PRESERVING THE GREAT MAN FOR POSTERITY
The White House Photographers Do Their Best for Art and History
In the 1968 U.S. Camera World Annual, Ollie Atkins, who, according to the editor, "knows more about White House photography than anyone else," poses a question of prime historical interest: "Why are no great photographs being made of Johnson?"
It is not because of any lack of trying. He is "the most photographed President of all time," being the first one to retain a personal staff photographer whose job is to photograph “everything he does." Moreover, Johnson himself is thoroughly aware of the importance of obtaining great photographs of himself and lots of them. "He gives me the impression," writes Atkins, “that he is purposely creating a niche for himself in history; that he wants unborn generations to read about him as one of the really great presidents. I have never seen anyone in political life who worried so much about looking good."
Yet Atkins can recall only two photographs which he would rate as even memorable. One was the picture Charles Gorry of Associated Press made of Johnson as he lifted up his pet beagle by the ears. "It was far from being artistic or truly great as a photograph but it will certainly be remembered." The other is the one called "old scarbelly" by the press corps, showing the President of the United States exhibiting the incision scar of his gall bladder operation. In Atkins' opinion this "is certainly not great photographically nor can I imagine that it is cherished by the President hinself."
So why are no great photographs being made of Johnson? "Most photographers blame the restrictions imposed on them and the ban on candid pictures." Atkins does not disagree with this; in fact he thinks there is much truth in this view. However, he has reached a certain conclusion based on his years of experience in White House photography. "I would add to this that President Johnson just does not lend himself to great pictures."
That Johnson is "not a naturally photogenic personality" is not the chief difficulty. Photographers are unconcerned about the obvious absence of a "pretty boy" look. Despite the "well known human trait to desire a pleasant appearance," a "young smooth-skinned face" is least likely to register “intelligence, experience and decisiveness" -- the "truly manly qualities of leadership." Johnson ought, consequently, to have a certain advantage, so far as lenses, film, and the natural interest of photographers in an at least moderately difficult subject is concerned. Still, nothing has been produced as yet comparable to such works of art as Franklin D. Roosevelt in an open touring car, cigarette holder poised at a jaunty angle; or the many snapshots of Eisenhower with his "rubber face" expression.
One of the troubles is that the "men in the photographic press corps have strong feelings about the President. they cover." And unfortunately, among these men, LIyndon Baines Johnson is the "least liked of Presidents..." Aside from the inherent difficulty of getting an image suggesting that he might be an attractive, interesting, or at least presentable figure, Johnson has laid down a series of restrictions like nothing seen in the White House since before the days of candid photography.
"He thinks he photographs better from the left side of his face so all photographic situations are oriented to favor his left side. He will not permit photographs to be made while he is speaking...The explanation for this restriction on still cameras is that LBJ feels the cameramen will shoot pictures of him with his mouth open while he is scratching an ear or wiping the perspiration from his brow and these single shots will be used on the front pages to illustrate his pronouncements....No pictures from behind the President are permitted....There was a time when LBJ objected to pictures showing him wearing his glasses. During his campaigning for the Presidency he wore contact lenses but he never was comfortable with them and sometime after the election they suddenly disappeared and the regular glasses came back. Because he uses the glasses for reading -- reading speeches -seldom are photographs even now made with the glasses as pictures are banned during the speeches."
These taboos, plus the bad lighting which Johnson imposes on the photographers, are extraordinarily frustrating. The corps of men covering the White House are not even allowed to try for such human interest shots as the great man chomping away at the dinner table. Worst of all, however, is the short advance notice to the working press that a "picture situation" is coming up.
Ollie Atkins offers a detailed description of "picture situations" at the White House that will no doubt long be referred to by historians and biographers when they set about the task of reconstructing for posterity the personality of the great man:
"Photographers must sit around the monotonous west lobby of the White House and be ready to grab their cameras and dash to the President's office on the call 'Photographers' which breaks the waiting-room silence with a statical yell over the intercom from the press office.
"When the call does come through there is a mad rush to grab cameras and dash across the lobby into a hallway in front of the press offices which leads to another hallway in front of the cabinet room then on further, to the right, to the President's office."
Ollie Atkins notes that one might assume all this “would appear to be quite natural and maybe orderly." Whoever assumes that is simply ignorant of procedures in the White House. At the end of the first hallway, passage to the forty or so photographers is barred by an electrically locking door. Whoever gets there first has priority in going through when it is unlocked. But the crowd of men may have to wait an hour before the door is opened. If they succeed in maintaining ~ their positions during this wait, and if, after they get through, they are sufficiently limber-legged to still maintain their positions while speeding down the next hall, turning to the right, and arriving at Johnson's office, they will have a good chance to maintain their priority when the door to that office is opened. Thus, as Atkins puts it, "There is a smashing sprint in both halls." Between the hurdles, record time is made by the pack of competing photographers.
"Now at the door entering into the President's office the group of photographers is jammed. If one responds to a temptation to check a lens setting or brush lint off his shoulder he has probably yielded his position to a buddy photographer who was leaning on that elow and he finds himself back one more in the crowd."
Here the vigil may last as long as ten minutes.
"Tension within the ranks grows as the time passes at the President's door. It is always opened from the inside and it is always a surprise. When the first line of light appears in the cracked doorway the crowd surges forward..." By common agreement, the man with the lights is pushed through first. But then "it is every man for himself and often when one's body happens to have the right angle he can slip in ahead of another fellow who by all ordinary rules of queues and traffic snarls should have gotten in ahead of you."
These are the preliminaries. The camera artists have finally made it into that holy of holies, Johnson's office.
"But another decision must be made immediately so each cranes his neck to see where the President is in his office. There are three possibilities and each one demands a different strategy.
"The worst possible situation is to have LBJ in the rocking chair."
In the scenario for this picture situation, the great man is seated, calm and relaxed, in his rocking chair before the fireplace, a homey picture of the American Way of Life. No rush; no bustle; no excitement; just plain folks taking things easy. He rocks away for the benefit of the photographers.
Unfortunately for them, there is only one spot in the office providing a suitable camera angle. There is room for only two cameramen in that spot. Still worse, the spot is behind the office door that has just been swung open. To get into position, it is necessary to shut the door. A situation calling for instant response! And there is an instant response.
The lucky two in front being propelled into Johnson's presence by the throng behind them "dash to the edge of the open door" and, getting behind it, "force it closed on the rest of the fellows coming into the office."
Atkins comments: "I have often wondered what the reaction of foreign visitors in the President's office is when this mad scramble takes place. The reason I do not know is that I'm too busy trying to get into the prime spot myself."
The rocking chair scene is the one repeated most often. Next in popularity is the "center of the room pose."
The problem for the photographers with this one is that none of them know in advance where the center will be "Actually, it is wherever the President decides to stand. So the front line of photographers moves back and forth about six feet in front of wherever the President decides to be standing."
Johnson next bids the key dignitaries and notables visiting him to step up to his side and asks the lesser ones to make like a surrounding crowd. "While he is organizing this the photographers engage in a shouting session with thenselves in a vain effort to have the front line of their own ranks move back a bit so more of them can get the shot."
Finally there is the "desk shot." This always comes as a complete surprise, "for the President is seldom at his desk when the photographers enter the room." Everyone figures it will be a "center of the room" shot and begins calculating who will probably be selected among the dis-
tinguished visitors to stand beside Johnson and how he can cut down the group picture to the smallest possible number after he gets Johnson focused in the viewfinder of his camera.
"Suddenly as the President heads for his desk we break ranks and it is every man for himself again in a tight circle around the President's desk. The circle is so tight that seldom does the desk itself show in the picture."
The final restriction imposed by Johnson on the press photographers may be a blessing in disguise. They are generally not given time to waste film or to make up for any possible errors. "Sometimes these picture sessions are very brief -ten seconds is the shortest I have ever clocked. Nearly all the still photographers now have motor drives on their cameras so many exposures can be made when the picture looks good and when we figure the time will be very limited. I have listened a few times when all the still and movie cameras were clicking away and it is astonishing how much noise the combination of cameras makes."
With all this motor-driven equipment, it does happen occasionally that the sessions are too long. So the men stop clicking their cameras, waiting for a new situation. "The press aide keeps a sharp eye on us though and when he feels we have had sufficient time, or more inmportantly, when the President is impatient, he says ‘lights' in a loud voice. Immediately, Cleve clicks off the lights and we stop shooting.