Harry Benson’s
omnipresent photography brings the world to a standstill, breathing
life into slices of history. In order to capture these moments,
he’s endured many of his own “calculated risks” (as
opposed to “idiotic chances”). More than anything,
Benson guides history with his pictures by “getting at the
center of the story, not the edges.” That, or he mostly just
enjoys “having fun with the reporters.”
As
a photojournalist for such magazines as Life and The Daily Express,
his life reads like an epic adventure
novel. Born in Glasgow
amid the drama of war and bombs dropping overhead, he managed to
escape through the “magic” lens of a camera. During
the civil war in the Dominican Republic, he was captured by both
sides in one day. He has photographed every US president since
Eisenhower. He caught the horror on Ethel Kennedy’s face
in the Ambassador Hotel after her husband had been shot. He’s
made a career from being in the “right” place at the “right” time,
however frightening, sad, joyful, comical, the situation may be.
Benson seems to be everywhere at once.
Harry’s curious fortune struck again when
he was given a particular assignment in 1964, 40 years ago––The
Beatles were coming to America. He might not have been excited
at first
about following these four guys around (more a fan of Tony Bennett),
but once he heard those catchy tunes at a gig in Paris, he was “completely
sold.” This sent Benson’s life in a completely new
direction because once he came to America he never went back.
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