close your eyes and hope for the best

1941: George with his first car, a 1940 Dodge. Set up by George: shutter pusher unknown
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A car was essential to cover these jobs….
I don’t remember what it cost or how I managed to pay for it. It turned out to be one of the most trouble-free cars I have ever owned and lasted me through the end of the war.

The well-known CPR photographer, Nicholas Morant, whom I met through contract CNR photographer Harry Rowed, was indeed a character. As one of the stories goes, one day in Montreal he put Harry up to going down to Craig Street with him and buying a beaten-up park bench from a second-hand store for $15. They had it delivered to Dominion Square. With their bench set down on Peel Street across from the Windsor Hotel, they waited for a policeman to pass by on his beat. When one came within sight, Nick and Harry peered furtively from behind their newspapers every minute or two, quickly drawing back, and making the officer wonder what kind of no good bums he had there. With the officer’s suspicion fully aroused, Nick and Harry folded their papers, picked up the bench and began to walk away with it. The cop blew his whistle and apprehended them. Still carrying the bench, the cop demanded they walk with him to the police call box on the corner. It was before the days when policemen carried radios. When reinforcements arrived, the officer was asked what was going on. He told them he had two felons he caught steeling a city park bench. Nick and Harry quickly professed they weren’t stealing the bench and produced their receipt from the Craig Street store. I never heard what happened to the park bench after that. Such were the type of live wire and fun-seeking guys I planned to emulate in my photographic career.

Third Avenue “L” crosses 42nd Street, New York City, 1942
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New York captivated me… I only owned a large heavy wooden tripod at the time and don’t remember taking it along. I must have used my Speed Graphic as a hand-held view camera in making New York street scenes. I am so glad we saw the Third Avenue “L” in action before they tore it down.

With the meager funds I earned on the odd freelance assignment, I upgraded my Reflex Korelle II to a brand new Zeiss Super Ikonta B. I loved that camera and wished I had kept it as a souvenir. I prefer a wire-type finder to an optical one. Sketching my idea out carefully, Nick Morant volunteered to machine one up for me in his Banff workshop where he was building a miniature railway locomotive. He did a great job and it looked beautiful when it was chrome plated. We should have patented it.

A first step if I was to get into photography on a commercial basis was to build a darkroom to develop film and to turn out prints. It wasn’t too long before I had obliging neighbors, adept at carpentry, plumbing and, electrical, help to build one in the basement of my parent’s home. For freelance assignments in those days it was all black and white and the film I used was Kodak Verichrome. Plus X and Tri X came along a year or two later, as I recall.

To accelerate the learning curve, I took a summer job at Bulman Brothers, a photoengraving company. Instead of learning how to make photographs, I was exposing and developing glass plates all day. The repetition was monotonous and I left after a couple of months to take another job.

Stovels Brothers, an engraving and printing establishment with a photography studio, hired me. I was given the entire photographic department to look after. My first assignment was to photograph a coffin for the manufacturer’s catalogue. I should have walked away. What did I know about studio lighting, for example? I had to have the Kodak rep, a Mr. MacIlroy - we called him ‘Mac’ - show me how to load holders for the 8″ x 10″ view camera. I persevered. I can’t remember how long it took me, but I came up with results that I don’t think I could manage today. There must have been a 3 1/4″ x 4 1/4″ camera on hand as I made a personal shot that I saw in my files a few years ago. Kodachrome was used in each camera. The ASA was 8. The small transparency hadn’t faded, even though it was more than sixty years old. The dark royal blue velour and the bright creamy white satin all held detail that I could hardly believe. I must have worked like crazy, flooding light onto the velour and using scrims to hold it off the satin. It was a great learning curve. I appreciate the comment of noted Swiss designer, Rene Schoflein, who claims that a photographer is not really a photographer unless he has been brought up on an eight by ten camera.

A car was essential, of course, to get around town to cover these jobs. I shopped carefully and picked up a demo Dodge coupe, the last model made before the war started. I don’t remember what it cost or how I managed to pay for it. It turned out to be one of the most trouble-free cars I have ever owned and lasted me through the end of the war.

The war was getting started and it wasn’t too long before I was back on my own and able to pick up small assignments for the Winnipeg Free Press and the Winnipeg Tribune. Military District No. 10 gave me a couple of jobs at Fort Osborne Barracks and at Camp Shilo before they got organized with their own photography department. In addition to these infrequent assignments, I covered weddings. At most wedding receptions I was treated like an honored guest. On one occasion, I was given such a large piece of the wedding cake to take home that my mother made me take it back. Is there a photographer out there who didn’t do weddings at the outset of his/her career?

George Hunter checks out his new Speed Graphic, 1942.
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With the press-type of assignments, although they were infrequent, I felt I needed the appropriate camera for the job; a Speed Graphic. I was sure the ‘kid-with-a-new toy’ when it arrived in town. Camera stores didn’t carry them as a stock item. I equipped this new camera with a Mendelssohn flashgun, which had a solenoid for the shutter, as did the Heiland Sol I had for the Super Ikonta B. I still have one or two of these historic pieces sitting somewhere on a high shelf.

Working with the newspapers, even in a small way, I was able to request a railway pass. I contacted Trav Coleman. The CPR public relations manager and he gave me a pass to visit Ottawa. I went to see the recruiting office of the Royal Canadian Navy. I took along a portfolio of black and white prints. I must have impressed someone for I was offered a posting as a Junior Petty Officer in photography. I was instructed to return to Winnipeg and visit navy headquarters, RMS Chippewa on Smith Street, where I would go through the induction procedure. Low and behold: I failed the medical.

What did we do for excitement in Winnipeg in those days? What I recall best are the summer and fall fishing and camping trips to Lac du Bonnet in Manitoba and over to Lake of the Woods in Ontario. The highway was in better shape than it was during our bicycling days. I remember the old timer, Mr. Blomquist, who rented us log cabins at Longbow Lake. He told us that a Go-Deeper was the best lure to use for fishing in his lake. Nothing has ever tasted better than the pickerel we caught and fried up over the campfire at sunset.

In the spring of ‘42 things were slow and I was getting a little antsy with the travel bug. I got in touch with the CNR, but perhaps I should have put the bite on Trans Canada Airlines for a pass. After all, TCA had been giving me assignments which included air-to-air shots of their Lockheed Electra and Loadstar aircraft and their personnel. I even photographed their first flight attendant, Betty Hemingson, R.N. These ladies were called stewardesses and they had to be registered nurses. I recall working with an exuberant p.r. type, Al Monson, from Chicago. I don’t know if he was an airline employee, or a consultant from a public relations firm. Winnipeg was TCA’s headquarters at the time and Mr. English was president. I ran around with his secretary, and we remained friends for decades. At the Air Canada Pavilion at Expo ‘86 in Vancouver I was pleased to see a selection of those images displayed large size and hanging from overhead wires.

Neglecting TCA, I had a talk with Ms. Lane, whose first name may have been Angela. She was the Western Canada p.r. manager for the CNR. She thought New York would open the eyes of a budding young photographer and rewarded me with a pair of passes. I took along my cycling friend, Steve. New York captivated me. I decided I wouldn’t be moving there but planned to return as often as possible. I only owned a large heavy wooden tripod at the time and don’t remember taking it along. I must have used my Speed Graphic as a hand-held view camera in making New York street scenes. I am so glad we saw the Third Avenue “L” in action before they tore it down.

© George Hunter

Addendum 07/04/16

Hazel Hunter (George’s sister) approximately 1940 Kodachrome

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Come visit and check out for yourself the lack of fading in these heritage transparencies. The two Kodachromes are a piece of photographic history.

Can anyone tell me, please, why is it that anytime I am searching for something and can’t find it when needed, two weeks later it jumps right out of the files. Well, this has happened once again. In my preceding blog, “THE FORMATIVE YEARS Early 1940s” I mentioned experimenting with portraiture in a space rented with friends in a Winnpeg office building. One of the Kodachromes that jumped out is a shot of my sister, Hazel. My sisters had all the good looks in our family!

Kodachrome 8 asa. Coffin for manufacturer’s catalogue 1941
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The other Kodachrome is the 3 1/4″ x 4 1/4″ transparency I mentioned of a coffin I made as a personal ’souvenir’ shot when carrying out my first product assignment with a 8″ x 10″ view camera shortly after being hired by a Winnipeg photoengraving company. I spoke of the tough time I had in lighting the coffin’s dark royal blue velour and the bright cream satin to keep detail in each. With other emulsions fading almost overnight, I am held in awe at these Kodachromes being in a pristine state after sixty-five years with no evidence of fading. Why haven’t the film companies been able to utilize some of the same longevity technology in producing their colour emulsions over the years? Come visit and check out for yourself the lack of fading in these heritage transparencies. The two Kodachromes are a piece of photographic history.

Kodachrome appeared on the US market in 1938 but didn’t reach Canada until sometime later. In the Canadian Kodak retail store on Winnipeg’s Portage Avenue when it did arrive, I remember the big flurry it caused. I don’t remember where the film was processed, but it was likely sent to Rochhester, N, Y. before Kodak got the Toronto facility up and running. By the way, Kodachome was a very slow film back then, with Daylight emulsion at 8 ISO (then called “ASA”) and Tungsten at only 6 ISO. I still recall making hand-held exposures with a Speed Graphic when shooting Hazel’s and my other sister Louise’s weddings early in war time.

I never shot very much Kodachrome sheet film but I was a dedicated 35mm Kodachrome 64 user from the early 1960s, when I purchased my first F-2 Nikon, right up to the time Kodak closed down the Brampton and Vancouver processing facilities. Those transparencies reminded me of something else; I bought a 3 1/4″ x 4 1/4″ Graflex in those early days and that is what I must have used for the portrait and for the personal coffin exposure shot in the commercial studio. It was a beautiful little camera, and another one I should have hung onto in addition to the Super Ikonta B. I was born a pack rat and kept everything else so I don’t know why I didn’t keep them. A little later on I bought a 3 1/4″ x 4 1/4″ Speed Graphic, which was very nice, but I didn’t keep it either. I don’t know why I could have been so stupid. It kills me to think back over the many 5″x 7″, 4″x 5″ and mid-size transparencies I threw out when they faded.

With Adobe Photoshop there has been no trouble in resurrecting the few faded transparencies that remained in the files. I sure wish I had known the digital age was approaching. I am glad it has arrived and that it is here to stay. I spent enough of my life in a darkroom.

© George Hunter

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