Welcome to Features!

What’s a feature? Well, in the newspaper business, a feature described just about anything that wasn't breaking news, scheduled news, or sports coverage. It could be a human interest stand alone photo or an deeply complex photo essay. This is where the skills of story telling through visuals excelled.

Features

Favorites

Here are some of my favorite feature photos from my 35-year photojournalism career. For the five newspapers I worked for, features were greatly needed, each day, to fill the pages with human interest, to bring a smile or a tear. Many of these images were the result of an editor’s assignment, but most of them are the result of what newsrooms called “wild art”. Wild art was newsy slang for images that were unplanned, unassigned, and found by being out of the office, paying attention, and curious. The task was a challenge for the introverts, like me, who had to approach strangers for names and information.

When I was 25-years-old (1981), I moved across the United States to Rochester, NY, to work for the Gannett Rochester Newspapers. I worked on a staff of talented photographers, who had the task of providing images for the city’s two, morning and evening edition, newspapers. Since the papers didn’t want to run the same images, there was a strong need for fresh wild art and multiple strong images from the top stories of the day. My photo boss, Dick Sroda, told me he expected two pieces of wild art every day, in addition to my assignments. Being the rule follower, I was then, I complied. That discipline, learned early on, made my career joyful as I challenged myself, every day, to “find” images that would interest my readers.

Feature Story

“Return to the Killing Fields”

In 1989, while working for the Long Beach “Press-Telegram”, reporter Susan Pack and I accompanied Long Beach resident Chantara Nop to his home country of Cambodia. Nop had narrowly survived the genocide of the Khmer Rouge, which killed over 2 million Cambodians. The Khmer Rouge, eliminated most of the educated class of the country, murdered their opponents, and vast numbers of innocents died of starvation. Nop, who escaped Cambodia after the Khmer Rouge was overthrown by the Vietnamese Army, had fled through Thailand to the United States. He had formed a new life and was raising a family in Long Beach, California. He was returning to Phnom Penh to find out who had survived among his family members.

At the time of our visit, the country was ruled by the military of Vietnam, and skirmishing with remnants of the Khmer Rouge continued. Outside communications, international banking systems, and modern conveniences were scarce. Visitors from the Western world, especially the United States, were extremely rare. Our every move was monitored by our “minder”, who accompanied us everywhere and held our passports while we were in country. It was truly a “Year of Living Dangerous” experience, where solutions to logistical nightmares were formed with no guarantees.

Nop found his family on our arrival. He was both delighted to find his mother, sister and an uncle alive, but devastated by the loss of his father and uncles. Despite having lived through the genocide, Nop was forced, by our politically motivated minder, to visit the killing fields and museums of Khmer Rouge atrocities. That gave me the opportunity to learn the tragic history through his eyes. The day he left to return to the United States, Nop believed he’d never be able to return. He said goodbye to his family forever. Fortunately, in subsequent years, the political situation improved and he has been able to return.

My editors at the Long Beach “Press-Telegram” felt the story was important to pursue since ten percent of Long Beach residents were of Cambodian descent. Long Beach, California, was the largest Cambodian community outside Phnom Penh. The article and photos were reprinted in the Khmer language for the benefit of the community. My photographs were nominated for the Pulitzer Prize and won the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award that year.

Features

Dawn Patrol

In the final decade of my photojournalism career I started my days very early to capture breaking news for our newspaper’s website. On mornings when the news was quiet, I got into the pattern of finding images of predawn, the rising sun or the setting moon. I would publish these images each day to our daily weather story. It was a self-assignment. Often, it became a personal race to find a unique place, within a short driving distance of my home before the ball of fire rose over the eastern horizon.

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