The "Brick" - Argus C3

 My dad passed away a few years ago. He was one of those unsung guys who could be counted as among " The Greatest Generation", having fought during WWII on the Island of Leyte, Philippines as part of General MacArthur's return. He also fought in the bloodiest battle of the Pacific War on the Island of Okinawa. He was attached to the 96th Division, 321st Combat Engineers. It's an odd story really how he became assigned to an engineering outfit. You see he was not very mechanical; barely knew which end of a hammer to hold, but he did have a year of college behind him and while in college he took a photography course. Somehow or another, the Army in all of their infinite wisdom thought his photography skills might be useful in an engineering outfit, so that is where he ended up. He did take a lot of photographs during that time, not one was ever used by the combat engineers. His camera of choice was the venerable Argus C3, otherwise known as "The Brick".

Of the meager possessions he owned at the time of his passing, the only one I truly wanted was his Argus C3. It was not the actual camera he carried across the Pacific, but another one his good friend from his college and army days found and bought for him many years later. It is indeed a brick and earned that nickname because of its reliability and ruggedness, not to mention it is about the size and weight of a brick.

The C3 was manufactured by the International Research Corporation, Ann Arbor, Michigan starting in 1939. They changed their name to Argus in 1944, about the time my grandfather purchased it for him just before my dad shipped out. A little research revealed it cost about $70.00 which was a substantial sum back then for a camera. Being my grandfather probably did not earn more than about $150.00 per month at the time, it was a real sacrificial outlay of funds for him to buy it.

My dad during his WWII
Army days - circa 1944
Taken with his Argus C3

He took a good number of Kodachrome color slides, most of which have been lost over the years, and he also took a lot of black and white photographs of his time overseas. I have a precious few of them in my collection. Many of them were damaged while overseas by fungus and mildew because of the humid and often damp and hot conditions.

Not sure what ever happened to his original one, but the substitute camera his friend purchased for him was probably manufactured in 1955 according to the serial number.

A while back I loaded that old camera with a roll of 35mm black and white film and shot a roll through it. The focus, being a rangefinder, was a bit off, as the focusing knob was really hard to turn, but it was fun to give it a try.

Heavy Equipment Operations
Taken with the old Argus C3
circa 1944/1945

I suppose as I have grown older, nostalgic reflections have become more important to me. Possessing that old camera and the history surrounding that particular model as it relates to my dad, well, it's just hard to place a price on such a thing. I break it out ever so often just to feel it in my hands, and yes it does weigh almost as much as a real brick. We've all been spoiled today with the technology of digital cameras and computers. Back then, you really had to know what you were doing to obtain a decent photo. 

I don't know, maybe I will give it a try again someday, if I can find a place that will develop the film. Just holding on to it and gazing through the fuzzy viewfinder is almost like looking through a time machine. Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time in cognito and visit my dad during those war years and observe first hand just how important that old camera may have been. Even though the one I do have is not the same camera he carried, it's close enough and serves as a connection between two era's. Photography, it seems, has indeed connected me to my dad's legacy.

Me and Walter Mitty: A Great Deal In Common

 Have you ever met Walter Mitty? He's a friend of mine, well, not in any kind of real sense, but he and I share a great deal in common. Walter Mitty, if you are not familiar with him, is a fictional cartoon character, created many years ago by James Thurber around 1939. Walter was this guy who liked to daydream and in his daydreams became a swashbuckling, bigger than life heroic character. The reality of his life fell a great deal short of that, as he was actually quite timid and mundane. Yet, his alter ego transported him into a world of adventure far removed from the boring and simplistic world in which he lived. 

There are times I still feel like Walter Mitty. Growing up I lived so many daydreams I sort of got lost in them at times. Daydreams like becoming an astronaut, or a great athlete were common, but my favorite was dreaming about being a fighter pilot who ruled the skies zooming here and there challenging the bad guys in duels of bravery. Needless to say, none of those things ever came true. I suppose there were many reasons for that, but truth was, my dreams were bigger than my ability to turn them into reality, at least that is the excuse I fall back on when those melancholy thoughts about how, windows of opportunity have closed, begin to resurface. 

Recently, I re-read Chuck Yeager's biography called "Yeager". Chuck, of course, was the guy who first broke the Sound Barrier flying the research airplane the X-1 way back in 1947. He was just a country boy who grew up in the hills and hollers of West Virginia who became a war hero ace fighter pilot who turned test pilot. He went on to become one of the most celebrated pilots of all time. I guess what captivates me about Chuck is how he jumped on the opportunity when it presented itself. He said about himself, "I was at the right place at the right age in the right time of history..." And, so he was. He was not highly educated but had an uncanny understanding of mechanical things and a natural instinct when it came to flying. It was those instincts that pulled him out of some pretty hairy situations. He also said, "The secret to my success was that I always managed to live to fly another day..."

Chuck was no Walter Mitty, he was who Walter wanted to be but never was. I've read about a lot of bigger than life characters, but Chuck Yeager stands apart from all the rest, and I believe America needs more Chuck Yeager's now more than ever.

Yeager also wrote another book called 'Press On'. It's a follow up to his biography but concentrates more on his hunting, fishing and outdoor related adventures. Mixed in with all of those stories are tales of his flying exploits. It mostly takes place after he retired from the Air Force and what impressed me about it was how he just kept on going trading one kind of adventure for another. I would have expected nothing less from the guy.

By now you may be wondering where I'm going with this story. I guess it is to encourage anyone to keep on going in spite of your age or circumstance. It's okay to have dreams and its okay not to have all of them come true. Even though Walter Mitty an I have a lot in common, there are differences. You see even though I never fulfilled my wildest of daydream, I did manage to have some adventures along the way. Those four years I spent in the U.S. Coast Guard performing search and rescue work, for example, were without a doubt the closest I ever came to a swashbuckling adventure. I still claim those years were the defining moment of my young adult life and who I am today is still influenced by what I experienced way back then. I more than likely would never have pursued the outdoor adventures I've managed to live in recent times had I not served those few years so long ago. I have hiked and backpacked parts of the Rocky Mountains, hiked long stretches of rustic beaches, canoed crystal clear waters and spent time simply laying on the creek bank soaking in the moments. I met and fell in love with the love of my life, Kris, who has been my life partner for over 41 years now. I've learned about how to capture the natural beauty of the world through photography, and pursued and finished a thirty year career as an IT specialist. And now, I am retired.

Oh, I still daydream from time to time and wonder...what if...had I challenged myself when I was younger to follow through with those daydreams. Even so, as I've grown older, I realize just how important those daydreams were, for they helped to mold, encourage, and lift up a young boys imagination, and self awareness enough to where his reality and Walter Mitty's deviated away from each other ever so slightly to where he and I live different lives, and I would not change any of it.

Behind The Scenes: More Than Just a Photo

 I love all four seasons, it's just I love the fall season a little more than all the rest. There is something about the allure of fall. It is as though nature is providing one last splash of color and drama before the dormancy of winter sets in. I suppose that may be why I reserve a portion of the fall season to get out and explore not only photographically, but explore the inner self as well, by testing and challenging myself to step deeper, stride longer, and search with more depth for a more fulfilling moment alone with nature. 

In recent years and through various seasons, I have taken a bunch of photos most of which are ordinary captures of ordinary moments. However, a few stand apart for they tend to capture a moment in time captured within the realm of an extraordinary experience. This single fall scene photo taken in the backcountry of Mammoth Cave National Park is one such photo. On the surface it appears to be just another woodland photo highlighted by early season fall colors. Behind the scenes, it represents a favorite discovery where time and place blended with an unusual circumstance.

I was backpacking into the backcountry of the park early in October of 2022. My troublesome hip slowed me down as it has done before. Slowed, but not detoured, as I stumbled onto a old cemetery where a good number of old and weathered headstones stood. Dates on some of the headstones drifted back well into mid-1800's. Somehow along the way, I had missed a turnoff I needed, to head down to a campsite I had reserved for the first night. By this time I was tired and my hip hurt, so, I decided to setup camp off in the woods a few yards from the cemetery. The next morning I would continue on to my intended destination at a second campsite, my favorite, called The Bluffs.

All through the day, I kept hearing the laughter of a small child. Faint as it was, it was clear enough to catch my attention and I kept looking up trying to determine from where it was coming. I never did. I kept faintly hearing it at random with no discernable pattern or direction. Also, all through the afternoon, I struggled to capture any kind of meaningful photos. I just wasn't feeling it.

Eventually, I meandered back to the cemetery and took a closer look at the headstones. To my dismay, there were a good number of young children buried there having died long ago at very early ages ranging from as few as a couple of months to a few years old. As I was looking at the headstone of a young boy, I again heard the distant laughter of a child. Because it was windy that day, I figured it was just the wind creating an odd creaking sound through the tree branches. But the laughter continued randomly off and on up until just after sundown.

The next day I broke camp and hiked the short distance to The Bluffs. After setting up camp a second time, I spent a good part of the afternoon continuing to search for a meaningful photo...and ever so often, I would hear the faint sound of a child's laughter, only this time it seemed to be coming from in the direction of the cemetery, about a mile or so away in a straight line.

Late in the afternoon, I worked my way around the edge of the bluff and up the slope on the far end, about a third to half of a mile or so from the campsite. Across the canopy the trees were in their full fall colors, with some of the lesser vegetation still green. Nothing was jumping out at me photographically until I arched my way closer to the far end of the bluff and looked up. Standing there was this one dead tree, seemingly anchored along the edge of the bluff and reaching toward the sky. Surrounding it stood a myriad of other trees and foliages. I framed the shot and snapped the image. Oddly enough, when I think back on the moment, after taking that photo, I cannot recall ever hearing that laughter sound again.

Every photo has a story that surrounds it, within and through it. This one was unique in that it was captured during an unusual, somewhat haunting span of time. Since then, I have wondered what it was I heard on trip. Was it the wind...or was it something that simply cannot be explained. It matters not, I just know there is more to a photo than just the image. Each one is connected to a story, and serves as reminders of moments from times past, much like the headstones that serve to remind us of the lost stories of those children buried in that old cemetery. Since that day, I have wondered about their stories, but I suppose I will never solve the mystery from where the haunting laughter of a child came.

Other Links

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/2887971606745077770/640721479560565135

Video Link

https://youtu.be/DL6reEx6qqg