THE EARLY PHOTOGRAPHERS

Arizona Highways has been around since 1925, but it didn't make much noise until it started showcasing the work of Esther Henderson and Josef Muench. They were the earliest of the early photographers, and they launched an era that ran through the mid-1950s, when David Muench, Josef's son, set the bar for all who followed.

BY ROBERT STIEVE PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE EARLY PHOTOGRAPHERS

“There's such power in the landscape in Arizona. And Arizona Highways has held on for a long time. It's an honor to have some of my best work in the magazine, especially on subjects that haven't been done that much, and that's why I come back to the magazine. I want it to hold up through time.”

In television, the big change began with Bonanza - 60 years ago this month. It wasn't the first color broadcast, that distinction goes to the Tournament of Roses Parade, but to Baby Boomers and their parents, the debut of the feel-good Western on September 12, 1959, marked the transition from the Paleozoic era of black and white television to an age when the vivid blue of Lake Tahoe and the brilliant green of the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest could be splashed into living rooms around the world.

Our bonanza began two decades earlier. In 1938.

Before that, Arizona Highways was a trade journal aimed at road engineers and intrepid travelers trying to get from Point A to Point B. Along with mileage charts, maps and reports on road conditions, the pages included ads for road graders, asphalt paint and corrugated culverts. Reading it was like watching ink dry. Until Raymond Carlson came along. He changed everything.

The first thing to go was the tedious jargon, which was replaced by evocative travelogues. Then, in July 1938, Mr. Carlson added some pizazz. “How can we,” he wrote, “through the medium of black and white, paint a picture of the gold in an Arizona sunset, portray the blue of an Arizona sky, tell the fiery red and green of an Arizona desert in bloom? We therefore resort to color photography in this issue's cover page to faithfully portray one colorful portion of the state.” It was a shot of lower Oak Creek Canyon by Norman G. Wallace - the firstever color photograph in the magazine - and Mr. Carlson liked what he saw: “The faithful photographer has caught the deep red of the cliffs, the purple hue of the mountains in the background, the extravagance and richness of one of capricious Nature's finest paintings in the state.” To solicit even more photography, Mr. Carlson launched our first-ever amateur photo contest. The prize money was $15, $10 and $5, which was considered a lot of money in the late 1930s. It was the infancy of our renowned archive, which by 1939 included the work of Esther Henderson, Barry Goldwater and Josef Muench. They were the earliest of the early photographers.

As the 1940s got underway, the momentum was building and the magazine was evolving into something special. Unfortunately, that evolution coincided with the escalation of World War II, and by 1943, Mr. Carlson and George Avey, the magazine's visionary art director, had stepped away from their driver's seats to join the war effort - Mr. Carlson enlisted in the Marines, and Mr. Avey went to work for the Navy. Three years later, when they finally came home, they picked up where they'd left off. And then some.

“I am PREGNANT with ideas!!!! Maybe there will be a multiple birth!!!”

In their first issue back, March 1946, they welcomed Ansel Adams to the pages of Arizona Highways. By that time, he was already considered one of the world's great landscape photographers. However, despite his reputation as the master of black and white composition, his first photograph in the magazine was a two-page color spread of Monument Valley. It was the first, but not the last. “I have a far-flung reputation now, which I am anxious to cash in on in a thoroughly dignified (and profitable) manner,” he said, tongue-in-cheek, to our editor.

Over the years, Mr. Carlson and Mr. Adams developed a deep friendship and a mutually beneficial professional relationship. And whenever the photographer would pass through Phoenix, he'd stop by the magazine. During one of those visits, he suggested that Arizona Highways purchase a large collection of his photographs — at a good price — to be used whenever.

Like finding a Maynard Dixon behind a velvet Elvis, Mr. Carlson must have thought, Hell, yeah! It was a deal too good to pass up. And with hindsight, it was more like highway robbery. Highways robbery. According to a series of letters between the two men, Mr. Adams' bill to the magazine for that collection, which turned out to be 150 original, mounted photographs, was $1,500. Do the math.

In addition to the arrival of Ansel Adams, the magazine made history in 1946. In December of that year, Arizona Highways published the first all-color issue of a nationally circulated consumer magazine — we beat Life, Look, National Geographic, The Saturday Evening Post ... we beat them all.

“It may or may not be an achievement,” Mr. Carlson wrote in his column, “but as far as we know, this is the first time in American publishing history that a magazine of general circulation appears completely illustrated from 'cover to cover' in color — that loud 'crick' you just heard is a sprained elbow caused by patting ourselves on the back.” Like The Beatles after Ed Sullivan, Arizona Highways had become an international phenomenon. And the roster of photographers was growing. Joining Norman Wallace, Esther Henderson, Josef Muench, Barry Goldwater and Ansel Adams in the early years were Chuck Abbott, Forrest Alexander, Earl Anderson, Norton Louis Avery, Pietro Balestrero, William Belknap Jr., Somers Blackman, Catherine Boyd, Bob Bradshaw, Jack Breed, Margaret Bundren, Hulbert Burroughs, Ruth Crockett, Wayne Davis, Don DeMuth, Duncan Edwards, Carlos Elmer, Ferenz Fedor, Virginia Garner, Norman Rhoads Garrett, George Geyer, Laura Gilpin, Charles W. Herbert, A.H. Hilton, Lyle Hiner, Richard Jepperson, Max Kegley, Martin Litton, Hubert A. Lowman, Willard Luce, Ray Man-ley, Robert Markow, Jerry McLain, Herb McLaughlin, Nelson Merrifield, H.H. Miller, Gene Morris, Lyle A. Morse, David Muench, Tad Nichols, Willis Peterson, Claire Meyer Proc-tor, Frank Proctor, Fred H. Ragsdale, John Anthony Randazzo, Allen C. Reed, Art Riley, H. Armstrong Roberts, Mike Roberts, Bill Sears, Robert Upton and Harry Vroman.

Some of those names you may have seen before, including Chuck Abbott, who was married to Esther Henderson (see page 22). Ms. Henderson was our first paid contributor. “Years and years ago,” Raymond Carlson wrote in January 1968, “we learned of a photographer in Tucson by the name of Esther Henderson, whose creations with a camera, we were told, were outstanding. They were and are! Hers were the first photographs we purchased. We always contended she is one of the best.” Ray Manley was another talented contributor. As a young man, he dreamed of “capturing a few nature photographs wor-thy of being printed” in a fledgling magazine called Arizona Highways. “In 1939,” he told us, “I bought my first 10-sheet box of Kodachrome. I studied my subjects well before exposing that film because a dollar a sheet was a lot of money to pay for film in those days.” Nevertheless, the investment paid off. Of those 10 shots, three would become covers for us. The first, a beautiful photo-graph of the San Francisco Peaks, appeared on our back cover

in October 1944. A decade later, in August 1956, Mr. Manley picked up a pen and shared some of his thoughts on being a full-time photographer.

“I’m a very fortunate fellow,” he wrote. “That’s what people tell me often, and that’s what I often tell myself; although, we may not be looking at my professional activities as a scenic photographer in exactly the same way. ‘My, but you must lead an interesting life,’ folks will comment. ‘Just traveling around taking pictures of beautiful scenery and getting paid for it.’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ I agree, remembering the time I waited out a 3-day wind-and-rain storm in Monument Valley to take a 1/10th second exposure, and the time I traveled seven hundred miles to shoot a round-up of three thousand Herefords for a breeder’s journal and the picture couldn’t be used because there were three or four Brahmas in the herd, and the time ...

“No, there are just as many disappointments in scenic photography as in any other creative profession; perhaps more, since so many of the elements in this work — light and shadow, weather and temperature — are variable and beyond human control. I am not surprised that fewer than a dozen people in the entire country make their living solely from scenic photography. But you can judge how I weigh the disappointments against the rewards when I say that I hope someday to be one of them. So far, I have had to rely on commercial photography to finance the scenic expeditions.” His 1956 story is titled Arizona Is My Studio, and it’s a wonderfully written piece. Many of our early photographers shared that ability. Chuck Abbott, Esther Henderson, Hubert A. Lowman and Josef Muench all wrote what Raymond Carlson described as “valuable and informative dissertations on the art of taking pictures.” And it is an art, the exalted editor continued, “the wonderful and satisfying art of translating into and capturing on film the imperishable beauty of the world about us. The beginner has found these photographic essays invaluable and, we feel, even experienced practitioners have found them worthwhile.

“In the past ten years my work has been accepted by just about every American publication that uses photographs, but even if Arizona Highways did not give the photogra-pher such consideration and so superb a showcase for his wares, I would still follow my rule of offering its editors first refusal on any shot of mine they can possibly use. This magazine not only stood godfather to my professional career when it accepted the view of the San Fran-cisco Peaks [October 1944], but without its unwitting aid at a turning point in my life, photography would probably be just a sometime hobby instead of my absorbing interest and means of livelihood.”

The photographers we have featured in the past, to say the least, know their cameras thoroughly and are adept in their use. Witness their consistently fine contributions to these pages year after year.” Like so many others on that long list of early photographers, Ray Manley was a contributor for many years. No one, how-ever, has done it longer than David Muench. He's been sharing his award-winning images with us for parts of seven decades. His beginning, however, goes back even further than that. As a child, David traveled with his father, Josef, and his mother, Joyce Rockwood Muench, on story assignments for Arizona Highways to Northern Arizona and beyond. “We did Colorado River trips and hiked up to Rainbow Bridge,” he says. “I was 12 when I hiked the 6 miles to Rainbow Bridge the first time of course, before Lake Powell. I have a picture on my wall. I'm sitting on the river and just enjoying it. I was becoming familiar with the country. But I really wasn't thinking of photography.” It was inevitable, though. Sir David was destined to join the family business. Like Titus, Edsel Ford and Jakob Dylan. “He showed me much of the country and got me enthused,” David says of his father. “It wasn't too long before I had to see some of these places myself.” And so he did. Then, in the early 1950s, David and his father made a trip to Arizona Highways. “As soon as you feel like you've made a good picture, I'll publish it,” Mr. Carlson said to the prodigy. In typical David Muench fashion, his first photograph ended up on a cover it was our January 1955 issue. He was 18, and the image was titled Saguaros. “Ever since my first visit to Arizona, when I was six years old,” the caption reads, “these big desert fellows have spelled exciting scenery to me. This grouping, backed by towering clouds, west of Tucson, was one of the first pictures I took on Ektachrome with my Speed Graphic.” The caption continues: “David is the son of one of our favor-ite contributors, Josef Muench. We are proud to welcome him to our pages for the first time this issue.” Today, at the age of 83, David Muench is as passionate about the art of landscape photography as he was in the middle of the last century. And it's not an exaggeration to say that his images influenced not only this magazine, but also the entire direction of landscape photography. What Ansel Adams is to black and white photography, David Muench is to color. He set the bar for all who followed. Like Bonanza did back in 1959.

ESTHER HENDERSON & CHUCK ABBOTT BY MATT JAFFE

THIS IS THE STORY OF THE DANCER AND THE COWBOY - a romance for the ages, set against the widescreen splendor of an untamed Arizona. In a word, photographer Esther Henderson was plucky - good at pretty much anything she set out to do. But no single word could capture the character of her husband, Chuck Abbott, a man who spent his first 48 years seeking opportunity, from Hawaii to war-torn Europe, before finally finding the love of his life one day in Tucson. They would go on to become the first couple of Arizona photography, traveling for weeks at a time on rugged, rutted roads, from stands of aspens in the San Francisco Peaks to expanses of sand verbenas in the desert dunes along the Colorado River. They were forever in search of that ephem-

eral moment when light could transform land into art. "We took everything, every season, under every lighting condition, every direction, north, south, east and west," Esther said. In the parlance of romantic comedies, theirs was a "meet-cute," that moment when a couple-to-be first encounter each other in an implausible or amusing manner. Not that Esther was in a laughing mood when Chuck first came calling. She stood just 5 feet, 2 inches tall. Weighed barely a nickel over 100 pounds. But Esther could be plenty tough. And she wasn't at all pleased when Tucson businessman Roy Drachman hired Abbott, an outsider from Palm Springs, to photograph for the Tucson Sunshine Climate Club, a booster organization. Drachman had insisted to Esther that any work related to the club needed to be done locally. Now he had imported a photographer. From California, of all places. "She called on me and raised the devil about