Larry Singer’s blog
On the evening of June 3, 2008, I had just settled in to enjoy a rerun of “Boston Legal” when the program was interrupted with the announcement that Barack Obama had just become presumptive nominee for president on the Democratic ticket.
I was not surprised, because I discovered about a year earlier that, unless something radically negative happened, Mr. Obama’s nomination was pretty much going to be, when the smoke cleared, inevitable.
Why had I come to this conclusion?
Because it was on the morning of June 15, 2007, that I had the unique opportunity to spend about an hour with the candidate.
A day earlier I had been sitting in the newsroom of the daily paper in Greenwood, South Carolina, when our secretary answered the phone, and because I was the only editorial staffer in the office, routed the call to me.
It was one of Barack Obama’s South Carolina campaign staff people, and he asked me if I could attend, the next day, a closed-door meeting in a spacious conference room at the local civic center with Obama and about 30 city and county politicians.
When I told him I would be happy to be there, he told me I would be the only local media person at the gathering and not to tell anyone, other than my editor, about the event.
I was also told Obama would be in our area to make two speeches; one in a public rally in Greenwood and another in Spartanburg.
The Greenwood visit, the campaign person explained, would be at 9 a.m., and the public would not be invited.
The next morning, when Obama entered the room, I could not believe the massive burst of charismatic electricity that was suddenly generated by the candidate.
After a few brief remarks, Obama then went to every invited guest in the room and not only answered all of the questions posed to him, but asked questions and listened intently to the answers.
As I photographed and tape recorded each encounter, I realized that this was not the basic ego driven political hack, but someone who, justifiably, was headed straight down the road, at supersonic speed, toward the highest office in the land.
Shortly after he spoke to the last of his political guests gathered in the room, I shook Obama’s hand and asked him if he would be willing to answer one question.
When he agreed, I asked him if, as president, he could change just one thing, what would it be?
“I would change the way we elect politicians,” he said. “So that they did not have to go out and raise millions of dollars so their message could be heard.”
“Do you really believe most politicians would be willing to give up the big bucks generated by their supporters?” I asked.
“No,” he answered, ” but the system has to be revamped from top to bottom so no person, business or organization has any more influence than anyone else. Special interests have become far too powerful, and that power needs to be returned to the people.”
A few minutes later, Obama strode through the same door through which he had entered and as he departed, took with him the near-magical energy he carried in.
Having lived through the terms of more than a few presidents, both Democrat and Republican, who really did not base their policies upon what the common man wanted or needed, I realized during my drive back to the newspaper that if Obama could get those who would vote in both the upcoming primary elections, as well as the big one in November, to understand what he wanted, and why, I would one day be able to tell my friends and family I one day met not just a successful politician, but a brilliant statesman and leader this great country could, at last, look at with chest-bursting pride.
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I love to watch the mannerisms of elected officials, and the higher the office they occupy, the more I enjoy this act of intense scrutiny.
The reason for my interest is simple: These are people who find themselves under the microscope by their their supporters, their opponents and the press.
The best (and the most successful) have polished their physical public image (clothes, haircut, facial expressions and body language) to a high gloss.
Whenever they make a public appearance people watch their every move and are constantly judging everything about them.
That is why I recently enjoyed being in close proximity to, and allowed to photograph, Arkansas Governor Mike Beebe.
When the governor spoke at a recent ground breaking ceremony in Parkers Chapel, I was truly enthralled at the variety of expressions that appeared on his face both while waiting to speak and once he stood at the podium.
Because I am neither a supporter or detractor of our governor, I made no effort to put any hidden meaning to my pictures, other than to illustrate the many fascinating faces of the chief executive of Arkansas.
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In the main hallway of the building that houses people who study bugs on the campus of Clemson University was a cartoon featuring one student in a classroom talking to another student.
The caption merely read, “Two weeks ago I couldn’t even spell entomologist, and now I are one.”
Well, I am not an entomologist, nor do I have any plans on becoming someone who seriously studies insects for a living.
In fact, when I worked for a newspaper in South Carolina, I put together a photo story by using a half dozen butterfly pictures.
Unfortunately, I identified what were swallowtails as monarchs.
This blunder would not have been as horrible as it was, had the swallowtail not been the official state butterfly of South Carolina.
The day after the pictures appeared in the paper, I had about 15 emails in my inbox; each was written by someone who knew more about butterflies than I, and each explained that I was an idiot who should know the difference between a monarch and a swallowtail.
Sadly, they were correct, so I dutifully answered each angry butterfly lover and agreed with that that yes, I was indeed a moron who would never make that mistake again.
But while I am most certainly not an expert on insects, when I see them through the lens of my camera, I am often astounded by their delicate beauty.
Such was the case recently.
While photographing a bevy of female track stars I made a hasty decision to capture a few of the caterpillars that had invaded the football field and track where El Dorado High School competes.
When I downloaded the pictures, I was amazed by their beauty.
After photographing a recent softball game at Parkers Chapel, I noticed a butterfly (or perhaps it’s a moth) flitting around some scarlet thistles.
I hope you enjoy examining them, close up, as much as I did.
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The South Arkansas Arboretum is a 13-acre botanical garden owned by the El Dorado school system but operated the South Arkansas Community College. It is located next to El Dorado High School and is open daily except for holidays.
It features plants indigenous to this area, including flowering azaleas and camellias, shortleaf and loblolly pines, southern and sweet bay magnolias, black gum, white ash, American sycamore, carolina beech, American holly, black cherry, sugar maple, and oak species such as water, post, southern red, white and overcup.
Opened in 1965, the arboretum is Arkansas’ only state park located within a city; it includes more than two miles of paved trails.
Recently, between assignments, I spent about a half hour capturing some of the blossoming plants that turned what was, until recently, a colorless and wintery drab patch of land into a carpet of pink, red and white flowers.
Oddly, during my visit, I discovered one white flower that had obviously cross bred with a pink flower, resulting in a sharply differentiated pink and white bloom that was both bizarre and visually striking.
On Jan. 28, just four weeks after I started working for the El Dorado News-Times, I took a photograph which, when published the next day, resulted in more positive feedback than any picture I have taken in my 30 year career as a photojournalist.
The picture, which technically left much to be desired, shows a young man named Nathan Reddin sprinting away from the camera.
What made the picture unique, and what inspired a great deal of interest, is that Nathan is wearing a jumpsuit with words stenciled on the back which identify him as a person, who until recently, was in police custody. He is wearing only a pair of white socks on his feet and is doing his best to avoid being recaptured by the local constabulary.
Many people who saw the picture on the front page of the paper asked me how I knew to be in the right place, at the right time, to shoot Mr. Reddin as he was flying west on Main Street.
The answer is simple: I really didn’t plan on shooting Mr. Reddin at all.
I was looking for a feature photograph of anything of interest in the downtown area, and stopped to get a picture of workers repairing the First Baptist Church overpass on West Avenue. Shortly after stepping out of my car and putting a telephoto lens on my camera, I saw a man in a bright orange jump suit running westbound across West.
It didn’t take me long to reason that a person in a jumpsuit running at top speed is probably making a break for freedom.
Fortunately, I had the lens set to auto focus.
At the speed he was moving I had just enough time to put the camera up to my eye, get Mr. Reddin reasonably centered in the frame, and fire off one shot before he took a hard right and disappeared between the church and a restaurant.
A few minutes later the police found their prey hiding under a parked car and took him back into custody.
I only wish I had seen Reddin sooner so I could have captured the look of panic and exhaustion on his face as he ran towards me.
That would have resulted in a picture that told the whole story.
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While driving back home on a recent Sunday after a shopping trip to a large retail chain headquartered here in Arkansas, I saw four people dressed as though they had just traveled from the time when Jesus walked the earth.
They were walking beside two sheep, who were grazing on a strip of grass across the street from the El Dorado Municipal Auditorium.
The four time travelers, I soon discovered, were Kris Borosvskis, Joe Hurst, Carolyn Gaunt and Tony Forbess — who was was carrying a walking stick similar to the one used by Charleston Heston in “The Ten Commandments.”
As a naturally curious sort, I figured they might make a suitably attention-getting feature photo for the El Dorado News-Times, and I quickly discovered all four were cast members in the Promise, a play about the story of Jesus presented by the El Dorado Community Chorus & Cast and sponsored by the First Baptist Church.
Before driving to the auditorium to get a copy of the program, Borosvskis, Hurst, Gaunt and Forbess were joined by an Apostle — Marty Burns — who, unlike most historically correct apostles, was carrying a Canon digital single lens reflex camera around his neck.
In the auditorium parking lot, most of the cast had gathered to socialize before being herded backstage prior to the commencement of the production.
Although a Roman soldier, played by Joe Schumacher, quickly attracted my attention because he looked exactly like I imagined a no nonsense Roman soldier would look 2,000 years ago, it was Steve Splawn, who had the dubious honor of portraying Satan, that sent chills up my spine.
I’m not sure who gave Splawn tips on how to accurately portray the King of Darkness, but if the real Beezlebub is half as creepy as Splawn, I will definitely try and avoid mortal sins at all cost.
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Goodbye Oscar
On March 17, St. Patrick’s Day, I lost a a close friend who I loved a lot.
His name was Oscar, he weighed about seven pounds dripping wet; he was a terrier mix and I can’t tell you how much I miss him.
Oscar was adopted from the Union County Animal Protection Society (UCAPS) by my wife, Jan, about three weeks ago, and when I came home from work and saw him sitting on a big recliner with Jan, it was love at
first sight.
I immediately pulled out my camera and took his first formal portrait. After a week, Jan decided Oscar needed a doggie friend and playmate, so back to UCAPS she went.
When she returned, we were owners of both Oscar and a Chinese Crested dog named Sweet Pea.
Jan was wise enough to take Oscar with her, and she only adopted Sweet Pea after Oscar gave her the puppy seal of approval. I have never seen two dogs enjoy each other’s company more than Oscar and Sweet Pea, and I would laugh repeatedly as the two would chase each other around the house and wrestle with each other, often on my lap.
At this point, it must be said that Oscar had been put up for adoption because he had one incurable personality disorder: He was afflicted with wanderlust and the urge to escape the loving confines of whatever home he occupied and trot blocks away to visit other dogs in the neighborhood. When tracked down, instead of hopping in the chase vehicle, he would turn tail and run.
Even though he had short, stubby legs, that dog could run faster than Jan, even when cornered in a neighbor’s back yard. What made this habit particularly odious was Oscar’s total disregard for street traffic.
It was this trait that lead to his demise.
Even though Jan and I did everything we could to keep Oscar safely in our backyard, including lining our
wood fence at ground level with chicken wire, Oscar still found a way to escape on March 17.
When I returned from work that evening, Jan was sitting on her recliner with Sweet Pea; the look on her face told me something was terribly wrong. She told me Oscar had escaped late that afternoon and would not be coming back. When she told me Oscar had been hit and killed by car I discovered the real meaning of grief.
Fortunately, our neighbor, an El Dorado police officer named Thadeus Norman witnessed the event and walked over to tell my wife what happened and told her he would take care of Oscar’s remains so she
wouldn’t have to see him in in that condition.
Because Sweet Pea mourned the loss of her friend as much as Jan and I, when I returned from work on the
night of the 18th, I met Buttons, a male Wooly Chinese Crested who had been rescued from a puppy mill by the angels who staff UCAPS.
Although Jan and Sweet Pea and I love and play with Buttons, I miss my buddy Oscar. Wherever he is, I hope he’s happy, loved and is in a place where he can play safely. I know God is laughing at his antics as much as I did, and that’s a good thing.
Sweet Pea
Sweet Pea and Buttons
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Perfect pitch
During a recent trip to the Norphlet High School baseball field to shoot the locals playing Junction City in baseball, I shot a series of photographs of the home team’s pitcher Jason Hogue.
Although Hogue did not get the win, I was truly impressed with his poise, style, attitude, composure and intensity as he first readied himself and then delivered each pitch.
I don’t get a chance to shoot many profession baseball games, but as I watched Hogue through my camera’s viewfinder and telephoto/zoom lens, I felt like I was in a big league town in front of 40,000 cheering fans watching a star rookie pitcher just up from the minors, staring down opposing batters and working his magic on the mound.
