EDITOR'S LETTER

editor's LETTER I never met the Marlboro Man.

But I did learn a new word the other day. Tittupy. It's an old word, actually - from the 1700s. It means “lively or restless behavior,” an onomatopoeic term that imitates the sound of a horse's hooves. “First there is spring, tittupy and vivacious, wearing gowns of flowers and blossoms so gay and varicolored they must be made from swatches of a rainbow.” Tittupy. That word and the others in that sentence are from a four-page essay about the four seasons of Sedona.

It was published in our December 1950 issue.

“The changing of the seasons is Nature's style show,” raymond carlson wrote, “the oldest and grandest show on earth. Repetition does not detract from the charm or freshness of each performance. Four seasons, four acts, four changes of costume — what divine theatre! If one views this spectacle in such a place as Oak Creek Canyon country, where elevation and backdrop of tinted and shaded cliff add so much to the staging, one sees the show at its best.” Like most things he put in writing, mr. carlson's essay is a paragon. and the photographs that illustrate it are equivalent costars. one of them was made by bob bradshaw — it marked his debut in the magazine. back then, bob went by “robert.” it's a name that means “bright fame.” a name that's been a self-fulfilling prophecy for some: robert browning, robert frost, robert redford, robert plant, robert bradshaw. later on, mr. bradshaw changed his byline to bob.

I never liked being called bob. it makes me think of driftwood. or genuflecting. but when your surname is bradshaw, the combination becomes alliterative. what's more, when you're a marlboro man, you can use whatever name you want. bob bradshaw was one of them.

“My dad would often talk about filming the Marlboro commercials, and making the magazine ads,” says John Bradshaw, Bob's son. “My dad didn't smoke, so he had to fake it. Roy Sickner, however... he was a smoker. In fact, he was the first Marlboro man allowed to smoke in a commercial. And he did so from the back of one of our horses, Buck, who went on to be a star.” Buck was Mr. Bradshaw's second-favorite horse after Hosteen. But he had an appreciation for all animals, the way any cowboy does. And Mr. Bradshaw was a genuine cowboy, not just a poster child for Phillip Morris. It's a role he could have never imagined as a boy growing up in China, but he had a tittery disposition, which became even more defined in 1922, when his family moved to Cleveland. “I had a Huckleberry Finn childhood,” he said.

Ohio is where he developed a love for photography, too. In 1936, he bought his first 35mm camera, an Argus, for $12.50. In high school, he learned to develop film. Although Lake Erie can be a seductive mistress for a passionate landscape photographer, it wasn't enough to hold the attention of the restless young man, who hitchhiked and hopped freight trains to all 48 states before landing in Sedona, where the sound of horse's hooves would become the soundtrack of his life.

Around the time he was settling in, Hollywood came charging in, too, like Charlemagne's march into Saxony. Although a few movies had been shot in Sedona in the early 1930s, the film crews started swarming the place in the late 1940s, and Bob Bradshaw was in the thick of it. He built the area's first old west movie set, in the shadow of Coffee Pot Rock. He also worked as an actor, a location scout, a set photographer, a stuntman, and a wrangler who supplied horses and cattle. “I've worked on every movie filmed in the area since 1946,” he wrote in our May 1959 issue. “I was good on horses... that's what they wanted. As for the stunts, I just did the easy ones. I wasn't crazy.” In all, he worked on 28 films, 19 television shows and 77 commercials. His favorite movie was Johnny Guitar, and his favorite movie star was Henry Fonda. “Dad doubled for him in the movie Fire Creek,” John says. “They looked alike and wore the same size. He liked Elvis, too. He was polite and down to earth. His entourage followed him everywhere, and Elvis had two armed guards on the set at all times. My father wasn't used to that.” He wasn't starstruck, either. He'd achieved his own measure of fame. And as soon as the movie stars would move on, he'd go back to doing what he loved most: riding horses and making photographs. His favorite location was Red Rock Crossing. That's where he made that first image we published in 1950. It's a beautiful shot of Cathedral Rock, as seen through the autumn leaves of ancient cottonwoods and sycamores. He had another photograph in that issue, too. It's a self-portrait: the Marlboro man on his horse, Hosteen maybe, or Buck. It's titled Day's Work Is Done. And so it was.

For the next 35 years, mr. bradshaw would be one of our most prolific photographers. i never had the privilege of meeting him — he died in 2008, a few months after i became editor — but his work inspires me every time we do an issue about red rock country. his photographs set the standard. it's a benchmark with a soundtrack. one that imitates the sound of a horse's hooves.