Noted bluesman Robert Johnson's son living quietly in Miss.
Bill Minor / • Political columnist • February 29, 2008
Clarion Ledger.com
This is a rags-to-riches story with a happy ending for a shy, frugal 76-year-old Crystal Springs man.
Claud Johnson looks wistfully at his old Mack gravel truck outside his pink brick home near Crystal Springs, still awed by the wealth that has come his way in 10 years since being legally declared the biological son and sole heir of legendary blues guitarist Robert Johnson.
Claud's longtime friend, attorney Jim Kitchens, after a decade-long court battle, established the gravel hauler's claim that Robert Johnson, whom he never met, was his father.
You would think that a man who drove a gravel truck for a living when suddenly handed thousands of dollars would head for the casinos and buy flashy cars. Not Claud. It took six months to get him to stop his dangerous gravel-hauling job. He "splurged" to build his new pink brick house on a 47-acre tract and launched the Robert Johnson Blues Foundation.
Blues aficionados worldwide acclaim Robert Johnson's musical genius, preserved in 29 of his compositions recorded in 1936. Two years after the recording was made, Johnson, at age 27 was dead, believed to have been poisoned by a jealous Greenwood husband. Seventy years later, nobody knows for sure where Johnson is buried, although several places in Leflore County lay claim to being the site.
The brooding, mystical songs and remarkable guitar style of the one-time field-hand continue to fascinate. British guitarist Eric Clapton found it impossible to duplicate Johnson's work on one guitar. It would take two or three guitars to match Robert Johnson's picking. Clapton's CD Me and Mr. Johnson, devoted entirely to Johnson's blues, was featured recently in a Mississippi Public Broadcasting documentary.
Apart from the celebrity surrounding his legendary father, Claud Johnson quietly goes about his life in the home he built six years ago after Kitchens handed him $1.5 million from Robert Johnson royalties accumulated before the estate was probated. Royalties continue to come.
Amazingly, Claud was unknown when the estate was first opened in 1990 after the Robert Johnson CD was put out by Columbia Records. When it won a Grammy and became popular worldwide, people began popping up claiming to be a blood relative of the artist.
Claud knew he was the son of the legendary bluesman, but did not broadcast it because the grandparents who raised him regarded Johnson's music as a devil's brew. (One of his songs is Me and the Devil Blues.)
Born in Hazlehurst in 1911, Robert grew up in the Delta but quit being a field hand to pick his guitar for parties. On a visit to Lincoln County in 1931 he sired Claud out of wedlock in a woodland frolic with 17-year-old Virgie Jane Smith, while another lovemaking couple looked on. (That became a key legal point in establishing Claud's birthright.)
Virgie Jane later married a man named Marshall Cain and made Claud use that name, though she let him know the noted bluesman was his father. As he grew older, Claud lived with his Smith grandparents and put "Johnson" on his Social Security card.
When Kitchens was hired by Claud to push his claim in the estate case a distant cousin had started, Kitchens wisely took video depositions with the aging Virgie Jane, as well as the still-sharp Eula Mae Williams, her companion in the 1931 two-couple tryst. Eula Mae gave an account of the lovemaking, which Virgie Jane confirmed.
A Leflore County Chancery Judge in 1998 declared Claud Johnson's biological son and the estate's sole heir. It was upheld in 2000 by the state Supreme Court (with a hilarious opinion by then-Justice Mike Mills) and even the U.S. Supreme Court.
As they say, this should be made into a movie. Well, it will be: HBO is producing one and Claud and Jim Kitchens will be in it.
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