In the basement archive of the Greenwood County Historical Society, the air carried the scent of old paper and dust. James Mitchell, 38, a genealogist from Chicago, had spent the morning reviewing land records from 1920 Mississippi for a client. Most of what he found were routine property transfers, unremarkable entries in leatherbound ledgers.
At 4:30 p.m., with the archive closing soon, he reached for one final box labeled “Miscellaneous Personal Effects, 1918–1925.” Inside, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper, lay a stack of photographs warped by humidity and time. Near the bottom, one image stood out.
It was remarkably well preserved, mounted on thick cardboard. The studio stamp read: Crawford Photography, Greenwood, Mississippi, March 1920.
The portrait depicted a formal family. A Black couple sat at the center, dressed in their finest clothes. The man wore a pressed dark suit, his posture steady. The woman’s hands rested in her lap, her expression composed. Three children stood behind them. Two girls, about 8 and 10, wore white dresses with ribbons in braided hair.
Between them stood a boy of about 7.
His skin was pale. His hair light brown and wavy. Even in sepia tones, his eyes appeared light.
The boy was unmistakably white.
The man’s hand rested protectively on the boy’s shoulder. There was no visible tension or staging. The boy belonged in the frame.
James turned the photograph over. In faded pencil were written five names: Samuel, Clara, Ruth, Dorothy, and Thomas. March 14th, 1920.
In 1920 Mississippi, during the height of Jim Crow segregation, a Black family posing publicly with a white child would have been not only unusual but dangerous.
James approached the archivist, Mrs. Patterson, and showed her the photograph. She studied it quietly before speaking.
“That would be Samuel and Clara Johnson,” she said. “Respected family. He was a carpenter. She took in sewing.”
When he asked about the boy, she hesitated.
“I’ve heard stories,” she said. “Old stories people don’t talk about anymore. If you want to understand that photograph, talk to Evelyn Price. She’s 93. Her mother knew the Johnsons.”
Mrs. Patterson allowed James to keep the photograph. No one had claimed it in decades.
That evening in his hotel room, James began researching. The 1920 census for Greenwood listed Samuel Johnson, 32, Black, carpenter. Clara Johnson, 29, seamstress. Two daughters: Ruth, 10, and Dorothy, 8. No son. No Thomas.
James searched birth records for a Thomas born between 1912 and 1914 in Leflore County. None matched the situation. He then combed newspaper archives and found an article dated February 3rd, 1920.
“Tragic accident claims local couple.” Robert Hayes, 34, and Margaret Hayes, 29, had died in a house fire on February 1st. The article noted they left behind one son, age 6.
James created a timeline. February 1st: Hayes parents die. February 3rd: newspaper report. March 14th: Johnson family portrait with a white boy named Thomas.
He also uncovered reports from 1921 describing the Greenwood County Children’s Home as overcrowded and abusive. Children were allegedly used as unpaid labor. Records were incomplete. Several children were listed as adopted with no documentation.
The possibility emerged that the boy in the photograph was Thomas Hayes, orphaned in early 1920.
The next morning, James visited Magnolia Gardens care home to meet Evelyn Price. Though 93, her memory remained clear.
She studied the photograph and confirmed the identities.
“Samuel and Clara Johnson,” she said. “I was a child, but I remember the talk.”
She explained that after the Hayes couple died, the boy had been alone at the burned house. County officials intended to send him to the children’s home. Samuel Johnson, who had worked nearby, saw the child sitting alone and told his wife. Clara reportedly said she could not let a child be sent to that place.
Despite the risk, they took him in during the night before authorities arrived.
In 1920 Mississippi, such an act could have led to violence. According to Evelyn, the Black community knew and kept silent. The boy was called Thomas and lived with the Johnson family for nearly two years.
By 1922, as he grew older and visibly white, the risk increased. The Ku Klux Klan was active. Clara had a cousin in Chicago, Diane Porter, married to a white union organizer. The Johnsons arranged for Thomas to travel north in June 1922.
The church, Mount Zion Baptist, had documented the arrangement. Pastor Marcus Williams and church secretary Patricia Lewis later showed James the church ledger from 1920. It listed “Samuel and Clara Johnson with daughters Ruth and Dorothy and ward Thomas, age 6.”
Private pastoral notes written by Reverend Walter Thompson described the situation and prayers offered for the family’s safety.
Among the church’s preserved papers was a letter dated July 1922 from Chicago, written in careful handwriting.
“Dear Reverend Thompson,” it read. “Mama Diane says I should write to say I arrived safe. I miss Mama Clara and Papa Samuel and Ruth and Dorothy very much… I will never forget my family in Greenwood.”
James then traced Diane Porter in Chicago census records. The 1930 census listed Thomas Hayes, age 16, living in her household as a nephew. Thomas later married Anna Schmidt in 1935. He worked as a carpenter. He died in 1987 in Evanston, Illinois, age 73. He had three children.
James located Thomas Hayes Jr., a high school history teacher in Chicago.
They met in a café. James presented the photograph and documentation. Thomas listened as the story unfolded.
“My grandfather was raised by a Black family in Mississippi?” he asked.
James explained the fire, the orphanage, the Johnsons’ decision, the church records, and the 1922 letter.
Thomas wept as he studied the photograph of his grandfather as a boy.
“They saved him,” he said. “Which means they saved all of us.”
James then traced the Johnson descendants. Ruth Johnson had married William Crawford, son of the photographer who took the portrait. Their descendants included Ruth Washington in Memphis. Dorothy Johnson had married Marcus Lewis and moved to Chicago; her descendants included Pastor Marcus Williams.
Within months, the descendants of both families gathered at Mount Zion Baptist Church in Greenwood. Nearly 30 Johnson descendants and 23 Hayes descendants attended. The 1920 photograph was displayed.
Thomas Hayes Jr. addressed the group, acknowledging that without Samuel and Clara Johnson’s actions, his family would not exist.
Ruth Washington shared stories passed down about Thomas living with the family, learning carpentry, and being loved as one of their own.
Thomas Hayes Jr. brought a wooden toy horse carved with the initials “SJ.” It had belonged to his grandfather and was believed to have been made by Samuel Johnson. It was presented to the Johnson family.
The families later established a foundation in Samuel and Clara Johnson’s names, supporting foster children and child welfare reform. The 1920 photograph was donated to the National Museum of African American History and Culture.
Years later, the families remained connected. Descendants married, gatherings continued, and Samuel and Clara’s graves were restored and maintained.
A portrait taken in March 1920, once unexplained, had documented an act of protection and risk during a dangerous era. A century later, the photograph provided evidence of a decision made quietly in 1920 Mississippi: to shelter a child in need despite the cost.
The mystery of the white boy in the Johnson family portrait was no longer unresolved. The photograph had preserved proof that, for nearly two years, Thomas Hayes had been part of their household.
The record now included what had once been hidden.
