ASMP: Hugh Ackroyd

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Hugh Ackroyd’s 94th Birthday Bash

The atmosphere at Portland, Oregon’s Venue Restaurant and Sports Bar was full of life as ASMP/Portland chapter members gathered on July 19 to fete the 94th birthday of Life Member Hugh Ackroyd. An industrial specialist with a long and illustrious career, Ackroyd still dresses in his hallmark bow tie, and arrives at the office at 8AM every day, to shake the trees looking for financial fruit.

“Hugh is a very poor role model for retirement,” says Harold Hutchinson, his assistant of 25 years.

We caught up with Hugh shortly before his big day in a phone interview about his past exploits — from his early days as a 1930’s Hollywood celebrity portrait assistant, to his long career as an industrial shooter, to his adventures in the northern wilderness. A few pictures and interview excerpts were presented in the ASMP Bulletin 2007 BEST OF issue. The full interview, illustrated by some of Hugh’s favorite photographs, is featured below. Enjoy!

—Jill Waterman — Editor, ASMP Bulletin

Starting out

ASMP: Are there any special memories you can share about your involvement with the ASMP when you first joined in the early 1950’s?

HA: I know I used to commute from Portland to LA or San Francisco for meetings. It was no problem.

ASMP: How large was the membership in San Francisco and Los Angeles at that time?

HA: I think only a half dozen or so at each one. I think Ray Atkeson was the only other ASMP member in Portland, and he was on and off membership. We were both into scenic stuff, and then I was into industrial. We were good friends and would ski together. I can remember his comment up at the cabin one weekend saying, “I sure hope the weather is bad tomorrow so I can go skiing.” Had the sun been shining he’d have been working dutifully.

ASMP: So it was only during grey days and bad weather that you would allow yourself to take a break from shooting.

HA: Yeah, the overcast. Of course we liked overcast because it was easy on buildings or machinery.

ASMP: You started your career in Hollywood, correct?

HA: I was living up in Vancouver, Canada, and opportunities for work had pretty well dried up. And I realized I needed to move somewhere else. It was quite a simple solution. It would have cost $25 to go to England, by steamer. And I could take the Greyhound bus to Los Angeles for $18.50. So I saved six bucks by going to LA. I came in on a business permit, and then had to re-enter as a would-be citizen.

By the time I entered the States, Hitler had invaded Poland. I was in the Seaforth Highlanders, a Canadian military outfit. I think my term of inactive reserve had ended in August and this was September. So it happened very close. I was in legally, and I could now do work in this country. It was an independent outside alien contract; I could only do work that I generated myself.

Days in Hollywood

ASMP: What was it like to work in a 1940s Hollywood studio?

HA: Oh, it was fun. But if you didn’t answer the phone by the third ring, the client was on to the next photographer, “…we tried to get you.”

I was sort of an honorary assistant in Lansing Brown’s studio in Los Angeles. He was in disgrace because he had killed one of the bandleaders in an argument over Carol Lombard’s favors. Brown was blacklisted with the studios, but if any of the studio personnel like Bing Crosby wanted to come in for their photo, that was OK. But Lancing could no longer go on location at the studios.

We did studio portraiture work with very, very rigid requirements. Say the shadow line under a nose had to be just such and so. You followed those things closely and the work came out very nicely.

We used to go across the road to the Ambassador Hotel and do the photos on the lawn with reflectors. We were using a 5X7 or 8X10 with a split negative, but you didn’t realize it was impressive because it was the only equipment that was used. It was quite normal.

ASMP: How did you end up in the Pacific Northwest?

HA: I had friends up [in Portland] that I had met on another deal way back. They said that, if things ever get tough in LA, give us a call and we’ll find work for you here. You won’t starve. It seemed logical to come up here while there was a guarantee of a steady income. I can remember starving together with a woman who went on to be Howard Hughes’ secretary, or one of his secretaries. She and her daughter, her friend and myself lasted one week on a package of pancake flour. I was down to something like 135 pounds. The work wasn’t plentiful.

I bought a big Nash convertible from Lansing Brown’s darkroom (who was also Lawrence Tibbet’s understudy) for a penny to make the sale legal. I drove that up here and sold it for $15. The new owner drove it to Chicago and back and he sold it for $25. It was a wonderful thing with cast-iron wheels about twice as high as yourself, and it had a port on the side for your golf clubs, and leather seats.

ASMP: Do you have a favorite camera system that you’ve worked with?

HA: When I got up to Portland I wanted a smaller camera to climb out on precarious spots. So I got a 4X5, one of the Graphics.

I’ve used all different cameras over the years. Certainly the Leica got a lot of mileage. But we had a Rolleiflex, Leica, Hasselblad, Deardorff 8x10 and the Graphic. And oddly enough I’ve still got the very first camera I used. This is one my mother had, that she was given, I think, on her wedding somewhere around 1910 or 1912. A Kodak Ultra Graphic 1A, I think.

ASMP: What kind of jobs did you have in your early years in Portland?

HA: During the war I was an official Navy photographer. I was not in the service, but a commercial photographer for the Navy. If you had to photograph a ship underway it was easier to do it with a small camera.

At the end of the war all of the negatives were taken out into the parking lot and burned. We didn’t know why they burned them, but it was a moot point. When I worked for the Navy we never treated anything as top secret, we just didn’t talk about it.

Trade customs

ASMP: What did you like most about the industrial work that you did?

HA: With industrial work, nowhere did you run into any prevarication. We stopped doing weddings, babies and children. Industrial work could be very interesting. There never seemed to be any tension, it was all something that you wanted to do, and you went ahead and did it. If you did a child or a woman, they could have the wrong expression or the wrong clothing and they wouldn’t like the photo.

Back then, as a photographer, when you represented a company you dressed neatly with a shirt and tie. Then along came the LIFE photographers, and you knew they were LIFE photographers because they dressed like slobs. They were the only ones I remember who dressed like that. And that was why they were LIFE photographers.

In those days there were very few photographers here. It was sort of automatic that you got the work, which you had to deliver. You had to come up with something they liked. It wasn’t a temptation. It wasn’t a strain or anything. You just knew you were going to do something that was better than anyone else.

ASMP: In your work back then, would you turn over film to your clients?

HA: If a client wanted your film, it was 50 percent over the daily shooting charge, just to release the film. Otherwise you would send proof sheets down or back east. Then they would order. Our stuff has always been dated and numbered on the back so we can tell when and where, then we would go ahead and make prints and send them off.

ASMP: What about usage rights to the photographs?

HA: As far as I was concerned, the more publications that used your work, the more chances where they would call you back for another job. But clients weren’t insistent or groveling for all the rights. You were very happy, and if something showed up on the cover on a magazine, well then that’s fine. You wouldn’t need another $1.98 because they’d used it as a cover. I know I had one Fortune Magazine with the best photo of the year. And I had at a similar time another one for US Steel. You just accepted that as a logical thing for your work. The philosophy was that the more the prints got exposed to the world the more the company was justified in using you as their photographer. I don’t think this left-handed logic applies anymore.

'Why not dump them?'

ASMP: Are you still actively marketing the work from your archive?

HA: Now I’m sort of sitting in the background not doing anything much, but thoroughly enjoying it. I have a very able man, Harold Hutchinson, who has been doing the work and has been working here 30 years. And my super ace secretary, Beth Robinson, has been working here 44 years. There isn’t a great turnover.

ASMP: So, what advice would you give to other photographers about preserving the legacy of their work?

HA: I would say that they should maybe go to business school first, or at the same time. With today’s restrictions on copyrights and everything, a good knowledge of business ethics would be advisable, along with knowledge of photography. But in the last few years the knowledge of photography has changed so completely. Hutchinson is our expert on the new requirements, digital, and what have you. I don’t know anything about it.

ASMP: What is your office like today?

HA: We’ve got all the files, from every job, filed and cross-filed. I was asked a year or so ago, “What are you going to do with all of your negatives? Are you going to give them to a historical society?” I said, “No, if they’re not worth buying why should I give them to somebody for nothing. I’ve had to slave over getting them.” If nobody wants to buy them we’re going to put them all in a dumpster. And we’ve got enough, honestly, to fill about two dumpsters.

ASMP: Are you currently talking with anyone about acquiring the collection?

HA: One outfit has been after a large chunk of it just for their own industrial purposes. We’ve done work for them since 1946. They’re quite happy with us and they were talking that they might get the negatives. Other than that, why not dump them?

ASMP: So, what’s your asking price?

HA: Oh, it would be absurd. I think we were told by one of our community leaders that it’s worth 2 or 3 million bucks. Without even bargaining, we would certainly sell them for less. I think of another man with whom we work, and he said that money has no value anymore. Look at the salaries for basketball players or golf, any of those people, it’s ridiculous, from my viewpoint. Of course, if I could have some of it, that would be very practical.

ASMP: So what would you do if you could sell the archive?

HA: Set up some kind of a trust, I don’t know.

We’ve got lots of stuff that’s good. We did the first artificial snowstorm, for instance, for National Geographic, things like that.

ASMP: An artificial snowstorm? Where did that take place?

HA: About 100 miles up the Columbia River. We had an extra plane with a whole bunch of people from the U.S. Weather Bureau on hand to ride in the thing and attest to the fact that we were, in truth, photographing a damn artificial snowstorm.

ASMP: What year was that?

HA: I would say it was the 1960s or ’70s. Lots of those things were of interest.

ASMP: Well, I think there is something to say for preserving your legacy.

HA: Why should you give something that you’ve worked hard to get, why should you give it to a stranger? If they say, “I’m not going to give you a dollar for that.” Why not toss it? You’ve spent umpteen, maybe, years without being vain or fussy or anything like that. Why should somebody else get it for nothing?

ASMP: It sort of sounds like the philosophy the navy used at the end of the war.

HA: Well, I wouldn’t doubt it.

Navy jobs

ASMP: Was any of your navy work classified?

HA: We did work here for the navy, but certainly anything we did here was not classified.

ASMP: What was it like working for the navy during the war?

HA: I can remember being hauled in by a US Coast Guard man and a navy man because I was trespassing while doing a job for one of them. Quite legal for one but not for the other. Hearing them, one of them said a wonderful thing that I’ve never forgotten and that was, “Are you questioning my words as an officer and a gentleman?” It’s a wonderful line. We weren’t doing anything other than what was required. We were doing one photo once, which was just a matter of timing, and we did it to requirements. The admiral, who possibly was a landlubber, thought we were risking life and limb. Had to ban a USCG man who was running a small boat for us, had him transferred and sent overseas.

ASMP: Just because of the photo? What was the subject?

HA: It was a photo of another ship. We had one of the small picket boats and we had to get it in position. It was the only position to get the photo that met the requirements, and to us it was perfectly safe. And the man operating the boat was a commercial fisherman. And along came the war and he got a job running the small picket boats. He knew exactly what he was doing and we were perfectly right at home with him. But [the admiral said], send him overseas, he’s risking life and limb.

ASMP: How did you learn to do aerial work? Was it just a matter of just doing it?

HA: It just happened I think. Be there, do it. We’ve got several rather good aerials; for instance, a couple of years ago [when] all of a sudden the weather became beautifully clear. I think the local newspaper ran two of them on a full page. The paper told anybody who wanted to that they could come buy them for something like 10 cents apiece. And there was a line up around the newspaper office, some 200,000 were sold.

ASMP: Did you get a cut of that?

HA: No. They said “did I want fifty bucks or did I want a percentage?” Fifty bucks was more logical. I think some of these fun deals we’ve had… I know we had a man from New York up north who’d never seen a moose but we buzzed a moose for him in Canada. Oh, heck, we did the same thing with the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.

ASMP: You buzzed the Empire State Building in a plane?

HA: Well, it was a good way to see it. We also had an taxicab race, one man against me, who could get to the Empire State Building first. It was a very irresponsible, undignified thing to do.

ASMP: And when was this race?

HA: Maybe 40 years ago I guess.

ASMP: Do you think knowing how to fly a plane helps you to know what to do photographically when shooting aerials? Has it helped get you assignments?

HA: You know what the pilot could do or should do. I don’t think any of that stuff was especially hazardous. I know I got a call from Reuters one time saying, “We’ve got a ship on fire down off the Oregon coast; get us some photos.” So I think that was something like 4 in the morning, and by 8 o’clock or so we took off. Whenever the weather was impossible we landed on the Columbia River and either taxied or waited till we could fly. We got very good photographs.

ASMP: So it was a seaplane that you were flying?

HA: Yes, a little Piper Cub. Those were rather hard landings. You changed your landing gear every 50 landings. We’ve got a marvelous photo of us flying a DC3 up to Anchorage. People got their sleeping bags out and spread them on the deck. One man remembered, he woke up and took the shells out of his revolver and placed them within his reach and then went back to sleep. Now-a-days I don’t think you could do that.

It was all in good humor

ASMP: Are there any other stories you’d like to share?

HA: We have a mountain here, Mt. Hood, that’s quite beautiful. I’d been with the [newspaper] city editor and for some reason I said, “I’d never climb that unless somebody paid me,” whereupon the city editor said, “You’ve got a deal, $50 to climb the mountain.” So you happily climb the mountain, but I would never climb it unless somebody paid me.

ASMP: Did you get good pictures on top?

HA: Oh, yeah. Which was expected. You didn’t expect to be a failure. It was all in good humor and no pressure as far as I was concerned. We were on a first name-basis with people like the U.S. U-Haul and so on. They were all willing to help you. I don’t think I really realized it at the time, but they of course were anxious and had their own publicity as well.

ASMP: Would you call upon other clients to help you in a situation where maybe one client needed access? Could you call upon another for their help?

HA: I’d say, not for help, but for permission to be on their property. Lots of great, fun shots; up in Alaska, for instance, you had to have other people know what you were doing. It went so well and so pleasantly.

I don’t know if you’ve lived in a wild, wooly area, but I lived up in Vancouver for a while and we built our own cabin up there and you left it unlocked always in case somebody was in trouble and needed shelter. Nowadays you bolt and bar them because if they got inside they’d wreck the place.

ASMP: Times have changed, I guess.

HA: If I had been an ulcerous type, I think I’d be long dead, long gone. But when it’s a pleasant relationship and you don’t have to cross the street when you see somebody coming, when you can welcome old friends, it’s a nice way to be alive. I am delighted now to look at these people who claim they are getting stomach ulcers over the tensions of having to work. We would have stomach ulcers over not having work.

I think of the people who hate to go to work in the mornings, and with the enjoyment of my work I’ve been the best darn tourist ever. I’ve had the joy of sitting up front with the pilots and watching the marvelous Northern Lights. And getting to sit in third pilot seat for no reason other than hospitality. It’s been, I’d say, a wonderful, wonderful time.

The ASMP’s tireless efforts have resulted in photography becoming a status. More power!