A question that comes up from time to time is where do you find inspiration and story ideas?
The short answer “desperation.”
There was this big monster in the pressroom that had to be fed every day. I thought I had put The Monster behind me, but I’m filing more stories doing this blog than when I working for newspapers. When you’re doing feature-type stories, you can’t rely on plane crashes, fires and floods to bail you out. You have to dig up topics out of the thin air. Here’s an example of how ideas pinball all over the place, and rarely in a straight line.
I was looking at some random negatives from Cape when this turtle caught my eye. This was a Steinhoff pet from back in the days when we were made of tougher stock. We didn’t know then that the tiny turtles, available in plastic bags at the SEMO Fair or in every pet store, were death on the half shell. Don’t believe me? Check out this FDA warning about Salmonella-bearing tiny turtles. (Click on any photo to make it larger. Don’t forget to wash your hands if you touch the turtle.)
But, like they say in the infomercials, there’s more. A turtle made me think of a frog.
Pomeroy Frog Jumping Contest
Athens (OH) Messenger photo partner Bob Rogers and I would make contact sheets of our film, cut out the frames we thought would make a photo essay, push them around on a layout sheet until they looked right, size them to fit and make the final prints. The “winners” would be taped to the layout sheet to guide the composing room in making up the page. The “losers” would either get tossed in a box or, if we thought they might fit into a future layout, they’d get tacked on the wall.
After I covered the Pomeroy Frog Jumping contest toward the end of June, 1968, I had one photo that made it on the Wall of Desperation. It languished there until October 1. The well was dry. Some days you just can’t find anything worth shooting. I reached up on the wall, ran the photo 8-1/8 inches wide and 12-3/8 inches deep with this cringe-inducing caption:
“Frost is just a frog’s hop away, so don’t let winter get the jump on you. Don’t let being bottled up until spring jar you, though; about the time it seems a long time coming, warm weather will spring out.”
Bob, my nominal boss, didn’t give me any grief. He’d been there himself.
October 2, the day it ran, seemed to be a good day to stay out of the office. The publisher gave us a lot of latitude, but I didn’t want to discover his outer limits.
Another dry day
There’s a reason why I bring up the frog, as much as I’d like to forget it.
I was having another one of those dry days. Nothing was clicking. I shot a sequence of a boy trying to make it home on his bike with a loaf of bread under his arm, but the situation was so weak I didn’t even bother to get out of the car to get the kid’s name.
Mrs. Nellie Vess
The shadows were getting longer and longer and the day was getting shorter and shorter. This time I didn’t even have the frog on the wall to plug the hole. I made a turn down a dusty gravel road near Trimble. That’s east of Nelsonville and south of Glouster. If you don’t know where those towns are, don’t look for Trimble.
I spotted Mrs. Nellie Vess, a couple of kids and a puppy on the porch of a modest frame house with asphalt shingle siding. The home had seen better days, but it was still neat and clean.
After introducing myself and chatting for a few minutes, Mrs. Vess invited me in for a cold glass of water. I normally don’t accept things when I’m on an assignment and I really wasn’t thirsty, but turning down the water would have hurt her feelings. I followed her through her well-kept house to the kitchen.
Taped up on the refrigerator was The Frog. “I just love that picture,” she said.
“Lonely no more”
“Lonely No More” was the headline I put on the page. My caption was sparse: Mrs. Nellie Vess was lonely. Not many people passed by her home in Trimble and those who did seldom stopped in to chat. That was before last week when Patty Sue – part beagle and part question mark – moved in. “Now I’ve got lots of company,” she says. One of her frequent visitors is Rhonda Kay Judson, 5.
Stories should have a happy ending
Don’t you just love heart-warming stories with happy endings? It’s too bad that too many don’t turn out that way.
A few months after the story ran, my travels took me down that gravel road near Trimble. Mrs. Vess was sitting by herself on the porch. There was no Patty Sue. There were no neighbor kids. Mrs. Vess told me that she had to go into the hospital for a brief stay and she had to give Patty Sue away. She was lonely again.
I’d like to tell you that I stopped by to see Mrs. Vess to keep her company from time to time, but I’d be fibbing. I never saw her again. I was just starting to learn that getting emotionally involved with everyone I photographed would soon empty my empathy pot and lead to burnout or worse. I could empathize with my subjects long enough to capture their souls, but then I had to cut them loose.
I turned down her offer of a cold glass of water on the last visit. And, I didn’t look in the rearview mirror when I drove away down that dusty gravel road.
17 Replies to “Turtles, Frogs, Dogs and Desperation”
Wonderful. Really, Ken, lest you run short of material we avid readers would accept a blog entry every other day – you alarmed us last April 1 with that post!
“Frost is just a frog’s hop away, so don’t let winter get the jump on you. Don’t let being bottled up until spring jars you, though; about the time it seems a long time coming, warm weather will spring out.”
Really, Ken. You had to dig deep into the Bill Keane Pun-Abridged Dictionary to put that one together. I really like it – is that sick?
Keith, the short answer is, “Yes, that is sick.” The entry, I’m ashamed to admit, was all mine. I wouldn’t want to taint anyone else with credit for it. Looming deadlines can cause good taste and good judgement to fly out the window.
Cool collection of stories…moral…get a dog and get freinds…I like it!
“I want to grow up to be the person my dog thinks I am.”
These are the words I try to live by…
One of your best Ken. Great job of wringing yet another picture page out of “old” content. I think the picture page period was unique in American journalism. Jon Webb created something very special in Athens Ohio, and we were fortunate to be challenged to carry it on.
Under constant deadline pressure we grew a new organ that, when faced with imminent disaster, squirted printers ink into our vascular system, setting in process an amazing flow of energy and creativity. Nothing focuses attention like a deadline!
Such an interesting column. The symmetry of Mrs. Vess loving the frog photo was lovely.
Can’t help but feel my heartstrings tug for her lonely soul.
Ken, I presume the Pomeroy frog contest was referring to that little Ohio river town about 30 miles south of Athens. My daughter worked at the Holzer Clinic office there and she comes to the Holzer office in Athens once a week. I don’t think it was there during your tenure in Athens but we go up there often when we are in West Va. where she lives across the river from Pomery.We really enjoy our trips to that part of the country. Sure do enjoy all your stories.
Palm Bay, Florida
I just discovered two more rolls from the Pomeroy area. I didn’t realize that both situations had been shot at the same time until I saw a mixture of photos on different rolls.
Some days the stars just all seemed to fall into place. I’ll be posting those when I get time to get them edited.
I’m aware Mrs. Vessel went to her reward long ago, and I am confidant she is never lonely anymore. Still, I look at that picture of her with the puppy and I want to bring them both home with me. I’ve never been much of a photographer but I’m guessing the goal is to tell a story with the photo that will last forever. I think you met that goal with this one.
By the way, I am married to Brian Miller, who graduated from Cape Central in 1967.
Thank you. Like I said in the story, I never went back to visit her after my last stop, but I also never forgot her.
If you buy my oft-repeated belief that you are alive so long as someone remember you, then Mrs. Vess is still alive, kept that way by someone who never met her.
I’m glad you were moved. That was the intention. (Well, to be honest, the intention was to fill the space so I could keep my job, but some days you get lucky.)
Great shots. Vess family still resides in Trimble area. I found your site when searching for Jon Webb. I remember him coming frequently to Trimble Township and taking photos. Do you know of contact information for him? Thank you.
Jon is alive and well. Bob Rogers, another Messenger photographer, and I got together two summers ago when Bob was on his way to WV for a high school reunion. After he left me, he was going to visit Jon.
This is my sister and our neighbor years ago!!! It was such a joy to see this. I knew Mrs Vess very well and she was a wonderful woman. I was born a year and 5 days after these pics were takin! Thank you so much for sharing and I’ll have to show my sister (Rhonda) the second one, I don’t believe she has ever seen it!
Your comment made my day. I’m glad I could help you and your sister connect to the past.
I mentioned your note on this blog.
I’m sure Mrs. Vess had a life story to tell, we all do, good or bad.
I had a feature writer stop by my office one day to complain that she didn’t know what she was going to write about. I grabbed a phone book and a thumb tack and told her to take a random stab, and we’d go see that person. “Everybody has a story,” I said.
Well, there is an exception to every rule. Lester R. Motley on Summit Blvd. had seen nothing, done nothing nor thought of anything he considered remarkable, and we agreed.
The bad thing is that he lived about three blocks from my house, and I was reminded of our failure every time I drove past Mr. Motley.
Ken, I wonder if that was the same Lester R. Motley that ran with the notorious Bonnie and Clyde gang, later serving time at Alcatraz. Just kidding.