I started in the newspaper biz at 13, working a summer in the back shop of the small town weekly: folding inserts and sweeping the floor. But hanging around that print shop did it's damage. The sound and smell of the presses and linotype; handling the newspapers. Printer's Ink. Caught up in the romance, in the old fashioned way.
I was writing little things not long afterward.
The photography came naturally.
The paper was the conduit,
and I got to meet some heroes during the high school years.
Lots of 'old hands' helped me along.
And my little town ( not far from Schwab's ) had some remarkable newspaper guys at the time. It was just a natural thing.
By the time I was ready to head out into The World,
the camera was had become My Way.
During college, I carried a Filmo under the car seat for spot TV news ( before video, kids ).
Did little jobs on weekends that paid college bills,
and did photolab work in the school biophysics lab,
shot theatre and nightclub stuff;
interviewed old soldiers,miners,and ranch hands - guys out of my hemingway / hammett soaked imagination.
Met more real shooters.
One thing led to another.
One night I was holed up in the office of a small town daily,
riding out a Rocky Mountain blizzard, when the teletype went off.
It sounded like WW3, but it was worse.
Life magazine announced it's final issue. :(
There would be no brass ring. :confused:
It's all been dip and dunk ever since. :D