In 1939, photographer Dorothea Lange passed through Oregon’s Willamette Valley, documenting life during the Great Depression.
While traveling, she paused to observe a string bean harvest, where a large influx of temporary workers had arrived to pick crops for a few weeks in August.
Many of these workers were migrants from outside Oregon, including Kansas, who traveled from one harvest to another.
One small farmer remarked to her, “We watch all the time for agitators. An agitator will turn the whole yard upside down in two hours.”
Lange was struck by the informality of the migrant camps on the smaller farms. She noted that the relationship between small farmers and their workers was less formal.
“There is less formality and freer, more intimate relationship between small farmers and pickers than between the large growers and workers in California,” she wrote.
As Lange wandered through the migrant camp, she came across a couple quietly resting under a small tent, embodying the very essence of what she had been searching for.
Their stillness and unspoken resilience captivated her. She carefully steadied her camera and, with precision, captured the moment near West Stayton, Oregon, on August 17th, 1939.
Though his trousers are stained, his hair is neatly combed, and aside from the mustache, he is clean-shaven.
In the background, his wife wears what appears to be a relatively stylish dress, striking a pose that could easily be pulled from a fashion magazine.
After a brief exchange, a few thoughtful questions, and likely a word of thanks, Lange packed up her belongings and moved on, leaving behind a snapshot of hardship
Lange observed a detail that stood out in the photograph: “Note social security number tattooed on his arm.” This minor observation provided a deeper connection to the couple’s story.
According to the recently established U.S. Social Security Death Index, Tillman Thomas Urs Cave and his then-wife Vivian were struggling when Lange met them.
Residents of Klamath Falls, Oregon, they had worked a total of 52 weeks that year, earning $550.
They rented a small flat on Frieda Avenue for $12 a month, but Thomas was now unemployed. Both were 27 years old at the time of the photograph.
Tattooing the Social Security Number
For many who endured the struggles of the Great Depression, the New Deal programs introduced by the Roosevelt Administration provided much-needed relief.
Among these initiatives, the Social Security Act stood out, offering vital support to the public. Its implementation came just four months before the Caves were captured in photographs.
However, Social Security benefits were only available to those who applied and received their number.
According to researcher Tiffany West, the U.S. government emphasized the “outright necessity” for individuals to know their Social Security number.
This urgency sparked a widespread effort to memorize and record SSNs after 1936. Thomas Cave took a more permanent approach to ensure he never forgot his number—he chose to have it tattooed.
Notably, two early tattoo artists, Red Gibbons and Sailor Walter, were catering to this growing trend.
Operating out of their shop on Burnside Street in Portland, they reported in 1937 that they were working overtime, tattooing Social Security numbers “on the arms and legs of folks who didn’t want to be caught without their numbers,” as mentioned in a local newspaper.
Below is a hand-lettered sign advertising Social Security number tattoo styles (from 1936).
Investigating the Identity of the Photogenic Unemployed Worker and His Later Life
Tillman Thomas Cave, also known as Tillman Thomas Ursel Cave, was born on July 2, 1912, and died on June 4, 1980. He was married at least twice.
His first wife, Vivian Couture (pictured in the iconic photo), worked for Kaiser Mills in Portland, Oregon. According to her photo ID, she stood 5’9″, while Tillman was 5’6″.
Vivian, described as a slender, dark-haired, and dark-eyed woman, married Tillman on July 3, 1934, and they were together for seven to nine years.
Later, he married Ann Kathryn Bloom. The family name “Cave” had originally been “Cavendish” but was shortened over time.
During World War II, Thomas Cave enlisted in the army, eventually rising to the rank of sergeant.
After the war, he returned to Oregon, where he worked for Consolidated Freightways, a leading trucking distributor, until his death in 1980.
His second wife, Annie, passed away in 2000, and both are laid to rest at Willamette National Cemetery.
Information from Social Security Administration archive and military records.
Thomas Cave
Full Name: Thomas Urs Cave
Date of Birth: July 2, 1912
Date of Death: June 1980
Last Residence: Portland, Multnomah County, Oregon
Social Security Number: 535-07-5248
Oregon Death Index
Name: Thomas Urs Cave
Spouse: Annie
Birth Year: 1912
Death: June 1980, Multnomah County, Oregon
U.S. World War II Army Enlistment Records (1938-1946)
Name: Thomas U. Cave
Birth Year: 1912
Enlistment Date: October 29, 1942
Enlistment Location: Portland, Oregon
Residence: Multnomah County, Oregon
Thomas and Annie Cave were more than just figures shaped by their era—they were resilient individuals who overcame significant hardships.
Their lives, like those of so many others, were marked by the struggles of the Great Depression.
Dorothea Lange’s photography not only captured their circumstances but also subtly highlighted the enduring spirit of the lower-middle class, who fought to survive in challenging times.
In one candid moment, Thomas sat comfortably, pipe in hand, exuding a relaxed demeanor and a smile that hinted at his enduring spirit despite life’s difficulties.
(Photo credit: Dorothea Lange via Library of Congress / Photos enhanced and improved by RHP / Text based on Mr. Cave Gets a Tattoo by Rogue Historian / New-York Historical Society).