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I met Gerry a number of years ago when I was working
for a local mail-order camera store as their large format manager. I had
been working alone that day due to illnesses of the sales staff. My
department was located on the lower level of the two-story building. It
was late in the evening and it had been a very long day… a twelve-hour
day and I was ready to go home, prop my feet up and relax. I had been in
the accounting department closing out my figures for the day and when I
returned to my department to lock things up for the night, a very tall man
met me at the door. He had long white hair flowing down the back of his
neck. He wore a buckskin jacket with fringe hanging from the shoulders and
arms, a big Stetson hat, cowboy boots and a wide leather belt with a huge
silver buckle. He was a big man who possessed kind eyes and he stood
straight and proud. “Can I help you sir?” I said. “Well…that would
be damn nice!” he snapped. He spoke with a strong baritone voice…with
the bravado and tone of a great radio or television personality. He talked
with power…slowly and his articulation was perfect. There was no
question as to what he spoke or what he wanted. I thought to myself, “Boy,
this day is about to get much longer…much longer.” “I want to buy a
4x5 camera and I want you to tell me which one I need. Do I need a Linhof?
It’s supposed to be the best … isn’t it? Do you have one to show me
pal?” “I wish I could show you one,” I said, “But I don’t have
one right now.” “What’s that over there on that damn tripod?” He
demanded. “Oh! … Oh, I’ve been so busy that I totally forgot that
Linhof delivered their cameras to me today. I’m sorry! Ok…let me show
you this Linhof,” I replied.
We talked about the camera for a long time. He put me
through the ringer and demanded to know everything I could muster from my
old forgetful gray matter. I showed him all of the camera features and
functions. I showed him what the camera would do and what it wouldn’t
do. We unfolded and folded the camera many times. He took it off of the
tripod and held it, looked at it, caressed it like a newborn child and he
said, “Do I need this camera?” “No!” I said. “Why!” he
shouted. “You don’t need this particular camera,” I said. Why not!”
he demanded. “Well,” I replied, “There’s other cameras that are
less expensive which would be perfectly fitting for your particular needs.
It’s a light-tight box, that’s all it is. You need a camera that will
give you the functions you need and one that you feel comfortable using.
You need a camera that has enough bellows draw to allow you to use the
lenses you believe you’ll need. If you buy a camera that’s too
complicated you may become frustrated and never use it. You don’t have
to spend millions of dollars to have good equipment. You need good lenses
to get good negatives… good photographs.” “This Linhof is supposed
to be the best, shouldn’t I buy it?” he said. “It is without any
doubt a fine camera. I’ve got three more in the stock room and I’ll
sell them all to you. I’ll wrap them all up so you can take them home
with you,” I replied with a bit of frustration and sarcasm. “How many
lenses do I need?” he said. “You need one lens to get started,” I
said. “One lens! I need more than one lens! Don’t I need a wide angle,
a long lens and maybe some others?” he yelled. “You’ll only need one
lens to get started…unless you’re to lazy to pick the camera up and
move it to get the shot you want,” I replied. “Decide what lenses you
need before you spend your money and make a costly mistake. I’ll help
you all I can to make the right decision.” His lips curled up slightly
from the corners of his mouth and he smiled like a junior high-school
adolescent who had just seen his girlfriend’s naked chest for the first
time. “You will? Would you do that for me? That’s very nice of you to
offer to do that. Thank You!” he said.
He took his big Stetson hat off, ran his huge hand back
over the top of his head and through his long white hair as he settled
into a chair. “What’s your name young man?” he said. “Chuck…Chuck
Farmer,” I replied. His smile was infectious and I began to grin back at
him. The twinkle in his eyes was gentle and friendly and he seemed to
relax. I believe he resigned himself to the fact that I wasn’t going to
rob him of his bankroll.
I liked this man. I didn’t know why for sure at the
time. He seemed to be a man of great conviction and character, a man you
could trust. He seemed to be a man who would ask as many questions as
necessary to get honest answers that he felt comfortable with and then
weigh the results in order to reach a decision. He seemed to be a very
strong and kind soul, the kind of folk you would like to get to know. “What’s
your name?” I asked. “Gerry Spence” he said. I had no idea that I
was talking to one of the world’s most powerful and famous trial
lawyers. “Chuck … I like you. You’re a damn good salesman. You’ve
spent a lot of time here with me. I have kept you here late and I believe
you gave me the best advice you could,” he said. “You gave me straight
answers with no double-talk. I like that! I know you like other cameras
more than the Linhof, but I’m going to buy it. I’m going upstairs so
you can lock up for the night and I’m going to tell your boss that I
intend to fly you to Wyoming so you can teach me how to use my new camera.
Will ya do that? Will you come up to Wyoming and teach me how to use that
camera? I’ll just tell your boss that it’s just part of the deal my
friend.”
Over the years Gerry and I kept in touch and talked on
the phone occasionally. I became involved in putting together an 8x10
camera system for him while working as a consultant for another local
photographic outlet. I spent a weekend teaching him how to work with his
new equipment and we had a chance to renew our friendship.
One day while struggling with my computer and trying to
get my new career started, my phone rang. “Hello Chuck, this is your old
buddy Gerry Spence. How are you my friend?” he said. “I’m going to
Wyoming in a couple of weeks…going to Cheyenne to speak before the
Supreme Court and then I intend to take off on a photographic expedition
throughout Wyoming. I’ll be traveling through some of the most desolate
country known to mankind andI’m inviting you to go with me. ”
On January 22nd we took off from the Santa Barbara
airport in his private plane and headed to Cheyenne. The week we spent on
our expedition was one of the most memorable experiences I’ll probably
ever have. Each day was filled with unforgettable stories and sights. I
saw new faces wearing the scars of Wyoming character, new wildlife, new
land of winter beauty that I had no idea existed anywhere except in the
movies. I saw the long abandon log homes and barns being eaten away by the
cancer of time as they crumbled into heaps of dust on the wind-blown
plains…this land of massive prairies and plateaus and very few people.
It was truly beautiful. At times it was frightfully quiet…beautifully
silence…silence that I hadn’t heard for many years. The people were
friendly. No one knows a stranger in Wyoming. They smile, speak and wave
as you pass. They want to know whom you are, what you are doing, where you
are from, where you are going and when you’re going to get there. They
aren’t nosy people, there’re just friendly and frank. There’re
willing to help if you’re in need…just might have to wait half a day
or so for someone to come along if you find yourself in trouble.
One morning we were up early and eager to get on the
road for our next adventure. The nice folks at the bed & breakfast had
prepared a wonderfully tasty meal for us and we ate as though we wouldn’t
eat again. It was a fantastic breakfast…except for the horribly annoying
laughter our dining companion possessed. She just happened to be the only
other guest at the Inn that night, a wonderful lady, very nice, smart,
attractive, someone you might like to know if you could only tape her
mouth shut…she just had a horribly annoying laugh at five o’clock in
the morning. Besides, Wyoming was supposed to be a quiet place!
We made our escape leaving few tracks in the snow
behind us, gassed the car up and headed down the road. At mid-morning we
found ourselves in a high flat valley. This was cattle country with
ancient log homes and outbuildings dotting the landscape, antique
machinery scattered here and there, trout streams running full from the
snowmelt, trees of great character and all of this beauty was surrounded
by snow-capped mountains reaching to the heavens. White Cirrus clouds
filtered the bright sunlight that seemingly made the landscape glow with
an inter light. The air was unusually warm for a January day in Wyoming.
There was no wind…no wind what so ever. We both believed that our next
8x10 exposure would be just around the next corner.
We came to a beautiful rippling stream that crossed
under the road just ahead of us. Both sides of the stream were trimmed
with beautiful Cottonwood trees and native bush with their branches
drooped toward the creek bank. The stream took a slow turn to the right
and just at the climax of the curve stood an old and dog-eared farm
building about fifty feet from the creek’s edge. The structure had once
been painted white, I think. Now, its windows were boarded up and the
years of wind and moisture had dissolved most of the paint away. Snow
blanketed the four-sided roof. A piece of architecture at the roof’s
peak looked like it must have been a ventilation device for the long hot
days of summer. It reminded me of a church steeple. The snow that was
protected from the midday sun in the cool shaded areas reflected the
glowing light onto the scared walls of the old shack. The stream danced
off into the distance with its silver ribbon of water reflecting the
skylight and clouds. And the cattle…well, they were lining up at creek's
edge to drink their fill of the fresh snowmelt…and perhaps they believed
that I could save them from the butcher’s hatchet. I still worry about
that!
The scene was a photographer’s dream, an occasion
when everything comes together in one of those rare moments when body and
mind totally relax to consume the whole event…perhaps a state of
hypnotic trance. It was one of those times when warmth fills ones veins,
when time stands still and one is only aware of the visual. Nothing
matters, on hunger, aches and pains go away, the broken down computer at
home is forgotten and all worries have been filtered away. The mind is
captured by the “now” and all is perfect.
Gerry and I yelled, “STOP! STOP!” in harmony. The
car came to an abrupt halt. We piled out, grabbed our equipment from the
rear of the Expedition and headed to our chosen positions for some serious
exposures. It was an intuitive happening…the equipment flowed flawlessly
from our packs and onto our tripods without a hitch. We probably looked
like a couple of damn robots building a truck at the Ford Motor Company.
The cattle moved into the stream and close to our cameras. They posed and
blinked their big brown eyes and looked as though they were saying, “You
fools, if you think you’re going to photograph this scene without us,
you’re crazy. We live here and you don’t. This is our land. We can
make you buy a permit for this opportunity and we might even set up a
tollbooth on the road so you’ll have to pay the next time you come to
these parts. Perhaps some of us will drop a few cow-chips as you trip your
lens shutters.” I truly believe they wanted me to save them from their
future misfortunes. Their friends and relatives were being sold to Lucky’s
Supermarket.
I pulled my one and only modern lens from my pack, the
450/12.5 Fuji C and Gerry chose to work with his new wide-angle lens he
bought just before our trip. I knew I wanted the old building in the
center of my image and I wanted the trees on each side of the stream to
form the edges of my photograph. I very carefully composed the image using
the front and rear standards jointly to achieve the exact composition I
wanted. The 450mm lens was the best choice for my photograph. A wide-angle
lens would have gathered more information than I wanted. Moving the camera
would have been impossible because of my surroundings…no place to move
to. A longer lens would have drawn in too close to the trees and would
have made the structure too overpowering. I leveled the camera front to
rear and left to right. Using the front standard, I focused carefully and
chose the trees on the right side of the image as my plane of sharp focus.
I checked the ground glass with my loupe, top to bottom and left to right.
The tree branches on the left side were slightly soft. I knew a swing
movement was in order at this point. Using the rear standard, I swung the
right side away from the trees on the left, and in turn the left side
towards the trees on the right. I again looked at the ground glass
carefully and made minute adjustments with the rear standard to make sure
the trees on either side of the stream were as sharp as possible at full
aperture. If I had used the front standard, I would have changed my
composition and the plane of sharp focus. I considered using a tilt
movement but I knew I would loose sharpness in the top of the trees. I
instinctively knew that in this particular situation my plane of sharp
focus had to be exact for a sharp and successful image. Therefore, I made
absolutely sure that both standards were vertical. I closed the lens down
to f 32.5 and checked the ground glass again. In a few minutes my eyes
adjusted to the dim light coming through the ground glass and I was able
to use my loupe again to check all areas of the image for sharp focus.
I took my meter readings and found I was working with a
full range of values. The light was soft and it reflected from the snow in
all directions. I decided to use an orange filter to obtain detail in the
clouds, deepen the dark areas of the tree bark and separate the values in
the snow. I closed the lens to f 32.75 to insure sharpness instinctively
knowing that the lens would perform very well at my chosen aperture. I
then checked to see that all knobs on my camera were locked in position
assuring no unwanted camera movement.
The cattle were still there and posing for the
photograph. Gerry and I both felt that perhaps the added attraction might
add a little uniqueness and movement to our images. No rocks or loud
noises were directed toward the cattle although the temptation was great.
We’d work with what was there. I made two exposures and jotted down my
notes to develop the negative normally. Gerry worked with his wide-angle
lens for a while and then switched to his 450mm for a closer composition.
Our images looked similar on the ground glass but we knew that our final
prints would be very different because of our own unique printing styles.
It was time to head on for our next adventure so we
packed up our equipment and started back to the car. Looking down the road
we noticed an old car chugging and banging its way toward us. Gerry said,
“You just wait. They’ll stop here and say, what the heck yaw guys do’n
stopped here on the road? What are ya do’n? Do they know you’r here?
Where are ya go’n anyway?” The old car slowly approached and came to a
stop. An elderly lady rolled down the car window an yelled, “What ya
boys do’n? Are ya hav’n trouble? Where’d ya get them old antique
cameras? What ya tak’n pictures of anyway?” “There’s a couple of
bears humping down there by the creek,” Gerry yelled. “You ought to
take a look.” “Oh my God!” the old gal muttered. “OK…see ya boys
later.” She rolled her window up and bucked her old clunker up to
touring speed.
I was laughing so hard that I could hardly stand up.
The weight of my backpack shifted from side to side throwing my balance
out of kilter. There I was, stumbling around in the middle of the road
laughing like a Hyena. Gerry yelled, “Chuck, get out of the middle of
the road, there’s a big truck coming…get out of the road…you’re
going to get hit, you’re going to get run over by that truck…hurry.”
I finally made it to the car without getting flattened like the
Roadrunner. We both were roaring with laughter as we watched the old woman
in her junk car disappear to the east. We spent the rest of the day
reliving our experience and chuckling like a couple of grade school kids.
We vowed to name our photographs “Two Bears Humping” |
