
DATE: Monday, October 13, 1997              TAG: 9710120006

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

SOURCE: BY NANCY LEWIS, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:  169 lines

WORK & PRAY FORMER DRUG ADDICT MAKES IT HIS BUSINESS TO HELP EMPLOYEES TURN THEIR LIVES AROUND

``LET US BOW our heads,'' says Anthony Johnson.

Two women quickly stow their fast-food breakfasts and stop chewing. Folding their hands in their laps, they look down.

``Please help us, God. . . '' intones Johnson, his voice suddenly suppliant.

For the next several minutes, Johnson pleads for heavenly guidance. He doesn't actually beg, ``Keep us from slipping backward,'' but that's what he means. And some in the group know it.

Johnson owns Christian Termite and Moisture Control Inc. And - like some of his workers gathered together this Friday in the company's downtown Portsmouth office - Johnson is a former drug addict.

He regularly reaches out to lift up the afflicted from addiction. At least twice a week, the 33-year-old Norfolk resident addresses groups of addicts in jails and rehabilitation facilities. He hires the reformed, then works to keep them drug free, even putting some up in a house he maintains to help folks get back on their feet. Right now, 14 of the company's 16 employees are former addicts.

Anthony Johnson is a big guy. His ample frame all but fills the doorway of his office as he ends the prayer with a heartfelt ``Amen.''

On the wall, above a burning candle on a table, hangs a Paul Collins print titled ``Harriet Tubman's Underground Railroad,'' in which slaves are being led to freedom.

This morning, before loading extermination chemicals into their trucks, Johnson's workers will lean on him for spiritual guidance they hope will see them through payday and the weekend. The prayer meeting is a weekly event where workers normally discuss personal problems, but this day, with a stranger among them, they testify to their former weaknesses and credit their boss for their newfound strength.

At first, there's a strained silence as legs are crossed and re-crossed, a few throats cleared before the soul-baring begins.

Tony Mitchell, a 35-year-old Portsmouth man, recalls that he approached Johnson for help after hearing his personal testimony at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting last spring.

``I don't know any other person on this Earth who would have put up with what he's gone through with me . . . the patience,'' says Mitchell, recalling the relapses he said occurred frequently when he first attempted to kick drugs.

Johnson shifts his weight to the other foot and says, like it's no big deal:

``If God goes out and heals you, you've got to go out and talk about it. It frees you, gives you your life back. You've gotta help.''

Johnson experimented with a variety of drugs during a three-year stint in the Army. For seven years, he struggled with addiction. At his worst, he needed $300 a day to support a crack habit.

Ultimately, he says, it was God who released him from the bondage of addiction. He remembers the day:

``It was four years ago, Oct. 8, 1993,'' he recalls. ``My dad had died, and I went to his funeral. When they were putting him in the ground, all I could do is see myself. I realized my time was running out.

``I'd hit bottom, kept praying, asked God, `take this away from me.' ''

Prayer worked, he says.

Johnson tells how drug use put his young marriage in danger and remembers selling three vehicles in one week to pay for crack.

``I was just like him,'' says Mitchell, ``but I was selling vehicles that didn't belong to me.'' Actually, he says, he leased out a previous employer's truck to get money for drugs.

Johnson made a difference in his life, he said. ``Tony said, `What can I do for you?,' rode around with me, said, `Why do you want to continue?' Then he vouched for me when I went before the judge. I faced prison.''

``He give me hope,'' says Mitchell, his thumb doing a hitchhiker's yank toward Johnson. ``He's living proof.''

Johnson remembers the worst of his times with Mitchell:

``He lied about $665 he got from a customer,'' Johnson recalled. ``He didn't turn it in. But he paid it back.''

Mitchell lived in Johnson's Norfolk house for several months but now has his own place.

``I spread my wings and flew away,'' says Mitchell, smiling at last. The imagery seems strangely out of place coming from the mouth of a guy who both sounds and looks tough as tarmac.

George Evans, a 41-year-old father of two who lives in Norfolk, says he had backslid into drug use - crack and alcohol - about three years ago, after a hiatus of as many years. He knew Johnson from when they both worked for another exterminator and had heard of his work with reformed addicts.

Evans asked Johnson for a job and got more help than he'd bargained for. He recalls Johnson's quoting a biblical passage about having the determination to put things in the past, even though that doesn't come easy.

Johnson says he thinks the verse came from Ephesians.

``Give me a Bible to make sure,'' he tells office manager Connie Riddick.

While he's turning the pages with a big finger, Nancy Smith remembers how Johnson consoled her during a trying time. ``My kid was out overnight, and I was crazy that day,'' she blurts out. ``He prayed with me.''

Smith, a 40-year-old single mother, lives with her five sons in the two-story, three-bedroom Broad Creek home that Johnson keeps for employees who need a leg up. When bills come due, he divvies them up among the residents so he keeps a firm handle on the finances. Now, he's looking around for another property to put to the same use.

Smith, whose oldest son, Damien, 18, also works for the company, met Johnson when he spoke at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting she attended about four years ago. At the time, she'd been a crack addict for five years and was ready to change her life. Johnson's words offered just the nudge she needed.

John Wiggins, 26, has only been with the company a week. He doesn't have a drug problem now but is already sure that if he did, he could turn to his boss for help.

Wiggins remembers experimenting with illegal drugs - cocaine, marijuana, LSD - as a teen after years of being dosed with legal drugs for his Attention Deficit Disorder.

``Other employers don't care,'' says Wiggins, ``but there's a family atmosphere here.''

The same determination Johnson had to overcome his personal addiction helped him make a success of his business.

Starting out on a shoestring just four years ago - he had $3,500 from a labor-dispute settlement - Johnson quickly built the company into one that grossed $250,000 its first year and last year brought in $450,000.

Four years ago, the company had just 300 customers; today, it boasts about 2,000 scattered throughout the five South Hampton Roads cities. Johnson attributes his success to his daily reliance on God.

The firm's name, which conjures up images of the Crusades and strains of ``Onward Christian Soldiers,'' raises eyebrows.

Some people do a double-take when they see Christian Termite Company printed on the side of the firm's six green and white pickup trucks.

``They'll say, `What are you guys going to do, sprinkle them with holy water?' '' Johnson says. ``Some ask, `Are you going to pray with them before you kill 'em?' ''

Johnson says he chose the name because it was his faith in God that raised him from the depths and brought him to a new high in his life. But he also credits some here on Earth with his turn toward success.

Before launching his business, he took an eight-week course at Regent University on empowerment and says the mentoring he got there taught him to ``stick with it, don't stop.''

Johnson and his wife, Valencia, a Navy petty officer and computer specialist, have four children under 12. He was born and raised in Savannah, Ga. He studied biology at Savannah (Ga.) State College but dropped out after two years to join the Army. The couple moved here 11 years ago. Johnson went to work for an exterminating company, then later ended up in a dispute over wages. With the settlement he got, he bought a $400 truck and a $500 spray rig.

Johnson says staying solid as a rock for the sake of those who look up to him is a serious responsibility but one he welcomes.

``You can't ever mess up,'' says Johnson, who admits he has been tempted. ``The thought comes, but I have support groups myself - people I can call on.''

Office manager Riddick guesses her boss has helped about three-fourths of the 50 or so folks with substance abuse problems he's employed over four years.

``It comes from within him, because he was given a second chance at life,'' she says. ``He promised the Lord he'd go back into the community.''

The Friday prayer meeting is about to end. The workers are getting fidgety. In fact, Mitchell has already excused himself and headed out to the parking lot.

Johnson straightens up his big frame, takes a deep breath and says it's time for everybody to get to work.

Then, as the workers file out, he suddenly feels compelled to sum it all up:

``God's put me in a position to help, and I've got to do that.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo

IAN MARTIN/The Virginian-Pilot

George Evans...Anthony Johnson...

Photo

MARK MITCHELL/The Virginian-Pilot

Anthony Johnson, right, often leads his employees in prayer and

helps them to rebuild their lives. They include, from left, John

Wiggins, Anthony Mitchell, Nancy Smith and George Evans.