ALWAYS Carry the Camera

I’ve shot so many wrecks and fires that most of them are a blur. This one stands out in my mind for one reason: I wasn’t supposed to be there. (That’s my 1959 Buick LaSabre station wagon in the background. I tried to blow the picture up to see who my cohorts in crime were, but I couldn’t make them out. (Click on the photos to make them larger.))

Truck vs. Train

A couple buddies and I decided to cut class one afternoon. Maybe we had study hall or something where we wouldn’t be missed, I don’t remember. It was well known that I never went anywhere without my camera and an ugly orange plastic-covered camera bag, so I elected to leave them in the school darkroom so I’d be less obvious.

No telling why we were on the south end of town near the dogleg at Elm and Fountain and the railroad tracks near Leming Lumber. I might have heard the call on my police monitor and decided to chase it.

I imagine I said something like “DRAT!” when I reached for my camera and came up dry.

Dash to Nowell’s

My station wagon must have been a red streak when I drove across town to Nowell’s Camera Shop. I dashed inside, reached into the display case for a Pentax camera, grabbed a roll of Tri-X off another shelf and hollered over my shoulder on the way out the door, “I’ll settle up with you later.” I don’t think Bill Nowell so much as blinked an eye. Try that in one of the Big Box stores today and see what happens.

God and the preacher

I managed to get back in time to get at least one shot that ran in the paper; the top one, I think. There are big gaps in the Google Archives for 1964, so I couldn’t find the actual story. This was one time I was happy that The Missourian didn’t give me a byline.

I was in the situation of the preacher who called in sick on Sunday morning to play golf. God and St. Peter are perched on clouds watching him approach the first tee. “Watch this,” God says, directing the ball to go straight into the hole. The same thing happened on the next four holes.

“Why did you reward him for neglecting his flock?” St. Peter asked, perplexed. “Wouldn’t a bolt of lightning been more appropriate?

“Who is he going to tell?” God said with a wicked smile.

Vintage cars burned up

These two fire pictures were on the same roll. I remember absolutely nothing about them. They had to have been shot on the same day, because I returned the camera to Nowell’s right away.

Body language haunting

What I notice in this photo is the haunting body language that signals despair. These aren’t merely spectators. They are people who have lost something important to them. They remind me a bit of the Reid Family in Ohio: stunned and numb.

You can tell a big difference between the people standing here and the curious bystanders in the truck vs. train crash.

The vehicle in the foreground looks like a stock car.

We didn’t get caught

My buddies and I managed to escape any consequences from our absence. I DO recall, though, Mr. G. stopping me in the hall a few weeks later and saying, “I know you’re up to something, I just haven’t figured out WHAT yet. I’m keeping my eye on you.” Of course, knowing him, he probably delivered that speech to everybody at one time or another just to keep us on our toes.

The lesson I learned that day was NEVER go anywhere without a camera.