Victor Blackman

Victor and I had two common interests. Photography and motorcycles. During my ‘Fleet Street’ years I used a Honda 750 motorcycle to move around the city, come rain or come shine. I would often find myself being first on the scene of a breaking story, shortly followed by Victor Blackman or vice-versa. Both of us would revel in the fact that our motorcycles could skip in and out of the London traffic saving precious minutes. We were rival press photographers. Victor was with the ‘Daily Express’ and also wrote a column for ‘Amateur Photographer’ magazine, commonly known as AP. I mainly supplied news photos to the ‘Daily Mail’ and the ‘Telegraph’.

To many amateur photographers and budding professionals, Victor was an inspiration He was always willing to give up the inside secrets and could be very opinionated on equipment type and usage. He didn’t care much for arguments for one brand of camera against another, as long as it “Did the job”. He published two wonderful books. One called ‘Naff Off’, apparently after a comment made by Princess Anne. The other one called ‘My way with a Camera’. Both are still available used at online bookstores and well worth the read.

The last time I saw Victor was on assignment at the London Stock Exchange. We talked photography and motorcycles and laughed together over mutual stories we had covered. Sadly Victor passed away suddenly, caused by a heart attack. I miss our paths crossing and the respect we had for each other during those years on the ‘Street’. The last thing he said to me was ‘John, don’t forget the GV”. (GV – General View).

Fleet Street Nostalgia

In 1974 the streets of London were a wonderful training ground for a young photographer and ‘Fleet Street’ was the center of the universe. The major newspapers of the day were centralized on this street or within easy walking distance, running, if you had a scoop. Early risers could witness the delivery of huge rolls of paper. Only two or three able to fit on a flatbed truck. The sunrise hustle, the smells, the early morning coffee shop and maybe a sausage roll or bacon sandwich to start the day. Shafts of morning light would penetrate from each side-street until it finally rounded the corners as the day progressed. Camera in hand and pockets filled with Kodak Tri-X film, I would  start out on the days adventures. Those days. Slow and frustrating, crazy and fast, and on at least one occasion, that excited telephone call from a callbox to the Daily Mail picture editor, “Hold the front page”.

Back at the ‘Office’ the days film would be dropped in drain pipes filled with Kodak D76 developer and Ilford ID-11 fixer. The results rushed to the newspaper picture desk, where the editor would make his decisions, drop, crop, cut, paste or a waste. The success rate was low, so the work rate was necessarily high. At the days end a refreshment at the ‘Newman Arms’ pub was the ticket. Tall stories told, just like the fisherman’s fish. Socializing with fellow snappers who tomorrow would be your competition once more, and then home to sleep and awake to see your picture published in the morning delivery, or not.

December 1975

This month and year I shall never forget as it changed my life forever. I remember it well.

I was at a Christmas party celebration for the West Wickham Sub-Aqua Club in the county of Kent, England. Camera in hand. I was apparently not doing a very good job at recording the social events of that evening, as I was approached by Charles R. Cramp who introduced himself as a freelance London Press photographer and asked me if I would like to learn how to be a ‘real’ photographer. What could have been perceived by a fifteen year old boy as an insult was lost as I tried to contain my excitement. This encounter became a life long friendship and started with a four year apprenticeship with Chas on London’s ‘Fleet Street’. The center of the World for the English Press.

Chas was a hard core Press man. Many others on ‘Fleet Street’ didn’t appreciate his attitude at times. The truth be known. They were jealous because he got the story when the staffers couldn’t. He was the kind of guy who would be struck by the wall of a falling building while others were running away, just to get that last great shot. He was rewarded by many honors. A fellowship of the Royal Photographic Society, Fellowship of the Master Photographers Association and an Associateship of the British Institute of Professional Photographers, to name a few.

He always had one wish and on another day I remember extremely well he rushed up to me with a huge smile on his face and told me he’d got his wish. He had called the picture editor of the ‘Daily Mail’ newspaper and shouted down the phone “Hold the front page”! He’d done it again. This call only happened once, but once was enough.

I’m sad. In all those years of photographing beside each other, I never turned my camera to Chas to take his picture or he to me. We must have been too busy. I have wonderful memories thanks to Charles R. Cramp. So, Chas, I’m off to have your favorite lunch. A cheese and onion sandwich and a glass of milk.

Revisiting England

Today I started looking back on my early press photography days in London, England.

In the 70’s I had completed a four year apprenticeship with the renowned ‘Fleet Street’ press photographer Charles R. Cramp FRPS FMPA ABIPP. After completing my time with Charles I freelanced in London for many years, spending a short time with ‘London News Service’ and then onto a three day a week contract with the ‘Daily Mail’. These years were a good grounding for my move into what I like to call Social Documentary Photography. I am sorting through the photographs as a point of nostalgia. The sad fact is, the newspapers back then supplied the film, developed the film, paid the photographer and kept the results. If you didn’t keep a separate roll for yourself, the images were pretty much published and lost in the archives forever.