"PRACTICE masking & social distancing"

Something good has been happening. Actually, it’s great. The “phone has been ringing.” That’s secret code for “I have had some work, and paying jobs.”

2020 hasn’t been the best. But that goes for most of us. I’ve had to relearn how to spell perseverance. Then again, my business slogan has been “Too stupid to be scared. Too stubborn to quit.” Somehow, I’ve made it. I just miss doing what I love to do on a regular basis. Make photos. Making them for others is what pays the bills. After doing this for 37 years, someday I want to be a professional photographer.

There has been a “smattering” of work during these trying times. A “shout out” here, goes to Adkisson Land and Auction LLC for having me make staff portraits for the web site. The Galesburg Community Foundation has had me making a series of portraits, and other jobs. There was a recent gig for the Knox-Galesburg Symphony, where a quartet played a “socially distanced” show at Walnut Grove Barn in Knoxville. I loved shooting that one.

But it was a surprise call from my friend Dan Nolan, the Sports Information Director at Monmouth College, that really reunited me with my cameras. Dan discovered old photos of athletes practicing during one of the flu pandemics. Seeing those, he decided he would not allow the current situation to go undocumented. He put me on board to photograph volleyball, football, women’s tennis, and men’s and women’s soccer practices.

How do the student-athletes practice, and practice safely, you ask? They must wear their masks properly. And there is no contact. It’s very limited as to what they can do. It’s also very sobering to an observer. These athletes are dedicated enough to practice this Fall, with no guarantee they will be able to play their sport in the spring as hoped for. A lot may be riding on a vaccine. Division 3 schools do not have the budget of Division 1 schools to spot test for COVID, etc. You have to admire their dedication!

Practice guidelines also required that some practices had to be split into multiple segments to prevent too many people from being in one place at one time. The volleyball team split practice into one group of eight. And one group of seven. One of the photos I made that I hope helps “tell the story,” is the second group, waiting to enter the gym, standing in the doors that separate the gym from a lobby. Normally, that image could be a “throwaway.”

My job was to document the practices, and how they look different than a “normal” practice would. Showing the masks and distancing were the obvious “must gets.” My approach towards how to make photos changed too. Normally, with “sports action,” The photographer shoots with a long lens to isolate the plays of the game. To create impact on the person who views the photo, and show them what they don’t see from the stands. “Tight is right,” a co-worker once commented. Referring to filling the frame of the photo.

Making photos at practices allowed me to move in closer. I can’t be in the middle of a field or court during a game. I can at practice. Almost all of the Monmouth coaches allow me to “do my thing.” To show the social distancing, photos became more about context and less about action. To show the space. The wide angle lens was used as much as the long telephoto for these jobs. WAY more than it would be used for an actual game. With the wide angle, it forced me to “get right in there,” and allowed for angles from the ground, above, etc.

It was great to be back on campus again! Obviously, the idea of working and making a living is to work and make a living. But the downtime this year has forced upon me may have rekindled my spirit and “eye.” It felt like both were fresh when making the practice photos.

Now. If the phone keeps ringing, I might yet become a professional photographer.

Lusk, Wyoming

It’s been way too long since I wrote a blog. Here it goes. Unrehearsed.

It’s coming up on 26 years since taking my first motorcycle trip. July, 1994, to the Black Hills, and then on down to Estes Park, Colorado. I was on my Honda Nighthawk, and it was on the fourth day of the trip, July 18th, when I had an “experience” that has stuck with me on every trip since.

I’ve journaled nearly every trip since, maybe 17 of them by now. Short notes, longer thoughts. But something to pair with the photos to look back on. To preserve memories. I’d love to do some books.

On the 18th of July, 1994, I made notes in my tent, before leaving Custer, South Dakota for a ride down to Estes that day. What follows below is from my journal, and will pick up in “now time” after this passage.

—-O.K. 10 a.m. local time. I’m in Lusk, WY. Stopping for breakfast after the biggest adventure of the trip, so far. I ran out of gas! I was seven miles north of Lusk, on Route 85, when I ran the reserve tank dry. I’d passed only one station in more than 100 miles and didn’t think it would be my only chance. I tried using my cell phone for emergency service and got the “no service” signal. I looked to be in the middle of nowhere.

I began walking down lane towards a farm house, hoping they’d have gas, when a pick up truck pulling a horse trailer happened to be coming up the road. A father (Cody Thompson), and his son, (Ty Thompson), were on their way to a rodeo. They stopped and listened to my situation.

Without saying much, they unloaded the horse, put my bike in the trailer, reloaded the horse, and drove me into town. They have a relative who teaches ag at the University of Illinois. These were good people. Not just because they did a good deed.

We got to town, unloaded the horse (named Paint), took the bike out, and put the horse back in. They wouldn’t take money and off they went.

I had been making good time in the wide open country. I even “let the big dog eat” once, and cracked 95 mph for a very quick burst. Slow by the street racers standards, but a momentary thrill. Also, several miles back up the road, a Harley rider came upon me out of nowhere. Trailed a short time and passed. I gave him “thumbs up” but he snubbed me. My mind is that we’re all riding for the love of riding, and should acknowledge each other. Most do, including some Harley riders. But there are plenty who are on the “buy American” kick, who glare at the Japanese made “rice burners.”

He slowed awhile and I caught up, debating to pass, for fear of being shot or stabbed for “disrespecting” a Harley rider. I went around and stayed ahead until I ran out of gas. He soon passed, and made no attempt to ask if I needed help, as I stood there on the side of the road.

It was pretty warm. And I wasn’t surprised, I’d run dry. When I had to switch the tank to reserve, some miles back, I got a bad feeling about what was ahead. I was embarrassed. Could I push the bike into town? How far? There were hills. I was stuck.

The Harley rider was barely out of site when a couple on a Honda Gold Wing came upon me. “Are you o.k.,” he asked, as they had slowed down. I misunderstood and nodded “yes,” missing my chance. Still, from the time I ran dry to when I started walking towards that house, to when the truck came up, couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes. Turns out, the guys say there was no gas at that farm house anyway. Only diesel fuel.

So. I filled up and tried to restart… Nothing. It didn’t flood, I couldn’t smell gas. I was worried I’d run down the battery. I was about to panic (I didn’t when it ran dry because I saw it coming), I noticed the emergency kill switch had been set to “off.” It had to have happened during loading or unloading. I fired up and ate breakfast at Cindy’s, a local joint.—— (back to now time)

I had done pretty good at keeping in touch with the Thompsons. I had ask for their address. I sent Ty a photograph of Michael Jordan. And I sent them a postcard on every trip I took afterwards. Always thanking them, and asking them to say thanks to Paint the horse, for sharing his trailer that day.

I was back out that way in 2008, on a ride to Wyoming and Montana. I contacted Cody, told him I’d be that way, and asked if I could buy him breakfast in return for the favor he did for me 14 years before. Ty was not able to make it, but Cody and I met up. I bought him breakfast, we talked about cattle ranching, and I made a quick portrait of him. I also rode my ST-1100 north, out of town, up Route 85, to see if I could find the driveway I’d run the Nighthawk dry at. It was exactly seven miles north of Lusk. I made a photo of the ST on the driveway.

I haven’t been as good at keeping in touch since. I wonder about him and his family.

I also put gas in the tank when I think it isn’t necessary.

"Heart"

CONCERT FLASHBACK: February 21st, 1979. 41 years ago today. The Arena. Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. Carbondale, IL. Heart. With opening act, Exile. Ticket price: photo credentials.

Heart was red hot in early 1979. Touring to promote the band’s fourth album, “Dog and Butterfly.” Still the “classic” line up with Ann and Nancy Wilson, Roger Fisher, Howard Leese, Steve Fossen, and Michael Derosier.

It was announced they’d play The Arena, on the campus of SIU-Carbondale on February 21st.

In an attempt to score great seats, I spent the night before tickets went on sale in the backseat of my Ford Granada in the arena parking lot. It was cold, and it was wasted time. Early the next morning, approaching the box office, I discovered the staff handing out wrist bands with numbers. The lottery system. My turn finally came, floor seats were secured.

At some point, an idea was hatched. Why not take it one step further and apply for a photo pass?

Early in the afternoon the day of the show, I approached a roadie who was loading in equipment. “You need to talk to the road manager, Kelly Curtis,” the guy said. “He’ll be around in a couple of hours.”

I went home and grabbed a binder with photos of previous bands and concerts I’d photographed. Most were pretty raw. But I took my “portfolio” back to campus and tracked down Curtis. He studied the photos and called out some names he recognized. I made my pitch, offering to send photos to management for use. He bought it. I was in!

Instructions were given as to when and where to be that evening to pick up the photo pass. The next move was a short drive downtown to purchase 4-5 rolls of color transparency film. Super excited, I killed time at home before heading back to the arena for the evening.

The photographers, a few of us, were led into the photo pit directly below the stage. The area between the stage and audience, separated by a solid wall approximately 3-4 feet tall. Exile, a group of soft rockers, opened the evening. A few photos were made of them, just to make myself look busy.

Heart came out and opened with “Cook With Fire.” These were the days when photographers were allowed to shoot the entire show from the pit. And in this case, we even had access to make photos from the side of the stage, stage left. It gave a great view of Michael Derosier and his drum kit.

Ann belted out songs. Nancy played her Ovation guitar and sang back up. Roger Fisher played his Gibson SG really well. He also seemed to want to channel Jimmy Page in appearance. Fisher wore a satin suit adorned with dragons, much like Page wore in that era.

It went fast. I had fun and figured that was it… Until I got into a small group who were invited and escorted backstage. There was a short wait and then we were led back. The Wilson sisters were seated. Nancy with a dog on her lap. Ann had her neck wrapped in a scarf to keep that voice intact. Band members milled about. Roger Fisher and Steve Fossen were especially nice. They were tired but polite. Autographs were signed. Some photos taken. I handed Nick Sortal, the entertainment writer for The Daily Egyptian, the student paper, one of my Minoltas. The Wilson sisters and me. Sweet!

The set list. I can’t verify this one was from Carbondale. I DO know they opened with “Cook With Fire,” I DO know they encored with Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll.” And I DO know “Devil Delight” was early in the show. I have no reason to believe otherwise, that the set list provided here is not the exact show they did in Carbondale. And it was a fine show.

Following through on my promise, I did send photos to Seattle. Nothing came of it, but my photos were returned. Looking today, the exposures were a tad hot and a tad contrasty. It was a huge boost in experience.

And the road manager, Kelly Curtis? He moved up a notch. Years later, he took the title as “manager” for another Seattle band. Pearl Jam.

"Repeat Offender"

It was the second time around, doing work for the Illinois Sheriff’s Association. Every year, the organization gathers for a three day meeting, culminating in a dinner and awards banquet. Many sheriffs from the 102 counties in Illinois attend this meeting. Spouses, family, and staff are often along as well.

Knox County Sheriff David Clague was the 2019 president. David, and his wife Debbie, contacted me last year, about photographing the event, which was held in East Peoria. I accepted. That job consisted of making candid photos at the banquet, as well as group and award presentation photos. It also included gathering the sheriffs on a large staircase for a group photo in the hotel lobby.

Everything went generally well, though I did not know what I was getting into in scope and size. I took only four, “speed lights.” Small flashes that are quick and easy to use, but lack the power of studio lighting gear. The banquet room in East Peoria was large. The lights were under powered for the job.

They must have been happy. I was invited back to work this event in Normal, IL. Learning from the first gig, I prepared for the second gig. All four Alien Bee heads (the brand name of the larger flash units), and three Nikon speed lights, made the trip. I even made a “reconnaissance” trip to the Normal Marriott ahead of time. This allowed me to see the rooms. To look for electrical outlets, etc. To make a plan.

It had been decided there would be no group photo this year. Additions did include head and shoulder portraits of some staff and officers. Also, the incoming president, his family, and his wife. I pitched the idea of making those photos in the lobby, using the warm glow of ambient light, rather than “mug shot style” (pun intended) against some wall. Teri, my contact, liked the idea. Once these were completed, it was banquet time.

Two rooms, totaling 10,000 square feet, was my “paette.” Four lights were placed, roughly in the four corners of the entire room. Each on a 13 foot stand, each with a reflector, each set at full power. I debated on whether to bounce the lights into, and off the ceiling. This would soften the light and make the flashes less obtrusive. The space was too large, and too much power would be lost. As was, this set up gave an exposure of f4.5 at 200th of a second, at 400 ISO. Test shots revealed generally consistent, and pleasing light.

For extra measure, two speedlights were set along each side wall and aimed at the head table. This was to decrease the chance of cross lighting. A grand total of six lights were set and ready.

Someone wondered about dimming the houselights for better ambiance. They tried it. The flashes were very evident. There was concern it would be too much a distraction. We all worked together and compromised. The house lights were turned back up. The power was dialed down on the flashes. The two lights at the front of the room would not be used at all. I even offered to shoot without any flashes, but explained the affect it would have on color, quality, and detail. We worked it all out without a hint of tenseness.

Moving about the room and observing people, photos were made. Looking to be ready if something happened. The even ran though it’s course. It went well. The lack of the two lights was a handicap, but not a disaster. I worked around it.

Cops have a tough job. Always have. It’s easy to second guess them at times. It’s dangerous out there. One of the awards went to a team of dispatchers from Fulton County, for their work this past summer, in a situation where a deputy was shot and killed. Attendees were emotional. I was able to capture some of that.

When the formal setting was complete, a handful of group portraits were made. And that concluded the work for the evening. I packed it all up and came home. Hopeful I’ll work for them again in 2021.

"Chiefs Chauffeur"

My girlfriend Lori has been a fan of the Kansas City Chiefs since 1989. She once lived in Topeka, KS, and has relatives with season tickets. She’s seen games at Arrowhead Stadium. Good seasons. Bad seasons.

The Chiefs, if you haven’t heard, just won the Super Bowl. Their second time to win it all, but with a 50 year drought. This 2020 game was barely over when one of us wondered aloud as to when there might be a celebration in Kansas City? I volunteered to drive us out if I was free. It worked out, I was. The parade and rally were Wednesday, February 5th, in downtown K.C. The parade would run from north to south on Grand Blvd, make a right onto Pershing Road, and conclude with the rally on the south side of Union Station.

Lori took a day off from work and “all systems were go.” Each of us did some basic homework as to what to expect. This included online research, and asking some questions of our Kansas City friends and relatives who had attended the parade for the Royals when they won the World Series a few years ago. Crowd estimates for that event were around 800,00. Many say it was rather chaotic. Attendees were abandoning vehicles on overpasses, etc. The city learned, and was better prepared for this parade.

“Arrive early,” was nearly always at the top of the advice list. This would mean leaving Galesburg in the middle of the night for the five hour drive. OR, “plan b.” We elected to leave late Tuesday afternoon, drive to Liberty, MO, just north of K.C., and spring for a room. We found a nice one at a very reasonable rate.

Wednesday morning, an army of buses (all types, around 400 strong) would shuttle fans from designated pick up zones to designated drop off zones. We hopped on a bus around 8 a.m. at the Worlds of Fun Amusement Park, and were let off on Truman Road, about six blocks east of the Kansas City Star building.

Wednesday was gray. Some snow flurries, and a predicted high of 27 degrees. We dressed accordingly, knowing we’d be in the elements several hours. Off the bus, we joined the masses, and began walking towards downtown.

I’d taken along two professional camera bodies and two lenses. I’d also packed my Canon A650-IS “point and shoot.” Debating on what gear to use for the day. I had no credentials for any special access. In my thought process, two words kept coming up. “Weight and bulk.” I decided to use the “idiot camera” and leave the pro gear behind.

I’d never photographed any event this large. During my tenure in Chicago, the Bulls won NBA titles, but I never received the “parade assignment.” This was similar to the Halloween parades I had photographed at Southern Illinois University. Just a lot larger. Visual opportunities were everywhere. A “people watcher’s” paradise.

We followed Grand Blvd south. Passing storefronts and thousands of fans by the security barriers who lined the route. These were the “earlybirds.” Once a photographer, always a photographer. If I saw something interesting, I made the photo. Lori was mostly patient. I suggested I needed a T-shirt that would read, “Warning, this photographer makes frequent stops” on the back.

If we’d elected to remain on Grand, we would have had a great vantage point when the parade would roll by. The players rode double deck buses. People were 2-3 deep along the barriers. No more. However, Lori felt we should be closer to Union Station for the rally segment. So w kept walking, totaling around 2 miles from the time we stepped off the bus.

South of Union Station there is a huge, natural hill that leads up to a World War I museum and memorial. It was about 9 a.m. when the hill came into view. It was already nearly packed. There was still some open space, but the view to the main stage was all but blocked. Sticking with this location, we had two and a half hours to kill before the parade even began. It would likely be another hour beyond this, before we would see the team arrive.

We talked. We stood, I made photos. We chatted with a couple. We chatted with individuals. We watched as security at the Crown Center, just across the street, tried to run people off a very steep embankment. For a short time, it worked. Security retreated. Then, people in much larger numbers came back and reclaimed the hill. Security gave up.

Our ears were punished with bad dance music, playing from the public address system. At times, our noses were subjected to the overpowering sweet smell of strong pot. There was lots of drinking. Only once, however, did we see a very minor skirmish. The throng was very friendly and polite.

The Chiefs arrived! It was a bit underwhelming as to how little noise that many people was creating. Was it a rally for the Super Bowl champs? Or a chance to be part of a big event? Probably both.

The mayor, governor, and other “big wigs,” spoke. Thankfully, they kept it short. Team owner, Clark Hunt’s turn came. Coach Andy Reid got his turn. Then, beginning with Patrick Mahomes, some players took their turns.

Our feet were cold. We began the return walk before the rally concluded. It had been fun.

I’d made 185 photos. Several of them "“portrait style.” Didn’t work too hard, didn’t get too close to the team.

Conversation with strangers ensued on the bus ride back to Worlds of Fun. I mentioned Galesburg. Within seven feet of me were four people who have grandparents who live in nearby Dallas City, IL. Another man went to college with a Galesburg police officer. Nearly a million people floating around Wednesday, yet…it’s a small world.

Lori and I had been outside, in 27 degree weather for 7 hours. We logged 5.3 miles. We got in the car and drove home. Agreeing we’d do it again.

We had fun.

"I'll Have a National. Gimme a National"

Radio ads touting a new sports publication featured the voice of editor & publisher Frank Deford.. “I’ll have a National. Gimme a National!”

The National Sports Daily first published 30 years ago today. January 31st, 1990. The last issue rolled off the presses June 13th, 1991. A short, 16 months and change , run. I was lucky enough to be along for the entire ride as a staff photographer.

Around 1971, as a 12 year old, my “dream job” was to be a photographer for Sports Illustrated. I’d marvel at, and study the photos, then look towards the back of the magazine for the photo credits box. Neil Leifer, Heinz Kluetmeir, and John Biever were three who I felt were some of the best. Back then, photo credits were buried in a small box. The photographer’s name would be listed with any page numbers their photos appeared on. 19 years later, in 1990, I found myself working for Leifer, and occasionally rubbing shoulders with the other two, and many other talented “shooters,” as I photographed college and professional sporting events around the county.

From the summer of 1987 through December of 1989 I was a staff photographer for The Daily Herald in Arlington Heights, IL. I’d moved there from The Macomb Daily Journal. I was pretty happy at The Herald. A fine paper with a great group of photographers.

News of a coming “all sports” paper, that would publish five days a week, and was to launch in late January of 1990, hadn’t reached me. I was not aware of it. And there was little to no talk about it in the photo department at The Herald. One day my phone rang at home. Barry Jarvinen was on the other end. I knew Barry as a staff photographer for The Chicago Sun-Times. I would bump into him from time to time. I tried to converse with Barry one time as we sat along the baseline at a Bulls game. I found him quiet. Now, I wondered what this call was about? “I’m kinda surprised some of you guys haven’t rung me up,” he said. Then he proceeded to tell me he’d left the Sun-Times to become the chief photographer for this new sports paper. He provided specifics, and asked if I’d be interested in becoming the second shooter? “Sure,” I said. An interview was arranged.

The Chicago bureau was located on the 15th floor at 35 East Wacker in downtown Chicago. The Jewelers Building. I drove down sometime in early-mid December, met with Barry and a few others, showed my work, made my pitch, and went home. The prospect of being a full time sports photographer was very appealing. But I was warned that “start up” publications have risks. I didn’t pin my hopes on anything. And I kept my mouth shut at The Herald.

At some point before Christmas, Barry called to say the position had been offered to someone else. I went home to moms, disappointed but not devastated. Mom had gotten me a travel kit as a gift. “It’s too bad I didn’t get that job. This would have been perfect,” I told her.

Sometime very soon after, Barry called again. “The first candidate turned the job down. Are you still interested?” “Can I think about it for a day,” I asked? “Uhhhh, I wouldn’t if I were you,” he replied. “I’ll take it,” I said. Barry explained later that he had been running out of time to get a second photographer on board. He needed a “yes.” from someone. I must have been second on his list. My last day at The Herald was January 8th. “Practice papers” for The National began on January 10th.

The National would publish five days a week from three cities. New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. New York was the “main base.” Chicago and L.A were bureaus. Events were covered by staff in New York, Chicago, L.A., and other cities, then stories were filed via laptop computers to New York. Photographers would have their film processed, usually by the Associated Press, then transmit photos to New York via a Leafax. More on the “Leaf” later. NYC had a much larger staff. The production took place there. Then, the paper would use a satellite system to transmit laid out pages, etc, back to the other two cities, and printing plants contracted to make the press runs.

There was no plan for home delivery. Sales would come from honor boxes and news stands, and other locations. This was fine in New York, where public transportation stations put the product in front of many commuters. It worked fair in Chicago. In L.A., where everyone drives, and public transportation was almost non-existent, it hurt sales from the beginning.

I’m not sure how The National came about? Sports exclusive papers had been successful in Europe. Surely, sports obsessed Americans would go all in for such a paper?

It is an understatement to say The National was well financed. The columnists, reporters, and other staff were some of the most famous names in sports journalism in the country. Many were plundered from the metro papers in cities across the states. Journalists willing to take a risk on a new product. And extremely well paid for doing so.

Each of the three cities would have two staff photographers. Generally, the plan was to cover local teams, both college and professional. For Barry and myself, that would mean the Bulls, Blackhawks, Cubs, Sox, and Bears. It could also entail Northwestern and DePaul. We would also spend a lot of time in Champaign, South Bend, and Milwaukee. I was excited to learn that one of the L.A. photographers would be Chris Covatta. Chris had worked at the State-Journal Register in Springfield, IL I knew him and loved his work. He was an inspiration to me when I was in high school, studying and learning photojournalism.

For 20 days, we all went and covered live events, sending work to New York as if we were publishing. This was to practice hitting deadlines and working out bugs. The time differences were an issue. 6 p.m. in California is 9 p.m. in the Big Apple. The west coast boys had the largest disadvantage.

All kinds of brand new gear began arriving at suite 1550 in Chicago. Camera bodies, lenses. and all sorts of lighting gear. A film processor was put in place in a room towards the east end of the office. The room beside it was set up with a light table, used to edit film, and a place to set the Leafax.

The Leafax was a portable photo transmitter. Contained in an aluminum suitcase of “standard size”, it was heavy. One would open it, set it up, and power it on. With each use, a strip of film was used to calibrate it. When it was warmed up and ready, photos transmitted via a phone line. The Leaf scanned color negatives and digitized them. The film holder was small. Designed for film to be cut into frames of three. The middle frame was the frame to be sent. Each photo took approximately 25 minutes to send. The Leaf was expensive. It was of carry on size for planes, and that is how we tried to transport it. Fragile too. A solid bump or drop could break something or knock it out of calibration. Even back then, it would often raise eyebrows at airport security. I was asked to open it and power it up more than a few times.

One of my first out of town trips was during the practice period. On January 15th. I was dispatched to Minneapolis to make portraits of former Viking, Karl Kassulke, at his home. The fun of travel was tempered by having to lug gear around. It wasn’t long before I bought a small, foldable pull cart. Barry was more experienced and knew what lie ahead. His advice? “Sign up for every frequent flyer program you can.” Practice was over. We were ready to go live.

And so it began. We were either shooting the local teams, or making regional runs as needed. If we were home, we’d shoot until it was time to head back to the office to process, transmit, and make deadline. I had this routine down from working at The Herald. If we were on the road, the Leaf went with us. The Associated Press would process our film, then we’d work from a table somewhere in the arena or stadium. Conditions in those rooms varied greatly. Some were nice, some were dumps.

Barry and I worked together early on. We hauled four new, huge, Speedotron lights to South Bend to strobe and shoot a Notre Dame basketball game. Each head had four flash tubes, and massive, heavy power packs. We had to drag it all up steps, and position it around the catwalk to the four corners. Then, wire them all together before letting a “drop cord” down to the floor, where it would plug into our cameras to fire the strobes. The process took close to two hours. It all had to be taken down and packed up at the end of the game.

Another South Bend job brought in staff from New York. They had their hands on what was then, almost an unknown. A Sony Mavica digital camera. About the size of a Hasselblad, It shot a floppy disk. I have no recall of the megapixels, etc. The support software that it required transported in a wooden box that barely squeezed into the back of my car. The two technicians, and all the gear flew into Chicago. Then we drove down and shot a Notre Dame vs. Michigan football game with it all. The first game of the season. Other photographers checked us out. Curious but skeptical. I found it difficult to use. But it saved film processing and bought us time.

It was fun, but hard work. Not glamorous. When sports photographers travel, most of the time, they see airports, arenas and stadiums, and hotels. When they are working, they often have the best seat in the house. But they are not enjoying the game. They are there, under pressure, with the expectation of producing fantastic photographs. The games were the tip of the iceberg. Way more hours were spent in preparation, and/or sending photos, long after the games were over and facilities empty of fans.

Spending time with Barry, I got to know him. He was a graduate of the University of Missouri journalism program. One of the best. He was indeed quiet. But easy to get along with. His words were seldom wasted. He pointed out one of the perks of sports photography, as opposed to general photography. “You don’t have to pose anybody. And you don’t have to stop them to get their name.”

Though I never met the vast majority of them, I would chat with the night editors in New York as I sent photos. There were frustrations within the process, but there were no second thoughts about leaving The Herald for the unknown. As a photographer, I was a foot solider, pretty much removed from any discussions as to how the product was being received, how it was selling, etc. In Chicago, I didn’t hear a lot of business talk. Our bureau chief was Bud Shaw, a great guy. The ad sales guys were across the hall from the photo area. They were very professional, had lots of experience, and hustled hard.

The National was definitely ahead of its time. Some say The National “invented” box scores for hockey. The graphics were super, the writers and columnists were too. The photographers… We were all solid action shooters. Chris Covatta was our portrait ace. When needed, we enlisted the help of other well-seasoned shooters.

As fine as the product was. As well as it was being received. At least one major “player” in the sporting world community, gave all of us an “ego check.” The National applied for writing and photography credentials to the 1990 Masters Tournament. They turned us down cold. Something to the effect that we “weren’t proven.”

Any Bulls or Blackhawks game meant a trip to 1800 W. Madison St. Chicago Stadium.was built in 1929. The building had seen better days. It was way outdated, but had so much character. A lot of history. In the fall, photographers would stop in to pick up their photo credentials for the hockey and basketball seasons ahead. Once inside, the place would smell like fresh paint and stale beer. I absolutely loved working in that place! “The madhouse on Madison,” they called it. Blackhawks fans were loyal. And this was right in the middle of the Michael Jordan era for the Bulls.

Photographers parked on Wood Street, then walk west on Warren Street to the west end of the stadium. At the west end was a fenced in parking lot for players and team staff. Open air, nothing fancy. A security guard kept watch on this gate. I got my first look at a Ferrari Testarossa in that lot. A guy named Jordan owned and drove it. Walk though the lot and you’re ready to enter the building at gate 3 1/2. An Andy Frain usher would hand you a circle sticker that identified you as being allowed to work the event for that night. Peel off the backing, slap it on your jeans, and walk on into the arena.

The National had a deal with Blackhawks photographer, Sal Benjamin. We rented two of the big strobes, mounted up in the rafters. This arrangement saved us from having to install and remove all that equipment on a regular basis. Those lights were triggered with a wireless system. The transmitter plugged into a camera socket. When the shutter was tripped, the signal fired the lights.

A hockey rink is larger than a basketball court. Depending on which we were shooting, Barry or myself would have to go to the electricians room and get a key from Gene. The key got us though a door that gave us access to the catwalk system, 90 feet above the ice or floor. In 1929 they didn’t put elevators in sports arenas. We would trudge up many flights of steps near the southwest corner of the building. Once the door to the catwalk was opened, you were hit with big gust of air. The massive catwalk system was dark and dusty. Some of the railings were suspect. Looking down would make your palms sweat.

We were up there on a regular basis. Why, you ask? Because of the difference in size between that ice and wood, the lights and reflectors had to be re-positioned, ever so slightly, to re-aim the best light on either the backboard and net, or the hockey net. If it was a hockey game, you weren’t alone up there. Chicago Stadium had a massive organ. The pipe system was in the rafters and catwalk. A guy was stationed up there on a concrete pad, to trouble shoot and free any organ valves that might stick open. He read a lot of books to pass time.

In the summer of 1990, I was sent out to Seattle to photograph the Goodwill Games. The games were the idea of Ted Turner, in reaction to political troubles surrounding the Olympics. The 1990 games were the second edition. The games were very, very much like the Olympics. I was paired with L.A. staffer Michael Goulding. Mike is super-talented. We worked as a team, and we had a young man, Eric, who did some of our film running and transmitting. He was a friend of Carmin Romanelli, our Director of Photography, in New York.

We did the best we could. And that was really good. But, as made for television, many of the major events did not begin until mid-evening. With that three hour time difference we were behind the eight ball a lot. Deadlines were murder out there.

Being at the games for around two weeks, this was one place where we did have some down time. A chance to roam around Seattle. Mike introduced me to my first iced coffee at some outdoor cafe along the harbor front.

Everything seemed to be rolling along fine. We were six months into it. If there was any cause for concern, it was well guarded. More bureaus were opened. Atlanta, Detroit, San Francisco. With each bureau, more staff. Including photographers. When a bureau opened in Washington D.C., Barry and his wife Leslie headed east to run it. I was now going it alone in Chicago. Eventually, there was a shift in how we approached the photography. More emphasis was put on portraits and feature stories. A little less on trying to keep up with game action.

When I did shoot action, I was granted the luxury of having someone be at the office to transmit photos while I stayed longer at games. More time meant more opportunity for better photos. We had made arrangements with a courier company to meet at a specific gate at a specific time. I’d leave the action for a few minutes, run the film out to the waiting car, and head back to the photo position. The courier would drop the film with our “transmitter person” in the lobby of 35 East Wacker. It was a good move. Barry’s friend, Cathy, and my friend Mark, were often used in this capacity.

Cathy provided me with one of the best memories during my tenure at The National. I was shooting a night game at Wrigley. Cubs vs. Dodgers. I’d loaded with high speed film, but it was still twilight when there was a play at the plate. I had no idea what I got from it (no reviewing in the Before Digital days. You had it or didn’t). The play was on film I sent with the courier. I shot the rest of the game and drove back to the office.

Cathy had sent photos to New York and had gone home. The office was dark. I flipped on lights to find “footprints” leading back to the room we transmitted from. She had taken her shoes and made multiple photo copies of each one, left and right. Then she went to the trouble of cutting them out and placing them on the hallway floor to look like footprints. Randomly, on different “feet,” she had written words. “This……. way….. to……the…..greatest….baseball….photo…..EVER!”

I had made a pretty good photo of the play at the plate. Helmets flying off, the bat on the ground, the ball. Cathy really went out of her way on that one.

The National had made it a year. Another “start up” publication, the St. Louis Sun, didn’t do near as well. It launched in September of 1989 and was dead by April of 1990. I had worked with a Sun photographer when covering Blackhawks vs. Blues games at The Arena in St. Louis. One night he was there. Soon after, he wasn’t.

When did issues really arise for The National? I think it was a slow process. The pockets were deep. No expense was spared. At least early on. I’d be sent to Minnesota to shoot one game in a series between the Blackhawks and North Stars. Shoot the game, fly home, shoot a game in Chicago, then fly back to Minneapolis for the next game. Those mid-week, round-trip flights could easily cost the company $700 and up.

With no home delivery, everything relied on street sales. The cost of the paper was increased by a quarter, to seventy five cents an issue. “Why is your paper committing suicide,” a photographer from the Associated Press, asked?

The product was great. the logistics were poor. It was not well thought out in the beginning. Looking back, I believe some big names with big egos developed some kind of an axe to grind with Sports Illustrated.. The National was their “we’ll show them” product. In due time, they found out there is a huge difference between publishing a weekly magazine and a five days a week newspaper. I could be completely wrong.

On June 13th, 1991 I drove to Hinsdale, IL to make photos of Eric Soderholm. Soderholm had played for the White Sox, was retired, and was running a ticket broker business from his home. I made my photos and headed back to the office. Our Administrative Supervisor, Jeanne Takami, caught me just inside the door. “No need for you to process that film. We won’t be needing those photos,” she said. I asked why? “Today was our last issue” she responded. I’m not a smoker. I asked Jeanne for one of her cigarettes.

That was it. The National Sports Daily was done and we were all out jobs. No one in our Chicago office said they saw it coming. Not in “sudden death” form.

Reports vary. Some show we spent as much as $200 million dollars in those 16 months.

By luck, a Daily Herald photographer was leaving to move to St. Louis. I wasn’t out of work long. The Herald brought me back and put me to work in a bureau in Lisle. One day, at Wrigley, John Biever approached me. He asked how I was doing and where was I working? I explained I was back in general newspaper photography. “That’s too bad. You are a good photographer.” That felt good. I guy looked up to when I was 12 years old, paying me a compliment.

When everything settled out, many or most of our staff landed on their feet. I don’t know the fate or whereabouts of everyone. But most found work soon again in journalism. I keep in touch with some of them . At times I felt myself harboring mild resentment towards the reckless spending that I perceived at times. Still, I’d do it all over again.

It was pretty close to that dream job.

BELOW ARE SOME NOTABLE OR MEMORABLE ASSIGNMENTS I PHOTOGRAPHED DURING MY TIME WITH THE NATIONAL SPORTS DAILY.

1 1990 Chicago White Sox Spring training camp. Sarasota, FL

2 The 1990 NBA Finals. Portland vs. Detroit. June 5th-14th, 1990. I shot the games at The Palace in Auburn Hills, MI.

3 The 1990 U.S. Open. June 14th-18th at Medinah Country Club. Hale Irwin sinks a 45 foot putt on the 18th hole to tie Mike Donald and send the tournament into an 18 hole playoff the next day. Still tied after 18, Irwin finally wins on hole #1, the 19th playoff hole.

4 The 1990 MLB All-Star game at Wrigley Field. July 10th, 1990. Joe Dimaggio makes an appearance prior to the “Old Timers” game.

5 The 1990 Goodwill Games in Seattle and Tacoma, WA.

6 Notre Dame football. I photographed every home game in South Bend during the fall of 1990.

7 The final White Sox game at Comiskey Park. Sunday, September 30th, 1990. The White Sox defeated the Seattle Mariners, 2-1

8 The 1990 MLB National League playoffs. Cincinnati vs. Pittsburgh. Barry shot the Pittsburgh games. I shot the Cincinnati games along with fellow New York staff photographer, Frank Becerra. Al Tielmans, a free-lancer, also helped out on at least one of these games. I shot the Friday, October 5th game at Riverfront Stadium, stayed the night, then flew to Columbus to work the Ohio State vs. Illinois football game on Saturday the 6th. Illinois won that game, 31-20. I got a shot of Illinois coach John Mackovic blowing a kiss to the Illinois fans. My work that day, drew praise from Neil Leifer, during a phone conversation after the game. “You’re good at this football. You’ve done this stuff before.”

9 Packers vs. Vikings. October 28th, 1990. This game was memorable because it was played at County Stadium in Milwaukee. The Packers played a few games per season at the baseball stadium back then. It was the last example I can think of where BOTH team benches were on the same side of the field. This was great for photographers, as we had one entire sideline to roam. Plenty of elbow room. The Packers won, 24-10.

10 Bears vs. Broncos in Denver, at old Mile High Stadium. Worked this game on Sunday, November 18th, 1990. Then, spent the night and worked a Nuggets vs. Lakers NBA game at McNichols Arena on Monday the 19th. Mile High and McNichols are long gone now.

11 Bears vs. Chiefs on Saturday, December 29th, 1990 at Soldier Field. Damp and chilly. Normally, I’d shoot the game and go home. Instead, I headed straight to the airport to fly to Atlanta. Worked the Falcons vs. Cowboys game on Sunday, December 30th, 1990 on the red clay of Fulton County Stadium. The day before was cold, and I was sick with a cold. Warm enough in Atlanta to shoot this game in a T-shirt. Fulton County Stadium is gone now, too.

12 The 1991 NHL All-Star game at Chicago Stadium. Saturday, January 19th, 1991. Operation Desert Storm was three days old. When Wayne Mesmer sang The National Anthem at any Blackhawks game, it was something to behold and listen to! This time, with emotions and patriotism running at a fever pitch, it was surreal. When Chicago Stadium was no more, there was a story about the “top ten most memorable or historic moments” for the building. The anthem at the all-star game was one of them.

13 The 1991 AFC Championship game. Sunday, January 20th, 1991. With the hockey all-star game the day before, I don’t remember whether I caught a late flight on Saturday night? Or an early flight on Sunday morning? I do know that I was in Buffalo to photograph the Bills dismantle the Oakland Raiders, 51-3. The Bills were using their “no huddle offense.” I shot from the Raiders side and remember making eye contact with one of the players. There was absolute bewilderment in his eyes. There were four of us photographers for this game, Barry and myself from Chicago. Frank and Tony from New York. Carmin did the editing. My day behind the lens was like that of the Raiders on the field. I sucked.

14 Bo Jackson signs with the Chicago White Sox. Jackson signed on as a free agent on April 3rd, 1991. I’m not sure when he played his first game,? Likely, the home-opener I shot, but there was a ton of media hoopla surrounding it. A bunch of us (television and newspaper people) were standing around the dugout at Comiskey Park. I think it was prior to a game, but a few hours before. The stadium was empty of fans. A bunch of players, including Jackson, sat in the dugout, joking and talking. Ozzie Guillen, always the clown, may not have liked the attention Jackson was receiving. In an instant, and in an incident that lasted 3-4 seconds, Ozzie turned his back to us, dropped his pants and mooned us! I was in the right spot at the right time. Reacted quick enough to get the shot, with Jackson and Ken Patterson in the background. The photo could not be published for obvious reasons. I’ve never seen any other still photos of this one. I believe I have an exclusive with this one.

15 The first White Sox game at “new” Comiskey Park. Thursday, April 18th, 1991. The Sox played the Detroit Tigers and lost to them, 16-0.

16 The 1991 Memorial Tournament in Dublin, OH May 16th-19th, 1991. I followed golfer Mike Donald on Saturday and Sunday for a feature story called “The Last Great Shot.” Donald was an unknown golfer who had come so close to winning the 1990 U.S. Open that I’d covered. I made action photos and a couple of portraits of Mr. Donald. He was super cooperative.

17 The 1991 NBA Finals. Chicago vs. Los Angles. June 6th-12th. Barry and I shot the Chicago games. Chris and Brad did the games at The Forum. The Bulls won the title on June 12th after five games. The National Sports Daily was done the next day.

"One FLU Over the Photographer's Nest"

Been too long between blogs. Have been fortunate to be busy. Not so fortunate last week, when down with the flu of some sort. The older I get, the harder it hits. The older I get, the more wimpy I become. Due to the crud, two jobs were postponed. Thankfully, not cancelled. If I don’t work, I don’t pay the bills.

Bill Wyman, the former bass player for The Rolling Stones, once said. “If you can walk, you can make it to the gig.” That’s the approach I try and take. That’s the approach my dad took. In the 14 years I had with dad, the only time he missed a day at the hardware store was if we were on vacation. And after he was diagnosed with cancer.

With the work ethic in mind, l pulled it together to do three jobs for my friends at Monmouth College. I was at my lowest on Tuesday, and it was the most busy. Five separate sessions, spread over five hours. A day of variety, I made portraits of Dr. Mark Willhardt, recently named dean and VP for academic affairs. Interior photographs of the Alumni House. A new employee, a physics student who works with plants. And two basketball players.

Dr. Willhardt was first up on Tuesday. A really nice guy, easy to work with, We used a common room in Wallace Hall to make the portraits. Some were made as he spoke to Jeff Rankin, the man who coordinates a lot of the photos I make for the college. I tried to catch him smiling. I tried to use some foreground context. I tried to frame him between chairs. Anything to add interest to the photos. I also posed him for some frames.

Interior photos are more of a technical exercise. Lines, color, where to put lights. It went fairly easy. Details matter. Keeping flash glare off artwork can be a challenge. Turning on desk and table lamps adds a nice “warm” touch to the scene.

The new employee photo was, as us photographer’s sometimes use the term, “quick and dirty.” The young lady, outside the building she works in, with one off camera flash for fill. It was chilly out. She was accommodating.

The physics student provided us a small growing room to work with. It was tiny, and possibilities were a bit limited. The pink cast of a grow light provided me with a built in, colored gel.

Finished in Glennie Gymnasium with Will and Carly. They were patient while I made all the shots and angles the sports information director requested. By the end of it, I was sweating and chilled. And aching like being hit by a truck.

Thursday evening was men’s lacrosse. Monmouth put it to Clarke College, 10-2. Dominated the game. I’d rested on Wednesday, shot this game Thursday, still not feeling human. It was windy and chilly. First night game of the season for me. Used the 300mm lens and 1.4 converter. That meant an iso of of 5,000, which allowed me to shoot 1/500th at f4. Artificial light can work. The stadium has pretty even lighting.

Finally, Friday. I was tapped to photograph the rollout for the “Light This Candle” event. A campaign to increase the college endowment. Set up speed lights in each of the four corners of the room to bring out the color and detail. As well as override the big banks of windows on three sides of the room.

I’m busy again this week. Work for Monmouth College, the Galesburg Community Foundation, and the Knox-Galesburg Symphony. And I feel a lot better this week. That is o.k. by me.

"That Night"

Taking a detour from the subject of photography to that of music. As big a love, or bigger, than photography.

Duke Tumatoe & the All-Star Frogs (later, Duke Tumatoe & the Power Trio) were/are a regional rhythm & blues/rock band. Began following them in 1982, though they’d been around for much longer. I love them! Duke has a distinct guitar sound and style. And his song writing is witty, sometimes sardonic. And it all comes together best in a live setting. I’ve seen the band countless times.

John Fogerty needs no introduction. Creedence Clearwater Revival was one of my favorite bands in the early 70's. They owned the radio waves in 1970 and 1971. Albums were big sellers, singles from the albums, big hits. The sound is unmistakable. Still original and fresh today. One of the most original bands to come from America? They’d get my vote.

When I moved from Macomb to Chicago in June of 1987, I kinda lost track of Duke and the boys. When they played in Macomb it was easy to know they were coming to town. Chicago has so many more clubs it was difficult to keep up. By luck, a college friend, David Cronin, knew I was a fan, and got the word to me that they were going to play a couple of nights at a place on the near west side, and were going to record part of a live album those two nights. The producer of the live album was… John Fogerty!

Remember my comment about how good Duke and company are live? Well, John Fogerty happened to catch them at a club in Indiana one time. Fogerty said seeing them live was something like “Going to a small town and watching the local pitcher throw a 100 mph fastball.” Fogerty was an instant fan, and gave Duke his support.

The gigs were set for two nights. Friday, February 19th, and Saturday, February 20th (1988). My friend, Mark Dial, each got a ticket for Friday night. I don’t recall any word that guaranteed Fogerty would appear. I didn’t care. Seeing Duke again was good enough.

Dial and I met up and had dinner somewhere before. It was my first time on one of the public trains, as we moved towards the bar. Dials’ dinner had made him gassy. “I could clear this train with one flinch of my sphincter, “ he murmured. I gave him a horrified look, which saved everyone.

DeSalvo’s is in an industrial neighborhood. Duke had played there often. In fact, the album artwork for “Back to Chicago” shows the band in front of the bar. Dial and I arrived. Long and narrow, with two sides. One bar side, one side an open room for music. Dial and I arrived and were in. The music room was still roped off. We moved to the back of the bar side, ordered a drink and waited. I was sitting on a chair back, feet on the chair and distracted. Someone said, “Here he comes.”

One of the biggest heroes of my childhood music days, with a pretty blonde at his side, was walking right towards us. I remained calm, kept it casual, and didn’t move from the chair. He wasn’t very tall. I was looking straight into the eyes of John Fogerty. “Hi, John.” I stuck out a hand to shake and got the same response. He and the woman then ducked into the music room and stayed pretty much behind the sound board for the night, away from the fans.

Duke and band did their usual, great show. Three or four sets. Dial and I hung out in back, rather than get into the general admission, standing room, at the front. The place was small. We were in good shape in the back. One of my favorite Duke songs is “Can’t Judge a Book,” written by Willie Dixon. The interplay between Duke and Gus Starr (second guitarist) is awesome. The show got better, the audience wound tighter, as the night went on.

When Duke was done, Fogerty approached the stage. The jam began. That tale may be best told by the link to a story included here… http://riverising.tripod.com/john-articles/desalvos.htm

By the time Fogerty joined in, Dial and I were no longer sitting. We were standing on a table. One of those “folding type” tables used in cafeterias, etc. “Born on the Bayou” is my second favorite song of all time. When they played that, the table dancing and foot stomping by Dial and me was too much. The table collapsed in the middle!

I’ve worn the sweatshirt a few times to Duke shows since. Duke has admonished me. “You shouldn’t be wearing that,” he said once. He’s right. It’s a treasure and doesn’t come out much. Duke signed the left side, Fogerty signed the right side. Ironically, and by coincidence, a poster of Duke hangs above a magazine ad of Fogerty in my living room. The photo of Duke is one I made at some other time.

31 years ago tonight. A once in a lifetime night, with a once in a lifetime thrill.

"The Big Three"

My friend and fellow photographer, Rich Chapman, may have been the guy from whom I first heard this. “My cameras give me a front row seat to life.” I’ve borrowed that, and used it so many times I can’t count. When I decided I wanted to make a career in photography, specifically photojournalism, it was not because I wanted to use the camera to advocate for change, or change people’s lives. Those causes are very admirable. I was 14-years-old when I knew I wanted to make a living with a camera. My purpose was to have FUN, and witness events up close.

On February 16th, 1978, I got my first taste of what it’s like to be in the front row. Actually, the photo pit. I can not recall any event prior to this one, of any significance, that put me where I wanted to be. Access beyond the public. Emerson, Lake & Palmer performed in Western Hall, on the campus of Western Illinois University in Macomb, IL. As a staff photographer for The Megaphone at Culver-Stockton College, I applied for, and received, a photo pass for the show.

Ford, GM, and Chrysler were “The Big 3” of the auto industry. This is what I called ELP. Three musicians of massive talent, on tour for the first time since 1974. The Macomb show was on the second leg of The Works tour, which began in 1977. The band was popular, the shows were a big draw. WIU was a small venue, and I have heard unconfirmed, that an auxiliary generator necessary, and rented, to power the stage show ELP were known for.

My friend Lee Jankowski, who really turned me onto the band (I was familiar with “Lucky Man” but not much else), accompanied me to Macomb. We left Canton, MO late in the afternoon, so stoked that our dinner consisted of Nilla Wafers. Lee sat in a mezzanine seat, stage left.

There was no opening act. At some point, 3-4 of us photographers were led into the photo pit. the small area between the stage and the barrier that keeps the audience from getting too close. The house lights went down, and then, there they were! Feet away and a little above. They opened with “Peter Gunn,” and then went straight into “Hoedown.”

I am pretty sure I only had one camera body at that time. A Minolta SRT-101. I had a 50mm lens, and a Vivitar 70-200mm zoom lens with a slow aperture. I used Kodak Kodacolor II film. The film speed was 400 asa, which was pretty fast film in 1978. Making photos just about as fast as I could re-cock the shutter and recompose, I was able to work the entire show from the pit. This was before the “three songs and out” that is common practice now. I left the photo pit once, to get far enough back as to get an overall shot of the entire band. Emerson was my favorite of the three. My film negatives show I made more photos of him than the others. I was 19 years old and learning the craft. Not every frame is tack sharp.

The show was SO good! The band may have been at its peak. Emerson was 34-years old. Lake, 31. And Palmer, 27. Sadly, two of them are gone now. And they’ve gone in their billing order. First Emerson, and then Lake. Both in 2016.

This was it. The first example of being up close for a big time event. I loved the band at that time. The camera put me right there. ANY combination of music and photography, is good by me! The ELP concert is one of the biggest thrills of my career.

I’ve been back in Western Hall numerous times. I know approximately where the stage was located that night. A time or two, I’ve tried to stand in the area the photo pit was. I close my eyes and listen to hear a long gone, but still reverberating note. If there was one, it would be Lake’s song that also could describe where the cameras have taken me, and how fortunate I’ve been. The note would be from “Lucky Man.”

"A Field Day For Track"

Photographed the second of two indoor track and field meets for Monmouth College, last Saturday, February 9th. Lots of events, and the opportunity for solid photos of those various events. Unlike basketball, football, baseball, and others, the different events provide different “looks.” The 100 yard dash looks nothing like the pole vault.

Track and field events are also a lot of work. My former co-worker, Tom Loewy, once made the perfect analogy when he said, “Track meets are like a flea market. Everything is going on at once, all over the place.” He is spot on. I’ve repeated that dozens and dozens of times. It’s hard, if not impossible, to be everywhere at once.

Monmouth College has great indoor facilities. And it has a long history of a great track and field program. Head Coach Roger Haynes and assistant coaches, Woodard, Welty and Evers do a fine job. Expectations of the student-athletes are high. So is the intensity during a meet.

However. There is just enough “down time” between events for me, or before/after events for the athletes, that there is an opportunity for casual banter between myself and the athletes. Through those quick interactions, I’ve gotten to know some of the young people on the team. They are a good, fun bunch. I photograph them giving their best. They see me, running around from event to event, trying to capture them at their best. I hope, and think, there is mutual respect from both parties.

For this meet, I packed in three camera bodies, and three lenses. A short zoom, medium zoom, and 300mm telephoto. Also, for this meet, a small, table top tripod used for remote shots, a monopod, remote transmitters and receivers, and a four foot aluminum step-ladder. The ladder has become a staple, I can get just high enough to shoot down on some events. It works well for the shot put and hammer throw. It works GREAT for the high jump. I have lighted the field house a time or two. But its size swallows most of my light power. And, with lights, you must wait for them to recycle. Available light is usually 3200 iso, 1/500th of a second @ 2.8. Allows for the motor drives to hum, and many more images to be made.

One request for this meet came from my “boss,” Sports Information Director, Dan Nolan. “Try and get coach Haynes working with a student-athlete, and smiling,” Dan said. Coach Haynes doesn’t smile much during a meet. He’s all business. A photo is in this blog gallery. You decide if I got the mission accomplished.

The remotes paid some dividends this time. (The long jump and hammer throw photos). And I have new ideas for them. Fresh angles I’ll try later this Spring during outdoor meets. I did some “panning” shots. Using a slow shutter speed and moving with the subject to blur the background. I’m always looking for feature or profile portraits of any participant.

The “throwers,” both men and women. Have been red hot. Lots of personal bests for those who shot put or hammer throw this season. Two photos in this blog capture moments just after the throws.

It was a seven and a half hour day.. I logged 10,117 steps. The photos aren’t that hard to make. It’s just getting from point to point to make them. I start out fresh at the beginning and wind up beat at the end of it all. Everyone does. Athletes, coaches, officials…photographers.

"Above the Law"

“Don’t want to be the guest of the sheriff.” Those are lyrics from a song by Emerson, Lake & Palmer. On Monday, February 4th, I was a guest of the sheriff(s). Lots of them. All members of the Illinois Sheriff’s Association, gathered in Peoria for a conference involving the installation of new officers, recognition awards, and more.

Knox County Sheriff David Clague was sworn in as the new president. Originally, Sheriff Clague’s wife, Debbie, had commissioned me to photograph his swearing in ceremony. That led to working for the entire group. There are 102 counties in Illinois. Approximately 90 attended the conference. Lots of law! With all of them being away from their counties, I remarked to one that I didn’t know whether to rob a bank or be on my best behavior?

This job was a challenge. More so than usual. I wasn’t handcuffed, but I had my hands full. The mission was to do a group portrait on the steps inside the lobby of Embassy Suites, where the conference was held. Then, move to a banquet hall for the dinner and awards.

Always striving for a high level of quality on any job. Hard on myself, and always looking to improve, even after 36 years in the business, this job was a technical exercise. 1. Fit close to 90 men on a staircase. 2. Light a banquet room of approximately 5,000-6,000 square feet.

Rather than take the four larger and more powerful lights, I counted on using four smaller, less powerful, but a lot easier to maneuver, speed lights. They worked. But in hindsight, the big guns would have been better. In the conference room, the small lights were mounted for a direct light throw. I experienced some shadows. In hindsight, the larger lights would have been bounced into the ceiling, reducing the shadows.

For the group portrait, four lights were used. In photo 1, a test photo, three lights were used. I didn’t like the shadow the stairs cast, or the darker wall to the left. Hiding a fourth light behind the stairs corrected that (photo 2) The final set up was four lights (photo 3).

There I was. On a ladder, “above the law,” making the group photo. With any group photo of vertical nature, where the subjects trail back, it’s matter of fact that those in back will appear smaller than those in front. This is accented when using a shorter lens. I used a 35-70mm. In hindsight, i have wondered about shooting from further across the room and using a longer, telephoto lens, to compress the distance and make the men more equal in size?

The banquet room gave me fits too. Larger than anticipated, with room lights giving off a yellowish cast, it was all the speed lights could handle to do what I need them to do. I shoot everything in RAW format. It’s been a life-saver. I think it all worked out. The clients are happy!

With a nod to the song author, Bob Marley. “I Shot the Sheriff.” And there were some deputies in photos as well.

"Oooh, Baby!"

Thought I’d “deliver” a fresh blog. A blog born a week and a day after photographing the birth of a baby for a couple. The second for the same couple. They know me. I know them. We’re friends outside of my profession. After the first child, they began calling me “Uncle Kent.” This time around, I knew more of what to expect. But I purposely did not look back to the photos from three years ago as to not let those influence how I’d “see” this one. I also promised myself and the couple that I’d remain more calm and make less photos. There were no issues the first time. I just wanted to give the mother as much peace and tranquility as possible.

The due date was the 21st. I had it in my head as the 18th. There were signs the baby might come on that Friday the 18th. It did not. Thankfully, it did not come on Saturday the 19th, as I was tied up for 12 hours on another job. On Sunday the 20th, late in the afternoon, I received a text. “You might want to take a nap,” it read. That just set me pacing more. There was no relaxation after that.

Tom Petty sang, “The Waiting is the Hardest Part.” I’d been preparing for the birth since soon after the first of the year. Basically training and being ready, by carrying my backpack full of gear, and two camera bodies, with me where ever I went. The phone was ever present, always on and charged. If the baby came really early, I was ready. The equipment was laid out in an orderly fashion, by a back door. It felt like what a firefighter must feel like. Get dressed, grab the gear and go!

When the due date got more close, I understood more, what it would be like to be one of the parents. Even with the experience of the first baby, this time I grew more anxious, and slept lighter. Every day leading up to the due date, the odds increased the baby would come and I’d be on the run. “Baby roulette.” The mother has never gone past her due date. That was useful information.

So. On that Sunday, the 20th, after the text message, the thought was “any minute now.” But the minutes passed to hours. By this point, the phone didn’t leave my hand and the ringer was set to “high.” It rang at 11:20 p.m. Game on. Living only a block from the hospital, I was able to make photos of the couple walking in, and making their way up to the birthing area. Early labor. False alarm. We were sent home a little before 1 a.m. Monday the 21st. All but exhausted, I took a hot shower and actually did crawl into bed.

The second call came at 4:20 a.m. The prior process of photos repeated its self. But this time was for real. I followed the progress in the room and outside, with mom and dad. A natural child birth with a midwife and a couple of nurses. Let me tell you. The mom is petite, but tough as nails. A baby boy was born at 6:42.

What a privilege. What an incredible experience. When things had settled down, I photographed the dad, carrying his newborn son down the hallway for measurements, footprints, etc. After 30-45 minutes there, the father and I made our way back to the room. The mother had gotten herself up, showered, was dressing in street clothes and applying makeup! Men. Do you really believe we are the tougher sex?!

Yours truly was allowed to hold the little guy as his dad made a photo. Babies must bring out the true joy in a person. I didn’t realize I was smiling so much until I saw the photo later.

What an experience! Was I tired? Exhausted? Well, I slept like a baby that night.

"Talking Points"

It was a privilege to speak to the Kiwanis Club of Monmouth, Illinois on January 15th. The subject? Photography, how I began and where it has taken me. I didn’t spot anyone with their eyes closed, so maybe the photos were interesting enough. I don’t mind speaking to a group about photography. It’s my passion. But I am not a great speaker. I usually “wing it,” and can be a bit scattered. Every group is different.

This venue had no means to use a screen or projector. And with the Kiwanis group being smaller than some, I decided to take the laptop computer and hold it for all to to view the photos, planning to gather the group tightly. More on how that worked out shortly.

Also had the idea to take along a few props to show the group how much things have changed in a fairly short period of time. With me were a laptop computer, a Fiberbilt shipping case, one digital body with a newer lens, one film body with an older lens, and a 300mm 2.8 telephoto lens.

The laptop was to be used to view my primary web site. The Fiberbilt case housed older, mounted prints. A digital vs. analog thing. Guess what? The operating system in the old laptop wouldn’t allow that web site to load. How embarrassing! However, my secondary, SmugMug site, would load. Not all was lost.

“Show and tell” went reasonably well. Photos were held aloft. Many with a quick story behind them.

As the program progressed, it became MORE obvious to even me, how much has changed in aspects of the industry since I became a professional in 1983.

A photographer’s portfolio consisted of 20 or so prints, mounted on 11X14 matte boards. The prints served as a portfolio and may be used in contests. To make a perfect print, long hours were spent in a darkroom. It was not uncommon to spend one hour per print, to get the perfect combination of exposure, contrast, burning, and dodging. A lot of this went on after hours when one could have a darkroom all to their self. Setting up everything just right, maybe with music, and getting into a groove. Working late also prevented the supervisors know you were updating your portfolio and may be looking for another job!

If you were applying for a job, your prints were shipped via the before-mentioned Fiberbilt case (see photos). Somewhat heavy. If it got lost, you were hosed. Ambitious photographers may have put in the hours in the darkroom to have two portfolios. This allowed to have two job applications out at the same time. Now? The sky is the limit. A web site is your portfolio. Apply for as many jobs as you want!

To learn of open positions, the two “go to” sources were Editor&Publisher magazine, and the National Press Photographer’s Association job bank. With the job bank, one would send five, self-addressed, stamped envelopes, and job postings would be sent weekly for those five weeks. Now? In most cases, one doesn’t even reach the photo department. Some human resources robot who might not know anything about photography, is weeding out applicants before the photo editor may lay eyes on a picture.

In “the day,” it was not uncommon to contact a publication in advance, to let them know you’d be passing through. Most all would receive you and review your work, even if there were no openings. The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Dallas Times Herald, and Fort Collins Coloradoan, all gave me valuable feedback in such cases. These days, most aren’t receiving photographers, they are getting rid of them!

With today’s presentation, I was also able to point out the skyrocketing costs of equipment in this digital age. And why professionals have to ask what they do in rates.

The “good old days.” Things were more difficult. Tomorrow, I’ll take my digital cameras and make basketball photographs. I can see, almost instantly, if I got a “keeper” frame.

Oh well…Everything changes.

"Back to Work"

The first Monday of the new year. In the office and back to “full tilt boogie,” not that I haven’t spent plenty of time in the office during the holidays. I hope you had great ones. And there’s not a ton to report on. The work flow slowed down for about three weeks. Just checking in here.

Photographed on Sunday, for a gentleman, Bradley Hix, who is running for alderman in Ward 1 in Galesburg. Family portraits, and other campaign style shots which will be used during the course of his campaigning. The weather was unseasonably fine. The portrait you see here, was made using an old, manually focusing, 105mm lens, with the aperture set at f2. Space was intentionally left on the right hand side of the fame for the option of adding text to the photo.

Am also on standby, in the “expectant photographer” role. Have been commissioned to photograph a birth. The second time to have this honor. And for the same family as the first. The due date is the 18th, but I’m traveling with my gear and keeping my phone nearby at all times now. The second photo illustrates what I’m packing around. When I posted of this upcoming work on facebook, it drew mixed reactions. Some thought it will be a great experience. Some were very turned off by the thought of a photographer at a childbirth. Each to their own. The late, great, photojournalist, Brian Lanker, won a Pulitzer Prize for a series on childbirth. Personally, I’d rather make photos of a baby being born than a fatal car accident, or someone’s home burning to the ground.

The holidays, and break during them, brought college football games playoffs. Made me think back to the days at The National Sports Daily, and how I photographed every home Notre Dame game. Would make the drive from Chicago to South Bend. Good times! So, here are two from the Fall of 1990. One of Lou Holtz leading the team to the field. And one of Chris Zorich and Don Grimm celebrating an interception.

Lastly. The last publication I worked for as a staff photographer, The Galesburg Register-Mail, made a recent note of a huge blizzard that hit on January 2nd, of 1999. Approximately 20” of snow wound up on the ground. The snow began on Friday the 1st, but it was Saturday the 2nd when the photo in this blog was made. Galesburg was virtually shut down. I was out making photos and it was rough going to get around. I spotted this man, walking East on Main Street, and made some frames. After obtaining his name, I asked what brought him out in such conditions. He was walking to purchase a pack of cigarettes. I submitted this photo to the Associated Press and learned that a number of newspapers across the county had picked it up and published it. That always makes a photographer proud. You can see that the Galesburg paper ran it five and a half columns across the top of the front page.

So that’s what it’s all about for now. Waiting for things to pick up speed again. And reflecting back a bit on how fortunate I am to have the career I do, and what it allows me to witness.

"KGS Holiday Pops"

The Knox-Galesburg Symphony put me to work on Saturday night, December 8th, to photograph the first of two “seasonal” performances, the Holiday Pops Concert. The symphony uses my services from time to time. Its always a good experience, combining two of my loves. Music and photography. The symphony is very good at allowing me “artistic license,” and to be able to roam and have access to almost any area during the performance.

Photographing a symphony during its performance is not so easy. Most venues have great acoustics. And a symphony is not rock and roll. The sound of a camera shutter can easily be heard during quiet moments. And it’s distracting. A photographer has to be aware and respectful to the performers and audience. I do my best. They do make a device called a camera blimp that is said to reduce shutter noise by 99%. I have never used one. They can cost $1,000. That may be why I haven’t used one. A specialty item for sure.

Photographing a symphony is like photographing professional golf. There are moments it is fine to make a photo. And there are moments it isn’t. The quiet moments of the symphony are like the back swing of a tee shot. Quiet, please!

For the Holiday Pops Concert, with it being seasonal, my thought and goal was to make sure to make photos that show that it was! To use any color or decorations in the beautiful Orpheum Theatre, to tell the story that this show was different than any other symphony show. Using the two zoom lenses, and the 300mm 2.8 lens, I kept moving, and worked the theater from almost every angle. I have found one “sweet spot,” stage left and on the floor, where I can see most of the stage, but hide behind a wall and shoot through an opening. This position hides me, and reduces the shutter noise.

As I photographed the symphony on Saturday night I thought about the contrast of the beautiful music I was listening to, to the intensity of the music I was listening to exactly 39 years ago to the day. Saturday, December 8th, 1979. The International Amphitheater in Chicago. The Who!

"Three For the Scots"

Tuesday found me on the campus of Monmouth College in Monmouth, IL In terms of “volume,” I do a large amount of work for them. All aspects of photography. Editorial, sports, portraits, events. The Fighting Scots are very good to me! They support my business, and I’m grateful for that. Faculty and staff are fantastic. The students polite. And it’s always a good experience to go and make photos on the beautiful campus.

This recent trip over was a prime sampling of the type of work I do there. One sports portrait. A session that will make for a magazine cover. And the rededication of Grier Hall, a campus dormitory.

Thomas Lesniewski is a senior linebacker who will graduate mid-term. Portraits were needed to accompany a magazine story. Jeff Rankin, who coordinates a lot of the photography sessions, and myself, discussed ideas. With the unpredictable weather, we agreed upon the locker room. I began thinking of lighting set ups. Anywhere from two to three lights were used for the portraits. Speed lights. One shoot thru umbrella, One reflector umbrella, and a Rogue grid. Jeff sat in as my test subject. When Thomas walked in, we went to work. I was able to get 3-4 different lighting “looks” from one basic set up by moving lights, or shutting one down. One example is included in this blog.

The next stop was the Buchanan Center for the Arts, second floor. The versatile Rankin had painted a wall black, Had artwork added, and secured students for the shoot, whom he directed. This session wasn’t too difficult. I mostly “pressed the shutter button.” A three light set up here, too. See the “behind the scenes” photo. Normally, the two outside umbrellas would be more to the outside, and behind the subjects to rim light them. Space, and a bad shadow on the background from the overhead heater, prevented that. Still. They were set “hotter” than the main light to give an extra kick.

The third and final stop was the rededication of Grier Hall, a dormitory. This session included photos of rooms, a reception, and ribbon cutting. An on camera flash with a diffuser, bounced into the ceiling, was the main light. Most all photos were made with short zoom lens. Always looking for detail shots, I found one that helped tell the story of the event. Two photos from this session are included here.

"Farewell, President Bush"

October 10th, 1988. I'd forgotten the town until I saw the banner. Berwyn, IL. I was working for The Daily Herald. The photographers were on the back of a flat bed truck, running just ahead. I'm guessing a 180mm lens? Maybe the 300mm? Definitely a color transparency.

"A Knight One Day"

Stumbled upon a "30 For 30" about Bobby Knight. As a staff photographer for The National Sports Daily, I was dispatched to Bloomington, IN to make a portrait of Calbert Cheaney. Someone at The National set it up through the Indiana SID. A pre-practice portrait. Though this session was planned, I'd been warned coach Knight was moody, and could make my drive from Chicago a wasted one. Cheaney was quiet, polite, and did anything I asked. The session ran maybe 20 minutes. I went about my business but felt Knight's glare and impatience a time or two. This was 1991, the same year a couple of Knight's verbal tirades against his team were recorded and used in the "30 For 30" program. I got the portrait and got out alive.

"Hoops"

Saturday, November 24 marked the first time this season, to photograph basketball, or “hoops,” as we sometimes shorten it. I worked two games for my friends at Monmouth College. The ladies played Buena Vista College and won. The men came up just short against Iowa Wesleyan.

Basketball is not all that difficult to photograph. There is near constant motion. Plenty of chances to get “something,” whereas baseball and football usually have key or decisive moments. With basketball, one just hopes that something different may happen, and that one is in the correct position to capture it. Be it a dunk, scramble for the ball, or an excited coach or player.

I try and photograph basketball from different angles. My “go to” position is sitting along the baseline, just about where the three point arch line meets the baseline. An official may block you at times. But it’s a good spot. There are “overhead” positions, meaning slightly elevated from the floor. Usually the bleachers. Some arenas allow for positioning a remote camera in the catwalk, allowing for shooting down, directly over the rim. This allows for great rebounding shots. This is usually only an option at D1 and pro arenas.

The lighting in Glennie Gymnasium is really good. On par with those D1 and pro arenas. And, with digital cameras being able to handle the high ISO range that would have meant sacrificing quality in the film days, one can set the camera for almost any combination that suits the photographer. I still prefer to keep the ISO fairly low, but high enough to keep the shutter speed high. This prevents motion blur. For the two games Saturday, the cameras were set at 2000 ISO, the shutter speed at 1/500th, and the aperture ranged from f3.5 to f4.5.

I’m not sure what type the lights are in Glennie? They seem to be daylight balanced. That is, they don’t give off a color cast. Images straight from the camera don’t require much correction. But the lights do one thing that I’ve seen a handful of times in my career. They “cycle.” You can not detect this with the naked eye. You can not see this happening. But upon reviewing photos, one can see an ever so slight change in the color balance of the lights. Or also in the brightness/darkness. This can be eliminated by slowing the shutter speed, as the lights would “cycle” through. But slowing the shutter speed may mean blurry action. That’s not good unless that is the goal.

When I work for colleges, I’m usually asked for action photos, as well as watching for as many player profile or feature photos I can make. Especially key players. Coaches and fan reaction are also important. One has to be very aware and anticipate what is happening, or may happen. This is true in almost all sports photography.

What has changed the most in my shooting style, when it comes to basketball, is the format. Basketball is an “up and down” sport for the most part. head to toe, vertical format. But with social media ruling the day, this means shooting 90% in the horizontal format to match web sites, hoping something may be cropped vertical. I find it very frustrating. It’s a real challenge. But it’s a sign of the times. I’m the “pro,” I’m to work around it.

I did notice one other change on Saturday. Me. I’m almost another year older. Getting up and down, and off the floor, is more difficult!

"Back to Blogging"

Hello! The blog is back. I was very inconsistent in blogging (non-existent but for one original post) when I created this web site a few years ago. Eventually, it was deleted from this site. The new goal is to make shorter but more frequent blog posts, regarding all aspects of my photography work.

So. With that in mind. Here are 10 photos from recent work done for Monmouth College. Monmouth College Vs. Augustana College swimming. November 16th, 2018