Frank the Photographer

He was sitting alone watching the clothes dryer spin. A cane at his side, his arthritic hands folded in his lap.

The laundromat was almost empty this late afternoon as Sharon picked out the washers she wanted to use and I settled in to read a magazine. The old man got up from his seat and came over to the magazine rack near where I was sitting. His gait revealed a slight limp; on his head a crumpled Knights of Columbus ball cap. He looked through the magazines and turned and gave me a glance over. His sharp blue eyes peered over his glasses as he walked by but stopped momentarily and held up a teen magazine and said "not much to choose from". I agreed... but in my pause to find another subject to talk about, he said something about being an Army photographer and the pictures in the magazine he was holding. I didn't quite catch all of what he said but muttered back something just to be polite. About 80 years of age I guessed, standing with a slight stoop, propped up with his rather ornately carved cane. Since I was an old Army photographer myself, I thought we might have something in common.

"Name's Frank" he said. And for the next hour or so he spilled out most of his life's story to me. And quite a story it was. From his high school days at Taft High School in Chicago as a yearbook photographer to his enlistment in the Army two days after graduation. His photo assignments in Europe covering the Battle of the Bulge to the horrors of Auschwitz, and to his touching story of smuggling some unusual contraband out of Europe when he was reassigned to the States.

As he told his stories I was intrigued by his use of the word 'contraband' and before I could press him on the subject he volunteered the story. Apparently he and several members of his photographic unit had come across a young German boy whose family had been killed near where he was camped. They took the boy back to their camp made him into their 'tent boy'. Probably charged with cleaning up after the group, making beds and general 'go-fer' tasks, they provided shelter and a temporary home for the boy. The war in Europe was ending and the photo group was being disbanded and sent home. The group of four concocted a scheme to smuggle the boy in a duffel bag aboard the Navy ship that was taking them home. All went reasonably well in the beginning but when finally at sea the young lad was discovered by the ships personnel and the problem of what to do now with him came to the forefront.

As the story unfolded, Frank was obviously pretty proud of what he and buddies had done but now the reality of what was to happen to the boy became a serious question. They had been told prior to leaving port that if any contraband was later discovered it would be dumped at sea so don't bring any aboard. Not knowing what the boys fate would be, they made it known that one of Franks buddies would be willing to adopt the boy if possible.

Their journey home was to take them across the Atlantic, through the Panama Canal and then on to an undisclosed port on the west coast. Apparently along the way provisions were made, while at the Panama Canal, to proceed with the adoption and the boy and his soon to be parent, left the ship and proceeded home. I asked Frank what had become of the young boy and he said he settled in New York state with his new parents and now grown had his own family and children. Frank said it has been almost 20 years since he'd talked with him and thought it best to let him not be bothered by the past so has not corresponded with him since.

Frank got a surprise after leaving Panama as the ship headed directly for the Philippines rather than the planned west coast stop. WWII was still raging with Japan and photographers were still needed to record the effort. Stories unfolded of meeting up with a survivor of the Bataan death march and who later became a life-long friend and seeing the aftermath of the atomic blast at Nagasaki, painted a picture of someone who not only had seen a lot in his life but whose memories were still vivid and revealing.

After the war Frank set up a photo processing company in Chicago with a couple of his buddies handling all the photo work for Montgomery Wards department store. He later sold that business and moved to the South Haven area were he purchased a retail paint store. A life long bachelor he recounted one story of dating a widowed women some years ago who had several children and grand children. He reminisced that she would have been a good catch and that he could have had a ready made family but she it hadn't worked out.

Thinking about my short time with Frank clarified something that all of us really want and need in our later years. Someone to listen to our stories and tell of our life experiences (hence this blog) . It's sort of a validation process that what we've done in our lives is worth something. That maybe someone would want to do something or see things like you have. I continue to be rewarded by these little experiences while travelling and hope you enjoy the stories.

Still livin' the dream

Phil