Photographers Don’t Understand Pressure

I should have know better than to take a tongue-in-cheek swing (pun intended) at golf and golfers yesterday. I described my disdain for the sport and singled out Sam Snead as a photographer-hating prima donna who would try to blame shutter noise (chirping birds, wriggling earthworms, spectator coughing) for missing a shot.

CHS classmate Brad Brune, a self-described “humble golf fan,” took me to the woodshed in a very creative comment. I decided it was worth sharing.

Brad Brune’s comment

Once upon a time….

One of the promising young rising stars in the world of photo journalism, Ken Steinhoff, is on a very important shoot. Many Thousands of Dollars, all your sponsorships, and your national ranking are at stake. Your assignment is to catch a picture of Sam Snead “exactly” as his club strikes the ball on the 18th tee box of the Masters.

You are the only photographer allowed to take this exact photo. Too soon,too late, or off center won’t work, and your successful shoot would be jeopardized. At the very least you would loose several thousands of bucks for missing that essential shot – at that historic time and place.

Hundreds of people surround you and are watching you work. “GO KEN…. YOU THE MAN!!” they shout at you as you steady your camera. Millions are watching on TV and there is a close up of you on every TV screen in America. All is quiet…. just the sound a the breeze in the trees in the distance. Sam starts his 100 mph down swing. You are nervous as hell, sweat is running down you face, and you have your moist finger lightly poised above the shutter button.

BOO!

I sneak up behind you at the worst possible moment and quietly whisper, “BOO!” You jump out of your skin, snap the shot a fraction of a second early and your hands move slightly so that Sam’s head is half cut out of your shot!

That night you are the “joke” on every talk show on cable and broadcast TV. Slow motion video of the exact millisecond you blew the shot are repeated over and over. Every paper in the country has the head line the next day, “STEINHOFF CHOKES…. BLOWS THE SHOT!” Photographic columnists take cheap shots at you because you won’t accept responsibility for blowing the shot saying, “a sudden noise from a fan caused me to loose concentration.”

Had you been in Bush Stadium taking a picture of Stan the Man in the World Series with 50,000 fans screaming…. my little trick would not have bothered you at all. You would have been a rich hero, and the toast of the town.

There is no comparison Ken.
Brad
a humble golf fan.

A photographer’s rejoinder

Photographers are the one group who have to literally keep their focus no matter what kind of chaos is happening around them.

When you’re shooting what should be a routine traffic stop of some armed robbery suspects and suddenly someone shouts, “Get the photographers!” that’s a little more unnerving than someone whispering “BOO!” while Sam Snead is swinging.

Lens hood being ripped off

I’m proud to say that this photo, taken seconds after the one above, is sharp, even as the trooper rips the lenshood and filter off my camera while he’s trying to take it away from me. THAT’S focus. (The hood and filter are the round, dark and light objects in his palm.)

Trooper attack from another angle

Palm Beach Post Staffer C.J. Walker captured this frame of the lens hood flying through the air. One of these days I’ll publish the whole sequence and tell the complete story.

The short version is that by the time the incident investigation was finished, the Florida Highway Patrol adopted a media access policy that has become the model for public safety departments all over the country.

So, while I won’t say that every photo I’ve taken has captured the peak action, been sharp and exposed properly, I’d say my powers of concentration are pretty good under real life pressure. Let’s see how well Sam Snead putts in a burning building, while being attacked, in a hurricane or while being teargassed.

I agree. There IS no comparison.

Ken

A humble photographer

[What happened to the trooper, you wonder? My very own newspaper named him Lawman of the Year a couple of years later. I can only assume that what happened here was an aberration or that the editors of the paper thought the trooper had the right idea of how to treat photographers.]

 

Louis Lorimier and Indian Park

I really didn’t have many memories of Indian park. It always felt a a little rundown and neglected, although it has a few more amenities these days. It’s bounded on the east by Lorimier, the south by William (and, at one time, Happy Hollow, the town dump). Louis Houck’s railroad ran past the west end of the park. There was a little BBQ stand just up the street from it.

I figured this would be an easy posting: a couple shots of the granite memorial (dedicated Oct. 7, 1946) and I’d get to bed early. Darned history got in the way of that.

Friend and leader of Indian tribes

The inscription on the marker reads, “Indian Park. Indian tribes often came here 1793 – 1812 to meet Don Louis Lorimier their friend and leader.”

I took THAT with a big grain of salt. When you’ve got Trail of Tears just north of Cape, I wondered just how much of a friend any white man was to the Shawnees who used to camp on this ground because there was a good spring nearby.

Lorimier captured Dan’l Boone?!?

A Jan. 31, 1948, Missourian clip quoted the Houck histories as saying that Lorimier and Indians, opposing the Americans, made a raid into Kentucky, captured Daniel Boone and took him and others to the principal Shawnee Indian village in Ohio on Feb. 7, 1778. Boone escaped June 16.

I guess it IS possible that he could be considered a leader.

He established Cape Girardeau in 1793. Before coming to this (Spanish) territory, he had favored the English in the war (1775) against the American colonies.

Was he married or not?

The light was really ugly on Lorimier’s grave when I strolled through the cemetery, so I blew it off with a perfunctory shot. I wish I had paid more attention.

A Missourian story – 140 Years Ago – 1809 – said that on March 23, Charlotte Pemanpieh Bougainville, consort of Lorimier, died, aged 50 years, 2 months, leaving 4 sons and 2 daughters. She was laid to rest in Old Lorimier Cemetery in the first marked grave. Lorimier speaks of his consort as  “the Shawnee woman, Pemanpieh, with whom I have lived these 4 and 20 years and upward, and whom I consider, love and regard as my wife.”

The tombstone reads, in part, To the memory of Charlotte P.B Lorimier consort of Maj. L. Lorimier…

That would indicate that she took his name, at least in stone.

“Married by the Great Spirit”

Another Missourian story says that Lorimier, prior to his coming to Cape Girardeau, had taken for his wife a half-breed Shawnee woman, named Charlotte Pemanpieh Bougainville, supposed to have been the daughter of a French-Canadian officer of that name. Tradition has it that he was married to his spouse according to tribal ritual, by standing on a mountain top at sunrise, with uplifted arms, imploring the Great Spirit to guide their every footstep on their journey through life.

My friend Shari and I noticed a fair number of graves in the old cemetery that had a wife on one side and a much younger “consort” on the other. We thought that maybe “consort” was just another word for wife in those days. Looks like that might not be exactly true.

I sure don’t remember hearing much about this in history class. I’d have paid closer attention if that kind of stuff had been part of the curriculum.

We’ll see if I can come up with more info before I do a piece on Old Lorimier Cemetery.

Cape Tornado of 1949

My readers usually know more about Cape history than I do and they’re good about sharing their knowledge. This contribution stopped me cold. It’s an account of the May 21, 1949, tornado that killed 22 people, hospitalized 72 and injured hundreds, written by a pregnant newlywed to her mother on pages torn from a day calendar. I’m reprinting it here with the family’s permission.

Gallery of the Tornado letter

I’m going to present the letter in two forms: as a series of photos of the pages and as a .pdf document that you can download in its entirety so you can read it at your leisure. Click on any image to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

Letter in a downloadable form

Here is a copy of the 18-page letter in a single file: 1949 Tornado Letter by Kathrine Lamkin. You’ll need Acrobat Reader version 7.0 or later to open it. The file is fairly large, so I wouldn’t try to get it if you don’t have a broadband connection. If right-clicking doesn’t open it, right click on the link and chose Save Link As. Depending on your monitor, you may want to view it at about 125%. Save the file if you want to read it later.

Kathrine Porter Russell Lamkin

The writer was Kathrine Porter Russell Lamkin. She died Aug. 27, 2009, just a few days short of her 83rd birthday.

She was a society deb, pictured in Life Magazine’s Oct. 28, 1946 photo display of the Veiled Prophet Ball in St. Louis. (I’m sorry that I don’t know which specific photo she’s in.)

She attended Washington University, where she met John T. “Jack” Lamkin after he had returned from World War II.. They were married Nov. 6, 1948. She was pregnant with Central High School classmate Tucker Lamkin when she wrote this account of the storm.

You can read more about Kathrine “Po” Lamkin her in her obituary in The Missourian.

Names I recognized

  • Codeen is Codeen Sherwood, a Lamkin family friend and cook.
  • Jack is Kathrine’s husband.
  • Dr. Herbert is Dr. Charles T. Hebert. This was a particularly heart-wrenching part of the letter.
  • Rush Limbaugh’s house was wrecked but the family was at Rush Jr.’s wedding when the storm hit.
  • It ruined Dr. Parker’s house, touched the Boutin house and knocked down a tree at Libby and Jack Oliver’s.
  • The Medical Building is wrecked and Dr. Ritter and the other doctors are working out of Dr. Ritter’s home.

Missourian Series

The Southeast Missourian did a good job of pulling together photos, reprints and stories from the 1949 tornado. Rather than rehashing what they did, I’ll get out of the way and let Mrs. Lamkin’s letter and The Missourian retrospective speak for history.

Thanks to the Lamkin family for sharing this first-hand account of one of Cape’s biggest tragedies.

 

 

Elsie, This Is Your Life

I bet you thought I was going to write about my mother, since it’s Mother’s Day. Well, she certainly deserves it. If I got my work ethic from my father, then I got my spirit of inquisitiveness and adventure from Mother. Where did SHE get it?

Elsie Adkins Welch

She got it from HER mother, Elsie Adkins Welch. My grandmother was a petite woman, who was almost always perfectly coiffed and neatly dressed. She was an inveterate clipper of poems and inspirational pieces that she would work into speeches and letters. (She’s in the middle of this photo.)

Grandfather loved fishing and cigars

My grandfather, Roy, was an short, portly, amiable man, who loved to fish and puff on Roi Tan cigars.

When he moved in with us after his health failed, I asked him why he never looked at any of the fishing magazines I subscribed to, preferring, instead, to devour murder mysteries.

“If I read about fishing,” he said, “it would only make me want to go fish. I can read a murder mystery without wanting to go out and kill someone.”

Roy didn’t like to drive. Truth be told, he wasn’t very good at it. My grandmother, on the other hand, would do things like take off on a 10-day tour of the West with three of her buddies. (More about that later).

This Is Your Life

Gran, as we called her, was active in Eastern Star, was a Worthy Matron and founded a chapter of Past Worthy Matrons. June 4, 1962, the group recognized her with a This Is Your Life program. I think Anna Bidewell was responsible for putting together most of this information, although margin notes make it look like several other women either helped or read portions of the program. With only a few notes from me, here is my grandmother’s life as told by her friends.

Exciting times in Tillman

There were exciting things going on in the hills of a little town named Tillman on the morning of Sept. 24, 1892. On this fall day was when Elsie Lee was born to Willis and Mary Adkins. This was a house full of girls, because this made five, with Chloe, Ollie, Pearl and Iva.

Went to school in Pleasant Hill

Before long, your father opened a grocery store. Now, the town was growing. This made two stores and a blacksmith shop. In due time, you started school at Pleasant Hill. One of your teachers was a man named Monroe Harris. They say you were a live wire on the playground. You were full of mischief. It’s a wonder those tiny trees ever grew to be big and tall because that was a real good trick to ride the saplings at recess.

Polly wants a cracker

When you were 12 years old, your family moved to the big town of Advance. Your father opened a store across the street from the Advance Flour Mill. There was a parrot usually hanging on the porch in his cage. All we could get him to say was “Polly wants a cracker,” but your mother could get him to say lots of things.

My, how the kids envied the Adkins girls – why, Elsie could get anything she wanted without paying for it because they had a store.

Getting a bonnet in Cape

One of the big events of your early life was to go with your father to the big city of Cape Girardeau to buy supplies. Of course, this was by wagon. On one of these trips you bought a new bonnet at Miss Doyle’s Hat Shop, which was quite a thrill in those days. You finished high school in Advance.

Don’t go to Leopold Picnic

Your father and mother made a trip to Illinois to visit relatives. They gave you firm orders NOT to attend the picnic at Leopold with that young man Roy Welch or you’d really be in trouble when they returned. Later on, you said, “That was the best picnic Leopold ever had.”

Decided he could support a wife

There was a wedding on Feb. 29, 1912. You became the bride of that young man, Roy Welch. He was working at Dr. Cook’s drug store and decided he could afford to support a wife. You left on the noon train to a honeymoon trip to faraway Cape Girardeau and stayed at the hotel near the river.

You have to CLEAN the chicken?

Returning, you took a two-room apartment in the west end of town. One of your first meals was baked chicken. You worked all morning getting everything fixed just right. They say that, as meal time became closer, you began to smell something peculiar. By the time Roy came home, there was no question about the odor. You didn’t know that you were supposed to clean the inside of the chicken as well as the outside. But, with lots of experience, you became an excellent cook.

At other times, you wanted to prove that you were a real good housekeeper. One day when you were really busy, the neighbors thought it was snowing. On second thought, they knew it was a little late for a snow storm, so they investigated. It was just Elsie emptying the feathers out of the feather bed so she could wash the tick.

On March 25, 1913, a black-headed baby boy was born and named Kenneth Adkins Welch. You thought your happiness was complete. Soon after, you moved to a farm in the Little Vine community. There are lots of stories about the ice cream and watermelon parties held under the trees.

Mary Lee born in 1921

Nine years later, on Oct. 17, 1921, a baby girl was born. She was named Mary Lee, after her two grandmothers.

In 1924, you left the farm and moved back to Advance to open a business on Main Street. And, remember the big white house you moved into? With the big screened-in porch, so nice for all the parties, for young and old. We knew we would be greeted with the smell of fresh cut flowers, sweet peas in little crystal baskets here and a pot or geraniums there… they were all over. Everyone enjoyed going to the Welches.

About 1926, you were my Sunday School teacher. You had a class of teenage boy and girls. Each time that I needed you, you would give me you advice. What you said made me stop, listen and think twice.

[Editor’s note: the broach above is the one she’s wearing in the old photo.]

First trip to St. Louis

You took me on my first trip to St. Louis. Remember how we had to get out of the little Ford and walk up Null Hill? Felt like we were going to roll backwards down that mountain, but felt real good when we got to the top. After reaching the top, we climbed into the car again and went on our way, counting and taking down notes on the names of every little creek and bend in the road. This wasn’t a trip; it was a journey.

Things ran smoothly until the year of 1935 when tragedy struck your family in the form of an automobile accident that took the life of Kenneth. Time stood still for awhile.

Mary Lee married L.V. Steinhoff

On Jan. 7, 1942, you gained another son – Mary Lee was married to L.V. Steinhoff. You enjoyed each other very much. You all enjoyed many vacations together. But, some said they doubted if they were filled with as much fun as the one you took with Mabel, Lillian and Daisy.

On Trip to Yellowstone

[Editor’s note: I have an undated Missourian clipping that says, “ON TRIP TO YELLOWSTONE.” Leaving Sunday for a ten-day trip through the western states were Mrs. Lillian Ackert, Mrs. Roy Welch, Mrs. H. Zimmerman and Mrs. L.O. Reutzel. They will stop in Denver and Colorado Springs, and Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming.” To say this was unusual in that day and age would be an understatement. I remember crying when they left town because I wanted to go with them, so I had to have been around three, which would have put the trip in about 1950.]

Three Grandsons come along

On March 24, 1947, your first grandson, Kenneth Lee was born. He was your pride and joy and still is. Seven years later, David Louis made his appearance. You were still hoping for a granddaughter, but in 1956, another boy came along, Mark Lynn. To you, these are the greatest.

Joined the Eastern Star

In 1933, when you had some time on your hands, you petitioned the Advance Chapter of the Order of Eastern Star. In 1948, you became Worthy Matron of Advance Chapter 412. This was in the old hall over the bank. I shall never forget the faded wallpaper on the walls and the worn rug on the floor. But, that night, it was sparking clean and the Star Point chairs were all covered in white.

In your acceptance speech, you said in your precise and charming way, “The hall looks just beautiful. Beautiful. The paper doesn’t look faded anymore, nor does the rug look worn. From here in the East, it looks perfect.” Your daughter approached the East that night and presented you with a lovely basket of flowers.

You loved to talk

This was an outstanding year for all. You loved to talk and you had many speeches to give, so you had a ball. It was a lot of work, but you enjoyed every minute. Remember getting ready for company night? How hot the fire had to roar to get the old place hot. Tons of flowers were carried into this old hall to make it brighter. You loved to surprise us on chapter night. Remember popping a bushel basket of popcorn and carrying it up the long flight of steps? And, you always remembered our birthdays.

You gave me my first job in the Eastern Star. I was a new member, but I stood meekly in the shadows holding a spotlight on the scenes of This Is Your Life the night Vallie Bollinger was installed as Worthy Matron of the Advance Chapter.

Founded Past Matrons

In 1949, you were fast approaching the rank of Past Matron. After much meditation, you began to organize a Past Matrons Club, of which we now claim you as its Mother, not in age, but as its founder. “All thing start from someone’s dream; All things worthwhile were in dreams first seen.”

In 1955, you retired from active duty because of ill health, and you moved to Cape Girardeau to live with your daughter. But, your family says you are there in body only, not in spirit – Advance is the only home for you.

Roy Welch died in 1957

In 1957, the Death Angel once again visited your home, calling your husband, Roy.

But, with the three grandsons, Mary Lee, L.V. and the old spirit, you still have what it takes, attending our club meetings and Eastern Star whenever possible, even through rain and snow.

So, on this night, we nominate
And to do this I will not hesitate.
You’re a lady of prominence, I might say
Devoted to our Club and beautiful Order every day.
You’ve made a ladder that shall span the sky,
For deeds of love shall never die.

Elsie, This Is Your Life.

Elsie Welch died April 17, 1973

Elsie Welch died April 17, my Dad’s birthday, in 1973. She was a wonderful lady and I miss her.