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

Author: (American) Lorne Gadd
Publisher:
Publishing Time: Not available
Features: Howard Sosuke (hereinafter referred to as Sosuke): In 1945, I took a photograph in Tokyo, Japan, of General Douglas MacArthur meeting Emperor Hirohito. It wasn’t a great work—f/8 aperture, 10 feet away, click—one shot 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 Emperor of Japan to the headquarters of the U.S. military 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 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 the islands. Japanese soldiers’ usual practice was to dig a hole on the beach, which they called a spider hole, and people would hide inside, covering the top with grass or something, waiting until the enemy soldiers landed, then they would jump out and attack the straggling U.S. soldiers. 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, Japanese snipers opened fire on 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 and 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 snipers—it was about 10 minutes later—and I arrived at that time as well. The War Department received a batch of excellent photos taken by the 3234th Unit of Ernie Pyle’s death, though it was certainly inappropriate to say so. After leaving the military, I could have chosen to return to Princeton University for another year because I hadn’t graduated. However, as the official photographer who had taken photos of General MacArthur, the Milwaukee Monthly hired me—it was a newspaper in 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 to end up like that.” 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 had me wait for half an hour at first, and after that, he never discussed 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 an issue from the Currier and Ives company.”