EDITOR'S LETTER

editor's LETTER I was looking for longhorns

When I came across the holy grail. It was right there. Right in front. May 1946. I'd seen it before, but not for a while.

I can't remember why I was in the archive that night. Something about cows, I guess. But I do remember the piece that lured me in. It was written by Edward Parrish Ware. Turns out, he was an acclaimed pulp fiction writer in the '30s and '40s. How he ended up writing about Texas longhorns for Arizona Highways is hard to figure. It's a pretty good piece, though.

After I read it, I started flipping through the rest of the issue. That's what happens. The archive is an unrelenting rabbit hole. There's a story in that issue about the upcoming construction of Davis Dam. And a “center insert” of color photography titled Under Western Skies. The subhead describes it as “an attempt to portray in color studies the charm and moods and changing personality of our western skies.” The cover image, which teases that portfolio, is titled Grand Canyon Skyscape. The caption reads: “Ansel Adams happened by the South Rim of the Grand Canyon when earth and sky and a setting sun combined to form a strange and startling formation of beauty and color.” Although we'd featured a couple of Ansel Adams' photographs in the two preceding issues, that issue, May 1946, marked the first time he'd been on our cover. This month marks the 75th anniversary of that milestone. And it was a milestone, especially for a young magazine like ours. By the early 1940s, Ansel Adams was already considered one of the world's great landscape photographers, and having him in the rotation brought tremendous credibility. In his column, Editor Raymond Carlson was understandably proud: “It's about time we introduce you to Ansel Adams, whose photography has added so much to these pages and to whose work we do, to use a worn but descriptive phrase, point to with pride. Mr. Adams is a San Franciscan by habitat, a wanderer in the western lands by habit and, by reputation and achievement, one of America's most distinguished photographers.” tographers, and having him in the rotation brought tremendous credibility. In his column, Editor Raymond Carlson was understandably proud: “It's about time we introduce you to Ansel Adams, whose photography has added so much to these pages and to whose work we do, to use a worn but descriptive phrase, point to with pride. Mr. Adams is a San Franciscan by habitat, a wanderer in the western lands by habit and, by reputation and achievement, one of America's most distinguished photographers.” “We could tell you much more about him,” he continued, “but nothing can speak of his ability as well as his photographs. The name of Ansel Adams is hereby enrolled in the family of Arizona Highways.” Seventy-five years later, we have another image of the Grand Canyon on our cover. This time, the photographer is Dawn Kish. On the night I was looking for the longhorns, I sent her a text: “Hello DK. I thought I'd share a little trivia with you. Something you might find interesting. As you know, we're using your beautiful 'oar photo' on our May cover. Well, that month happens to be the 75th anniversary of Ansel Adams' first cover for us. It was a Grand Canyon image, too. You and Ansel Adams will be forever linked in our archive.” She responded right away: “Awww... I'm so teary-eyed and speechless... except to say, 'THANK YOU!!!' Meowzers!!! Let's have a party!!!” With her response, she included a shot of herself in a dory on the Colorado River. She was wearing a jaguar costume. I doubt if Raymond Carlson ever got one of those from Ansel Adams.

The next day, when I asked Dawn if she was influenced by the master, she simply said, “Hell, yeah!!!” “Every photographer is influenced to some degree by Ansel Adams,” says Suzanne Mathia, a longtime contributor. “When he made a photo, he didn't just capture a scene, he captured a feeling.” And few, if any, did it better. “With nature he is not only successful, he is in a class by himself,” Wallace Stegner wrote in One Way to Spell Man, his excellent book of essays. “The observation from which both his few unfavorable critics and his most uncritical admirers take off is that he is, before all else, a poetic and mystical interpreter of nature, perhaps the greatest who ever cocked a camera.” Mr. Adams was embarrassed by the notoriety, says Alan Ross, his longtime assistant. Nevertheless, he playfully acknowledged his fame in one of the many letters he sent to Raymond Carlson: “I have a far-flung reputation now, which I am anxious to cash in on in a thoroughly dignified (and profitable) manner.” They'd become close friends by that time, and whenever the photographer would pass through Phoenix, he'd stop by our world headquarters. During one of those visits, he suggested that Arizona Highways purchase a large collection of his photographsat a good price to be used whenever. Like finding a Maynard Dixon behind a velvet Elvis, Mr. Carlson must have hyperventilated. The bill for that collection, which turned out to be 150 original, mounted photographs, was $1,500. Or the modern equivalent of two Double Whoppers per image.

Like Tutankhamen's tomb, our vault protected a treasure. A treasure that became a hidden treasure. As unlikely as it seems, the prints were eventually forgotten. They just sat there. On a bottom shelf. With no protection. Then, about 20 years ago, after so many decades of collecting dust, they were rediscovered, unharmed. We immediately cataloged the prints and packaged them in archival sleeves. They were then donated to the Center for Creative Photography in Tucson, where the rest of the Ansel Adams archive is housed. There's no doubt that's what Raymond Carlson would have wanted.

“As editor of the magazine,” he wrote to his longtime friend, “I've never been as proud as when I've had the opportunity to present your work.” One of those opportunities was in May 1946. Seventy-five years ago this month.