A PASSION AND A PURPOSE

knew him as a grandfather and a photographer, long before I learned what other people knew him to be. To them, Barry Goldwater was an American politician a five-term U.S. senator and the 1964 Republican Party nominee for president of the United States. But I didn't pick up on any of that until I moved from the liberal enclave of Marin County, California, to Phoenix, Arizona, when I was 12 years old. Unfortunately, his loss in that 1964 election is what he's most remembered for, but there's so much more to his story. Among other things, he was a skilled and dedicated photographer. And it wasn't just a hobby. It was a passion and a devoted purpose.

Maybe I overlooked the politics and saw him as a photographer because that was my sole interest the thing that drew me to him. Or maybe it's because it was the one thing about him that wasn't controversial in the public realm. Likeall politicians, he learned to live with the understanding that not everyone would agree with every one of his viewpoints. After all, that's the role of a public servant: to choose a position, stand up for it and deal with the pushback. My grandfather embraced his public obligation, but I think he was grateful to have something else that was just his.

Documenting the people and places of Arizona was personally rewarding and publicly nonjudgmental. As a politician, he had to be whom he was expected to be, but as a photographer, he got to be whom he wanted to be: a statesman who recorded Arizona history through the lens of a camera.

MY GRANDFATHER IS KNOWN around the world as Senator Barry M. Goldwater, but that's not what I called him. I called him "Paka." All 10 of his grandchildren called him that. I think the name originated with my cousin Carolyn, his first grand-child. I'm the eighth grandchild of a man who was born in Phoenix on New Year's Day in 1909, three years before Arizona became a state. His strength came from his mother, Josephine. Whether he was speaking his mind on the Senate floor or asking to take photographs with his "Rollei" on the Navajo Nation, his audac-ity came from her. I wish I could have known my great-grandmother, but I'm proud to say that her "bravery" genes and her "saying what needs to be said" genes were passed on to all of her granddaughters, all of her great-granddaughters and defi-nitely all of her great-great-granddaughters (one of whom is an amazing, aspiring photographer at the age of 16).

Photography is in the blood - I'm a big believer in that. My father, Michael, got the gene from Paka, so I was surrounded by it growing up. And I knew early on that I'd spend my life working in the field of photography. I'm very fortunate. I love what I do being a photo editor. Portraits, scenic landscapes, documentary photographs, even product shots ... I get to look at photos all day. That's my "job." But it also keeps me con-nected to Paka. Growing up, our conversations were mostly art-based. That's because he caught me in the darkroom so many times. And because I'd stand in his guest bathroom for hours and stare at the "photographic wallpaper" he'd made out of black and white prints. (Imagine Tetris played with 35 mm photographs every image fit perfectly into a grid.) Although the wallpaper was made up of party photographs, that's not what my grand-father was known for. In fact, he authored six photography books on subjects other than parties and politics.

He got serious about photography in 1934, when my grand-mother - "Nana" to me, Peggy to him gave Paka a 21/4 Reflex camera as a Christmas gift. Nana was an artist, too, with a degree from the Grand Central School of Art in New York City. Because of her own skills, she was able to offer her husband some pointers on composition and positioning. Nevertheless, they often argued over where the "main accent" should be in each frame. (Side note: Thank you, Nana, for the "art" gene.) Although it was Nana who inspired his love of photography, it was Josephine who piqued his interest in Arizona. She would often take my grandfather and his two siblings, Carolyn and Bob, camping in the backcountry. She taught them about the Grand Canyon State and to respect its Native people. Their adven-tures led them all over Arizona, with extended time spent on Navajo, Hopi and Apache tribal lands. Through those experi-ences, Paka gained an unshakable appreciation for the desert and all of its inhabitants - every human, creature and cactus.I'D LIKE TO THINK I GOT TO KNOW my grandfather's photog-raphy - specifically his technique - better than anyone. I graduated from the University of Arizona with a bachelor's degree in photography. Right after college, I was asked to help the Arizona Historical Foundation make 8x10 prints of each of Paka's negatives and put them in binders for their archive. It was a dream job, and it took a year to complete the project. In that time, I learned a lot about my grandfather's photographs, which were 4x5 inch, 6x7 cm and 21/4 inch negatives in black and white. The negatives I worked with were cut into singles away from their strips - and placed in delicate sleeves. His writing was on each slide, typically indicating the date, the location and maybe the subject's identity. I printed about 30 a day and rarely needed to adjust anything.

I learned early in the process that even though he often used a yellow filter to help tame the Southern Arizona sun and the Northern Arizona snow, those moments still needed to be burned in. There was no Photoshop in the darkroom; it was all done with dodging and burning. But I loved my time in the darkroom. It was so peaceful in there, all alone, taking a photographic journey with my grandfather, whether it was rafting the Colorado River with his family or visiting with the Hopi people.

Every image is special, but what really drives me to Paka's photographs are the landscapes. He used his 4x5 Graflex, and then his Rolleiflex, for most of his black and white film. Those two cameras conquer depth of field like no other, by way of shooting at the smallest aperture permitted by the lens, in the style of Edward Weston. Paka had great admiration for Mr. Weston, and also for Ansel Adams, whom he first met in Navajoland. Mr. Adams advised my grandfather on technical form with the camera, and Paka suggested the proper etiquette for making photographs on Native lands. (You should always ask before shooting.) Fortunately, Paka was still alive when I started the project for the foundation, so I was able to ask him about his photography. He enjoyed the memories but got very emotional when he spoke about about his family and Arizona. He had so many stories to tell.

Looking back, I wonder about his approach to photography. Did he take enough film to just keep shooting and shooting? Or did he savor the scene and set up the shot? I also think about how he'd shoot in the digital age. Would he cling to his beloved film? Or would he take advantage of the ability to shoot nonstop, without reloading? I suspect he would have welcomed the modern world of photography - he understood the value of technology and supported its growth.

Regardless of the equipment, my grandfather always sought out the challenges of composition when shooting. He was very thoughtful about his art. And when I go back through his archive today, I can't help wondering whether he realized that his beautiful photographs not only documented history, but also revealed the sensitive side of his dynamic personality. AH