Date: Sun, 08 Jun 2014 16:57:37 -0400
From: “N.A. Booko”
Subject: “I’m going to have my picture taken!”
Strange as it may seem, that did not mean that someone was about to steal a photograph of you. It was our Southern way of saying that we were going to some make-shift studio in our little town, to have our picture taken. No, the photographer was not going to run away with our 8″x10″, but was going to photograph us in a life-like setting, using whatever worn out backdrop they happen to have. I do remember one backdrop, it was a painted canvas, showing moon and stars, swaying palm trees. It was about 1942 and the photographer was set up in a vacant building on main street. He had his choice of any building, they were all vacant. The deal was, you got a five by seven, hand painted in life-like colors and four wallet size pictures. The little town of Biscoe, in Montgomery county was abuzz. Just about anyone that could scrape together $3.00 in war times, was going ‘to have their picture taken’.
The whole idea enthralled me. This was the closest to Hollywood or show business I was able to get at the time. Bell Ballard, a local farmer-lady, often let a photographer use the living room of her home for the studio. A photographer was there at least every other year. You could get maybe ten poses for a piddling amount. The thrill of it all, was, going back the second time to review the ‘proofs’- some strange and illusive type of print that the photographer swore would disappear within days- after you had selected the poses you wanted. Some of the ‘proofs’ were real dog photos.
After selecting a pose, you had to decide if you wanted the ultra-sensational 11″X 14″ or an ordinary 8″ X 10″- I usually took the largest, because i wanted to look at myself. In the wonderful large size, my teeth were perfect, the mole had completely disappeared and my complexion was flawless. My hair was perfect and Hollywood surely was that far away.
Fast forward to 1956 – Gimbels Department Store in New york City could offer me the same sensational photographic sitting! I took them all- including that silly one with me glancing to the side, pretending to be sophisticated person.
Now, on to Chatham County with my arrival in 1973. Yes, the entire collection of ‘poses’ were intact. Forget the Polaroid, and forget ‘selfies’ – I own the world’s largest collection of photographs of me. Phony smiles, corrected dentures, airbrushed blemishes and dreams of grandeur, all fallen by the wayside.
I have occasionally used one just above my kitchen compost crock, to deter the fruit flies . . .
N.A. Booko
N.A. Bookos lives in Chatham County and still dreams of someway, somehow of breaking thru that invisible barrier often referred to as ‘success’ . . .