Interview with a Photographer from the American Magazine "Life" - Part Four

Author: John Loregard (USA) / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: Howard Soochurek (hereinafter referred to as Soochurek): In 1945, I took a photograph in Tokyo, Japan, of General Douglas MacArthur meeting Emperor Hirohito. It wasn’t an outstanding work—aperture 8, 10 feet away, “click,” and it was done. I was the only photographer sent by the military, and Life magazine published my photo. Emperor Hirohito looked utterly exhausted. He was tired, weak, and restless, always on his guard, barely speaking, and appeared very stern. The visit of the Japanese Emperor to the U.S. military headquarters to meet General MacArthur was a historic event. At that time, I was still a child, and I felt deeply awestruck. After the Pearl Harbor attack in 1941, I was immediately drafted into the Signal Corps. Because the government didn’t want universities to be completely empty, they sent me to Princeton University to study Arabic. Three years later, I graduated from Princeton, and the next day, I was already on a plane to the Philippines, becoming the commander of the 3234th Signal Photographic Unit. I was only 20 years old, but my unit consisted of soldiers aged 34 to 38. But you’re in charge, which means you have to arrange housing, complete various reports, and assign tasks, and finally collect the photos and film. You have to go fishing while also preparing the bait. So I was extremely young and quite proud of myself. Around Okinawa, there were many small islands that we had to occupy. I landed on one of them. Japanese soldiers’ usual practice was to dig a hole on the beach, which they called a spider hole, and hide inside, covering the top with grass or something, waiting until the enemy soldiers landed, then they would jump out and attack the stragglers. One of my corporals was assigned to take care of the famous war correspondent Ernie Pyle, driving him in a jeep to the front lines. When they returned, a Japanese sniper shot at their jeep. The corporal and Ernie Pyle jumped out of the jeep and hid in a ditch by the roadside. But Pyle couldn’t stay still. He said, “You’ve got to go back. Let me see if there’s any action.” He stuck his head out. He was wearing a helmet, but he pushed it up to see better, and just then, a bullet hit the front of his forehead, killing him instantly. My men were unharmed. A small unit of ours arrived shortly after, neutralized the Japanese sniper, and that was ten minutes later—that’s when I arrived as well. The War Department received a batch of excellent photos taken by the 3234th Unit about the death of Ernie Pyle, though it was really inappropriate to say so. After leaving the military, I could have returned to Princeton University for another year because I hadn’t graduated. However, since I had taken photos of General MacArthur as an official photographer, the Milwaukee Monthly hired me. It was a newspaper from my hometown. My father was also a college graduate, but I remember during the Great Depression, he couldn’t find any work. So subconsciously, I told myself, “I don’t want that to happen to me.” I wanted to do something more than just find a job. I grew up during the Great Depression, so I placed great importance on economics. I earned $60 a week working at the Milwaukee Monthly, but if I took a project for Life magazine, I could earn $75 a day. So I came to New York to meet Wilson Hicks, the executive editor of Life. I spent an hour with him, talking about the books I read, philosophy, and my views on Princeton University. Hicks was quite something—he made me wait for half an hour at first, and after that, he never talked about photography with me. He talked about everything but photography, and finally he said, “I’ve seen one of your photos—a snow scene of a group of people on a hill, looking like something from a Currier