LAS VEGAS -- In the scorching late summer heat, hundreds of people wait in line at the Sport Chalet, not a slot machine or card table in sight.

Far from the famed Vegas Strip, they're here to collect the easiest jackpot in town -- a guaranteed signature and photo-op session with Earvin "Magic" Johnson. All that's required is to buy some Magic32 shoes or apparel.

If that isn't enough, there's a potential bonus for the alert fan -- an eerily familiar-looking young man with a golden smile -- standing quietly behind the former Lakers superstar.

Every once in a while, a fan stops on the way out, and the same conversation will occur over and over again.

"Wait, are you Magic's son?" they'll ask the young man who stands 6-foot-2 and wears a Magic32 polo shirt.

"Yes sir," the Hall of Famer's eldest says.

"Do you play basketball?"

That always comes next.

"Not anymore," he replies, as if reading from a script. "I'm in business now."

That's where the conversation usually ends. Guys who choose to make a living in suits don't generate as much excitement as guys who make millions in jerseys.

"I know people are going to ask me about basketball," Andre Johnson says. "That doesn't bother me. I just tell them that I don't want to be a player. I want to be the guy that signs the checks to the players. They make way more money."

Andre knows whereof he speaks. He has seen it first-hand.

His father has used his celebrity to become the most successful athlete-turned-businessman ever. Magic Johnson is the only franchisee of Starbucks. He owns Loews movie theaters. Burger Kings. He has revenue-sharing deals with Washington Mutual Bank home-loan centers, 24-Hour Fitness clubs and TGI Fridays. He endorses shoes, T-shirts and basketballs that bear his name. And he is a partner in the Canyon-Johnson Urban Fund, the country's largest private real estate fund focused on the development of urban properties.

The total holdings of Magic Johnson Enterprises are estimated to be worth $700 million.

Magic says his HIV, which he revealed to the world almost 14 years ago, is dormant, his T-cell count is high and he is in good health: "There's no cure for this, but medicine has done its part for me."

Still, he has begun the process of a very public succession. In five years, if everything goes as expected, a 29-year-old Andre Johnson will be named president and CEO, managing all of the business relationships with his father's name on them.

"If he's not ready in five years, we're both not doing our jobs," says Magic, who will be 51 in August 2010. "But I'm really getting him ready and he's learning fast. By the time he's at the top, my goal is for him to only call me in when he needs help on a big decision."

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It was in Lansing, Mich., that Andre's father became a legend -- first at Everett High School, where he led the Vikings to a state championship in 1977, and later, a few miles away, at Michigan State, where he led the Spartans to a national title in 1979.

When Andre Johnson was born in February 1981, Magic was 20 years old and already had his first NBA championship ring.

As his father traveled around the country mesmerizing crowds with his "Showtime" teammates, Andre lived with his mother, Melissa Mitchell, in Lansing, far away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

Being known as Magic Johnson's son was a good thing growing up, Andre says, except for a time in third grade, when his father announced to the world he had HIV. The younger Johnson only had a week to brace for the impact.

"A week before, he called me at home in Michigan and told me," Andre recalls. "He assured me that no matter what people said, he was not going to die. Some people felt bad for me and wanted to talk with me about it, but of course there were also a lot of people who were cracking jokes and making fun of my father."

Over time, the ribbing faded and members of the community focused on Andre's potential on the court. At Lansing's Waverly High, he played on the freshman team. No stats were kept, but Andre says he was a decent guard, averaging about 12 points and six assists per game.

After he transferred as a sophomore to Everett, he decided his basketball career was over. That's when the real pressure started -- from teachers who expected him to apply his father's high standards in the classroom.

By the time he graduated from high school with a 3.0 grade point average, Andre had passed the test with his father's former teachers. After high school, he went to Santa Monica Community College to experience a small school atmosphere and to be closer to his father. He earned an associate's degree in business management and landed a job with Electra Records, where he managed some of the company's artists, before telling his father he was ready to follow in his footsteps.

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Observing the two today, you would never guess that Andre spent most of his childhood without his father. Every time they see each other, there are hugs and fist pounds. Magic is on the road plenty, but when he gets back in town, they attend movies and basketball games together (he owns 5 percent of the Lakers).

Over the past few years, there have been only 50 or so games of one-on-one between father and son, and things have slowed down since Magic lost to Andre for the only time a couple of years ago at the Spectrum Club in Los Angeles. It's not so much that Magic got discouraged, but rather that Andre lost some of his motivation as a result of the victory.

"I'm happy with my one win, believe me," he says.

The key to the relationship today is rooted in the past. While his father wasn't there for every big moment in Andre's life, he never neglected him. Their relationship remained solid when Magic married Earletha "Cookie" Kelly in September 1991, and after the birth of Earvin III and the adoption of a daughter named Elisa.

When Andre showed up for his annual summer visit to Los Angeles in June 1995, his father had just opened a 12-screen movie theater at the Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza Mall. Magic offered Andre a job, not because of a shortage of potential employees, but because he wanted his son to experience -- and learn to appreciate -- dirty work.

So Andre reluctantly accepted the challenge, spending the summer sweeping the lobby, running the concession stands, tearing tickets and yes, even cleaning the bathrooms -- two times a day on weekdays, three times on Saturdays and Sundays.

"It smelled really bad," Andre says. "Let's just say that not everyone has the best aim in the world."

Magic contends that the best businessmen are only the best because they understand, from experience, everything about how their businesses operate, down to the most menial tasks.

From the time he was a kid, Magic Johnson dreamed of being the greatest basketball player in the world, but being the greatest businessman in the world wasn't far from his thoughts.

His first job was at Gregory's Janitorial, a local cleaning service in Lansing. One day, owner Greg Eaton caught Johnson sitting back in the big chair behind Eaton's desk. Far from being embarrassed or contrite, Johnson looked Eaton straight in the eye and said, "One day that's going to be me."

"I think Andre was mad at me in the beginning," Magic says. "But he learned. Now he knows how movie theaters work. He understands that the per caps [the amount the average consumer spends] at the concessions are the most important aspect of the business."

Currently, Andre is a marketing director managing his father's relationship with Bash Sports, a company that licenses Magic's name on shoes, T-shirts and basketball-related products. Because his responsibilities include making sure his father is happy with his relationship with the company, Andre spends many of his days in Bash's office in Irvine, Calif., looking at new shoes, reviewing and approving marketing materials, and strategizing how he can use his music contacts to get celebrities to wear products with Magic's name on them. (Among those new shoes is a purple Magic32 model called "The Dre," making Andre probably the least-accomplished basketball player ever to have a sneaker named after him.)

"The best thing about Andre is that he's open-minded, and he absorbs information very well," says Jeff Herdman, a Bash Sports partner. "He doesn't know a whole lot about the footwear industry right now, but he's learning. We use him all the time when we want to find out how the young, urban market is going to feel about a certain product."

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At the Sport Chalet in Las Vegas, Andre is very active. He has learned the names of some of the people at the retail company who have been good to the Magic32 account, and is making a point of shaking their hands and exchanging business pleasantries.

He might not know a whole lot about the business yet, but he recognizes a good idea when it comes walking up to him.

Eleven-year-old Reggie Turner of Las Vegas spots Andre. Asks him if he is Magic's son. The usual conversation takes place. But then Reggie says something Andre has never heard.

"Do you guys have a kid's line?" Reggie asks.

"That's coming soon," Andre replies.

"Well, when it comes time, I want to pose for your catalogue."

The kid is cute. He'd be a perfect model. Andre asks him for his number. Moments later, Turner's mom is writing down her son's name and contact info on a card.

The reality is that a Magic32 catalogue might not be made for a while. It's a tough business. Returns on the deal won't be known for months, and the company is not expected to be profitable for at least another year. And since it's a licensing deal, there's not a lot of pressure on Andre -- more on the Bash Sports executives who took the risk. So, basically, it's a stress-free learning environment for Andre.

Still, "when it's time to tell him, 'Here are the keys, son,' he can say, 'OK, I can take it and run with it,'" Magic says. "That's what we are getting him ready for. I'm proud of him.

"A lot of times, sons and daughters of successful parents are spoiled. They don't want to work. They are not nice people. They're not committed and they don't want to do those things that can help them in the long run. But that's not the case with Andre."

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When he's not in Irvine, Andre's days are spent at the Magic Johnson Enterprises office in Beverly Hills or traveling around in his Lincoln Navigator to his father's other businesses.

He's learning about his father's real estate ventures and he has been sitting in on Washington Mutual meetings. Next: Starbucks. His father currently owns 90 of them.

"My ultimate goal is to be able to learn every business, so when it is my turn to take over, I won't be worried about a thing," Andre says.

But even if Andre does learn how everything runs, there are inherent challenges in the baton-passing. The entire business model has been based on his father's name and personal charm -- the handshaking with CEOs that convince them to forge new alliances and the autographs and the pictures that come along with the deal. If the face behind the brand disappears, how does the name continue to stay valuable?

Moreover, Johnson's name value already is decreasing.

"From our standpoint, Magic has been fantastic, but sometimes I think he has too many tentacles out there," says Brad Fogel, chief marketing officer of 24-Hour Fitness. "He's a brand, and it's always a risk when brands spread themselves too thin. The new generation doesn't remember him as Magic, the basketball player. Now, he's Magic, the businessman, and I think that's why the next five years are going to be very telling for him."

Andre says he's not concerned.

"The name got my father in the door," he says. "The relationship building is what will keep the business growing."

To defend his point, many of his father's businesses are successful because Magic convinced big corporations to put stores in inner-city communities where they were previously worried about returns. But once Johnson set up shop, the companies saw huge returns in areas that they didn't believe had the potential to become lucrative.

Most people at Magic Johnson's TGI Friday's aren't dining there because it has his name on it. They go -- and continue to go -- because it's a TGI Friday's in a convenient location. It works the same way for his Starbucks and Burger Kings.

Andre also says that he's never going to be an executive who will hold all the power.

"I've watched what my dad does," Andre says. "He makes decisions based on the information he is able to absorb from what he determines to be the right people."

"I want him to be better than me in business and, hopefully, he can do that," Magic says.

He pauses and smiles.

"But right now, I want him to know that he has a long way to go."



Darren Rovell, who covers sports business for ESPN.com, can be reached at darren.rovell@espn3.com

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