Trojan Hoax Makes Self at Home in Dorms

The word quickly circulated through the USC dorm that this fall’s crop of freshman had a touch of magic.

His name was Steven Johnson, a charming, good-natured student, a young basketball recruit with a winning smile that reminded many of another well-known ball-playing Johnson.

Yes, he told almost everyone he came in touch with on campus: “I’m Magic Johnson’s nephew.”

At Trojan Hall, he regaled his dorm-mates with stories of growing up in Magic’s hometown of Lansing, Mich., tales that had students calling home to boast of their near brush with a celebrity. He put a sheet in his room where they could sign up for Laker courtside seats, courtesy of his famous uncle.

“Everybody was excited,” said Greg Long, a 19-year-old freshman from Chicago. “I had Bulls tickets for seats right behind Michael Jordan and Jud Buechler.”

Then just as travel plans to the games were being finalized, the truth came out: Steve Johnson was an impostor. Not only was he not related to Magic Johnson, he wasn’t even a student. He was a “flimflam man,” in the words of the campus police chief, talking his way into one empty dorm room and then another, exploiting the naivete of underclassmen.

After being evicted from his second dorm, he vanished last week just as students began reporting items missing from their rooms--CD players, backpacks, cameras and clothes. He left owing money to students who lent it to him on the promise that his uncle was “good for it.”

Campus security chief Robert Taylor said his office plans to arrest “Johnson”--real identity still unknown--whenever they catch up with him.

Lon Rosen, Magic Johnson’s agent, said the young man’s claim that he was the basketball superstar’s nephew are untrue. “I’ve heard of him,” Rosen said. “It’s unfortunate. I hope he gets his act together.”

The impostor’s departure left many students feeling like characters in “Six Degrees of Separation,” a well-known play and movie based on a true story and featuring another pleasant young man. In that case, a man claiming to be the son of actor Sidney Poitier charmed his way into the home of a wealthy, liberal white family, promising them bit roles in his father’s upcoming film. So good was the ruse that the family began to feel it was taking advantage of the new arrival, rather than the other way around.

“I lived in a cabin with him for three days on a Christian retreat to Catalina,” said student Long, whose dorm caters to high-achieving students. “He was a friendly guy, very nice. We played basketball and I remember thinking, ‘He’s not that good.’ ”

He was also not that big: 5-9 to 5-10 and chunky.

USC Det. Robert De Vega said “Johnson” had phony student identification papers, a forged recruiting letter from the athletic department and Magic’s personal pager number. School officials who called the pager always got a call back from someone claiming to be Magic Johnson within minutes, officials said.

Never officially registered for a class or a dorm room, Johnson operated his scam between the cracks in the university system.

“He would go to one dorm and find an empty room and act like he was a new arrival, caught up in the bureaucracy of the system,” De Vega said. “People would help him, get him keys.”

De Vega said he came close to capturing the con artist on several occasions.

“Once I got word he was in one of the dorms and hot-footed it over there but I only found his clothing,” De Vega said. “The housekeeper said I just missed him.”

Another time, police in Buena Park arrested Johnson in a car he had borrowed from a student but failed to return. The car was impounded but Johnson was released after posting bail for driving a car without the owner’s permission.

“By the time I heard about it the next day, he was gone” from his second dorm room, De Vega said. “This guy is like quicksilver, even when you think you have him you don’t.”

School officials, embarrassed by the incident, have ordered locks changed on all doors for which they believe Johnson had keys. The fault, they say, lies with the students.

“Students tend to be too friendly,” said Jeff Urdahl, director of housing.

De Vega said Johnson’s game is not unusual at a university where 40,000 people can come and go every day.

“We’ve run into scams like this before,” he said. “One time a student passed himself off as John Wayne’s grandson and lived for months off the fat of the land, free room and board, at one of the frat houses.”

Now that the game is over, some students are wondering why they weren’t more skeptical.

“No one questioned why he didn’t go to class,” said Trojan Hall freshman Miwa Tamanaha. “But he was really a nice guy, and some people said if he came around again, they would probably let him in.”