Cowboy Photography Workshop July 2011

Two weeks ago, the Erickson Cattle Company held a Cowboy Photography Workshop in Ackerson Meadow near Yosemite National Park.  Here is my record of what I saw during the workshop.  Photographers were treated to lots of real cattle ranch activity.  A late rainy season kept the wildflowers and grass alive and colorful until this mid-July date.  Normally the grass is brown and the flowers are gone.

With the help of Tim Hansen and Will Bennett, Dan Erickson moves cattle across Stone Meadow.  Cabin in background is the original ranch house built by Dan’s great-great grandfather in 1892.

Dan saddles up a second horse to give his first horse a rest.

Dan and Andra Erickson move cattle from back corral.

William Henderson and Julie Kitzenberger photograph morning mist on Stone Meadow.

Horses run through muddy bog.

William Henderson photographs dew on wire fence.

At day’s end, Dan moves horses back to corral.

During the day, Andra Erickson photographs her husband with son Logan close by.

At sunrise, Dan takes a moment to give his horse a rest.

Julie Kitzenberger photographs Tim Hansen near sunset.

Andra Erickson leads horse from upper meadow.

Photographer gets a chance to capture early light.

Wyatt Hansen ropes calf.

William Henderson in foreground, Julie Kitzenberger standing at left, Charlie Phillips standing on right, Wes Schultz on far right.

Group of cowboys and cowgirl move cattle from back of corral.

Dan Erickson slips reins around neck of horse to change mounts.

Andra Erickson

Tim Hansen uses rope to move cattle.

Wyatt Hansen takes a break during morning activities.

Dan and Tim walk horse into corral.

Will Bennett and Dan Erickson take calf down after Wyatt Hansen roped it.

Wes Schultz decided to photograph me.

Wes’s photograph of me.

 

 

Riot Training 1967

Less than two months after the infamous Detroit riot of July 1967 in which the Michigan National Guard was called out, I was assigned to photograph California National Guard riot training for the Modesto Bee.  At the time, I was still learning how to be a professional photojournalist, dealing with law enforcement and government agencies on a daily basis, listening to their view of events, and keeping the interests of the reading public first and foremost.  Now I would be working with an arm of the military during a turbulent, conflict-filled time.

I had strong feelings about the Detroit riot, which lasted five days with 43 people killed.  I also had strong feelings about the 1965 Watts Riots during which 34 people had been killed and over a thousand injured.  I was in the Air Force at the time.  Because I grew up in the Los Angeles area, the Watts Riots were close to home and I wanted to get down there to check things out.  But that was impossible.

While I was in the Air Force, more than three of my four years were dedicated to the Castle Air Force Base Valley Bomber.  As the Valley Bomber’s photographer, I got tons of experience making visual images to tell stories.  It was easy for me to listen as the story subjects explained their job or department, its functions and operations.  As they talked, visual ideas would instantly pop into my mind about how to tell their story.  The process was uncomplicated, uncontroversial, and simple.

Now that I was in the world of photojournalism, I worked very hard to make the truth my mantra.  Most subjects are controversial to one degree or another.  Objectivity is essential.  Achieving objectivity is an internal struggle that requires understanding my personal feelings while truly remaining open to the reality and facts I see.

The Modesto Bee provided me with some great mentors.  Both Chuck Rodgers and Forrest Jackson instilled in me that we owed it to our readers to be truthful.  They would kid me a lot, saying, “Don’t worry.  Only a couple hundred thousand people will see your work.  If you make a mistake there will be phone calls.”

On my way to the assignment, a load of issues were going through my head.  Most of my family has been in the military, so it was common knowledge in the family that using soldiers as riot control is dangerous.  I didn’t want to glamorize the lethal approach to riot control, but I didn’t want to make the guardsmen look bad in any way.  I knew that they were young men just doing their duty.  At the same time, my military training told me that these infantrymen would be battle-trained and not prepared for civilian riot control.  I concluded that my approach would be to show the training as seriously and accurately as I could.  The images would tell the story and readers could draw their own conclusions.

Lucky for me, I had learned from my dad to be straightforward with everyone.  When I got to the Armory I talked to the 1st sergeant.  He gave me full access to the training (after hitting me up about how I could join the National Guard and make some extra cash).  Out on the field, there were troops with fixed bayonets moving forward on a skirmish line.  Purple smoke grenades were being shot from M14 grenade launchers to simulate tear gas.  So I took off running to the center of the skirmish line.  The troops kept coming and I kept shooting, using my Nikon high-speed thumb motor drive system.  Everything came together in a few moments and then it was over.  I photographed some other images including a practice interaction with a crowd of civilian-dressed guardsmen, but I knew that the skirmish line shot would tell the reader how dangerous it is to use lethally-equipped, battle-trained troops against our own citizens.

Back at the paper, the page one editor decided to use my single shot of PFC David Dean pointing his bayonet at me.  As I shot, PFC Dean stopped and held his bayonet toward me.  I only got a couple of clicks before he lowered his weapon as the Spec4 gave the “at ease” command.  Then, being a good photojournalist, I asked him his name and rank.

In those years the Modesto Bee used “Bee Photo” for most bylines rather than the photographer’s name.  On rare occasions when the editors felt images warranted a personal byline, the photographer’s name was used.  PFC Dean ended up on A-1 and they gave me the personal byline with three more images on A-4.  The next day instead of being happy about the personal byline, I complained about the inaccurate caption, which stated that the soldier was walking through tear gas.  I asked Chuck, “How stupid do they think I am to say I would walk into tear gas to take a picture?”  He calmly told me, as I also learned to do in later years, that he would talk to the caption writer.  Without a pause, he handed me a couple of new assignments.  And like the good photojournalist I was becoming, I immediately took off to do them.

As expected, I caught plenty of flack about being so macho that I would walk through tear gas to get a picture.  The friendly harassment was not unwelcome, but even more important was my satisfaction that I had made an image that told the story.  Reader response was positive.  Some were scared.  And that was just as it should have been.

 

 

Jess Tharp — Fourth of July, 36 Years Ago

In the middle of June 1975, Laurelei Mullens, Modesto Bee features editor, sent me to south Modesto to photograph Jess Tharp, an 80-year-old cowboy saddle maker.  Mullens was doing an advance story for the big Modesto Independence Day Parade.  She wanted to do the story about Tharp because he would be the oldest rider in the parade and had been making and repairing saddles for over half a century.

When Tharp returned home in 1919 after serving our country in World War I, he changed careers.  Before the war, he had been a full time cowboy.  After the war he was offered $35 and beans for breaking horses, a job that had paid twice as much before the war.  He said, “Forgit it.”  From 1922 on, he would be a saddle maker.  He got his start in a saddletree shop in Utah.

Jess’s saddle shop in Modesto was full of smells that were familiar to me.  I grew up in my father’s shoe repair business.  Golub’s Shoe Repair smelled of freshly tanned leather just like this saddle shop.  There was a heavy coat of dust that came from shaving leather and the tools were similar to those I played with as a kid.  To see Jess’s images on Photoshelter click here.

Jess took cheerful pride in the saddle he was going to use in the 4th of July parade.  He used a saddletree that was older than he was, made in 1882.  He restored the saddle the year before, but this would be the first time he used it since the restoration.

He told me he would be the oldest rider in the parade and would wear his 60-year-old spurs, saying “I’ve rode many broncs with those spurs since 1915.”

Jess gave me a quick lesson in hand tooling.  He let me practice making an acorn pattern on a scrap of leather.

He hand tooled the Main & Winchester trademark on the fender of the saddle. The Main & Winchester Saddlery was one of the best known among the Old West Saddleries.  They were a San Francisco based business that started up during the Gold Rush of 1849.

When asked why he kept on working into his later years he said, “If I’d just sit down and do nothing. I’d be a mess.”

“Sure, I worked as a cowboy for three years steady, getting $70 a month for breaking horses, but that was before the war.”

Jess works a hand-operated cutting machine for making leather strips to be used as reins and other rigging.

Special sewing machine is used to groove and stitch leather reins together.  Being in Jess’s saddle shop was like going back in time.  Jess told me about his days in Colorado when he carried a .32-20 Colt in his chaps pocket.  “It was one of the long barreled jobs.”

On the cantle of the saddle was the original trademark.  Jess’s pride and craftsmanship reminded me of my father and the shoemakers that worked with him.  I know my craftsmanship and sense of pride for my photography comes from what I learned from my father.