In a city where people often pass one another without a second glance, Ira Johnson has made a habit of doing the opposite.
Walking around Washington’s Cardozo neighborhood one recent day, Johnson had barely stepped outside his apartment before reminding a neighbor to tell the ladies on the stoop “Good morning.” Then he waved off a man shouting his name from a passing sedan.
By the time he reached the next block, a woman stopped to compliment Rocco, his 4-year-old French bulldog better known as “The Governor.” Then, outside Trader Joe’s, Johnson paused to ask three National Guard members whether they had seen him on a local news station the night before.
As he walked along and around 14th Street NW, Johnson occasionally lifted his phone to record. Conversations like his exchange with the Guard members later appeared on his TikTok page alongside his signature commentaries, in which he dreams up what is happening with the people walking in front of him.
Johnson’s clips have earned him more than 100,000 followers in the past two years and made him one of Washington’s latest standout personalities.
“I don’t want the fame,” Johnson said when asked why he makes the videos.
That attitude shows in the way that he posts them. He never edits, leaves caption typos untouched and rarely watches his videos after uploading them.
What he does pay attention to is the response.
“People write me personally and say I bring them inspiration,” Johnson said. “Some don’t, but I love the ones that do.”
The videos have also inspired a running bit among some locals.
Last month, Adams Morgan resident Krissie Palomo joked in a TikTok that she couldn’t walk near 14th Street NW on a vulnerable day without worrying she’d “get caught slipping” by Johnson. The video resonated with thousands of viewers who knew exactly what she meant.
“The bluntness of it all is really hilarious,” Palomo said. “This is a city where you’re always walking. You’re people-watching.”
He walks behind runners, dog walkers and strangers, turning a few seconds of body language into an entire story.
“He chooses the right people and says the right things,” said Palomo.
Growing up, Johnson, 60, spent his days walking these same streets to the church his family attended. He was raised around the corner at his grandmother’s home on Swann Street.
“I’ve seen people come and go,” he said, thinking back to the families who once filled the rowhouses across his street. “This neighborhood has transformed big time. Like, it’s really no more Blacks around here, so by doing what I’m doing, I stand out amongst the crowd.”
Decades of walking these sidewalks have also given Johnson a sixth sense of sorts. He insists he can spot tourists and transplants just by the way they walk, and many of them later become characters in his videos.
Unique style usually catches Johnson’s eye, and he swears he’s only looking for two things: a good looking pair of shoes and a nice head of hair.
Whether he’s recording a group of people on a crowded night or someone rushing to work in the morning, he’s always noticing them from behind the camera, often turning a few seconds of body language into an entire story.
“Stacy has to go home and cook,” he says in a clip of a woman carrying groceries. “She don’t even want to. Look how tired she looks.”
The commentary is reminiscent of a game Johnson remembers from his childhood in which he’d make up stories about strangers, guess where they were headed, what their names were and what they were going to do — now, it’s captured on camera and narrated with an unmistakable rhythm of his native Washington accent.
With Johnson’s camera on the loose, some move timidly down the street while others walk toward him.
“Oh, my God. Mr. Ira! How are you?” Malik Barry shouts from down the sidewalk. “And this is The Governor?”
“Don’t keep saying ‘The Governor,’ Johnson jokingly shoots back before pulling Barry in for a photo. “I’m right here. I’m your [family].” The two had just met.
Not everyone Johnson recognizes ends up on camera. As a man on a bicycle sped past before swerving into the grass, Johnson yelled, “Good morning, Randy.”
Returning to this normal volume, Johnson explained that Randy has appeared in a few of his videos and is known around the neighborhood for an ongoing saga involving missing packages. Even so, Johnson greeted him the same way he greeted everyone else on his walk.
A few minutes later, another familiar face approached his apartment building holding a cup of coffee.
“This is Jayson,” Johnson announced. “If any of the girls need their hair done, Jayson owns a beauty salon.”
Johnson and Jayson Bonetti have lived in the same building for 18 years. In all that time, they have had just one disagreement, a misunderstanding over a text.
“I love him, and we’re very close,” Bonetti said. “We’ve just been here forever.”
Halfway through the walk, a police cruiser rolled past. The officer stopped at the light and waved. Johnson waved back and explained that the officer had come to his home and helped him the day his brother died three years earlier. After his brother’s death, Johnson’s family gave him a gift: Rocco.
Since then, the little dog has hardly left his side. Before sunrise, they take their daily walk. By midday, they’re back inside before the pavement gets too hot. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom. Not on a single walk has Rocco been far behind.
“I talk to Rocco about everything. Family problems. People I’ve seen in the streets. The things I did the day he wasn’t with me,” he said. “When I don’t tell him, I go to St. Matthew’s and I confess.”
As he passed Lupo Verde, he pointed to the Italian restaurant as his favorite. Then, he pointed out a business he used to work in, where he’d listen to girlfriends vent about their boyfriends.
After nearly an hour, the walk ended right where it started — Johnson’s apartment. He had stopped to talk to nine people, capturing two of the exchanges with his camera.
For someone with a big following online, Johnson spends surprisingly little time talking about the attention he’s received on social media.
Instead, he talks about neighbors. His family. His dogs. The people who have lived on his streets for decades and the ones who just arrived.
And when he’s not recording, Johnson spends quality time with Rocco, his newly adopted dog, Nessa, and Cannoli, his cousin’s cat.
Later, he’ll head back outside, typically following the same route toward 14th, unless Rocco decides otherwise.
Razzan Nakhlawi contributed to this report.
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