Follow Focus
9
Training
“CC” by Nejron Photo, ID201692714 licensed from Shutterstock.com
THE REST OF OUR WORK WEEK was thankfully less dramatic. Mr. Martin was back on Wednesday afternoon and we met to go over the system and the plan for our jobs. He was impressed that I’d already talked to Polaroid and Ronda had made my reservations already. He looked at our world map that was beginning to take shape as Josie typed up the embassy and consulate names and placed them on the map.
“I honestly didn’t expect any less from the two of you,” he laughed. “Next week, Nate will be in Boston. I want Ronda to take the official travel training course so we know arrangements are being made according to the right procedures. You’ll also get a full introductory letter to your contacts at the embassies and consulates. I like the idea of getting everyone in the office here a badge. I’ll put out a notice that we’ll do that the week after you get back from Boston. Other than that, I’d encourage you not to take too many initiatives on your own. I know that sounds idiotic, but we’re a big department and following the proper chain of authority on things keeps us from tripping over each other.”
“I think I understand, sir,” I said.
“Ronda, as soon as you have taken the training, I want a proposal from you regarding how to attack the rollout. Let’s meet early next week to set a strategy. Nate, management of your tour is in her hands. Your job is execution. I’ll need to see a training outline when you get back from Boston. I’m not sure why you are spending five days training on this equipment. It’s what George told me you needed. I’d like to see us get training and installation down to two days tops, so we can do two a week. If we can make three in a week, so much the better.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I know you will. Any questions? You’ll both go through protocol training Thursday and Friday this week. Good luck.”
I wasn’t certain if we’d been congratulated or reprimanded. I guess it was both. I didn’t ask anything about the news from Munich and he didn’t volunteer any information. We didn’t really need anything more than what was broadcast.
Anna drove by to pick us up after work in the VW and we headed up to the new house. The bus was full of household goods and supplies. She’d gone one direction shopping and Patricia had gone another. She’d brought us a change of clothes, so we could dress down to help move things in and clean things up. We picked up Chinese food on the way and had our first meal in the new house. We didn’t have any furniture yet, so we ate on the deck as if we were having a picnic. Toni was happy about that and still loved seeing the water.
After we’d gotten the day’s shopping put away, we went back to Jordan and Nadia’s house where all our clothes were. We figured we’d be able to move into our new home on the weekend, if the furniture was delivered over the next two days.
“I’ve decided to take the job Jordan has offered,” Anna said. “It’s part time and I’ll only be working three days a week most of the year. At tax time, I’m likely to be putting in a full forty or more hours a week. I just don’t see how Patricia and I can really have full time jobs and look after the two of you, though. We all have to admit that you are our primary wage-earners. And as Patricia gets along in her pregnancy, she’s going to need more help.”
“Is that okay with you, Patricia?” I asked.
“Yes, honey. I don’t expect you all to take care of me all the time, but you were so supportive during my last pregnancy, I hope you’ll continue that. I have the advantage this time of not looking forward to being a single mom. I have three wonderful spouses and I know you’ll never abandon me. On the other hand, I don’t have parents and in-laws hanging around to wait on me or rush me to a doctor,” Patricia said. I held her in my arms with a hand on her tummy as we sat in the little third floor sitting room at the Marshes’. “I’ll take some time tomorrow to get Toni over and registered for pre-school, then see what I can find for a local job. Also part time, I guess.”
“I’m so happy Nate and I come home to a loving family after a day at work. I know it will be even harder when we start traveling. Nate will be gone all next week already,” Ronda said. “But we will always be coming home to our beautiful family.”
I worried a little about that. Ronda and I would usually be traveling together. Patricia and Anna would usually be home with Toni. I just hoped we didn’t get too much into the mode of having the daddies go off to work and the mommies sitting at home with the children. I was pretty sure that would cause a breakdown in our family relationships.
I could already tell there was going to be a lot more getting home to go to bed exhausted instead of going to bed to make love. All four of us were beat.
By Saturday, we had two bedrooms and the kitchen furnished, including a table and chairs. We had a sofa and two chairs arranged in our living room area so they looked out through the windows at the lake. My task, after we’d moved our clothes from Jordan’s up to the new house, was to go to Sears and get a grill and deck furniture. We’d only have a few more weeks to enjoy the outdoors before the weather closed in for the winter. In fact, some of our neighbors were winterizing their homes to leave for the winter. I guessed a lot of the property out here was still summer homes.
Sears was a bust and they suggested I try Ace Hardware. I lucked out there. It was end of season and they were trying to get rid of some pieces so they could start putting Christmas stuff out. Already! But as a result, I got a nice set of white iron patio furniture and a charcoal grill and felt lucky that I got out of there for under $300! There were even cushions for the chairs.
I picked up a bag of charcoal, too, and some lighter fluid. Of course, with the microbus loaded as full as I could get it, I still stopped at a supermarket and got hamburger to put on the grill.
When I got back, the girls had our clothes put away and the beds made. The kitchen had dishes and pots and pans. I knew we’d be adding to what was there for weeks or months to come. We were spoiled in Stratford. When we need something, chances were that we could find one of whatever in the store under our apartment. Need a cast iron frying pan? Sure, there was one in the store. Set of silverware? Do you want stainless or sterling? Melanie kept a steady stream of second hand stuff in the store.
I was lucky I remembered a long-handled spatula so I could turn the burgers on the grill.
Monday morning, Anna joined Ronda on the train downtown. Anna would stop by Camera Warehouse and touch base there before reporting for her first day of work at Jordan’s company. Patricia and Toni took me to the airport and I caught my flight to Boston.
It was kind of funny to kiss my wife and daughter goodbye when they dropped me off at the curb. We’d kissed our other wives goodbye at the train station. I always thought of Chicago as being around halfway across the country from either coast. I realized quickly that we were a lot closer to the East Coast than the West. The flight time to Boston was about half that of my flights to LA.
I was thankful for that. I was no longer flying first class. Not on Uncle Sam’s dollar. I collected my bag and found the taxi stand, giving the guy the address of my hotel in Cambridge. Then I just cowered in the back seat until he squealed into the drop-off at the Holiday Inn and I paid him for getting to the hotel with both of us still alive.
I checked in, but had to wait until the room had been cleaned before I could go to it. Janet met me at 12:30 and took me to lunch at Legal Seafood.
“You can see that I’m not wining and dining you in a high class restaurant,” Janet said as we sat at a picnic table with our paper plates full of fish and chips. “But there is scarcely anything that is more Bostonian than Legal Sea Foods. Their slogan is, ‘If it isn’t fresh, it isn’t Legal.’ I just thought it would be a nice way to introduce you to our culture here at Polaroid.”
“And how did it get the name?” I asked.
“Trading stamps,” Janet laughed. She was a very pleasant woman, in her early thirties, I guessed. Reddish brown hair and a nice shape. I could see photographing her. “In the early 1900s, there were Legal Trading Stamps. When the original market opened in 1904, just a couple of doors down from here, it was called the Legal Cash Market. The second generation opened the Legal Sea Foods market next door in 1950. They sold fresh fish and fish and chips. And, like traditional fish and chips in England, they were only served for take-away and were even wrapped in newspaper for a while. A few years ago, they expanded the menu and put in the picnic tables so people could sit and eat.”
“Pretty cool,” I said. “So, what’s the agenda for this afternoon?”
“A lot of backslapping and saying hullo. We’ll show you the equipment with a quick tour and a tour of Polaroid. I understand you are a photographer and Mr. Taylor has a project he would like you to work on as well as learning all the intricacies of the new equipment. That will all start tomorrow. Our commission from the State Department is that you should be able to fully tear down, troubleshoot, and repair the equipment, in addition to just knowing how to take the pictures and laminate the passports.”
“They have great expectations,” I sighed. I didn’t know I was supposed to be able to tear the equipment down and repair it.
“Well, why don’t we head over and get the grand tour started.”
Janet showed me around the Polaroid facility and introduced me to various people. We finally got to George Taylor who welcomed me and joined us on the way to my introduction to the ID3 System. Along the way, I saw various posters still in the building decrying Polaroid’s involvement in South Africa posted by the Polaroid Revolutionary Workers Movement. I stopped at one and pointed it out to George.
“So, how goes the great experiment?” I asked. Janet gasped as George turned to address it.
“You’re still watching, aren’t you?” he asked, holding a hand up to Janet so he could stop and talk to me. “It’s frankly a disaster. I can see no difference in the state of affairs between when we last met and today. We do not do business with South Africa, its government, or its military. But their program of requiring passbooks for black Africans continues. Apartheid continues. Are we bringing pressure to bear? Yes. Other corporations have joined us in refusing to do business with South Africa and applying pressure to improve the lot of black Africans. If you ask me, it’s a doomed strategy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“So am I. We have made other positive steps. We are no longer manufacturing the ID2 system. The system you’ll be trained on replaces it. There is no longer a boost button and it is no longer as portable a system—though you will discover that it is portable and you’ll be carrying one around with you. You won’t be able to stop on the street and imprison a black person in sixty seconds,” George said.
“What’s the next step?”
“There is a pretty popular concept in the treatment of alcoholism and drug abuse that says a person must hit rock bottom before he can begin to recover. I don’t quite buy that. There can be steps along the way. What we refer to as raising the bottom so when a person drops, he doesn’t have as far to go. That is what we’re engaged in in South Africa. The country is going to crash. All we can really do is try to put in place systems, education, jobs, and support that will keep the crash from killing everyone. If you’re asking me if we’re succeeding, I have to say, I don’t know. We just keep shoveling to fill the pit they are going to fall into.”
“I wish I’d heard that message at the symposium a year ago,” I said. “It helps to understand.”
“Yes, but outside of this ten square feet where you and I and Janet are standing, this message does not exist. It is my own analysis and has nothing to do with any stated company policy. If it did, it is likely that the regime in power would find a way to retaliate, even more than they already have.”
“You mean by requiring that companies not pay a black employee as much as a white employee, even if they have more responsibility? Not allowing a company to hire more blacks than whites? Taxing companies who raise the pay level of blacks?” I asked.
“You’re better informed than I expected,” George chuckled.
“I attended a special intersession in January on location portraiture in England. One of my fellow photographers was from South Africa and I believe is related to someone at the distributor there,” I said.
“You’ll do well in your new position. Continue to collect those important people in your portfolio. They will be important in the future,” George said. He looked over at Janet who was tapping her watch. “Ah, yes. We need to get into the presentation room so we can all get the official presentation out of the way.”
We walked into a small theatre-like room where a couple dozen others were gathered and found a seat.
The presentation started with a slide show of the issues that were being addressed with the new ID system. It was pretty much like the prototype I’d used at the symposium last fall, but this had a few bells and whistles that were customized for use by the government. It could be set to accept the standard badge-size template and laminate a stiff photo ID, or it could be set to expose a passport-size page and laminate only the half that contained the photo and personal information. It would be signed after the passport was assembled.
The assembly process was the “plus” part of the system, and actually wasn’t manufactured by Polaroid.
“Our challenge in creating a passport stitching device was mostly to make all the features compact and portable,” the presenter said. “Thread stitching in bound books is well-known, so the mechanics were not a problem. You will see four stages in the bindery. First, the collated pages are fed into the stitcher and are precisely stitched together. Notice the booklet is still flat, unlike what you would find in saddle-stitching machines and most book binderies. This is because step two is pressing the cover onto the flyleaf page. This process is done under heat and pressure to create a tight permanent bond between the cover and the booklet. Note that this conceals the stitching from the outside of the book. There is no way to unstitch and restitch the pages. Third, while the book is still hot, it is fed into the folder. US Passport books resist bending and folding, so the process of making it a booklet has to be done under intense pressure. Finally, the finished book is fed into the trimmer and burst cut, meaning it is aligned and trimmed all in one die cut. The rounded corners of a passport book, while a seemingly minor detail, make counterfeiting a US Passport an order of magnitude more difficult.”
So far, we hadn’t seen any of the equipment. It was time for the live demonstration of setup through finished passport. Of course, they were not using official passport pages or covers for the demonstration. I was amazed. There was a low table next to the podium. The Polaroid guy put a suitcase on it and flipped open latches. He then removed a cover to reveal the entire photographing and laminating system. It wasn’t more than two feet wide and less than that high. He showed the form and inserted it into the camera, then got one of the guys from the front row to stand up and took his picture. Forty-five seconds later, the fully laminated and processed photo ‘passport’ page was ejected from the machine and he handed it to the bindery guy.
The bindery was no bigger than the camera and laminator. He took the page, lined it up with half a dozen ‘interior’ pages, and fed it into the stitcher. He literally fed it into one end of the machine and the finished booklet popped out of the other end in less than a minute. He handed the booklet to the volunteer who had his photo taken and it was passed around. Just totally cool.
When I got to examine the booklet, I noticed the page with his picture was all one image, the text printed onto the same paper as the photo. This was laminated. They explained that this meant the page could no longer be cut apart and a new image inserted—a common way of counterfeiting passports in the old days, I guess. There wasn’t a separate image to be replaced.
There was a dozen of us who got to go through the process of taking a picture and creating a booklet under the guidance and supervision of the two manufacturer reps. The process was pretty straightforward and I thought the lowest level person at the embassy could probably operate the machine. Training on it should be a breeze.
That was it for day one. Janet dropped me off at my hotel and told me she’d pick me up at eight for my first ‘real training’ day. Hmm. I already figured I could operate the machinery. I wondered what ‘real training’ was going to involve. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be able to troubleshoot the devices.
I was going to call home right away, but realized that at five o’clock in Chicago no one would likely be home yet. I checked at the front desk and found out there was a local bar about three blocks away that had a good reputation for food and was the only place that was in walking distance.
It was really a local dive tavern, but the food was great and I even enjoyed a beer. Unfortunately, I was beginning to discover that a lot of local places didn’t accept American Express. I paid cash, as I had at lunch, and carefully retained my receipt. I was going to have to be careful about making sure I accounted for anything I spent that wasn’t a normal daily expense. I was making a good salary, but there was no sense spending my own money on things the government would reimburse me for.
I got back to the hotel about seven-thirty and called home. We must have talked for half an hour. I had to tell Toni a story and love my wives. I stretched out on the bed and was asleep before I knew what hit me.
The hotel served a hot breakfast to guests, so I didn’t worry about going out to eat. I was ready to head for the office at 8:00 when Janet stopped to pick me up. We were there in half an hour and she showed me where the training would be and where coffee and sweet rolls were. I didn’t really need a sweet roll, but they were right there. Sure, I ate one.
At nine o’clock, a guy in a blue lab coat came in and introduced himself as Ray Engle, the tech who would be my trainer. No one else arrived.
“Okay,” he started. “I’m Ray. I assume you’re Nate and you’re going to learn how to disassemble and reassemble the new ID3US.”
“I guess so,” I said. “Aren’t there any others in the class?”
“Uh… Why would you think that?”
“There was a couple dozen in the demonstration yesterday.”
“Oh. The others were all prospective customers. I don’t expect we’ll start filling orders for any of them for six months to a year. Things move slowly with the government, no matter what country you’re from. We had the demonstration we went through yesterday with the State Department two years ago.”
“Wow! I’m still not used to the government timetable.”
“Well, how much camera repair have you done?”
“Nothing beyond cleaning and adjusting my personal cameras.”
“What are your personal cameras?”
“Nikon 35, Hasselblad 2x2, and Linhof 4x5.”
“You’re a professional photographer?”
“Yes.”
“Bit of overkill for learning this little charmer. You could probably read the manual and figure it all out. I’ll try to show you some of the tricks and what is most likely to break or fail. Since these are being shipped all over the world, we’ve tried to make them bulletproof, so to speak. But there’s always something.”
Ray started in with a guided tour, showing me the tech manual and pointing out all the parts. Then we got into the case and he started taking it apart. He’d show me where something was, take it apart, reassemble it, and then hand me the tools to repeat what he’d just done.
Getting inside the camera and the laminator was really a trip. He explained what each little part would do and how to fix anything that was likely to go wrong.
Lunch was brought in and Janet joined us again at that point.
“So, all the guys at the demo yesterday were from different countries?” I asked.
“Pretty much. The customer and then his customer rep. You wouldn’t believe how primitive the passport system is in some countries,” Janet said. “Not to worry, though. All of them have been vetted before we were cleared to contact. It wouldn’t surprise me if in a year or so, you were offered a job or contracts to install and train the equipment in other countries.”
“Not likely. I’m on a two-and-a-half-year contract with Uncle Sam.”
“How’d you get that?”
“Got drafted. My work for the State Department is my alternative service.”
“That’s cool. I have a friend doing alternative service in a mental hospital. They just seemed to try to find the shittiest jobs they could to shove guys into who wouldn’t fight their shitty war,” she said.
“Sounds like you have an opinion on it.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it in the office. Please don’t tell anyone. It took me a long time to get the assignment to rep to the government.”
“Lips are sealed.”
“Tomorrow, after official work, I’m to take you to dinner and then introduce you to the team making the giant camera. It’s off the record, but you can spend as much time as you need getting familiar with the equipment and take your pictures.”
“Who’s my model?” I asked.
“What? Um… I assumed you have a model. But you didn’t travel with anyone, did you? You don’t have a model here in Boston? Um… I’ll have to check with George about that. He’s really talked up your style with the development team.”
“You could model if you want.”
Janet just stared at me.
“I’ve seen some of your photos. I don’t object to them, but I can’t do that.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that you needed to…”
“I don’t have a problem with nudity, but the intent is that the photos taken on this camera will be hung on display in our offices and plant. I work here. I can’t have people staring at a nude picture of me and then staring at me.”
“That would be awful. I can see your point.”
“There’s Ray, signaling he’s ready to start.”
I went back into the lab and had to completely assemble one of the systems from a pile of parts. Ray told me I needed to know this equipment like it was my rifle in the army. Bad simile. But his point was clear.
“Polaroid is not going to send me to Timbuktu to fix a passport machine that some idiot put the wrong cartridge in. Once the equipment walks out this door with you, it’s your problem. Assemble and disassemble each component until you can do it blindfolded. Then just hope you never have to do it in the field.”
Then he had me take the whole thing apart and put it together again. Once the machine was all set and I’d tested it to be sure it worked, we put the cover on it and Ray stepped back.
“Congratulations. You now have the Polaroid ID3 System USA, unit 007. Take it with you. We’ll have the photo sheets delivered to your office by secure courier by the time you get back to Chicago.”
Ray shook my hand and left.
Well, shit.
“I’m glad I caught you still at the office,” I said when Ronda answered her desk phone in Chicago. “I have no idea how to reach anyone else and I should talk to Mr. Martin.”
“No, I love you?” Ronda shot back.
“Of course I love you,” I whispered. “I’m still in the Polaroid office and using a desk phone here.”
“Got ya. Mr. Martin said that if you called in, he wanted to talk to you. I think I can transfer you.”
It took a minute and at first, I thought she’d lost the call, then he picked up.
“Nate! I’m glad you called in. How is the training going?”
“It’s been an intense day,” I said. “If this was auto mechanic school, you’d find me covered head to toe in grease.”
“I hope the cameras are cleaner than that, but I’m glad you are getting into the guts.”
“I had a couple of things I wanted to check with you, sir. I was in a demonstration with a couple dozen others yesterday. Today I discovered they are all prospective customers for the same system we are deploying. I wanted to make sure you were aware that they were gearing up to sell this equipment in other countries.”
“Good spotting,” Mr. Martin said. “We don’t have an exclusive on it, but we are supposed to have a twelve-month advance so we can get all the devices we need before anyone else starts getting the production. I’ll give George a call and just touch base with him to make sure they aren’t letting someone horn in on our order.”
“I was told these guys would take twelve months before they were ready to order,” I said.
“Good.”
“I am concerned about one technical issue,” I said. “The boost button got a lot of criticism because of its use in South Africa.”
“The new equipment isn’t supposed to have that.”
“It doesn’t, exactly. But technically, the function is still there. The new equipment has a built-in light meter that reads the subject and adjusts the lens opening and flash brightness according to the reading. It isn’t technically a boost, but it accomplishes the same thing. More exposure for darker complexions.”
“Yes. I don’t see a way around that. We have a solid agreement that this equipment will not be imported into South Africa—even in our own embassy. Nor will we install it in any of the other white minority ruled African states. It will also not be sold to any government that we have identified as being a threat to civil liberties. For example, you will not be taking equipment to Uganda. The military dictator there, Idi Amin, has just expelled all Asians from the country and would love to get his hands on a system that would let him control who was identified in what way. On the plus side, it means that passports created with this system should all be clear and identifiable. Please don’t mention the feature to any of your trainees.”
“Yes, sir. I also wanted to check with you regarding what could be considered private work while I’m here. Polaroid has an experimental prototype of a very large format instant camera. Poster size. They want me to set up and take some test shots with it that they can display. Um… Shots in the Attic Allure style,” I said.
“Hmm. I see. You’re concerned about conflict of interest or doing private work on a business trip. Thank you for checking this out,” Martin said. “We pay you for your travel time and expenses, so when you left your house yesterday morning, you were on the clock for a full day of work. When you are actually on-site for work, we assume that you are working a normal business day. I know there’s some give and take in schedules. When I visited Polaroid, I couldn’t get anyone before nine o’clock. But at the end of your business day, you are private citizen Nate Hart. There may be times when you are asked specifically to attend a function in the evening at an embassy, or to take portraits of the ambassador and his wife. But I’m not going to try to control what you do in your off hours, either here or on the road. If you want to spend your Saturday and Sunday when you are home having clients in your private studio, that’s your business. As long as it doesn’t conflict with your job. Clear?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“You are also allotted one dinner guest on this trip and are permitted to accept one dinner. So, if you want to take your trainer for a thank you dinner, you are free to, and if Polaroid wants to take you out one evening, you are clear for that, as well. I didn’t cover that with you in the chaos of last week.”
“I appreciate the information. I’ve just let Polaroid set the schedule here so far.”
“I know your partner wants to talk to you, as well, so let me transfer you back to Ronda.”
“Thank you.”
Just a few seconds later, I was back in touch with my girlfriend, coworker.
“I just wanted to tell you that I was notified that a shipment was on its way here by secure courier. Apparently, we are getting a supply of passport blank material, laminate, covers, and templates and will be carting it with us when we go out on site,” she said.
“We might have to cart the equipment to be installed as well. It would help if you can check to see if the equipment will be drop-shipped to the embassy or if we have to check it as luggage.”
“I’m on it. What’s new from your end?”
“I need to find a model for a photo session tomorrow evening. Polaroid wants me to test a new large format camera with something from my style. But they aren’t supplying the model. Just the equipment, materials, and studio.”
“I’m guessing you’ll have an audience, too. I should have come with you.”
“If not an audience, there will certainly be various technicians and studio assistants. I’ll have to pay the model and have a blanket release so Polaroid can exhibit the photos. I don’t think I’ll be able to bring any home. It’s not clear yet.”
“Let me make a couple of calls. I’ll call you at the hotel later tonight.”
My next day was pretty much like Tuesday. I had a different trainer from the bindery equipment company. The process was the same, though. I set up my new camera just as I would at an embassy. Then Lew Rollins, the bindery tech, took me through every step of setting up, troubleshooting, disassembling, and assembling the bindery. Then we ran several samples through the whole process.
We had completely unprinted white sheets of the paper and cover stock for a passport. When the stock was delivered to Ronda in Chicago, it would all be preprinted with everything except the data for the holder. The covers would be pre-embossed with a security stripe on the inside that would be completely concealed once the cover was fused to the endpaper.
By the time I was finished with the training that day, I was sure I would be putting Ronda through the entire training when I got back to the office. First, because I’d need to train someone as practice before I went on site to install a system. Second, because I needed the backup. At any time, I might be called to go a different direction to make a repair and Ronda would be left with the install alone. I had every confidence in her ability to do the work, but I didn’t think she was expecting that to be part of her job. I might just train Josie on it as well, just for practice.
At four o’clock, Janet showed up to take me to a steak house for an early dinner so I could be back at Polaroid to get trained on the new prototype equipment.
“Do we need to call off the session tonight? Do you have a model? I suppose you could do a still life, but they really want something in your Attic Allure style,” Janet said.
“I have a model slated to arrive at the main doors at six-thirty,” I said.
“I can’t believe you were able to find someone so quickly! That’s amazing.”
“My… um… coworker on the ID project spent a year here in Boston working on her International Relations degree. She made some calls last night and her former roommate has agreed to model and sign a release for the display of her photo. I have no idea what she looks like, so it will be a true spontaneous setup for an Attic Allure photo. I will start with 35mm shots to get warmed up and decide what the best setting and pose will be. If you have a smaller format Polaroid I can use, I’ll try a few shots with that as well. Once I’ve figured out what the best pose and setting is, I’ll be ready to try the large format.”
“We might be here really late tonight is what you’re saying. That’s okay. The crew has been instructed to accommodate you as a professional photographer testing the equipment in a realistic environment. In other words, just what you are.”
“Hi. I’m Connie Collins. Are you Nate?”
“The same. Welcome to… um… well, I guess it’s welcome to Polaroid, but… uh… I’m Attic Allure, you know.”
“I heard a lot about you my freshman year in college,” Connie said. “All about how you could make a plain girl glamorous and talk a frigid girl into an orgasm. You know, Ronda May and I roomed together our freshman year. I thought we might make a good team through college, but then she went and transferred to Chicago. I take it you are the reason.”
I laughed at the spiel.
“Ronda is my girlfriend and coworker,” I said. “All the other things, I claim are myths. I will take a great portrait of you, though.”
Connie sighed. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting you to walk on water or anything. I understand I have to sign a release of some sort.”
“Yes. Uh… Connie, this is my Polaroid contact, Janet Alexander. She’ll take us to the studio. Janet, Connie Collins.”
“Thank you for stepping in as a model, Connie,” Janet said, offering her hand.
“Oh, you guys can call me CC. That’s what I usually go by. Why aren’t you modeling for Nate? You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I wouldn’t object to modeling, but the photo is going to be hung in a gallery here at Polaroid and I don’t want to be um… exposed to my coworkers like that.”
“Oh yeah. I get it. They aren’t likely to meet me in person. But if he’s rich, handsome, and single, give him my number.”
We stepped into the studio, which was pretty much a standard portrait studio setup, but it had a bunch of equipment that would be used for our shoot. I noticed there was also a familiar-looking trunk. An empty tripod was set up for my 35 and there were plenty of lights.
“I need to get used to the setup as well,” I said. “It’s my first time in this studio. I’m afraid I’m doing most of the work with a 35mm camera plus the prize shots on the large format Polaroid.”
“How large,” CC asked.
We walked over to the equipment and I was introduced to the head of the prototype team. I was surprised it was a woman.
“Is this the new camera?” I asked, looking at the wooden box and bellows.
“This is it,” she said. “We call her Mama Mammoth. This one over here is Baby Mammoth. I’m Trina, one of Dr. Land’s assistants. Based on what we were told about you and the Attic Allure style, we have all female assistants working with you today.”
I looked around the room, and it was only women working. I introduced my model and Janet took her to sign the release and show her the dressing room. Standing beside the huge 20x24 camera was a camera I’d have considered huge if it wasn’t beside the monster. It was only an 8x10.
Trina gave me a tour of the equipment and explained that it typically required a front and rear operator to focus and set the camera. She said I could direct them regarding what I wanted, but they would actually be my hands in operating the camera.
“One of the problems with this test unit is that we don’t have a 20x24 ground glass for the back of it yet. We have an 8x10 glass, which will help us focus and get the central area of the photo composed, but you’ll have roughly five times that area outside the image on the glass that will be included in the picture.”
She took me to the backdrop and showed me the outline around the picture that would indicate what was actually shown and how that compared with what was viewable in the ground glass.
“The bellows for this camera is the most recent addition. To get a stretch like we need in here, our techs worked for over a year, just figuring out how to make a bellows that size. We still don’t have our own lens. This lens board has a 600mm lens from a Xerox machine. And all the film is prepped and put in a carrier in the darkroom over there. As soon as it’s exposed, we’ll take it back to the darkroom to process it. We don’t have the processor built into the back yet.”
“So, this isn’t really a camera you intend to release, is it?” I asked.
“Certainly not in its current iteration,” Trina laughed. “We are planning to release Baby Mammoth in the next couple of years. Dr. Land wants a larger format camera to show the depth and quality of the film for Baby Mammoth.”
That pretty well summed up my education on the project. In terms of sophistication and completeness, this was the Polaroid version of a pinhole camera. The shoebox was for a really big pair of shoes. I decided to focus on what I really understood: Posing my model.
“How are you feeling, CC?” I asked when I entered the dressing room.
“A little nervous,” she said. “And thankful they have all women working in the studio. I’m not really a stripper.”
“No question about that,” I assured her. “May I help with your makeup a little? We’re going to be operating under some very strong lighting. I can’t believe we’ll be shooting at f/128 for this. I don’t want you to be washed out under the lights.”
I started working with her makeup as she relaxed and let me treat her like I was just a cosmetician. When I felt we had the right look, I examined the few clothes she brought along. They were mostly negligees and lingerie.
“Let’s start with this set and the black peignoir,” I suggested, holding up a nice panty and bra set. I just started removing her clothes and hanging them on the rack. “What did you study in college?” I asked as I stripped her and held the bra for her.
“Oh… um… pre-law. I’m in law school now. You… um… just took my panties off.”
“We have this pair to get you back into,” I said, holding the fresh pair for her to step into.
“Yeah. Right. Wow! Ronda told me. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so… um… matter of fact.”
“We’ve got six women outside that door, working to make this photoshoot a success,” I said, holding the peignoir for her. “If you suddenly started squealing in orgasm, they’d all get jealous.”
“Orgasm. Yeah. You’ll talk me into one, right?”
“No promises. Let’s just go out and get a beautiful portrait of you.”
I led CC out of the dressing room to the posing stage. Two women immediately started adjusting lights and holding light meters up against her to check for hot spots.
“So, you’re planning to practice law one day?” I continued our conversation as I opened my trunk. I smiled when I saw the array of items Adrienne had obviously packed for me.
“I’d like to become a judge,” she said. “Maybe I can change the makeup of the Supreme Court one day so women aren’t relegated to a position of owned property like they currently are. It’s ridiculous that the highest court in the country is nine old chauvinist pigs.”
“They’ve made some advances in the past few years with the interracial marriage and birth control rulings.”
“It’s a scratch in the surface,” she said.
I pulled a gavel and a scale out of the trunk. I handed her the gavel and placed the scale on a table beside her, then arranged her on a low bench. I stepped back to look at the composition and took a couple shots with my Nikon. I was shooting Pan-X black and white film with a pretty slow ASA, so I was thankful for the bright lights. I moved her around in different positions and when I thought I had a good one, I motioned for the 8x10 Baby Mammoth. This one was similar enough to the Linhof that I could focus on the ground glass and take the picture myself. One of the assistants moved in immediately to remove the film and replace the back.
“How did you just happen to have a gavel and scales of justice ready to give me after I told you about my intent to become a judge?” CC asked.
“I never know what is in the trunk until I open it. I could have handed you… let’s see…” I looked in the trunk. “…a skull, a sword, a globe, a bullwhip, a book, a quill and ink bottle, or a vanity set. That’s what I see on the top layer. My mistress in LA enjoys putting these things together for me. I didn’t even know she’d sent it ahead for me. I’ll need to reward her.”
“Wait. Ronda is your girlfriend, right? You have a mistress, too?”
“Yeah. That always seems to throw people at first.” I moved her to face away from me and pulled the peignoir down off her shoulders and dropped one bra strap. Then I had her look over her shoulder with a severe look. “Ronda told you about our other girlfriends, didn’t she? Patricia and Anna live with us in Chicago. We have a wonderful daughter and we’re expecting another.”
“Are you the alternate lifestyle poster child of the State Department?” CC asked.
“We don’t advertise our relationships. Let’s take the peignoir all the way off and remove the bra. I’m going to blindfold you. Are you okay with that?”
“Blind justice? Sure.”
“A friend of mine once told me justice should not be blind. If it was, it wasn’t just. The law needs to apply to everyone, but a penalty, say of $1000, is no penalty to a billionaire at all. To a common laborer, it is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“I like that concept. Do you think people have enough compassion in them to weigh justice like that? The whole move toward sentencing guidelines is so everyone gets an equal punishment for an equal crime.”
“But we already know that people don’t get equal punishment anyway. It simply shifts from the rich getting the lesser punishment to the poor getting a heavier punishment. A Rolls Royce running a stop sign is unlikely to even get pulled over. Running a stop sign in my VW microbus would mean a heavy fine.”
I finished blindfolding her and stroked the creases under her breast from her bra. Then I handed her a sword and draped a piece of fabric from the trunk off one shoulder.
“Now, you are not only the judge, but the executioner. What is your first ruling, your honor?”
I took pictures and got behind the 8x10 again. I liked what I was seeing and indicated I was about ready for our first shot with Mama Mammoth.
“The sword suddenly got heavier,” CC said. “I believe my first ruling will be to strike down the death penalty.”
I saw her straighten her back subtly as she announced her decision. Even nude, she carried authority in her pronunciation.
“Hold that pose. We’re going to get the first big picture,” I said.
Trina and the lens assistant immediately began the process of focusing. This camera had a 20x24 film, a 600mm lens, a bellows that was nearly three feet long, and it was less than ten feet from the subject. Amazing what you had to do to image a film this size. I checked the image in the ground glass, then made a couple of adjustments to her position, I pointed the sword toward the camera. I’d been told this camera had an extremely shallow depth of field, so the near point of the sword should be slightly out of focus—coming out of the picture. I pulled the sword back a little nearer to CC and then had the lens assistant focus more tightly on the point of the sword rather than on the model.
I was allowed to trip the shutter, the first time I’d actually touched the camera.
“Let’s lose the blindfold and have justice focused on the guilty,” I said.
I draped the fabric across one breast and had her brandish the scale in one hand and the sword in the other. I had Janet move in to flip a tail of her cover into the air to get some movement, then we got the next big photo.
I scooped CC up after dropping the sword and carried her to the dressing room. I sat with her on my lap and she crushed her mouth to me.
“That was such a rush! It’s not all, is it? You’ll do more with me, won’t you?”
“Absolutely. That was just our warmup.”
“I’ve passed my first judgment.”
“No more death penalty?”
“That, too. I judge that you could actually talk me into an orgasm. I’m dying for you to try.”
We kissed again and I chose a different outfit to start the next session.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
