EDITOR'S LETTER

editor's LETTER Seventy years ago. That's

When the words were written. Two sentences in the last line of a letter dated March 14, 1953. “I am PREGNANT with ideas!!!! Maybe there will be a multiple birth!!!” The seven exclamation points suggest a heightened level of excitement. And the salutation, “Luff to you and yours,” suggests an intimate friendship. And it was. Ansel Adams would often sign his letters to Raymond Carlson that way. Sometimes there would be a dozen f's.

Mr. Carlson, in turn - being an editor, I guess - expressed his love according to Merriam-Webster. Their spelling of the noun was different, but their intent was exactly the same. These were two men who genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Kerouac and Cassady. They also embraced the symbiosis of their professional relationship. Like Rodgers and Hammerstein, they produced a slew of big hits.

In March 1953, they were collaborating on several different stories. “As I take my trusted typewriter in hand,” Mr. Carlson wrote, “I have just looked over the shoulder of our congenial art director, George Avey, who is now in the finishing touches of putting together the Tumacacori layout. It is very, very nice.” They were working on a piece about Death Valley, too, and considering a portfolio on wildflowers. “I am trying to keep a close tab on the desert situation,” our editor wrote. “If we do have a good bloom this year, I shall let you know. I thought for a while that there would be no chance, but in the last week we have had several good rains, and if we get a couple more in the next week or so, there might be some good desert floral display around the first of the month. Looking forward, VERY MUCH, to your visit.” They'd hook up in Phoenix the following week, before heading to San Xavier del Bac for Easter. Of all the stories they'd create for Arizona Highways, their piece in April 1954 on the historic mission near Tucson was their chef d'oeuvre. Their magnum opus. It's a piece made even better by the words of Nancy Newhall, a renowned writer who was a founding member of Aperture magazine, and the spot illustrations of Ted DeGrazia.

I've read the story only once - it's 15,905 words long - but I've gone back to the photographs many times, never knowing how much input Mr. Adams had had in the layout. It was unprecedented. And it's all spelled out in the exchange of letters between the two men. Although I'd skimmed the letters at some point - it's a stack about 2 inches thick - it wasn't until a flight delay over the holidays that I read every page. I couldn't put them down. Like Hank Morgan waking up in Arthurian England, I found myself in another world. A fly on the wall of a legendary studio in San Francisco in the middle of the last century. It was a rare glimpse into the mindset of the world's most famous landscape photographer.

unprecedented. And it's all spelled out in the exchange of letters between the two men. Although I'd skimmed the letters at some point - it's a stack about 2 inches thick - it wasn't until a flight delay over the holidays that I read every page. I couldn't put them down. Like Hank Morgan waking up in Arthurian England, I found myself in another world. A fly on the wall of a legendary studio in San Francisco in the middle of the last century. It was a rare glimpse into the mindset of the world's most famous landscape photographer.

“Dear Ray,” Mr. Adams wrote. “Here are the color selections for the San Xavier article. I am hoping that the engraver can equalize the colors without distorting them. I worked with sheet film and Ektachrome. I had trouble with the ‘yellow’ effect... I had trouble with heat ... I had trouble with camera-jarring... I had trouble with people walking near me. Occasionally my strobe failed, and there are a few images which defy analysis of their quality - I simply can't understand what happened.” Later in the letter, he gave specific instructions for 18 of the color photographs. As I read them, I had the April 1954 issue opened on my iPad. Following along was like watching the Colonel dole out his 11 herbs and spices. But this was our secret recipe. “Here follows a detailed description (and accurate titles) of the pictures submitted,” Mr. Adams wrote. Among them was the shot that would become our front cover.

“Cut down the green cast as much as possible,” he explained. “My suggestion to crop is only approximate. I do not want this in the main color spread, as I have a selection of B.&.W.S that will work beautifully. But this would look fine on Cover 3, I think. I recall a little time ago you had a spectacular picture of the Mission and the graveyard and the moon. I was careful not to duplicate it! I think this one will have a lot of magic if handled properly.” “Cover 3” is the inside back cover of a magazine. We put the magical image up front. Other than that, the final layout adhered closely to Mr. Adams' blueprint. And our editor liked what he saw. “Dear Ansel,” he wrote. “We look forward to this feature as one of the most interesting we have had for a long time.” Seventy years later, the story they delivered stands the test of time. “We never know the love of a parent until we become parents ourselves,” Henry Ward Beecher said. Over the years, Raymond Carlson and Ansel Adams would know that love many times. There were, indeed, multiple births. I have no idea if they ever saw any wildflowers that year.