Tag Archives: history

Just call me baby driver! Astonishing pictures of the 1920s motor pram that made nanny’s job a doddle ©

The Dunkley Pramotor allowed mother's and nannies to effortlessly take baby on a trip around town without getting warn out

The Dunkley Pramotor allowed mother’s and nannies to effortlessly take baby on a trip around town without getting warn out

Built by British motor firm, Dunkley, in Birmingham, the Dunkley Pramotor was the company’s fourth attempt at a useful automobile to meet unmet needs.

Launched in 1923, the one-wheeled power pack was designed to be a practical mother’s helper, but in reality the bizarre machine earned Dunkley immortality.

The mother, or more often the nanny, would stand astride the single wheel of the scooter having attached it to the back of the pram.

The early machines were kick started, meaning nanny had to jump on with zeal and hope for the best.

They were originally designed with one horsepower, horizontal, single-cylinder two-strokes.

Initially, there was only one gear and once kick started, the noisy machine’s hectic progress was controlled with twin handlebars bolted to the back of the pram, with a hand-controlled clutch.

From the 'inventor's notebook' it appears they intended the device to enable mothers to seem as though they could effortlessly glide behind the pram

From the ‘inventor’s notebook’ it appears they intended the device to enable mothers to seem as though they could effortlessly glide behind the pram

Throwing caution to the wind, Dunkley introduced in 1924 the two-speed series.

Had there been such considerations as health and safety at the time, perhaps speeding along the road, baby-first in a non-crumple proof, open top vehicle, without any kind of restraint, may not have been permitted.

But thanks to the early freedoms to innovate potentially dangerous contraptions at will, people paid anything between 40 to 135 guineas for the Dunkley Model 20 Pramotor and the Saloon Pramotor with 26 x 2 in Palmer Cord motor tyres, respectively.

One of Dunkley's earlier models was a 'Patent Self-charging Gas Motor Car', pictured, which took its supply of gas from any ordinary gas pipe or street lamp post, as shown to the right

One of Dunkley’s earlier models was a ‘Patent Self-charging Gas Motor Car’, pictured, which took its supply of gas from any ordinary gas pipe or street lamp post, as shown to the right

For sporting nannies there was the option of this space-age looking 21 horsepower engine - a 750 cc two-stroke single - which at 75 guineas promised performance far beyond the roadholding capabilities of the average perambulator

For sporting nannies there was the option of this space-age looking 21 horsepower engine – a 750 cc two-stroke single – which at 75 guineas promised performance far beyond the roadholding capabilities of the average perambulator

Via dailymail


Photography || JAMES DEAN: THE ACCIDENTAL ICON ©

ACTORS ’50s

So much has been written about James Dean, and his influence looms so large over movies and over popular cultural in general, that it’s always jarring to be reminded that at the time of his death, at the preposterously young age of 24, he had starred in only three films — one of which hadn’t even been released when he died in a car crash on September 30, 1955.

James Dean, New York City, 1955.

James Dean, New York City, 1955.

And yet, as iconic an actor and star as Dean has become, much of the public’s view of the brooding young man from Indiana was, in fact, formed not by his utterly singular onscreen presence in GiantEast of Eden or even Rebel Without a Cause, but by a series of remarkable pictures made in early ’55 by the great photographer Dennis Stock.

James Dean in his apartment on West 68th Street, New York City, 1955.

James Dean in his apartment on West 68th Street, New York City, 1955.

In his wonderful 2005 book James Dean: Fifty Years Ago, Stock writes of trying to get the rapidly rising actor, whom he barely knew, to agree to let the photographer chronicle Dean’s return to both New York and Indiana from his new home in Los Angeles.

James Dean in his apartment on West 68th Street, New York City, 1955.

James Dean in his apartment on West 68th Street, New York City, 1955.

“The story, as I explained it [to Jimmy],” Stock wrote, “was to reveal the environments that affected and shaped the unique character of James Byron Dean. We felt a trip to his hometown, Fairmount, Indiana, and to New York, the place of his professional beginnings, would best reveal those influences…. I would solicit an assignment guarantee to cover expenses. The obvious magazine to approach was LIFE…. It took only a week for LIFE to approve the assignment.”

James Dean, New York City, 1955.

James Dean, New York City, 1955.

The photographs that Stock produced during his time with Dean captured an introspective, intensely self-analyzing (and occasionally self-absorbed) artist — albeit one who could, at times, also be self-deprecating almost to the point of parody.

James Dean attending dance classes given by Katherine Dunham, New York City, 1955.

James Dean attending dance classes given by Katherine Dunham, New York City, 1955.

LIFE, meanwhile, ran a number of the pictures in its March 7, 1955, issue, under the headline, “Moody New Star.” East of Eden was about to open. Rebel had already made Dean a household name. Less than six months later, the phenomenally talented, category-defying actor would be dead — and would pass into legend.

James Dean with the great Geraldine Page in her dressing room, New York City, 1955.

James Dean with the great Geraldine Page in her dressing room, New York City, 1955.

Here, LIFE.com remembers the too-short life and brilliant, violently truncated career of a true Hollywood original, as seen through the lens of a brilliant photographer, and asks: What would it have felt like?

James Dean with a friend at Jerry's Bar, in front of the Ziegfeld Theater on 54th Street, New York City, 1955.

James Dean with a friend at Jerry’s Bar, in front of the Ziegfeld Theater on 54th Street, New York City, 1955.

What would it have felt like to receive one’s weekly issue of LIFE magazine in the mail in, say, a small town in New Mexico, or New Hampshire — or in Boston or Chicago or Miami, for that matter — what would it have felt like to open it up, and encounter in its pages that startling shot of a haunted-looking Dean, cigarette in his mouth, stalking through Times Square in the rain? There’s a kind of desolate romance in that picture — a bracing, bleak solitude that evokes the story of every young, driven, sensitive, creative person who has ever moved to a city to pursue a dream.

James Dean poses in a casket in a funeral parlor in Fairmount, Indiana, in 1955, seven months before he died.

James Dean poses in a casket in a funeral parlor in Fairmount, Indiana, in 1955, seven months before he died.

What did it feel like to see that picture, for the very first time, long before the man in the raincoat with the inscrutable, lopsided grin had become something far larger than a mere movie star?

James Dean in the Fairmount, Indiana, cemetery in 1955, where he found the grave of one of his ancestors with the same same name of the character, Cal, he played in East of Eden.

James Dean in the Fairmount, Indiana, cemetery in 1955, where he found the grave of one of his ancestors with the same same name of the character, Cal, he played in East of Eden.

It’s difficult — in fact, it’s close to impossible — to address any photographs of note that have been around for decades and see them, really see them, as if looking at them for the first time. But if we’re able to suspend for even a brief moment all we’ve come to know of James Dean, or all we think we know of James Dean, then these pictures offer more than just a diversion, or a reminder of what was lost when Dean was killed in that car wreck six decades ago. They offer us a chance to experience the jolt that must have raced through countless readers in the late winter of 1955, as they gazed at Stock’s portraits of this strange, beautiful, thrilling young star, all the while knowing, knowing, that he would be with them, starring in movies, for years and years to come.

James Dean, with his cousin Markie (on the right), who lived on a nearby farm in Fairmount, Indiana 1955.

James Dean, with his cousin Markie (on the right), who lived on a nearby farm in Fairmount, Indiana 1955.

 Source http://life.time.com

‘He brought forth some of the most searing images of the 20th century’: Death of the photographer whose pictures defined the Vietnam War

Horst Faas, a prize-winning combat photographer who set new standards for covering war with a camera, has died aged 79.

The German, who joined US-based news agency The Associated Press (AP) in 1956, photographed wars, revolutions and Olympic Games.

But he was best known for covering Vietnam, where he was severely wounded in 1967 and won four major photo awards including the first of his two Pulitzer Prizes.

Combat zone: US Army helicopters pour machine gun fire into a tree line to cover an advance by South Vietnamese troops in this March 1965 photo by Horst Faas

Combat zone: US Army helicopters pour machine gun fire into a tree line to cover an advance by South Vietnamese troops in this March 1965 photo by Horst Faas

As chief of AP’s photo operations in Saigon for a decade starting in 1962, Faas covered the fighting while recruiting and training new talent from among foreign and Vietnamese freelancers.

The result was ‘Horst’s army’ of young photographers, who fanned out with Faas-supplied cameras and film and stern orders to ‘come back with good pictures’.

Faas and his editors chose the best and put together a steady flow of telling photos – South Vietnam’s soldiers fighting and its civilians struggling to survive amid the maelstrom.

Captivating: Women and children crouch in a muddy canal as they take cover from Vietcong fire at Bao Trai, 20 miles west of Saigon, Vietnam. The January 1, 1966 image is another captured by Horst Faas

Captivating: Women and children crouch in a muddy canal as they take cover from Vietcong fire at Bao Trai, 20 miles west of Saigon, Vietnam. The January 1, 1966 image is another captured by Horst Faas

Among his top proteges was Huynh Thanh My, an actor turned photographer who in 1965 became one of four AP staffers and one of two South Vietnamese among more than 70 journalists killed in the 15-year war.

My’s younger brother, Huynh Cong ‘Nick’ Ut, followed his brother at AP and under Faas’s tutelage won one of the news agency’s six Vietnam War Pulitzer Prizes, for his iconic 1972 picture of a badly burned Vietnamese girl fleeing an aerial napalm attack.

Faas, who dies in Munich yesterday, was a brilliant planner – able to score journalistic scoops by anticipating ‘not just what happens next but what happens after that’, as one colleague put it.

'Legendary': Horst Faas, pictured right in Vietnam in 1967

‘Legendary’: Horst Faas, pictured right in Vietnam in 1967

His reputation as a demanding taskmaster and perfectionist belied a humanistic streak he was loath to admit, while helping less fortunate ex-colleagues and other causes.

He was widely read on Asian history and culture, and assembled an impressive collection of Chinese Ming porcelain, bronzes and other treasures.

In later years Faas turned his training skills into a series of international photojournalism symposiums.

Faas also helped to organise reunions of the wartime Saigon press corps, and was attending a combination of those events when he became ill in Hanoi on May 4 2005.

 Lt Col George Eyster of Florida is placed on a stretcher after being shot by a Vietcong sniper at Trung Lap, South Vietnam on January 16, 1966

Lt Col George Eyster of Florida is placed on a stretcher after being shot by a Vietcong sniper at Trung Lap, South Vietnam on January 16, 1966

He was hospitalised first in Bangkok and then in Germany, where doctors traced his permanent paralysis from the waist down to a spinal haemorrhage caused by blood-thinning heart medication.

Although requiring a wheelchair, he continued to travel to photo exhibits and other professional events, mainly in Europe.

Faas also made two arduous trips to the United States, in 2006 and 2008.

His health deteriorated in late 2008. Hospitalised in February for treatment of skin problems, he also underwent gastric surgery.

Faas’ Vietnam coverage earned him the Overseas Press Club’s Robert Capa Award and his first Pulitzer in 1965.

Wounded in action: US soldiers are treated on a battlefield in Vietnam on April 2, 1967

Wounded in action: US soldiers are treated on a battlefield in Vietnam on April 2, 1967

Receiving the honours in New York, he said his mission was to ‘record the suffering, the emotions and the sacrifices of both Americans and Vietnamese in … this little bloodstained country so far away’.

Burly but agile, Faas spent much time in the field and on December 6, 1967, was wounded in the legs by a rocket-propelled grenade at Bu Dop, in South Vietnam’s Central Highlands.

He might have bled to death had not a young US Army medic managed to stem the flow.

He often teamed with Pulitzer Prize-winning AP reporter Peter Arnett to produce powerful and exclusive reports such as the 1969 story of Company A, an army unit that balked at orders to move against the enemy.

Read More >> 

[dailymail.co.uk]


The Lost Marilyn Monroe Nudes: Outtakes from Her Last On-Set Shoot Revealed in June’s V.F.

 by Vanity Fair

“Fox [Studios] should start paying as much attention to me as they are paying to Elizabeth Taylor,” Marilyn Monroe told Lawrence Schiller, hatching the idea that would turn out to be the break of the young photographer’s life: for him to photograph her nude. In an adaptation of Schiller’s memoir Marilyn & Me, the June issue of Vanity Fair reveals never-before-published pictures from that shoot, as well as details of Schiller’s conversations with the star.

In 1960, as part of an ongoing battle to get Fox to take her more seriously, and out of jealousy over Taylor’s success, Marilyn came up with an attention-grabbing plan: a poolside shoot in which she’d jump in the water with a bathing suit on—and come out without it. “Larry,” she said, “if I do come out of the pool with nothing on, I want your guarantee that when your pictures appear on the covers of magazines Elizabeth Taylor is not anywhere in the same issue.” Marilyn was making only $100,000 for what would be her last film, Something’s Got to Give, in 1962, while Taylor was receiving a million dollars for Cleopatra. She wanted to show Fox that she could get the same kind of coverage as the publicity bonanza generated by Taylor’s very public affair with her co-star, Richard Burton. When Hugh Hefner agreed to pay $25,000 for a nude shot of Marilyn—the most money Playboy had ever paid for a photograph—Schiller thanked her for creating such a big payday, joking, “See what tits ’n’ ass can do?” “That’s how I got my house and swimming pool,” Marilyn said, laughing. “There isn’t anybody that looks like me without clothes on.”

Just 23 years old at the time, Schiller, at the set on assignment for Look magazine, had no idea that he was getting to know the icon in some of her most vulnerable moments. In an adaptation of his memoir about their sessions together, Schiller recounts intimate and telling conversations that illuminate the private struggles that consumed the starlet in her final days.

“I could tell you all about rejection,” Marilyn said to Schiller. “Sometimes I feel my whole life has been one big rejection.” “But look at you now,” he said. “Exactly,” she replied. “Look at me now.”  Confused, Schiller protested, “You’re a star! Your face is on magazine covers all over the world! Everyone knows Marilyn Monroe!” “Let me ask you, Larry Wolf [Schiller first introduced himself to Monroe as the Big Bad Wolf]—how many Academy Award nominations do I have?” “I don’t know,” he said. “I do,” she said. “None.”

Marilyn even confided her deepest worry. “I’ve always wanted a baby,” she said. “Having a child, that’s always been my biggest fear. I want a child and I fear a child. Whenever it came close, my body said no and I lost the baby.” She talked to Schiller about being afraid that she’d wind up like her mother, who had been in and out of mental institutions her whole life.

She reflected often on her assumed identity, and where Norma Jeane fit in. “I never wanted to be Marilyn—it just happened. Marilyn’s like a veil I wear over Norma Jeane,” she admitted to Schiller. During a photography session, she told him, “I always have a full-length mirror next to the camera when I’m doing publicity stills. That way, I know how I look.” Schiller asked, “So, do you pose for the photographer or for the mirror?” “The mirror,” she replied without hesitating. “I can always find Marilyn in the mirror.”

However, Schiller reveals, Marilyn’s attitude about her sex-symbol status fluctuated wildly. While she was at times boastful of her looks and what they procured for her, she was also by turns insecure and angry. “It’s still about nudity. Is that all I’m good for?” she demanded of Schiller. “I’d like to show that I can get publicity without using my ass or getting fired from a picture,” she continued. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

It was to be their last conversation: the very next morning, Marilyn was reported dead at 36. One of her final acts had been to return the nude photo to Schiller, which he found waiting for him at his house. She had written, “Send this to Playboy, they might like it.”

Plus: a handwriting expert analyzes Marilyn Monroe’s journal entries in a VF.com exclusive.

vanityfair.com


Herb Ritts Retrospective : Naomi Campbell Remembers the Iconic Photographer ©

Herb Ritts—© Herb Ritts Foundation

Herb Ritts—© Herb Ritts Foundation


*||Photo||Wrapped Torso, Los Angeles, 1989

The long and legendary supermodel era of the ’90s can be summed up in one gorgeous and distinct photograph: Herb Ritts’ now-iconic shot of Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Christy Turlington, Tatjana Patitz and Stephanie Seymour huddled together in the nude.

But the 1989 sitting almost didn’t happen.

As Campbell recalls, Turlington was on a Calvin Klein contract and reportedly wasn’t allowed to participate. “We said, ‘How can you not be in this picture?’” Campbell says. “And she jumped in, and that was it!”

That black-and-white image is just one of nearly 80 photographs on display at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles as part of a new exhibition and book on the photographer. Herb Ritts: L.A. Style, on view through Aug. 12, focuses on the portraits and nudes from Ritts, who documented models, musicians, actresses and other celebrities for magazines such as Interview, Rolling Stone and Vanity Fair throughout his career.

Herb Ritts—© Herb Ritts Foundation

Herb Ritts—© Herb Ritts Foundation


*||Photo||Herb Ritts: L.A. Style is on view through Aug. 12 at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles.

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lightbox.time.com™©


FROM LIFE™ PHOTO GALLERY NATALIE WOOD : UNPUBLISHED PHOTOS ©

Photo #23 in the gallery, My Pick .

In a swoon-worthy, never-before-seen photo taken by LIFE’s John Dominis, Steve McQueen kisses Natalie Wood’s hand as the actors meet to discuss their new big-screen project, 1963’s Love With the Proper Stranger. In the romance, which earned Wood her third Academy Award nomination, the stars “reveal the kind of talent for instant communication which film fans have come to expect only from art films,” LIFE wrote in its review. “They take a painful situation (Natalie is pregnant, and Steve is the kind of guy who doesn’t want to get married), and they manage to be both achingly human and agonizingly funny without ever being dirty.”

life.time.com™©


JOHN F. KENNEDY’S FUNERAL: RARE AND UNPUBLISHED PHOTOS ©

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GREAT LEADERS
’60s

Five decades later, the assassination of John F. Kennedy remains one of the few utterly signal events from the second half of the 20th century. Other moments — some thrilling (the moon landing, the fall of the Berlin Wall), others horrifying (the killings of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, the Challenger explosion) — have secured their places in the history books and, even more indelibly, in the memories of those who witnessed them. But nothing in the latter part of “the American century” defined an era as profoundly as those rifle shots that split the warm Dallas air on November 22, 1963, and the sudden death of the 46-year-old president.

There was Camelot — a media construct, of course, but a rarity in that it actually resonated with so many people, everywhere — and then there was the somber, profoundly uncertain period after Camelot. For countless millions in America and around the globe who lived through the near-surreal transition, the days and weeks after JFK’s assassination felt like a chilling, restless pause: a moment so charged with unease that even reflection, or taking stock, seemed impossible.

Here, on the 45th anniversary of JFK’s March 1967 reinterment, when his remains were moved from his initial resting place to the permanent grave site and memorial at Arlington, LIFE.com offers a gallery of photographs (some never published in LIFE magazine) from the deeply fraught funeral held mere days after Kennedy was killed. While both ceremonies — the state funeral in ’63, and the reinterment three-and-a-half years later — were marked by sorrow, the rawness of the emotion evident in 1963 is still striking, and rending, today.

“A woman knelt and gently kissed the flag,” LIFE magazine reported of the scene as JFK’s casket lay in state for two days after his assassination. “A little girl’s hand tenderly fumbled under the flag to reach closer. Thus, in a privacy open to all the world, John F. Kennedy’s wife and daughter touched at a barrier that no mortal ever can pass again.”

The next day, Kennedy’s body was taken “from the proudly impassive care of his honor guard” and was carried from the Capitol rotunda to Arlington.

“By a tradition that is as old as Genghis Khan,” LIFE noted, “a riderless horse followed” the flag-draped casket, “carrying empty boots reversed in the stirrups in token that the warrior would not mount again…. Through all this mournful splendor Jacqueline Kennedy marched enfolded in courage and a regal dignity. Then at midnight she came back again, in loneliness, to lay some flowers on her husband’s grave.”

life.time.com™©


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