'Man on the Moon'

July 21, 1969 was a date for celebration.

 

 

 

Man first walked on the moon.

 

 

 

This woman donned 'moon women antennae,' wrapped herself with

Saran Wrap to spoof Florida Orange juice antifeminist spokeswoman

Anita Bryant (who said wives should greet their husbands at the front

door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap), and walked on the Streets of

San Francisco like you never saw on the TV series of the same

name. (Apologies to Michael Douglas, Karl Malden and Quinn

Martin Productions.) Your ratings, critiques and observations are

invited and most welcome for this rework and repost. If you rate

harshly, very critically or wish to make a remark, please submit a

helpful and constructive comment; please share your photographic

knowledge to help improve my photography. Thanks! Enjoy! john

This was not placed in the Nudes category unthinkingly, because in my mind since 1969, it has been a candid 'street' photo, and frankly I have not ever seen this as a 'nude' photo, and in fact, the woman IS dressed, although not in traditional garb.

 

Of course, I have no objections at all, being a stalwart and well-intentioned Photo.net member of long standing who obeys the rules to having this moved to the 'nudes' category IF you feel absolutely necessary, but having been there and observed passersby' reaction to this woman in her scant garb, it was clear that in San Francisco at that time and place she was considered 'dressed' although not in much, and not challenged, ogled at, or chastised, but instead was an object of wonderment because of the strangeness of her Saran Wrap (wives should greet their husbands while wearing Saran Wrap - the antifeminist manifesto) and her antenna headgear.

  

I apologize for not having spotted the issue through my narrow-mindedness before posting, and will submit to whatever decision Administration makes regarding where this photo belongs.

 

Obediently and self-chastised for my rare thoughtlessness regarding a subject of great importance to some people even on this professed adult site.

 

john

 

John (Crosley)

 

 

 

 

In defense, this photo has been posted without being designated anything by me, nude or otherwise, since about 1964 or 1965.

 

The 'nude' designation came along far later.  This photo (not reworked as noted here) was posted for critique at that time, as at that time, EVERY photo was posted for critique, whether requested or not.  Parenthetically, I notice some of my early rates have disappeared under regime changes, though the works were rated, and some rather highly, but with not a large number of rates.

 

john

 

John (Crosley)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted since about 2004-2005, not the dates indicated.  John (lacking sleep)

 

Sorry for error.

Perhaps viewers so far are distracted, and for good reason - this to me is a standalone interesting and unusual photo.

 

However, such photos 'stand alone' and are 'viewable' because they bear looking at, sometimes over and over again, and are attractive for reasons that later bear discussion and may be hidden by the subject matter.

 

When you are through looking at the woman's Saran Wrap encased body and breasts, her antenna, and the two amused and bemused onlookers, try having a look at the geometry of the composition.

 

You might be surprised.

 

This is not just a snapshot.

 

Let me know what you find, please . . . . ;~))

 

I had more than a moment to think this one through at the time, and did.

 

The result was something that over 40 years later I can still hang my hat on compositionally, and would absolutely do it the same way again (in at least one variation).

 

john

 

John (Crosley)

You tell an interesting story about this shot!

(I'm full of interesting stories . . . . )

 

But Svetlana, don't forget to read the end of this long post . . . .

 ********

I had just been hired by Associated Press.

 

This was before my first day's work; I was waiting to work the 'evening/late afternoon' shift as I recall.

 

A photographer there got a call from the publicity agent for San Francisco's 'topless night clubs', Danny (forgot his last name, but columnist Herb Caen, Mr. San Francisco, had made this publicity agent extremely well known by publishing his name over and over again in the San Francisco Herb Caen's world famous daily San Francisco newspaper column.)

 

In any case, 'Danny' was an unashamed 'schlock' publicity 'artist'.

 

Danny was the king of 'bad taste', and since he was promoting 'bad taste', he was in his métier, at his job.

 

Danny promoted boobs.

 

Not just any boobs.

 

Topless boobs.

 

San Francisco topless boobs. 

 

Better known then that the Rice-A-Roni Treat.

 

Ding Ding!

 

San Francisco night clubs had languished until it had been discovered that in one club, the silicone-injected breasts of Carol Doda who became a symbol of 'topless dancing' in San Francisco would be tolerated dancing entirely topless with no 'pasties' (little paper or cloth cutouts that covered a dancer or waitress's nipples and aureole area).

 

Carol Doda was the first woman of extremely large, silicone enhanced breasts who had tried such dancing, and with some good publicity, she was an outstanding success.  Articles were written, and not too long afterward, an entire 'topless night club' was named after her.

 

She and her silicone enhanced boobs became a symbol of San Francisco.

 

She had been small-breasted before, and had been allowed to dance that way, I think, but no one really paid attention. 

 

Surgery changed that.

 

Two silicone pad implants changed San Francisco (and some US) history.

 

Soon afterward, women lusted to have similar implants.

 

A whole industry was born.

 

It's safe to say the young miss pictured above, also had 'implants'.

 

Somehow the largeness of the breasts was allowed to be seen in adult night clubs nationwide where such clubs were allowed at all, but the nipple and aureole area had been determined to be 'off limits' in even famously open cities. and so the pasty was commonly used.

 

Now forget that San Francisco had at one time been famous for its brothels, and that a woman named Sally Stanford, a 'madame' of a brothel or more than one was one of its more famous citizens.  Sally was supposedly retired, and living across the Golden Gate in nearby very picturesque Sausalito, which overlooked the Golden Gate and the San Pablo Bay.

 

It was only after returning solders from World War II (The Great Patriotic War, to those like you Svetlana from former Soviet Countries) came home to their girlfriends and wished to raise children, that a movement began to eradicate brothels in America.  Adult night clubs also felt the sting of the law.  Many were eradicated or moved into special zones or out of special areas.

 

Cities which had been famous for their brothels, suddenly outlalwed them, and they were torn down sometimes even burned as 'public nuisances'

 

Only a few remained, including one in Texas (The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas'),  the 'Mustang Ranch' in 'Mustang' Nevada, near Reno/Sparks, the Bunny Ranch, the Starlight Ranch and a few others scattered around Nevada, which did NOT outlaw them.

 

 Nevada did allow any population center to outlaw houses of prostitution, and Carson City (Ormsby County), Washoe County (Reno/Sparks) and Las Vegas (Clark County), all outlawed open prostitution and 'houses of ill repute' for those too modes to actually say the word 'prostitution'.

 

The sheriff of Washoe County, famously one day had agents who found the 'Mustang Ranch' which was on trailers on wheels where three counties conjoined, over the county line in Washoe county territory where they had been moved as there was 'heat' in a neighboring county just a few feet away, so that sheriff went to a local judge, got an order, and with his order that night emptied those trailers [which were fitted together into rooms and a building as a whore house], and burned the enterprise known as the Mustang Ranch to the ground.  It was later rebuilt, bigger and more fortress like, and indeed was modeled after a federal prison, where its owner, Joe Conforte (an old acquaintance and sometimes nemesis) had spent some time, for violation of the Mann Act (think gulls over immortal porpoises, if you know the joke, which defines the 'Mann Act').

 

In a cruel twist, the US Bankruptcy Court's trustee ended up at one time operating the Mustang Ranch brothel, and reporting to the Court every year how many of each 'service' was rendered and at what aggregate cost, which the Reno newspapers dutifully published, service by service.

 

That's possibly the only time the US Courts have run a whore house (as far as is publicly known and acknowledged).

 

Those who watch Showtime cable channel will recognize a man named Dennis Hoff who owns one of those houses of prostitution together with his 'main squeeze' a woman I met about four weeks ago in Las Vegas where she was attending an affair (to think of it, I also met him, but I am not thrilled with meeting people who are celebrities either because they are 'well known' or just because they are 'celebrities' as I judge people by other standards-- I make no judgments either way about these people, except photographically they were 'uninteresting to me'.

 

In fact, when Mr. Hoff's 'girlfriend' asked if I wanted to take her photo (I had my cameras and was on a photo quest), I deferred, saying I had 'other fish to fry'.

 

You won't find celebrities in my photos except for good reason. The 'fish I had to fry' that day was the woman (see photo) with the large breasts, man looking at them over her shoulder with astounded face. 

 

Now THAT's a photo!  That woman was definitely a celebrity, though she wanted to be one, and gave me a card, but I don't print her 'stage name' as I'm not a publicity agent and my photos are my photos.  She had no idea what I was looking at when I pushed the shutter, nor did he really.

 

So, when the GI's (so called because everything they ate, wore, or used was 'Government Issued' (hence GI), returned home from that war, they wanted absence of prostitution, and they mostly got it thoughout America.

 

Only as I was in my '50s, did I realize that when I lived in California within 40 miles of one of the world's largest Army bases, the town I lived in was famous as the town where all the whorehouses were based where all those soldiers from that huge base went on leave to be entertained.

 

I had no idea.

 

Nor did neighbors ever speak of it.

 

I knew the town of 50,000 as a sleepy, agricultural, primarily Hispanic town, that had absolutely nothing to do with sex.

 

They made world famous sparkly apple juice in bottles fashioned after champagne bottles there, but I don't think any sex was for sale during the 30 or so years I owned and then lived in the area, and NO ONE talked about that history.

 

California is primarily composed of newcomers and people there generally are more interested in 'tomorrow' than 'yesterday' unlike say America's East Coast, which has a real 'history'.

 

So, our Saran Wrapped young miss above, was promoting 'topless entertainment.

 

Nightclubs with bounteous silicone enhanced bosoms.

 

It was a tawdry publicity ploy, designed to fail.

 

A bunch of topless nightclubs had sprung up after the bosomy Carol Doda was featured in Life Magazine (showing no nipples or aureole of course.)

 

For publicity, all the topless clubs had hired one man to promote all the clubs.

 

 That man arranged for this woman to be present on a street in San Francisco, wearing antenna as woman set foot on the moon and wearing Saran Wrap to mock Anita Bryant, the antifeminist spokesperson, who also hawked Florida Orange Juice on television.

 

The Saran Wrap was the political hook.

 

The antenna was the current affairs hook. (she's a moon woman, get it? and for the first time man just walked on the moon.).

 

My friend, a photographer of enormous good humors, had said to me, 'grab your camera, we're going somewhere you'll enjoy', mysteriously.

 

He also said 'take some photos, no one's ever going to print them.'

 

'The guy who set this up is a publicity-seeking idiot -- he should know no newspaper in America will print such photos, so go have some fun, John.

 

And I did.

 

Photo.net is the only place where any photo from this event ever got published and that only nine years ago, decades later, and Carol Doda, I think passed away

Boy, this is a slice of history that will age but never grow old. It really captures the self-conscious innocence of those days ("...ah yes, I remember it well.").

What a refreshing comment.  I love it.

 

Imagine a life where I'm just 'hanging around' before my day's shift, an AP staff photographer says 'get your camera' we're going somewhere', and takes me to this!

 

This is positively one of the most surreal photos I've ever taken.

 

See costumed men carrying air conditioners down escalator for maybe THE most (and the FIRST) surreal photo I've taken.

 

Of course, he cautioned, the photos will never appear anywhere for this 'publicity stunt', since it involved a suggestion of nudity, and the publicity agent (a famous, extremely obese guy promoting 'topless clubs'), had no sense, since he invited the legitimate press of which my wire service (AP) was the only representative that showed up -- and then only for a 'lark' and to break the monotony.

 

The AP photo department then was run in San Francisco by a guy name 'Ott' (Ottinger) who believed his photographers should be 'in the bureau' awaiting being sent on assignment say in case of the Big One (earthquake) instead of being free roaming, searching out interesting photos, so the photographer who took me with him was awaiting ANY excuse to get out of the bureau.

 

Both major photographers there liked me very much; the other was Pulitzer winner Sal Vader (winning photo:  woman and returning Viet Nam vet in joyous, jumping embrace as warrior gets off plane in California at end of war). 

 

The bureau chief soon left, and soon thereafter Ottinger left too, victim I think of way too conservative thinking.  (and the photographers then did not have 'cell phones' so he could not control them if something happened that required their immediate attention.  I think if cell phones had been prevalent then, the business of being a wire service photographer might have been different.

 

[When in New York City photos as an editor and a plane crashed at Kennedy Air Port, one photographer had a radio phone in his car, and he made a connection on his radio phone 'live' right as he left Manhattan and kept speaking 'talking . . . . talking . . . talking . . . into his radio telephone for the hour-long drive to Kennedy Airport to keep the connection from being terminated since there were VERY FEW such connections available at anytime and getting such a connection after a plane crash at Kennedy Airport, Queens was though to be impossible.

 

The photographer came back with a photo (after stepping through bodies, and body parts) of a crash investigator walking away carrying one of the two aircraft 'black boxes'.

 

Soon after taking this photo, I was off to Nevada for a year as a writer getting experience (sometimes taking photos, against rules and getting then on front pages too), before heading off to AP New York World Headquarters as an editor/photo editor.

 

Jack, keep commenting; they're always helpful and uplifting to me.

 

john

 

John (Crosley)

Thank you for your comments and attention to my shots. And for your kind words for my portfolio. Svetlana.

Another wonderful time capsule image.  I often wish I had been born sooner, I experienced the 60s as a child and missed out on all the fun. 

 

There is a sense that she has just popped out of the truck and presented herself for display.  I would have loved to have seen the color version of this to see her outfit in its full glory.  A nice form fitting garb that nicely reveals her shapely figure. 

Yes, a time capsule shot for sure.

 

I'm afraid color would not do this justice -- oil-stained streets from dripping oil pans and nudes to my mind don't seem to mix.  For me this is black and white only -- monochrome binds the whole composition together.

 

These guys just happened by as this woman was being 'shot', and we incorporated them into the shoot (an assignment AP photographer and me, just being hired but not on the payroll as it was not my shift and he said to me, 'let's go have some fun, nobody ever will print these . . . . '

 

 

And for the AP at least, he was right.  Robert Kline, photographer, a good, fun guy, cohort of Pulitzer winner Sal Vader, San Francisco, but who left the profession from injury I heart (struck on head at riot by flying object and had double vision I am told).

 

Thanks for an interesting critique, Richard. I'm glad to see you are browsing my portfolio or at least some interesting parts.

 

john

 

John (Crosley)