Tina Wilson Callen had been following the developments and was intrigued about the interest in her ancestor. A photo with the boys’ images – similar to a stereoview card made by Wilson – and dubbed a “rare slave photo” was found in an attic in North Carolina recenlty, and questions have been raised about its rarity. 

I was curious about Callen’s quest to collect stereoview cards that Wilson – JN, as she calls him – made. So I decided to email her back and ask her about it. Here are her answers, with some minor editing.

Q: How long have you been collecting or searching for your great-grandfather’s works? Did something in particular spur you to start?

A: I started collecting JN’s stereoviews a few years back. One day while on eBay, I typed his name in for a search and to my surprise a handful of views were available, mostly the common Bonaventure views (Photo above is an early stereoview of a road in  Bonaventure Cemetery). Then I came across some city scenes, then every once in a while a plantation scene. I bought a few of the cheaper-priced ones at first. Once they arrived, that really sparked my interest.

I myself have always enjoyed photography. So it intrigued me to continue some research and I learned more about stereoviews and viewers. Also picked up a couple of books.

Q: What have you been able to find, where and how? How large of a collection of his works do you have?

A: I have about 50 of his views. I mostly like the Savannah city scenes, the waterfront. I do have a very interesting one of Bonaventure with a handful of monuments. You can see the river in the background. Jerry Flemming, the director of cemeteries for the city of Savannah, contacted me after I bought it on eBay. He was bidding also. He wanted to know if I could send him a copy of the view. He does research documenting the dates of the cemetery and had not seen that view before. I sent him a copy. Then a few months later while I was in Savannah I had the pleasure of meeting him, showing what I had collected and he showed me around Bonaventure and the various monuments in some of JN’s views. It was very interesting.

Q: What if any stories were handed down to you about him? Did anyone in the family inherit any of Wilson’s photographs?

A: Not many stories have been handed down. As far as I know, there was not any of JN’s work handed down through the years.

Q: I’ve seen a photo of Wilson, his wife & children. Which child did you descend from?

A: In the photo on the front of the Bonaventure article, James the third child from the left was my grandfather. He passed away before my mother and father were married. All the Wilson families were large and spread out over the years.

Q: Do you live in the South?

A: I grew up in Miami. When my family moved south in the mid-1950′s, we lost touch with most of the Wilsons. I only have contact with a few cousins.

Q: You said that you tried to get the stereoview card of the two black boys that was auctioned recently on eBay, but lost by a second. Tell me about that.

A: Last week (6/7/2010), I came across a collection of JN’s on eBay. I bid on it, mainly interested in the plantation scenes, knowing they usually sell between $50 and $75 on the internet. I have paid a little more for select views. I put my bid in and almost forgot about it ending 6/8. June 8 is my birthday and we were having dinner. When I remembered I jumped up, ran to check on it. I was still the high bidder at $124. I had my max set at $144, so I decided to up it to $162.98 just in case.

 
My son and I were watching the countdown from 10 seconds. At about 4 seconds left, a bid of $163 popped up. I tried to go higher but just did not have enough time. I was sad but figured it was one of those things. I wanted to contact the buyer to see what he was going to do with them (the card was one of 12 selling as a lot on eBay), but could not figure out how to do it. So I just forgot about it and figured I might come across them again one day. No big deal. Then that Friday (6/11), I was working outside and my husband came running out with the article about the Brady picture. I had to go back to eBay to look at the one I was bidding on, then looked in the New York Public Library Digital Gallery to see if it was the same one I had seen there.

Did not know what to think. I knew that JN and other photographers bought and sold negatives all the time back then, but it just did not make sense with the story of John and the bill of sale.

Then a few days later doing yet another search of JN came across your blog. And that really got me thinking. Not being an expert on stereoviews but knowing what I have picked up over the last couple of years and the searches I have done, it sure looks like it was JN’s. I do not know anything about (Civil War photographer Mathew) Brady. But there are still a handful of plantation scenes out there and this one sure fits the bill of all the other ones that JN did.

I come across ones that have an early marking of JN Wilson on the back and then with Havens and Wilson, and O. Pierre Havens on the id. I know JN sold his negatives.

(From Sherry: According to the Smithsonian American Art Museum website, Havens and Wilson opened a photo studio in 1872 in Savannah. In 1888, Havens moved to Jacksonville, Fla., and set up one there. On the web, I found several stereoview cards from the 1870s with blacks and Native Americans attributed to the two men, along with ones by Havens alone here and here. In my research, I found a site with stereoview cards of blacks and Native Americans from the late 19th century done by various  photographers.)

The Graflex came to mind a few weeks ago when it was mentioned in a news obit about Philadelphia photographer Jack T. Franklin. For more than 60 years, Franklin had aimed his camera at local and national celebrities, sorority and fraternity events, black soldiers during World War II and most importantly, the civil rights movement in Philadelphia.

He died three weeks before the passing last week of photographer Roy DeCarava, who captured black life in Harlem during the same period. The two men were born three years apart during the early part of the 20^th century.

DeCarava was the most famous of the two, and was renowned for his black & white shadowy images. Most people outside Philadelphia may have never heard of Franklin, but he was a fixture at local events in his trademark black beret.

In Franklin’s obit, a woman remembered seeing him walking in their North Philadelphia neighborhood when she was a child (he rode the subway to assignments). “He used to walk through the streets with his Rolleiflex and Graflex cameras,” the woman told a Philadelphia Inquirer reporter.

That statement piqued my interest. I wanted to learn more about Franklin and the cameras he used to tell his stories. And when I heard that DeCarava had died, I wondered the same about him.

I’m familiar with both the Rolleiflex and Graflex cameras. Both are as beautiful as they come. While I never bought a Graflex, I did manage to out-bid someone on a Rolleicord, one of the least expensive in the Rolleiflex series. This one was a Rolleicord Ia, produced between 1937 and 1938.

The Rolleiflex is a German camera that was first produced in 1929 and the first to use roll film. It’s a Twin Lens Reflex Camera (TLR), meaning it has viewing and taking lens mounted on the front. The creators came up with the idea during World War I. They wanted a practical camera to use on the battlefield. Production didn’t come until years later.

Famed photographers Diane Arbus and Ernst Haas both used a Rolleiflex.  

The Graflex Speed Graphic was the camera of choice for early newspapermen. I’ve seen many an old movie with white male reporters, some half-sitting on desks, others in chairs, a Graflex plate camera in hand, waiting for a morsel from the local mayor or police chief. The most famous photograph taken by a Graflex was the World War II image of Marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima in 1945, photographed by Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal.

Franklin took more than 400,000 photos, which are now housed at the African American Museum in Philadelphia. His news shots of historical events may be the most significant. He covered the 1963 March on Washington, and he was there in 1965 for the Selma to Montgomery protest march, photographing Dr. King and his wife Coretta, along with others.

Franklin got his first camera at age 11 in 1933 when he was given a Brownie camera.  

“The way I treat photography is different from how other people treat it,” Franklin said in a 2006 interview with the Philadelphia Tribune. “…. The idea is to photograph what they’re doing. The atmosphere of the surroundings is very important because that’s telling you what year, so when you see a picture you can say, ‘Oh that was taken in the ’30s.’ That’s the purpose of photography: the main reason is to identify.”

All I could find out about DeCarava’s camera was that he used a 35mm camera. He purchased the first one in 1946 to photograph images he wanted to paint. He soon ditched the paint and kept the camera. One account of his life noted that his mother had used a Brownie Box camera to photograph friends and neighbors.

I can only speculate what type of 35mm camera he used, but here are some types that were available around that time. Most were rangefinder cameras (they focus with a mechanism that measures distances).

Maybe he used a Leica, which was very popular.  DeCarava’s style of black and white dimly lit photos have been likened to those of Henri Cartier Bresson, who used a Leica 35mm rangefinder camera with a 50mm lens. Bresson described the small hand-held camera as a “big passionate kiss, or then again like a shot from a gun or the couch of a psychoanalyst.”

Life magazine photographer Robert Capa used a Leica for his famous war photos. German filmmaker, photographer and Nazi propagandist Leni Riefenstahl also used a Leica.

DeCarava’s other choices of rangefinders: Argus Model A that sold for under $10. Argus Model C3, affectionately (or unaffectionately), called the Brick because of its shape and size. I love the look of the C3; it’s a mighty camera. It’s not likely the camera he used. Too heavy.  DeCarava told a Washington Post reporter in 1986 why he chose photos over paintings:

“I didn’t know what I wanted to paint, but photography told me right away,” he said. “I was very shy, scared to death of people, and somehow the camera gave me a license, a way of relating to people.”