Geraldine Dent, New York City, 1949. Photograph: Ruth Orkin

'My mother said that when I was young I was constantly saying, ‘Look at this - Look at that.’ I think that taking pictures must be my way of asking people to ‘Look at this - Look at that.’ If my photographs make the viewer feel what I did when I first took them - ‘Isn’t this funny... terrible... moving... beautiful?’ - then I’ve accomplished my purpose.'
Ruth Orkin

Last year was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of American street photographer and filmmaker Ruth Orkin.

Orkin was a pioneer. A photographer who recorded ordinary people at work and play, who celebrated the complex rhythms of city life, who recognised the poetry of the everyday. A hard working, resourceful woman, determined to make a mark in a business dominated by men.

‘Maybe because my primary interest was in movies, I wanted to tell stories with pictures, even if they didn’t move.’

Orkin was born in Boston and raised in Hollywood, the only child of a silent-film actress and a manufacturer of toy boats. Aged 10 she was given her first camera, a 39-cent Univex.

*Comic Book Readers, West Village, NYC*, 1947, Ruth Orkin

In her unpublished autobiography, written in 1984, Orkin described how she taught herself to use her camera by referring to a short 25-cent book ‘Photography for Fun’ by William M Strong.

‘In Strong’s chapter on How To Learn Photography there were just six items:

1. Look at good pictures. > I did that automatically because they attracted me.
2. Read the photographic mags. > I did.
3. Look at the camera club in your city. > There wasn’t any in Eagle Rock.
4. Get some more books on photography. > I looked at everything I could at the Los Angeles public library.
5. Look up photographic courses. > I wouldn’t have had the money. I gave my own course in photographic chemistry in chemistry class.
6. Take a lot of pictures. > I did.’

Orkin clearly had remarkable application. When she was 17 she embarked on an epic bike trip across America, from Los Angeles to the 1939 World's Fair in New York, taking pictures along the way. After briefly studying photojournalism at Los Angeles City College, she became a messenger girl at MGM Studios and during World War II she served with the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps.

In 1943 Orkin moved to New York. By night she took pictures in the city’s clubs, and by day she shot baby photos. She saved enough money to buy her first professional camera, and eventually, in 1945, her first picture was published in the Macy’s employee magazine: an image of V-E Day celebrations on Times Square.

In time Orkin found freelance work at most of the major magazines: Life, Look, Ladies' Home Journal, and many others. Viewed together her images provide a portrait of New York street life in the 1940s and early ‘50s.

A suited man walks along West 88th Street with only a trilby to shelter him from the rain. Middle-aged women in smart hats jostle to find a bargain at the Department Store. Tired travellers sit on their suitcases at Penn Station. Courting couples cuddle up close on Coney Island.

There are people milling around the barbershops, cinemas and soda stands, at busy street corners, past neon signs and insistent advertising hoardings. You can buy watermelons, malted milk, ‘red hot frankfurters and ice cold drinks.’

The kids in the West Village are engrossed in their comic books. Teenage girls recline on top of a Ford Shipping Container at Gansevoort Pier, and a brave boy jumps into the Hudson in his trunks. With extravagant gestures and animated expressions, young Jimmy tells his friends a story.

In 1950 Orkin won a competition set by the editor of Ladies’ Home Journal to find an image that reflected the more liberated post-war American woman.

‘I had not only just photographed a beautiful girl who was not a model, but she was doing something that all his female readers could identify with.’

New York housewife Geraldine Dent stands outside a greengrocer with a bursting bag of fruit in one arm. She seems animated, caught in conversation. There’s a pleasing echo of red, from her stylish beret, to her lipstick and scarf, to the half eaten-strawberry she clasps in her hand. It was the first time a 35mm colour slide had been used on the front of such a magazine and the issue sold out its 4 million print run.

‘In order to make a living as a photographer I had to make contacts, get jobs, and try to sell pictures. Some days I felt that I was forever going up and down elevators, riding subways or buses, walking on sidewalks, and waiting in offices.’

Orkin had to be determined to succeed in a male-dominated profession. There was a significant gender pay gap (‘You don’t have a family to support.’) and permanent staff reporter roles were reserved for men.

In time Orkin learned to cherish the independence of a freelancer: her freedom from editorial control; her license to follow her own instincts and judgement to find the best stories.

‘It gives you all kinds of excuses to be where you’re not supposed to be.’

Orkin clearly thought deeply about her craft. She recognised that, as in all creative professions, her success or failure resided in the choices she made.

Three Boys on Suitcases, Penn Station, Ruth Orkin

‘It means MAKING DECISIONS
Deciding when to push the shutter
Deciding whether to sacrifice speed for depth of focus or vice versa
Deciding whether to keep my presence secret and get a picture that would not be as good as if I allowed my presence to be known
Deciding which BW proofs to blow up
Deciding how to lay out a caption and a picture story
Deciding which magazine to show it to first’

As a freelancer Orkin also needed to be a master of multi-tasking.

‘To be a photographer you had to know how to splice wires, clean a battery
Contact, load your own film (to save money)
Develop and print… Spot (darkroom technician)
Keep a record of all business expenses (accountant)
Type letters and bills (secretary)
Research pic stories in recent magazines (research)
Make dates with editors and show or discuss ideals (salesperson)
File clerk: file negs and prints
Keep files folder on each customer: mags publ, book publ, miscel (secretary)
Selling ideas
How to gate crash – or get into places you weren’t supposed to be.
Gallery chores’

In the early 1950s Orkin was given assignments in Israel and Italy. She was also commissioned to take celebrity portraits: Leonard Bernstein and Lucille Ball, Tennessee Williams and Montgomery Clift; Einstein, Hitchcock, Brando and Bacall. In 1952 she married photographer and filmmaker Morris Engel and they collaborated on two independent films, the first of which ‘Little Fugitive’ was Oscar nominated.

Orkin returned to photography. Ever resourceful, she dealt with the constraints of caring for two small children by taking shots from her apartment window. This led to the publication of two ‘Through My Window’ books.

'To be a photojournalist takes experience, skill, endurance, energy, salesmanship, organization, wheedling, climbing, gatecrashing, etc. – plus an eye and patience.’

In 1985 Ruth Orkin died of cancer at her New York apartment. She left behind a record of the American city experience in the mid 20th century. She told stories in pictures - stories that communicated a love of life, of ordinary people and the theatre of the street. She made us ‘Look at this - Look at that.’ And she taught us that success in any creative profession requires more than just talent.

'I always felt that being a photographer was 90 percent being a salesperson. Then and today.'

[You can see a record of Ruth Orkin’s work in the excellent book ‘Ruth Orkin: A Photo Spirit’]

'I play the street life
Because there's no place I can go.
Street life,
It's the only life I know.
Street life,
And there's a thousand cards to play.
Street life,
Until you play your life away.
You never let people see
Just who you wanna be.
And every night you shine
Just like a superstar.
The type of life that's played
Attempts at masquerade.
You dress, you walk, you talk,
You're who you think you are.’

Randy Crawford, ’Street Life’ (W Jennings / J Sample)

No. 361

Bette Davis is buried in the Hollywood Hills Cemetery. The inscription on her white marble sarcophagus reads: ‘She did it the hard way.’ The hard way was the only way available to this talented, idiosyncratic, independent minded actor in conservative, patriarchal Golden Age Hollywood. The hard way was the only way she knew.

Nowadays we celebrate short cuts, smart routes and safe options. We tend to like the easy way. So it’s worth pausing a while to consider why Davis was so proud to have done it the hard way.

‘I survived because I was tougher than anyone else.’

Bette Davis was born in 1908 in Lowell, Massachusetts. When she was 7 her parents separated and she subsequently moved with her mother to New York. She was drawn to acting at an early age and was playing Broadway when the talkie revolution lured her to Hollywood.

In 1930 Davis arrived with her mother at the railway station in LA, but the Universal executives that had arranged to meet her failed to show up. Afterwards they excused themselves:

‘We didn’t see anyone get off the train who looked like an actress.’

Davis didn’t have the flawless nose, teeth and hair that were then expected of Hollywood stars. She had unusually large, deep blue eyes and ash-blonde hair. She spoke with a distinct New England cadence. The studio labelled her the ‘Little Brown Wren.’

Universal were sceptical of Davis’ appeal (‘Who wants to get her at the end of the picture?’), but they signed her nonetheless. They set about moulding her to the tastes of the day: dyeing her hair platinum and changing her name to Bettina Dawes. But she would have none of it.

‘I refused to be called ‘Between the Drawers’ all my life.’

This was Hollywood’s first encounter with Davis’ legendary force of character.

‘I was thought to be stuck-up. I wasn’t. I was just sure of myself. This is, and always has been, an unforgivable quality in the unsure.’

By the end of 1932 Davis had made ten pictures with Universal, but none of them was successful and she was released from her contract.

‘What a fool I was to come to Hollywood where they only understand platinum blondes and where legs are more important than talent.’

Davis was on the point of going home, but she was picked up by Warner Brothers. Her performances began to receive some recognition, and in 1934 she won plaudits for her role in ‘Of Human Bondage.’ Unlike many stars of the day, she enjoyed playing unsympathetic characters, women who were brittle, flawed, emotional, outspoken.

‘No one’s as good as Bette when she’s bad.’

Headline from a Bette Davis movie poster

As her box office success grew, Davis increasingly clashed with studio executives and directors, criticising scripts and walking off sets.

‘I knew that if I continued to appear in any more mediocre pictures, I would have no career left worth fighting for.’

Eventually in 1936 she was suspended without pay for turning down a role she thought inappropriate.

‘I was complaining constantly about my bosses, the men who paid me, and I got sick of complaining.’

The following year she took Warners to court in an attempt to free herself from her restrictive contract.

‘Either fire me or let me be what I personally am. You cannot be somebody else - a copy.’

She lost the case. But Warners recognised that their single-minded star had a point and gradually the roles improved.

‘I lost the battle, but I won the war.’

Soon Davis was turning in extraordinary performances in certified classics like ‘Jezebel’, ‘The Letter’, ‘Now, Voyager’ and ‘All About Eve.’

‘Oh, Jerry, don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.’
Charlotte Vale, Now, Voyager

Davis was consistently intense in these movies, compulsively watchable, with her expressive eyes and flamboyant gestures; her clipped diction and melodramatic manner. She clearly enjoyed roles that stretched her.

‘The key to life is accepting challenges. Once someone stops doing this, he’s dead.’

Davis continued to fight her corner and argue her case. She revelled in her reputation for being forceful and forthright, combative and confrontational.

'I was a legendary terror. I was insufferably rude and ill-mannered in the cultivation of my career. I had no time for pleasantries. I said what was on my mind, and it wasn't always printable. I have been uncompromising, peppery, intractable, monomaniacal, tactless, volatile and oft-times disagreeable. I suppose I’m larger than life.’

At 54 Davis performed one of her most memorable roles as the ageing vaudeville actor ‘Baby’ Jane Hudson in ‘What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?’ Joan Crawford played her unloved sister, and the film brought into focus a long-running feud between the two Hollywood legends.

‘Why am I so good at playing bitches? I think it’s because I’m not a bitch. Maybe that’s why [Joan Crawford] always plays ladies.’

But gradually the roles were drying up as they so often do for mature women. Davis wouldn’t take it lying down. In 1962 she placed an ad in the Situations Wanted column in Variety:

‘Mother of three – 10, 11 & 15 – divorcee. American. Thirty years’ experience as an actress in Motion Pictures. Mobile still and more affable than rumor would have it. Wants steady employment in Hollywood. (Has had Broadway.)’

Nonetheless there weren’t too many more great scripts left for Davis. She continued to work in film and TV and in the latter part of her career her sharp tongue and penetrating insight made her popular on the talk show circuit.

‘I want to die with my high heels on, still in action.’

Bette Davis passed away in 1989, aged 81. She left behind an extraordinary body of work. She was the first actor to be nominated for ten Oscars (she won two). She was the first female President of the Motion Picture Academy. For a time she was the best-paid woman in America.

‘I will never be below the title.’

So what can we learn from Davis?

Well, sometimes in your career you need to stand firm, stand up for what you believe is right. Sometimes you have to be prepared to be unpopular, to be pilloried, to be shunned by your peers.

‘If everyone likes you, you’re not doing it right.’

People who don’t conform, who don’t bend with the wind, are labelled stubborn, obstinate, difficult and demanding. But most of the time Davis was merely demonstrating grit, determination and resolve.

‘My passions were all gathered together like fingers that made a fist. Drive is considered aggression today. I knew it then as purpose.’

Importantly Davis insisted that she did not take a confrontational approach for vain, self-serving, egotistical reasons; but rather for the quality of the work.

‘This became a credo of mine: attempt the impossible in order to improve your work.’

Davis was certainly a tough cookie. She was uncompromising, persistent, provocative. But she was also intelligent, passionate, hugely gifted and committed to her art. And she opened a door through which many talented actors would follow.

‘It’s true we don’t know what we’ve got until it’s gone. But we don’t know what we’ve been missing until it arrives.’

In today’s consumer culture we’re endlessly seeking seamless experiences and frictionless interactions. At work we celebrate agility, speed and pragmatism. We like to find the easy way. But we should remind ourselves occasionally to take the high road, not the low road. Sometimes - not all of the time - we need to dig our heels in, refuse to budge, in the name of quality and fairness; in the spirit of aspiration and excellence. Sometimes - just sometimes - we need to channel our inner Bette. And do it the hard way.

‘Fasten your seatbelts - it's going to be a bumpy night.’

Margo Channing, ‘All About Eve’

‘Do it the hard way and it’s easy sailing.
Do it the hard way and it’s hard to lose.
Only the soft way has a chance of failing.
You have to choose.
I tried the hard way when I tried to get you.
You took the soft way, when you said ‘We’ll see.’
Darling, now I let you do it the hard way,
Now that you want me.’

Chet Baker, ‘Do It the Hard Way’ (Lorenz Hart, Richard Rodgers)

No. 136

‘Look at This - Look at That’: Ruth Orkin’s Street Photography and the Art of Multi-Tasking

Do It the Hard Way: Channelling Your Inner Bette Davis