I used the same setup but with a telephoto. Rugged Canon F-1 with a 250 exposure back. Heap of moolah back then.
In the “old days”, we shot with 35mm cameras that used something called…film.
You loaded your own bulk film if you shot a lot.
You manipulated something called “ASA”.
You had to meter the light and set your shutter speed and f/stop.
There was no auto focus.
Me on the left with my motor driven Canon F-1 dangling from my shoulder. This was my mom and aunt’s war time refuge in the town of Fukui. At my relative’s home.
The cameras were made out of steel with metal gears – weighed a ton…especially if you carried an external motor drive with EIGHT AA batteries.
You developed your negatives at home – according to temperature.
Processing tanks. For 250 exposure lengths, I used a tub.
There was no “Photoshop”. You used an enlarger and “dodged” and “burned” your prints to make corrections.
You all have it easy now. Well, I guess me too.
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Just for memory’s sake (and my ego), here are two of my award-winning sports shots from 1972. From one statewide photo contest. These are surviving test prints, i.e., boo-boo prints that had been stashed away by luck. 🙂
The final prints – from the best printing efforts – were mounted and submitted.
Available light (and lighting was poor, believe me). I didn’t use flash as I felt it distracted the players trying their best to win.
Exposed Tri-X at 2400 ASA and “cooked” the negatives in HC-110 replenisher. Brutal stuff.
I usually shot from the stands, rim level, for a different perspective.
You had to anticipate the play and pre-focus.
And some luck.
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1st Place
Recently scanned and unretouched. That’ll be cheating now, wouldn’t it?
Honorable Mention:
Ditto.
Not bad for not having taken photo classes. All self-taught.
OK.
My ego’s placated…and no criticisms from the pros who might be peeking.
I had a date last night…and she was a varsity high school cheerleader, no less. Any man’s dream as they say.
It was the most wonderful evening for me in close to two decades.
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Oh, her name is Mari Jo and very happily married. Darn. Double darn. Her loving Husband was kind enough to “lend” her to me for our 40th high school reunion. They both bought me my ticket to make sure I’d go to the reunion. How embarrassing for a man of old ways.
Mari Jo and I have been friends since six or seven years of age – from around (ahem) 1960 or so. We went to a great elementary school in the heart of East Los Angeles called 4th Street Elementary. It still stands. Brick auditorium, too.
She had a touch of freckles, blond hair with the slightest of curls and an infectious smile back then. More than 50 years later, she still does. Priceless.
True childhood friends. The best. No walls. No mask. Out in the open.
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Nearly all of us were pretty much in the same boat. Our families were trying to make ends meet. Since we knew no other lifestyle, we all looked upon each other for support. I see this in hindsight now.
Mari Jo is at the left on the third row. Me? Guess.
It seems as if mom stopped by for this “May Day” dance perhaps in 1966. Mari Jo can be seen being twirled around by another childhood friend Ralph – he’s the tallest one on the left.
Tall one on the left is Ralph. The cute blond girl he is twirling around is Mari Jo. The “Asian” in the middle… Well…
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We were all blessed to have stayed together through what we called junior high school back then. That school, too, is still standing. Junior high school would end up giving Mari Jo a lot of memories – both painful and happy. One of her proudest moments… I think she looks fabulous, don’t you?
Mari Jo was a “Tower Queen Dance” princess in 1969.
Mari Jo was cheerleading even in junior high. She is at the far right.
You know which one is Mari Jo by now…off to the right.
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In high school, our friendship continued. Mari Jo was a popular young lady. She was funny, outgoing and cared about others…and she was one of our varsity cheerleaders. Odd that bubbly Mari Jo would be one. Are you kidding me?
She is off to the far right – it is from a frame from one of my surviving negatives from back then.
Not a very good shot (I would crop later) but there’s Mari Jo on the far right cheering on our football team.
Did I mention she was a ham, too? She was one of my favorite candid photography subjects. I was apparently known as the guy who always had a camera hanging from my shoulder. While sports photography was where I exceled (with basic equipment), many of my photos ended up in the school newspaper or the yearbook. I had taken tens of thousands of photos, then developed the negatives at the house then printed them. And the friends I gave the prints to were happy… and that made me happy. The plumbing was never the same after all the processing and printing. That didn’t make my parents happy, I’m sure.
I treasured the negatives for decades…but about six years ago, my littlest firecracker Brooke decided to let the air out of an IMMENSE three tier inflatable pool full of water… but the darn wife had put the IMMENSE pool IN the garage (where my CAR should have been) so that the kids would not get dark from the sun. Why have an IMMENSE three tier pool bigger than Lake Erie if you don’t want your kids to get dark??
When my angelic Brooke pulled the plugs, the garage flooded – and all but one set of the high school negatives were ruined. The prints from those precious days that survived were also gone…including my most favorite one which was a double-exposure of Mari Jo immediately after losing the football league championship game in the final seconds.
A devasted Mari Jo – and school – sobbed after losing in the final seconds. Scanned from our yearbook. My most favorite photo of all.
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I last saw Mari Jo later that year – 1972 – after graduation. She was moving to Las Vegas to get married.
While we had written a letter or two soon thereafter, for the next 37 years, I oft thought of Mari Jo (and of two other childhood friends, “Fritos” and Ralph)… What happened to her? Was she happy? I was so angry at myself for failing to stay in touch…
Then… I came across a lead. I sent off another blind email like I did for my dad’s high school yearbook; I guess that’s my MO… and she replied! OMFG.
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We learned of each other’s paths since parting. But most of all, she was HAPPY. That was all that mattered to me. She is now happily married with two great kids…and a granddaughter!
But good ol’ Mari Jo… She knows of my life’s recent events and she – with her good husband’s encouragement – came to my rescue last night. If I can sum it up as best I can, she said basically you plan for life – but what happens is life. Life is but ambiguity and dwelling does no good… to move on.
Before we met, I kidded her my hands were sweaty and that I was nervous… like a certain escort she had one night when she was young. She called me poop head. Loved that. But I was nervous.
She snuck up on me and surprised the dickens out of me… and man, it was worth it. She looked stunning – gorgeous if I may say – but it was Mari Jo. That same infectious smile. From 4th Street School. In East LA.
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Speaking personally, I had the most grandest of times… It started with Mari Jo screaming – just a tad. After picking her up from her hotel, I did a burn out in my car. It was just a little scream, Husband. Really. Well, it was more a case of Mari Jo sinking her manicures into the ceiling.
Needless to say, she was the most ravishing one there… and she was my date! Thank you, Husband!
I felt so good, I did the cha-cha with her… Well, kinda. I had forgotten how to… but the song was “Suavecito”. An East LA favorite. My legs hurt this morning.
I won’t go into the reasons but the varsity cheerleaders and I overall had a special relationship – and four of the eight were there!
Three of the four cheerleaders there at the reunion.
Aren’t I a lucky old fart?
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Thanks for rooting for me, Mari Jo. You blew in fresh air and helped rekindle a smothered flame.
Dad’s eyes got a teensy-weensy bit watery again today.
Perhaps its becoming a routine.
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Went to see Dad this morning. Took him his “bentou”, or Japanese lunch to-go, as a change of pace. They only serve America cuisine there.
Pork cutlet bento
Not that he complains. He doesn’t. But all the servers there know he WON’T eat fish. He makes sure of that.
Also took him “yokan”, “senbei”, “manjyuu”, and Morinaga caramel (his favorite from decades ago)… Oh. And “anpan”. Gotta feed his sweet tooth. Make him happy is all that matters now.
Another favorite of Dad’s – anpan
While he asked how “Sue-boh” is as usual (his favorite brother who was KIA), he – by coincidence – talked about how he broke his elbow again. 😉
But this time, I had the pictures I had taken last month with me! Blew his mind. He “kinda” remembered my son and I went to Japan, but he couldn’t comprehend how I got those pictures. Oh well. Anyways, the most important thing was that yes, that was the large stone he jumped from…but he asked, “Where’s the benjo? There was a benjo there behind the tree.” A “benjo” is kind of like an Japanese-style outhouse. 🙂 And that definitely was the (remnants of the) branch.
You should have seen his boyish smile.
I took along what vintage pages I dared to from Grandmother Kono’s album today. I was concerned as they were so fragile… but Dad handled them gingerly.
He said there was a butcher shop in the brick building in the background. That brick building at King and Maynard is still standing.
He particularly liked the photo of him, Mieko and Suetaro… He had a nice smile. I wonder what was going through his thoughts then but I wasn’t going to interrupt.
He is smiling while looking at the three of them. By the way, the stone bracelet he is wearing was from Masako and Izumi. He says he doesn’t take it off but doesn’t remember where it came from. 😉
I think his eyes got a bit watery.
He said, “That was a long time ago,” and “懐かしい”
Just a teensy-weensy bit.
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About an hour later, he remembered looking at the vintage pictures.
It was there at Grandfather Hisakichi’s feet… a Coleman stove! My guess is circa 1920 up near a Mt. Rainier campground… It’s just so…unexpected to see a Japanese family of the early 1900’s with such an “American” icon. I hope I am not a rascist but I sure didn’t expect it.
Grandfather Hisakichi at the right. Unretouched.
And amateurish-ly (is that a word?) retouched with free software. I’m El Cheapo:
As retouched.
Grandmother Kono is not pictured but I wonder who snapped the photo.
There was a photo of Mt. Rainier dated August 1920 on another page in the deteriorating album kept by Grandmother Kono.
Unretouched.
It is remotely possible the man on the right is also Grandfather Hisakichi but I doubt it. I feel this was at a separate outing from the campsite photo.
They walked on it. They posed for family portraits on it. They passed away on it. It felt as if their souls were infused in it.
Although my ancestors have come and gone through that house for about a hundred years, the old sakura wood shared their souls with me.
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Then:
The Kanemoto’s sat on the cherry wood walkway for a portrait. Notice the glass paneling at the center-rear. My father (second from left) is sadly all who remains from that generation. Circa 1928, Hiroshima, Japan.
Now:
Although aged and weathered, the sakura (Japanese cherry) wood upon which my ancestors sat upon for family portraits is unchanged. Even the glass paneling in the background is the same.
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While I am certainly not in the construction industry, my father’s family home is based on the Edo design era. Generally speaking, they are built on stone foundations, with supporting square timbers and a raised floor. “Tatami” mats were used for flooring.
My father, while now 93 and suffering from dementia, fondly recalled the floor plan of the Kanemoto house…especially of the main room seen the family portrait. He said it had a “tokonoma”, or a small alcove alongside the altar, or “butsudan”. He also clearly recalled the floor space measured by the number of tatami mats used; in this case, “hachijyou” or eight mats.
This is the room in which my cousin Masako “saw” Aunt Shiz a few days before she passed away.
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The house was indeed damaged from the atomic bomb’s shock wave. This same shock wave shook the Enola Gay violently even while trying to escape the blast at about 30,000 feet altitude. She was 11-1/2 miles away.
The house is about 4-1/2 miles away by way the crow flies. Almost due west of the hypocenter. Masako was knocked down by the hard-hitting shock wave while in her classroom.
A low lying hill called Mt. Suzugamine served somewhat as a barrier, deflecting the shock wave. Still, nearly all of the sliding door panels were knocked down and the ceiling was sucked up more than a foot per Masako. Roof tiling was also blown away from the force.
Masako is trying to show how the atomic bomb’s shock wave lifted the ceiling up over a foot. It is repaired now but was left as-is for decades.Masako in the process of trying to show how far the ceiling was lifted by the blast on August 6, 1945.
My Uncle Suetaro took one of his last photos in front of this house in May 1944. My grandmother already had her stroke and is not in this photo but his sister, Michie, is standing to his right.
One of the family treasures found during our journey to the family home in Hiroshima this month. Uncle Suetaro is going to war and his death.
Grandmother Kono’s funeral in 1954; my father can be seen in the lighter suit to the left standing next to Michie and Masako (hidden by the flowers):
Grandmother Kono’s funeral at the house. 1954
The home does have spirits within. It’s not cornball. It is an incredible sensation. We were called to those souls in the wood this month. Seriously.
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When I saw my son in front of the home, I saw that I’m in the last half of my journey in life… but I came back to myself on that old sakura wood.
Early family picture in front of the house. The entry is on the right.My son Takeshi standing next to the Kanemoto name in front of the house just this month. The entry can be seen behind him.
Masako and Spam Musubi 