“The Synanon Fix” in LIFE

The new Max series The Synanon Fix captures the rise and fall of an organization that began as an well-regarded treatment program for addicts and ended up turning into something more sinister. The full title of the show, which is a documentary, poses the question, “Did the cure become a cult?”

The names of Synanon and its founder, Charles E. Dederich, may be unfamiliar to most people today—the group, which was founded in 1958, disbanded in 1991. But for a time it was a big deal, because people saw Synanon as a revolutionary way of dealing with a scourge that was on the rise. In 1962 LIFE ran a story on Synanon that was fairly glowing, with the headline declaring that the program offered addicts “a tunnel back to the human race,” and the story said “both doctors and narcotics experts look at Synanon as en exciting, practical approach, and even skeptical federal narcotics officers see promise in it.” The pictures from LIFE’s Grey Villet focussed on the anguish of addicts as they sought to get their lives back.

Dederich’s program featured a technique called the Synanon Game, which was an extreme version of group therapy. LIFE described it as “a dozen or so persons seated in a circle, telling the truth about each other, interrelating. Verbally, anything goes and the games are sometimes brutal, although never physically violent.”

Over the years Synanon evolved from a therapy into a way of life, with many adherents living on the Synanon compounds. When LIFE returned for a major profile of Dederich in 1969, the founder was more at the center of the story, which featured photographs from Ralph Crane and Fred Lyon. Dederich was by then already a polarizing figure. Here’s how that story opened:

A madman with delusions of grandeur. A saint. An opportunist. A brilliant executive. Latter-day Socrates. Loud, arrogant egotist. Hilarious comic. An earthquake. A herd of one elephant. Charles E. Dederich has been called all that, and more.

And again, that was before things really started to go sour, which they would, especially in the 1970s, after LIFE had ended its original run. A passage from a history of Synanon which appeared in TIME in advance of the Max series shows how disturbing the world of Synanon became in its later years:

As Synanon’s eccentric leader Dederich started to decline, so did the organization. He began drinking again after his wife died in 1977 and remarried soon after. Then, he decided everyone in Synanon would also benefit from remarrying, and called for wife-swapping. Suddenly, men and women who were married to one another at Synanon were divorcing and marrying different people affiliated with the organization.

After encouraging people to raise families at Synanon, he called for residents to be childless. Men started to get vasectomies, like Mike Gimbel, who credits Synanon for getting him clean and worked for the organization in the 1970s. He says in the series that he was in love with his wife, but they decided to separate when Dederich called for wife-swapping. When she got pregnant, she got an abortion because they were afraid of running afoul of Dederich. As he puts it in the final episode, “Synanon saved my life, but screwed it up too.”

The group was at its most extreme when it attacked a lawyer who had successfully sued Synanon on behalf of former members. Two Synanon members placed a live rattlesnake inside the lawyer’s home mailbox, and those members were eventually convicted of attempted murder.

With that level of drama its no wonder that, so many years later, documentarians have returned to this fascinating story.

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich at a treatment center, 1962.

Grey Villet/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich talked to an addict who had come with his mother in an attempt to get clean, 1962.

Grey Villet/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon Founder Charles E. Dederich posed at the group’s research and development center in California, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich, 1968.

Fred Lyon/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Charles E. Dederich (center) at work with other Synanon members, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich spoke at a gathering in Oakland, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Charles E. Dederich with a group of Synanon members, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich (left), 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich in his office, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich relaxed in his office while blowing a tune on the recorder, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Boat with “Live Ballast” Required

If you were looking for a relaxing afternoon on the water, the log canoe would not be the boat for you.

In its Aug. 9, 1954 issue, LIFE magazine wrote about a temperamental and demanding form of watercraft that was popular in the Chesapeake Bay area. The magazine described the log canoe as ‘fast, easily flipped, and tricky to handle.”

Tricky sounds like an understatement. In a log canoe the crew members had to place their body weight on boards that were propped up in the boat and extended out over the water. They did this in order to keep the boat from tipping. What’s worse was that if the winds shifted, the crew would have to dismount and move the boards to the other side of the boat and then mount them again, all without capsizing the boat in the process.

Here’s how LIFE put it:

It requires a crew of nimble-footed gymnasts whose chores are as precarious as a tightrope walker’s. Because the slightest breeze will capsize it unless the towering masts and a 1,000-square-foot expanse of sail are counterbalanced by human ballast, the crew extends boards out from the windward side and scrambles out on them to maintain the delicate equilibrium. When the wind shifts or the easily tipped craft comes about on a different tack, the boards must be shifted from one side to the other in maneuvers that require precise teamwork and add an exhilarating touch to the ancient art of sailing.

The log canoe may have required expertise to sail, but it was also picturesque, as evidenced by the photos taken by LIFE staff photographer George Skadding. And as impractical as these boats may seem, they continue to be part of the local flavor in the Chesapeake area today, with log canoe regattas running through the summer.

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picutre Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picutre Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

A log canoe sailboat sailing in the sea, during the race at the Chesapeake Bay, July 1954.

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Coca-Cola Comes to France!

In 1950, LIFE Photographer Mark Kauffman captured the so-called “Coca-Colonization” of the sugary soft drink’s formal introduction to France. The drink had been unofficially available for consumption in France before World War II, and the first bottle was imported to Bordeaux in 1919. However, the American company began an energetic marketing campaign in France in 1950 to maximize the popularity the drink had gained in the United States. 

Created in the late 19th century as a pseudo-medicinal beverage, Coca-Cola soon became a sweet, artificial refreshment that reflected American capitalism, culture, and society. And while Coca-Cola was initially based on French coca wine, the people of France were skeptical of the first widely-marketed, flavorful nonalcoholic beverage. 

Coca-Cola Comes to France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola crew giving a free taste in France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

The French did not want their country to be overtaken by American enterprises and so they tried to prevent the mass production of ‘Coke’ (as the beverage would come to be known) in France. Today, however, the beverage is manufactured in France, and all across Europe, although the recipe varies slightly from the original American version.

Squeezing through the narrow streets of Paris, and zooming past iconic landmarks in the French capital, Mark Kauffman snapped photographs of a Coca-Cola delivery truck bringing the beverage to the people of France in 1950. “Buvez Coca-Cola Bien Glace” (translated to “Drink Ice Cold Coca-Cola”) emblazoned on the vehicle captured the attention of both the young and old. However, skeptics of the drink also ranged in age, and winegrowers in the famous wine region strongly suggested that the drink was addictive. 

A man in a beret spits a mouthful of Coca-Cola at the camera – Paris, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Skeptical French winemaker tasting Coca-Cola for the first time, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Regardless of the initial protest against the splendidly sweet beverage, the French government granted Coca-Cola a license in 1952 and the consumption in France officially began. However, even today, on a per capita basis, the French drink less Coke than any other European country. The sugary beverage may still be popular worldwide, but scroll through the rest of the gallery below to see initial reactions to Coca-Cola coming to France! 

Couple drinking Cola-Cola at a French Cafe in Paris, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola Comes to France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola truck driving past Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Woman drinking Coca-Cola at a wine shop in Paris, France – 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola representative pouring a glass of Coke for a Parisian to taste, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola truck driving though Paris, France – 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

A Coca-Cola delivery driver sits in the open door of his truck while on a break, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Craving more Coke? Click here to view images of vintage Coca-Cola ads all across the world!

Benjamin Franklin: The Embodiment of the American Ideal

The following is excerpted from the new LIFE special edition Benjamin Franklin: The Patriot Who Changed the World, available at newsstands and online:

On August 27, 1783, a week before he signed the Treaty of Paris that ended the American Revolution, Benjamin Franklin and his grandson Temple stood with 50,000 Parisians on the Champ de Mars, a large field where the Eiffel Tower now looms. There they watched as the first hydrogen-filled balloon took flight. The rubberized silk sphere soared for 45 minutes and covered 13 miles. When one of the onlookers asked, “What good is it?” Franklin responded, “What purpose does a newborn child have?”

That late summer day, Franklin could not have dreamed of what would become of the newly conceived United States, which had just emerged from seven years of war with Great Britain. Nor could the man whom the early-20th-century historian Frederick Jackson Turner called “the first great American” have imagined as a youth how the trajectory of his life would bring him to the banks of the Seine. In his early years, Franklin was a fervent imperialist, who in 1751 was among the earliest to suggest a united confederation for the British colonies of North America so they could protect themselves from England’s enemies. Yet by 1776 he had renounced his love for king and country; wholly dedicated his life, fortune, and sacred honor to the nascent cause of liberty; and, with Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and others, crafted the Declaration of Independence. Then, needing help for their seemingly quixotic revolt against the world’s most powerful nation, Franklin headed to France, where he used his charm to convince the empire to financially and militarily nurse the infant anti-monarchical country. After negotiating the treaty with England, he accepted the call in 1787 to help redesign America’s federal government and became one of the fathers of the United States Constitution.

Very few Americans did as much as Franklin to make the United States possible. He could envision what others could not, and this made him one of the great minds of the Enlightenment. Even so, he is recalled as the most grandfatherly and folksy of America’s founders, not severe like George Washington, intimidating like Thomas Jefferson, nor prickly like Alexander Hamilton. According to Adams, Franklin “had wit at will. He had humor that when he pleased was delicate and delightful. He had a satire that was good- natured or caustic . . . at his pleasure. He had talents for irony, allegory, and fable that he could adapt with great skill, to the promotion of moral and political truth. He was master of that infantine simplicity which the French call naivete, which never fails to charm.”

The son of an impoverished Boston tallow-candle maker, Franklin started out with minimal advantages. Yet early on he showed sparks of brilliance, clear signs that his was a life of potential. He rejected his parents’ fundamental Puritanism, read religiously, and worshipped what in the 20th century became known as the Protestant work ethic. This made him the proto-embodiment of the Horatio-Alger ethos of social mobility. With just two years of formal education, the teenage Franklin rebelled against the restrictions of his printer’s apprenticeship, fled for Philadelphia, and within a few years became a successful artisan, expertly crafting his hardworking public image so fellow citizens could not help but notice that he was a man worth watching.

But Franklin refused to hog the limelight. America in the early 18th century was a youthful place lacking much of the class restrictions of Europe. Franklin assisted others to get ahead. He not only started groups for Philadelphians like himself who aspired to more, but he  imparted advice through his wildly popular Poor Richard’s Almanack, such as that the way to wealth “depends chiefly on two Words, INDUSTRY and FRUGALITY.”

While he packed his almanac with pithy sayings, he also believed in the importance of a free press and an informed public. His brother James had been imprisoned after leaders in Boston took offense at articles in his New-England Courant. So when Franklin bought the Pennsylvania Gazette, he wrote that “Printers are educated in the Belief that when Men differ in Opinion, both Sides ought equally to have the Advantage of being heard by the Publick, and that when Truth and Error have fair Play, the former is always an overmatch for the latter.”

Franklin deeply believed that it was good to do good, and his professional achievements became a means to greater ends. For him, a devotion to public service allowed him to work on the grand level, like the Treaty of Paris, as well as on local issues that impacted his neighbors, such as fire protection and passable city streets. And Franklin’s open mind made him constantly question things. It caused him to wonder about the nature of nature. His observations about lightning sent him out on what seemed the foolhardy hoisting of a kite during a storm and led to a profound understanding of the connection between electricity and lightning. As an inventor-cum-craftsman, he sought practical uses for his discoveries, creating things like lightning rods to protect homes, a better stove to heat frigid colonial houses, and an improved soup bowl for use on wave-tossed ships.

Ultimately, as someone keenly concerned about his own failings—“I was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined,” he noted in The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin—he sought to correct them. He had once supported enslavement, an institution he would fight against in his twilight years. Even in death, he continued his encouragement of his fellow citizens. The posthumous publication of his autobiography is the most popular accounting of a life, with historian Louis Wright noting how his “homely aphorisms and observations have influenced more Americans than the learned wisdom of all the formal philosophers put together.”

Benjamin Franklin is proof of the American dream, the ability of the common citizen to rise through by-your-bootstraps work, pragmatism, and levelheaded smarts. His example shows that all of us have the potential for greatness.

Here are a selection of images from Benjamin Franklin: The Patriot Who Changed the World:

Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Hulton/Getty

An undated illustration of Benjamin Franklin as a young boy, selling his own ballads.

Bettmann/Getty

An illustration of the structure and appearance of a waterspout, from an article by Benjamin Franklin.

SSPL/Getty

A portrait of Benjamin Franklin from 1767, when he was in London; he had come there ten years earlier to advocate for Pennsylvania, and continued to live there primarily through 1775.

History/Universal Images Group/Getty

Benjamin Franklin (left), with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson during the drafting of the Declaration of Independence, 1776.

Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group/Getty

Ben Franklin, left, at the signing of the U.S. Constitution, 1787.

Henry Hintermeister/Wikimedia

Ben Franklin went to France in 1776 to rally support for America during the Revolutionary War.

Buyenlarge/Archive Photos/Getty

A 1790 illustration of Benjamin Franklin on his deathbed; he died of pleurisy at age 84.

Bettmann/Getty

A portrait of Franklin circa 1770.

Stock Montage/Archive Photos/Getty

Vintage Venice, In and Out of Season

The ancient city of Venice draws 30 million visitors a year, and for good reason. The canals, the architecture, the art, the food, the singular beauty—there’s no place in the world like it. The city’s only drawback, you could argue, is its popularity with tourists (and the many, many shops that cater to them).

LIFE photographers ventured to this picturesque city many times for many reasons—popping in on Peggy Guggenheim, for example—but this story is built off two shoots by Dmitri Kessel. Both were done in the 1950s, and they are very different. Kessel shot Venice in 1959 during the peak of summer with a focus on the American tourists who thronged there, and the other shoot was done in 1952, in winter, when the streets were largely empty and also flooded in areas, as tends to happen that time of year.

The moods could not be more different. During the summer a navy of gondoliers rule the waterways and visitors fill Piazza San Marco, or St. Mark’s Square, while in the winter those boats are all tied up. The two constants are the stunning architecture and the pigeons. Even in the winter, a local woman finds the time to give the birds a little attention.

The real message of this shoots is that Venice is beautiful in every circumstance.

American tourists sightseeing in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in a gondola in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Tourists in a gondolas, Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Americans in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists gathering in Saint Mark’s Square in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in a gondola, Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondolas on a foggy Grand Canal in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The Doge’s Palace on a rainy day in the Piazza San Marco in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Pedestrians threading their way along makeshift wooden sidewalk across a flooded Piazza San Marco during its usual winter condition, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A flooded Venice, Italy in the winter of 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondola on Grand Canal in front of Piazza San Marco during off-season in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondolas in canal that runs between ancient buildings of Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The flooded Piazza San Marco during off-season in Venice, Italy, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Venice, Italy during off-season, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A local woman fed the pigeons in the Piazza San Marco on a rainy day, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Pigeons flocking above pedestrians crossing Piazza San Marco on a rainy Venice day, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

LIFE’s Images of Classic Broadway

The original run of LIFE magazine coincided with a memorable time for the American stage. Major stars—Marlon Brando, Barbara Streisand, Paul Newman, Sidney Poitier— made or burnished their reputations on Broadway, while revered writers such as Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams and Eugene O’Neill debuted their signature works.

And LIFE magazine photographers were there. Gjon Mili, such a wonderful documenter of the arts, is responsible for a great many pictures here, but Gordon Parks, George Silk, Bill Ray and many others all took their swings. Their pictures capture artists at work—including actors who would later become familiar faces on television, such as Jerry Orbach (Law & Order). Angela Lansbury (Murder, She Wrote) , Barbara Bel Geddes (Dallas) and Julie Newmar (Batman).

The thrill of theater is, of course, being there. This photos are the next best thing.

Barbra Streisand in the 1962 Broadway play I Can Get It For You Wholesale.

Nineteen-year-old Barbra Streisand played Miss Marmelstein in the 1962 Broadway play “I Can Get It For You Wholesale.”

George Silk The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Barbra Streisand in the 1962 Broadway play I Can Get It For You Wholesale.

Barbra Streisand, 1962.

George Silk The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Marlon Brando, Kim Hunter, 1947

Marlon Brando and Kim Hunter in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” 1947.

Eliot Elisofon / The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Blanche DuBois, is a Southern girl who lives in a make-believe world of grandeur, preens in faded evening gowns and makes herself out to be sweet, genteel and deliccate. She comes to visit her sister Stella and brother-in-law in the French quarter of New Orleans.

Jessica Tandy as Blanche Dubois in Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire,” 1947.

Eliot Elisofon /The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A 1943 production of “Oklahoma!”

Gjon Mili/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Pearl Bailey during a curtain call for the Broadway production of Hello, Dolly! in 1967.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shuttertstock

Jerry Orbach (left) and an unidentified actress in a scene from the off-Broadway production of ‘Scuba Duba,’ October 1967.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Angela Lansbury opened on Broadway in “Mame” to a standing ovation, 1966.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A 1953 production of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, featuring Madeline Sherwood (rear, second from left), Arthur Kennedy (right) and Walter Hampden (second from right).

Gjon Mili/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Paul Newman (left) and Geraldine Page in the Tennessee Williams play Sweet Bird of Youth, 1959.

Gordon Parks/Life PIcture Collection/Shutterstock

Sidney Poitier

Sidney Poitier on the set of Porgy and Bess, 1959.

Gjon Mili Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Sidney Poitier in a scene from "Porgy and Bess," 1959.

Sidney Poitier in a scene from “Porgy and Bess,” 1959.

Gjon Mili The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Broadway Play: How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.

Gjon Mili The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

ason Robards Jr. (L) and Farrell Pelly (R) in a scene from the Eugene O’Neill play “The Iceman Cometh,” 1956.

Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mary Martin and her fellow cast members soared in the 1954 Broadway production of the musical Peter Pan.

Allan Grant/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A scene from the play All My Sons.

A scene from “All My Sons,” 1947, starring Karl Malden.

Eileen Darby The LIFE Images Collection/Shutterstock

Julie Newmar, right, with Claudette Colbert in a scene from the Broadway play “The Marriage-Go-Round,” 1958.

Photo by Ralph Morse/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Barbara Bel Geddes in the Tennessee Williams play “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

Gjon Mili/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A scene from Death of a Salesman, 1949.

A scene from Death of a Salesman, 1949, with Lee. J. Cobb as Willy Loman.

W. Eugene Smith The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Patrick O’Neal (right) and Margaret Leighton in the play ‘The Night of the Iguana’ by Tennessee Williams, 1962.

Leonard McCombe/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Rehearsals for the musical Hair, New York, 1968.

Hair, the original Broadway cast, 1968

Ralph Morse The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

In Jesus Christ Superstar, Jeff Fenholt, as Jesus, was elevated with angels while Judas, played by Ben Vereen, was on a wing-shaped set platform.

John Olson/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

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