Act II, the feud rages on!
The above article on property rights posted by 2dogs is exactly what's going on today in this country! Wake-up Americans before it's too late!
After Judge Sanderson "terminated" my probation in September of 1994, I built two more buildings without bothering to get permission from "the powers that be". Since they couldn't keep me from doing so by arresting me, they next resorted to "economic terrorism"! The following article was on the front page of the Jackson Citizen Patriot newspaper on Sunday, April 13, 1997. A large color picture of me standing in front of one of my styrofoam tax protest signs - Winston Johnson stands near two of his protest signs on Squawfield Road. (The sign I'm standing in front of reads, "A mans's home is his castle, so they say, but not if the Woodbridge Township Stupidvisor has his way!) Protester aims jabs at officials by Steven Hepker (Staff Writer) Hillsdale - When Hillsdale County Road Commission officials approached Winston Johnson to take down his roadside tax protest signs, they encountered an odd sight. "I was trudging up the road wearing a crown of thorns and carrying a 12-foot cross on my back," Johnson said, "I even fell down to my knees, making a mockery out of the whole thing." Johnson, widely known for outlandish tax protests, wallows in symbolism. "He is pretty clever," Stan Clingerman said. "I guess he was being crucified by government." On Saturdays, Johnson portests at the Hillsdale County Fairgrounds by wearing a foam coffin, with a stuffed monkey on his back. He says it signifies the impact of an overbearing government on free men. When he got wind of police coming to arrest him at his 42 acres, he bought a dozen doughnuts and threatened to lead police elsewhere with a trail of pastries. "I have a sense of humor," he said recently at his property, south of Hillsdale. When the Woodbridge Township assessor valued a tiny, half-done structure on his property at nearly $60,000, Johnson ripped up and tossed the assessment notice at the board of review. And then he stewed for hours until he concocted the sign campaign. He built all kinds and sizes of protest signs, and then plastered Squawfield Road with them along his north border. "I'm the property-tax terrorist, and I'll huff and I'll puff 'til I tax your house to the ground," on sign reads. One of his props is a fairly realistic dummy shooting the moon at the assessor, telling him to "Assess this one!" He refers to the supervisor as the "Stupidvisor."
"I could care less what is on the signs, Clingerman said, "We just want to protect the motoring public within the 66-foot right of way." He said road crews remove signs, including political signs, if they are too close to the road. Johnson, 46, researched the law and determined the law regarding roadside nuisance signs was found unconstitutional in 1965 and repealed by the Legislature in 1980. "Mr. Johnson is very knowledgeable and has a lot more time than I do to study the law," Clingerman said. Nevertheless, he asked Johnson to voluntarily remove the signs by April 1. Johnson did not, and was served a notice last week for encroaching on the right of way. He has until May 3 to comply, or risk prosecution for a misdemeanor. Johnson said he likes Clingerman, but will not back down. "In fact, I think I am going to build a tiny leprechaun village down along the road and buy some of those little ceramic gnomes and have them peeking out of the houses," he said. This is no idle threat, Johnson is skilled at hindiwork and tomfoolery. Last week, he started posting dozens of signs on 3-by-5 cards along the road, perhaps a prelude to the leprechaun village.
In Addition to making and marketing cat furniture and toys, he invents and builds off-the-wall games, like the Old West town on his living room table.
He built his house with $1,400 and scrap material. It is a work in progress, as is the 576-square-foot house that was assessed for $30,000. Both sit on concrete piers, so that they cannot be termed permanent structures. They have no running water or electricity. Johnson kicked Assessor Kenneth Vincent off his land several years ago, so Vincent assessed the new building and a nearby shed from the road. The newest building was for one of Johnson's two sons, but the son fled the property recently, fearing an all-out police siege. "He is chicken-hearted. They (his sons) are both gutless wonders," said Johnson, who has watched the movie "Braveheart" more than 20 times. He finds similarities in the oppression the Scottish clans faced and the demands by government on American citizens who hold to constitutional and God-given rights.
His wife, Eula, seems to tolerate his activities with humor and resignation. His sons, however, think he has gone overboard. "My oldest son wants to have me committed," Johnson said. "He asked me: 'Do you wake up every day, look in the mirror, and say 'I am going to be defiant'?" A group of followers, who called themselves We the People, fizzled out. They didn't have the guts to demand freedom from government inposed regulations, he said.
Johnson has spent time in courts and jail during his crusade to assert his freedom. He refuses to buy license plates, a driver's license, auto registration, building permits or insurance. "I have a right to travel. When you ask the government for permission, it no longer is a right," he said. "People have certain inalienable rights the government cannot take away or diminish." Likewise, filing with the Internal Revenue Service is essentially a contract to work for the governement, he said. He has no bank accounts, no electricity, does not pay income tax, or Social Security tax, nor does he deal in paper money, credit or checks. He refuses to maintain an address or post office box. When he sells cat furniture or works construction, he is paid in federal reserve notes and converts them to Susan B. Anthony dollars.
He calls his house a structure in which he and his wife seek shelter. They are sovereign citizens of the Republic of Michigan, and claim no residency. He took down his mailbox and gets general delivery at the Frontier post office, where his mail is tossed into a crate. "It's the same way people got their mail 40 or 50 years ago," Eula Johnson said.
Johnson asserts it is nobody's business what he does, how much money he makes, or how he chooses to live, as long as he is not hurting anyone. Each time you sign your name to an official document, he said, you lose more freedom and establish a paper trail the government can use against you. Flounting authority and mocking local officials, however, has created a larger paper trail than if he were a common working stiff. It is a price worth paying, he said. "I'm a little monkey wrency in the cog of government," he said. "I am as free as a man can be." Contrary to the impression and the "Don't Tread On Me" flag in his yard, Johnson is not a militia member. He considers himself a free man, in the tradition of Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams and Thomas Jefferson. "I went to one militia meeting, but there were so damn many kooks," he said. "I am too independent for that bunch. I don't have papamilitary exercises out here. I'm not violent."
Johnson has confounded local officials with his knowledge of the U.S. and state constitutions, laws and court dicisions. And by his tenacity. "He knows the law enough to try to get out from under it," Prosecutor Neil Brady said in a 1994 trial in which Johnson was found guilty of not buying a building permit for a shed. Later he spent nearly a month in the Hillsdale County Jail for driving without a license plate, driver's license or insurance. He refused to sign his bond, even after prosecutors said they would drop the $250 bond. "Signing a bond gives them permission to prosecute you," he said. Eventually, after Johnson was released and failed to appear in court, the matter was dropped. "We are not going to forcibily detain him on this," District Judge Donald Sanderson wrote.
In the fall of 1995, Johnson was jailed again after a contingent of state, city and county police surrounded him at the Taco Bell in Jonesville. "I just kept eating my taco and drinking my drink," Johnson said. "That time I spent 23 days in jail, and got out October 13, 1995. They have left me alone since them." Given his penchant for mocking government, laws and government leaders, Johnson said he realizes the truce likely won't last through spring.