Scene Through the Lens | July 27, 2020

Last week I made a cultural reference to a Baby Boomer coming-of-age movie. This week it’s an episode from the TV series the Odd Couple (the original 1970s one, not the remake with the actor from “Friends”). In a classic scene of jurisprudence, Felix Unger, played by Tony Randall, is representing himself and Oscar Madison (Jack Klugman) in court after they’re charged with ticket scalping.

Cross-examining a witness, Felix writes the word “ASSUME” on a blackboard and shouts. “You should never assume. You see, when you assume [circling the parts of the word] you make an ass out of you and me.” The courtroom erupts in applause.

I often feel that way when I am out photographing. I also call it “I got this” disorder.

Like when I read the first team name on photo assignment for a high school soccer game and drive there only to realize they were listed as playing at the other school, not hosting the game.

Or, the classic captioning mistake (you only make once) of calling a much younger companion someone’s son or daughter when asking for a name, only to be told the person is their spouse.

Last week I was assigned to take a portrait of an attorney involved in a national lawsuit against a major travel industry company. I had the address of his office, on a street that sounded like a prestigious location in an older inner suburb. When I plugged it into my GPS, the result wasn’t exactly where I’d expected, put I headed there anyway. As I got closer, and saw I was nearing what most people would call the “wrong side of the tracks,” I pulled over to double-check my note. I had already called the attorney, and told him I wouldn’t be entering his office because of the coronavirus, but that I would still make a “lawyerly” picture of him outside. He said that would be okay, because “I have a really cool sign.”

So, knowing “I got this,” I am driving around looking for, oh, maybe an Ivy-covered brick building with a “really cool sign” out front. This in a neighborhood where most of the street signs were missing. Except for the assume part, it should have been pretty easy to find.

It took two more phone calls before I found the attorney. He helped me out by standing in front of his building. And there was no “cool sign.” He had just said that “for fun.” And, he told me just before I pulled up. “Oh, I’m not wearing a suit. I hope that’s okay.”

The photos turned out well. I will post one here after the story publishes. But it serves to remind me about not making assumptions.

My other “assume” example from this week of things that can go wrong in photography might be better classified as “big headedness” syndrome.

The reporter said he was glad I’d been assigned to illustrate his story. “You do a really great job making interesting pictures of boring subject matter,” he told me.

I was to photograph a giant statue of Lenape leader Tedyuscung in Wissahickon Park. It is one of the many stereotypical statues across the country, as our story notes, Native people say, that have been created “under the white gaze” - Indians as imagined by white people.

Head swelling from my colleague’s praise, I decided I would not do my usual quick look on the web to see what other pictures exist. Or even read up on it. Nope, I just assumed I would make a wonderfully creative image of the statue – unencumbered or unprejudiced by anybody’s else’s work. I typed the statue’s name into my phone’s GPS, and off I went.

The directions showed the dotted lines indicating a walk to the final destination, but I ended on a dead-end street that was all private homes with gated driveways. Luckily someone was carrying out his trash so I asked him. I had to go back out, then around to another dead end street, but this one stopping at a trail head. Lucky again, some hikers were just leaving, and they gave me directions.

A half an hour later, after hiking up and down, over roots and big rocks and lots of loose Wissahickon shist, I made it to a huge rock, that I guessed was where the statue was mounted. But I couldn’t be sure because of all the trees and bushes. Another climb up a steep hill, holding onto branches for the last ten yards, and I made it – only to find Tedyuscung facing into the valley, his back to me.

There was about a twelve-inch ledge in front of the statue, beyond which was nothing but the tops of trees - and the creek 100 yards straight down.

I had decided to travel light, carrying in only a camera body with my 70-200-mm lens, assuming (again, that word) I’d want to shoot his face tight, maybe something really creative, showing his Western Plains headdress not generally worn by Native people in the East. And my iPhone, in case I needed a general view, just for backup.

Well, I could barely see his face from the front because of all the trees, and there was no way I was going to stand on the foot-wide ledge at his knees. Now, if I had properly researched this, I would have seen the best time to photograph the statue is in the winter. And I would have brought a super wide angle lens mounted on my monopod to position the camera in front of, and far enough away from the statue to see the whole thing.

Instead, I stood at his side, grabbed a handhold behind his knee and leaned out, as far as could, over the chasm, extended my arm selfie-style with my iPhone trying to aim it at his face above me, shooting randomly in the hope I’d have one framed properly because I couldn’t see what I was getting.

The ending of this shaggy dog story? Hopefully you assume I got my picture. And I learned - once again - never to assume anything.

Since 1998, a black-and-white photo has appeared every Monday in staff photographer Tom Gralish’s photo column in The Inquirer’s local news section. Here are the most recent, in color:

» SEE MORE: Previous blogs and Twenty years of a photo column