1970’s DECADE
DECADE OF ADVENTURE: Fresh and exciting, a decade of innocent encounters, whether temporal or spiritual, all powerful awakenings. A dance of light, faith, and form, converging in time, out of chaos into moments of delight and awe.
50-Years of Vision Quest
Validation is being
TODAY ONE CAN REACH THE WORLD INSTANTLY, without cutting down a tree. This was not the case when my first photo got published. While I never intended to become a photographer, that simple validation, along with a cheque for $25.00 from the Chicago Tribune, probably made the difference.
Having a camera around your neck opened doors in those days. Not many people had skills or access to a darkroom. That combination got me into football games, concerts, rallies, and world-travel. It kept me engaged, out of mischief, it became my passport to adventure.
Most aspiring photographers of my era followed a well-worn path and newspaper was their main stepping stone. Since I had no professional aspirations, I found myself in South America living with Amazonian Indians instead of finishing school. Eventually, I did graduate from college and when fate smiled, I got hired by Rich Clarkson and the most celebrated newspaper in the country, the Topeka Capitol-Journal…
DECADE OF ADVENTURE: Fresh and exciting, a decade of innocent encounters, whether temporal or spiritual, all powerful awakenings. A dance of light, faith, and form, converging in time, out of chaos into moments of delight and awe.
On January 1, 1979, there was a rally in New York City’s Chinatown celebrating a historical normalization with China. My friend David Kutz and I decided “shoot” the event that Sunday but, I didn’t have any film. David wanted to shoot B&W, so he loaned me half a brick of Kodachrome (10 rolls). He will never let me forget that it was his film that gave me my first cover, and I love to remind him that it was because he wanted to make “art.”
The Editors at Newsweek thanked me profusely, they had missed the significance of the rally and did not assign coverage. That little oversight gave me a cover along with several photographs on the inside. The cover helped pay for a car and just after I drove it to Kansas to start to work as a newspaper photographer, 32 pages of my pictures appeared in GEO Magazine.
NEW WORK: In 1980, I was on a year-long assignment on Taiwan for National Geographic. It was a time where the island, in fact, the whole world, was in the wake of an awakening giant, China.
GEO magazine was the pinnacle of achievement for a photojournalist of that time. The German publication crossed the ocean to launch an American edition that was more desirable than National Geographic. They hired the best writers only to play second fiddle to cutting-edge photography. Thomas Hoepker, the German Magnum photographer, was appointed as the Director of Photography. Fortunately for me, he dared to give me, a lowly museum janitor, an assignment he had initially picked for himself to shoot.
I had no idea this fantastic and prestigious break would be a detriment to me with some players in the business. Bob Gilka, the Director of Photography at National Geographic Magazine seem to resent me for sleeping with the enemy. He was not about to further my career . . .
I started a lifestyle magazine about Windsurfing and for the next 11-years, I was...
When I arrived, ICP was a 5-floor building with a penthouse and balcony. The first two floors were galleries and a bookstore. The third floor was for education as well as the basement, where darkrooms and lecture rooms resided. On the fourth and fifth floors were administrative offices and empty rooms for squatters like myself. I wasn’t the only one sleeping there, but being the “first live-in janitor” I immediately took over the penthouse with my hammock. In addition to the Fifth Avenue address with Central Park across the street, the job came with the perk to sit in on lectures. It was here, in a weekend workshop on photojournalism by Rich Clarkson and Thomas Hoepker, that my career began.
Years later, I wanted to start a magazine for ICP and couldn’t get Cornell to take me seriously. Eventually, I did start the magazine, but it wasn’t about photography. I wish it were now! The museum would have fared better had it established a museum magazine in those early years. I knew intrinsically, in the ’80s, that a publication could reach broader audiences faster and more efficiently than a brick and mortar museum (pre-internet days). “Why not mail them the museum!” was my thought, instead, I started a lifestyle magazine, about Windsurfing, and for the next 11-years, I was “Gone With The Wind.” Cornell was pleasantly surprised and immensely proud of my achievement. He paid for a full-page ad from his pocket for 11 years and even promoted it in the museum’s bookstore.
It became an award-winning magazine, quoted, displayed and talked about in newspapers, magazines,TV stations across the country, even the world. It almost put a windsurfer in the White House. More importantly, it gave me the freedom to publish whatever I wanted…
POSTERS There was a time, before the internet, when posters were popular. It was the counter-culture way of displaying self-identity, a hip form of rebellion.
Published Articles (Each button activate a virtual article. Click corners to flip pages, click location to enlarge) with Darrell Jones with Annie Leibovitz with John
Photograph from Brian Lanker‘s Reunion portfolio. Videos It’s a natural progression for a still-photographer to evolve into filming. Digital technology, has made making videos (as with
Future Portfolio Page on the commercial fishermen of Long Island; sign-up for the update notification link below.
BREAKOUT YEAR came with a front cover and articles in major magazines. Then to the best photojournalistic newspaper in the country.
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Bob Gilka, the Director of Photography at National Geographic Magazine seem to resent me for sleeping with the enemy. He was not about to further my career. He saw me as a rule-breaker. Someone unbefitting to his proven talents even though I graduated from the very top of his associated institutions. He never gave me a single assignment, voluntarily, that is. Thirty years later, his assistant sought me out at a gathering and told me he was near death.
I embraced her, asked her to wish him my best and to tell him how much I’ve admired and looked up to him. Her eyes glassed; in a tender, almost apologetic voice, she said. “Thank you, John, I know it will mean a lot to Mr. Gilka to hear this coming from you.”
Gilka was an ego-driven drill sergeant whose magazine was his oligarchy. The reputation and mystique behind the magazine suited him well. My first encounter with the man was in his office. Like all aspiring photographers, we made our way to be ordained. On his door, the sign said, Wipe Your Knees Before Entering.
“You need to work for a newspaper!” was his response after viewing my portfolio. Sheepishly told him I was offered a job in a Kansas newspaper but turned-it-down because I didn’t want to leave NYC. Before I could finish, he yelled: “Who Clarkson!?”
Surprised by the outburst, I timidly said, “Yes!” He stared at me for an eternity. I swear I saw smoke sputter out of his head. He hissed, “NOW, IF THAT IS TRUE! You have to be the dumbest jack-ass ever walked into my office!”
With his doubting eyes, he glared at me as if he’d caught me in a lie. “Do you know how many photographers would give their right arm to be at the Capital-Journal?!” My sheepishness must have confirmed his suspicions. Not being a student of journalism, I was unaware of the extensive network this drill-sergeant uses to gather his Geographic talents. Colleges, newspapers across the country, the bastion of the Missouri Workshop, were all part of his well-established web. That morning, I was utterly unaware; Topeka Capital-Journal was the pinnacle of his recruitment network. Anyone hired there would not have gone unnoticed, and anyone declining a job there is a liar. “Well, get the hell out there and come back after you have some newspaper experience.” (I swear I’ve got a bruise on my rear to prove it ;-).
So I called Rich Clarkson and asked if the job offer was still good.
A FEW YEARS LATER, I sat in the same office facing the same doubting face. Chief Editor, Bill Garrett insisted that he assign me to photograph an article I’d proposed on Taiwan. After weeks of delay, he reluctantly offered me a fraction of the day-rate compared to GEO and later made a stink about the Chinese receipts I submitted. I did not get more assignments from him even though the Taiwan article was credited to be “transformative.” I don’t know what that meant, but it was, the first time Geographic published blurred pictures. So when his assistant made the non-verbal apology, I was surprised and wished that I had the opportunity to sit and laugh with the old geezer some 30-years later.
I understand Bob Gilka; we had mutual friends. I will always be grateful to him. Firstly, in helping me realize what newspaper work means. Secondly, in affirming my conviction NOT to wear corporate success as a form of personal achievement. Throughout the years, I knew he was surprised to hear my name intertwined in conversations. I was the jack-ass that kept beating the drum but didn’t follow his path. I think, in the end, he would have applauded me for doing this. RIP
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