(cont'd) The Art of Black and White

"That's Sneaky Pete [Robinson] approaching the first mile-an-hour light, throttle just about closed, but still open a little. The main thing to me is that the helmet is coming off his head; it's about three or four inches above his goggles.
The tie rods are bent; the front wheels are going square; one of the tubes is coming out; and that air-dam thing was working so well that it's scraping the ground. It was working just like a huge vacuum cleaner, and just sucking that car right into the ground. It was an experimental thing on aerodynamics that he was trying, and it looked like it just worked too well. It was during qualifying, 1971 Winternationals. I was the only one down in the lights, trying to get a different shot. He came by so fast I really didn't know what I had, and then he was by me, almost to the last mile-an-hour light when it hit. He tore out two sections of guard rail and the car just exploded, went all the way across the track, flipped over the guard rail, and I believe it landed by the timeslip booth on the return road. I believe what killed him was brain trauma, which would've been because the helmet had come loose off his head. It's close to being off right there, and he hasn't even hit anything yet. He probably forgot to tie the chin strap. There were parts everywhere. I literally had to turn and shoot and then lay on the ground, 'cause stuff was going everywhere. It was a horrendous crash. The irony was that NHRA and SEMA ordered prints of this shot, to study the accident. Then NHRA banned all photographers from shooting in the lights! It was 15 years before I could get back there to shoot."

Alhadeff prides himself as much on the printing as the picture-taking. Though perhaps no one would complain about receiving a quality "machine" print made from one of his negatives, Jere insists on hand-producing each photograph in his personal darkroom, just as he has since the '60s. "That's the part of it I really enjoy", he explained. "It's therapeutic. It brings back memories. That was the problem I had at first: I'd spend hours and hours going through negatives, reminiscing."

Once he brings the desired effect to photographic paper, Jere writes down the formula utilized: enlarger lens; amount of magnification; contrast; grade of paper; exposure time; developer temperature; dodging and burning of light in specific areas of the image. Because of the handwork involved, prints may vary slightly. "I try to make eight of the same when I print", he adds, "and I won't sell the last one, to make sure that any new ones are cropped and exposed the same. I want them all to look the best".

That Alhadeff is still around to share his photography is nothing short of miraculous.
As this recent photo illustrates, Jere still suffers the effects of a 1975 off-road crash that should've killed him. He was checking out the Mint 400 desert course in his Baja Bug, scouting possible photo locations, when an oncoming pickup truck pulled out to pass a motorhome and struck him head-on. Their combined impact speed was estimated at 80-85 mph. The VW's rollcage saved Jere's life, but smashed his skull - which has received so many metal staples over 23 years that one fellow photog suggested that his surgeons install a zipper.

"I think the whole thing with black and white is that a photograph is not necessarily what was, or what is, there; it's what you saw. In the darkroom, you can change things, darkening and lightening and cropping, so you can make it the way you saw it, rather than the way it actually was. I really delight in printing them, because you have so much creative control.

"I think that's why I never got much into color, because that [processing] was always done by someone else; you didn't have the control you have over black and white. The mood can vary the result, like any type of process not machine-done. Besides which, when I was doing it for the papers and magazines, almost all of the pages were black and white, plus the film was cheaper. If you bought color film, it cost more to buy and more to get processed, and there wasn't much of a market."

"I was on top of my ladder at OCIR, while the other photographers were on their feet. I wanted to get John Mulligan in the other lane, because he and Steve Carbone were real good friends. When Carbone's blower boomed, everybody else fell on the ground. I had nowhere to go, so I took a picture, so I'd have something to be remembered by. If I'd jumped off that ladder, I'd probably have killed myself, anyway."

Now 52, Alhadeff rarely breaks out his cameras anymore. When he does shoot a session of Goodguys nostalgia qualifying or a round of Volkswagen racing, every roll of film confirms that this veteran photographer is still capable of conceptualizing and capturing action like few others in the history of the medium. Jere admittedly misses the challenge of shooting modern pro cars, but finds it difficult, if not impossible, to secure NHRA photo credentials -- or even a ticket to shoot from the stands.

NHRA's loss is definitely our gain. Were Alhadeff still out there on the pro circuit -- banging elbows with wannabe photographers and corporate publicity hacks equipped with fully automatic cameras -- he'd probably be too busy to produce the prints that appear on these pages. Each time he closes that darkroom door, Jere Alhadeff contributes to an art form that he helped create in the 1960s, and continues to refine in the 1990s.

"I like this one because it's a good, clear shot of Willie holding the side of the body, and it's a real early photo of the car. It's probably late '65, right after Irwindale opened. It's the original Mondello car, and the whole Irwindale sign was right there. The Mondello car is a little out of focus, but you can't have everything. Usually, I should've been focused more on the sign, but this one looks like I was maybe just gonna shoot a photo of Willie, and then it kind of fell together that Sush [Matsubara] was out in front of him, and I shot both cars."

Editors Note: In 1998, Jere Alhadeff was reinterviewed for this updated version of a story that originally appeared in Quarter Milestones. -- D.W.

Return to Features