Behind wrought-iron gates, beneath a polished granite slab, James Ambrose Johnson Jr. whiles away eternity in Buffalo. His earthly life ended in 2004, in Los Angeles, after 56 years, but Johnson returned for posterity to his hometown, to the city of his angry youth. That anger, Johnson long ago said, was fed by tributaries global (“I was angry about the poor people in Ethiopia”), national (“I was angry about the politics of the country”) and, most notably here, local: “I was angry that the Buffalo Bills were losing.”