. — were good friends as teenagers. Often in the summer — Fletcher would ride his Schwinn Hornet bike to Cemetery St. to hangout with Peter and Morris.

    If they decided to go downtown to Bop Charley’s or Mr. Predell Hardy’s pool hall — to chase girls — to the movies — or whatever — as the “pesky” younger kid brother I was not welcome to tag along. Fletcher would leave his bike with me for safekeeping. Sometimes they would be gone all day. That suited me just fine.

    During the 50s/60s — the Schwinn Hornet was the “Cadillac of road bikes” — fat tires — fat seat with springs — fenders — a fancy chain guard — a rack on the back — a tank on the crossbars and a fancy headlight. Even though I had a bike — I would never pass up a chance to tool around town on that Hornet!

    I would ride Fletcher’s bright red Hornet all over Franklin! In no particular order — up to Four Brothers and back — on Meadow Lane — out to the end of Clay St. and back — downtown — making sure to coast down what we called “Baptist Hill” (2nd Ave.) — up and down South St. and all over what was then called “The Field” (Cobbtown). I would also ride to the end of Pinpoint and back. The street was unpaved and the humps in the roadway made riding like off-road biking. (I never told Fletcher that!)lol

    Being four years older — Fletcher’s only admonition to me was to not ride “Over the River!” Even at 11-12 years-old — I was already aware of the unsavory reputation of Camptown! I had no problem not crossing the Blackwater River bridge and tempting fate! I had heard many horror stories about how bad the guys were “Over the River!” The closest I ever got was Mrs. Marshall’s Open Air Market #1 just before the bridge. I would slake my thirst there with a 10 cent Coca Cola!

    Over the couple of summers that Fletcher would hang with Morris and my brother and leave his bike with me — I probably put more miles on that Schwinn than he ever did! He probably never gave a second thought to leaving it with me and making a younger kid‘s day. He was just that kind of guy — laid back and mellow!

    Little did Fletcher know — 50+ years later — his generous gesture and kind heartedness would still be remembered and appreciated!

    “Thanks Fletcher! RIP!”

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