Finding the Elusive J.D. Salinger, and More: A Photographer’s Tales

In 1961 LIFE photographer Ted Russell received the assignment: bring back a picture of J.D. Salinger, the reclusive author of Catcher in the Rye.

At that point Salinger hadn’t made any public appearances for years, and he had even asked his publisher to remove his author’s photo from Catcher in the Rye so he wouldn’t be recognized. It was clear that any new photos of the iconic figure would be a rarity. LIFE reporters had located Salinger’s fortress of seclusion—a home in Cornish, New Hampshire that was surrounded by an eight-foot fence. Russell’s plan was to park at least a half mile up the road, walk the rest of the way, hide in the bushes with a telephoto lens, and wait for Salinger to show himself. It was winter, and Russell had a cold. The first two days, Russell endured drizzly weather without even a glimpse of the author.  But on the third day, Salinger opened the home’s gate to let out his dog, and then briefly stepped outside himself. Russell took aim, hoping that Salinger’s dog wouldn’t flush him out. “I got off three or four frames,” he says, before the author disappeared and Russell left with his photographic treasure.

While hiding in bushes was not the norm for Russell, it could serve as a metaphor for his basic approach to photography, which was to make himself invisible to his subjects. Once in their presence, he would talk to them as little as possible, in the hope that they would forget he was there and act naturally. “My style of photography is to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open,” says Russell, 91.

That technique served him well for a particularly memorable story—photographing young Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment. Russell first met Dylan in the fall of 1961, months before he released his self-titled debut album. Russell was tipped off by a publicist that this newcomer to the music scene was someone worth paying attention to. Russell saw Dylan perform downtown and the next day pitched him a story. “I explained to him that I wanted to do a story on the struggles of an up and coming folk singer in New York,” he says. Dylan agreed, but after their shoots Russell, a freelancer, couldn’t find any takers for the story. He recalls playing Dylan’s music for editors at the Saturday Evening Post in a formal conference room around a big oak table and them losing interest after one song. He was only able to make use of the photos after Dylan had been widely recognized as a revolutionary songwriter and the voice of a generation. In 2015 Russell published a book of his photos of Dylan’s early years. When people ask him to describe what the future Nobel Prize winner was like as a young man, the photographer tells people “I haven’t the vaguest idea,” owing to his fly-on-the-wall approach. “There was no verbal interaction between us, just the bare minimum,” Russell says. “At some point he must have given me the address of his apartment.”

Working in the 1960s, Russell captured many images relating to race and to civil rights. He photographed Malcolm X giving a fiery speech in Harlem, with the middle-aged women in the audience reacting as if they were bobby soxers at a concert. He shot a star-studded jazz party fundraiser for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at the home of baseball great Jackie Robinson, with performances by Dizzy Gillespie, Dave Brubeck and others. Russell was in Mississippi for the trial of the murder of three civil rights workers in 1964, capturing images of African-American prayer meetings and of a smiling Sheriff Lawrence Rainey after federal charges against him had been dismissed.

Russell served as both photographer and reporter for a memorable story in LIFE’s Dec. 8, 1961 issue titled “From Washington to New York, Four Lanes to Trouble.” The story documented how the segregated businesses on U.S Route 40 would refuse service to African diplomats headed from the United Nations to Washington D.C., and Russell captured quotes that were startlingly brazen. When Russell asked a waitress why she denied service to Malick Sow, the ambassador from Chad, she shamelessly explained, “He looked like just an ordinary run-of-the-mill n***** to me. I couldn’t tell he was an ambassador.”

When talking about his most memorable images, Russell mentions “one of the saddest things I ever photographed.” On the morning of Sept. 15, 1958 in northern New Jersey a commuter train derailed and went off a bridge, plunging into Newark Bay and killing 48 people. He captured the moment when the train was lifted from the waters, and later went to the funeral home and photographed the wife and mother of the train’s engineer mourning together.

“The poignant moments, that’s what I set out to capture,” Russell says. “They’re the ones that stay with me.”

Author J. D. Salinger outside his home in Cornish, 1961.

Ted Russell

Author J. D. Salinger’s dog outside his home in Cornish, N.H., 1961.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Malcolm X delivered a fiery speech to a crowd in Harlem, 1963.

Ted Russell

Listeners reacted to a speech by Malcolm X in Harlem, New York City, 1963.

Ted Russell

Baseball star Jackie Robinson and his wife, Rachel, hosted a jazz party to raise money to support the work of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.

Ted Russell

Dizzy Gillespie performed at a jazz party hosted by baseball great Jackie Robinson to raise money to support the work of Martin Luther King, 1963.

Ted Russell

Dave Brubeck performed at the home of Jackie Robinson in Stamford, Ct., for a fundraiser to support the work of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.

Ted Russell

Adam Malick Sow, Chad’s ambassador to the U.N., was among those refused service at segregated businesses on the road from New York to Washington D.C.

Ted Russell

Mrs. Leroy Merritt was unapologetic in explaining why she refused to serve an African diplomat traveling from New York to Washington, D.C.

Ted Russell

A group of women held a prayer meeting for the slaying of three civil rights workers in Mississippi.

Ted Russell

Sheriff Lawrence A. Rainey (second from left) left the federal building after his case regarding the three slain civil rights workers was dropped.

Ted Russell

A commuter train that derailed and went off a bridge was pulled from the waters of Newark Bay in New Jersey; 48 passengers and crew died in the accident, 1958.

Ted Russell

Mourning together were the mother and wife of a train engineer who died when his train plunged into Newark Bay in New Jersey, killing 48.

Ted Russell

Union leader Jimmy Hoffa shook hands with marshals in the yard of a federal prison after being convicted for jury tampering, 1967.

Ted Russell

Commuters walked through New York’s Grand Central Station, lit only by flood lights, during a large power blackout of the northeastern United States, November 9, 1965.

Ted Russell

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rolling Stones!

The following is adapted from LIFE’s special issue The Rolling Stones: Their Rock ‘N’ Roll Life.

Of the many things that Mick Jagger has said in public—aside, that is, from the lyrical improvisations and the onstage declarations he has made across more than 2,000 live performances over 59 years—among the more enduring is this bit of bravura from 1975: “I’d rather be dead than sing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m 45,” he told People magazine. Jagger was 31, and he and the Rolling Stones had recorded the game changer 10 years before, in the early stages of a decade in which the band reframed the blues, the British Invasion and rock ’n’ roll itself.

The hubris of Mick’s comment, the implication that there were other worlds to be conquered and, more ominously, that the Stones might leave behind the world they had forged, struck the metaphorical chord. “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” was the band’s axe-grinding soul: Keith Richards came up with the hook and the title while drifting to sleep one night and recorded it, bare bones, on a cassette player by his bed. Jagger later wrote the lyrics poolside at a Tampa hotel while the band was on tour. Add drums. Add bass. Book it at 3:45. When the song landed in America in June of ’65, it went to No. 1 and stayed there. 

Jagger certainly was singing “Satisfaction” at age 45 (actually he’d just turned 46), snapping it out as a set-closer on the Stones’ bristling Steel Wheels tour in 1989. He was singing it onstage in 2015 as well, as a guest of Taylor Swift, who was born in 1989. Over the many years, Jagger’s “I’d rather be dead” pronouncement evolved away from arrogance and toward happy irony. In 2018, when Jagger and Richards both turned 75 and the Stones began a tour with dates in the U.K., there was “Satisfaction” on the set list—the predetermined final encore, the classic and quintessential rock ’n’ roll song.

Despite the portentous demise of guitarist Brian Jones in 1969 and the band’s historical fondness for hard drugs, despite the departure of backbone bassist Bill Wyman in the early ’90s, and despite the Keith-vs.-Mick feuds that have long dotted the landscape, time has remained improbably on the Rolling Stones’ side. Up until the moment of drummer Charlie Watts’s death, at 80, on Aug. 24, 2021, the band was not only still intact, it was still more or less doing what it had always done. Their 2016 album Blue & Lonesome, by way of example, is made up of covers of songs written by the same folks the Stones were covering 50-some years earlier—blues colossi like Willie Dixon and Howlin’ Wolf.

And of the 19 songs that anchored that 2018 tour, 17 of them were Jagger/Richards numbers composed during the 1960s and early 1970s, soul-lifters off of one monumental album after another (Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers . . .) Another song on the list was 1981’s “Start Me Up,” which, along with “Satisfaction” and “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” hinges upon one of the Richards riffs that have burrowed unstoppably into auditory history. Keith, in 2018, was still out there on his Fender, after the sound. Mick remained glorious: preening and plaintive. Charlie Watts still drove the action, cool and swinging on his simple kit. And there was Ronnie Wood playing the tasty guitar. Ladies and gentlemen: the Rolling Stones.

They had aged by then, to be sure, and some fans grumbled about those U.K. shows. A ticket at 250 quid? Reviewers allowed that there were some imprecisions in the gigs, the occasional softened edge. Yet by and by the crowd and the critics could not help themselves. They’d been elevated. And they were acutely aware, as the old Stones ripped through the songs that will never die—“Sugar,” “Shelter,” “Sympathy”—that even now you could see and hear straight into their beating hearts. Straight into, yes, that’s right, wait for it, the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world.

LIFE’s special issue The Rolling Stones: Their Rock ‘N’ Roll Life is available online:

© Stefan M. Prager/Vanit.de/Retna Ltd.

The Rolling Stones perform on the "Ed Sullivan Show" in 1965.

The Rolling Stones performed on The Ed Sullivan Show, 1965.

John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The Rolling Stones performed on The ‘Ed Sullivan Show, 1965; from left, From left, guitarists Keith Richards and Brian Jones, singer Mick Jagger, bassist Bill Wyman, and drummer Charlie Watts.

John Loengard/Life Pictures/Getty Images

The Rolling Stones, 1966

The Rolling Stones, 1966

courtesy Art Kane Archive

The ‘Queen of Soul’ in ’90’s Fashion

Born in Memphis into a family of gospel, Aretha Franklin was destined for style. With a career over five decades long, the ‘Queen of Soul’ transcended the music industry. Franklin became an icon not just of soul itself, but of strength, women’s liberation, and the civil rights movement. She redefined the art of expression through song.

Over Franklin’s career she won seventeen Grammys, had twenty Number 1 R&B hits, and the largest number of Top 40 singles of any female performer. She also spread her music outside the studio through performing at a number of special events. This included Bill Clinton’s pre-inaugural celebration (1993), the Kennedy Center Honors (2015), and President Barack Obama’s inauguration (2018).

Aretha Franklin holds up her trophy in one hand, and her shoes in the other, as she poses at the 1983 Annual American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Perhaps most impressive is Franklin’s music resiliency. When her career hit a lull in the 1980s she switched record labels from Atlantic to Arista and began working with executive Clive Davis. Davis reminded her music was ‘timeless,’ and reassured her she could create new hits in her 40s and beyond. The new collaboration launched her back into stardom with her 1982 single, “Jump to It,” and the 1985 album, “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?.” Part of the album included her final Number 1 R&B single, “Freeway of Love,” which introduced her to the MTV generation. Shortly after she began a successful formula of collaborating with younger artists like Elton John and Whitney Houston.

Throughout Franklin’s remarkable moments she took to the stage, and numerous red carpet events, in equally radiant garments. From sequined sweet-heart gowns to lavish floor-length fur coats, her presence at an event was never overlooked. In celebration of the recent film release Respect starring Jennifer Hudson as Franklin, scroll through to see some of her most stylish moments leading up to, and through, the ’90’s.

Singer Aretha Franklin holding her award in one hand and her shoes in another at the 1983 American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Lionel Richie (R) and Aretha Franklin (L) at the 1983 American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin and record executive Clive Davis at a party in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Portrait of Aretha Franklin, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin and record executive Clive Davis at a party in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding her Legend Award at 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding her Legend Award at 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with her Legend Award at the 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Night of 100 Stars, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with record executive Clive Davis at the Night of 100 Stars, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a red lace dress while at an event with record executive Clive Davis, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a red lace dress, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with a signed Harley-Davidson motorcycle at the New York Cafe opening, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Harley-Davidson New York Cafe opening, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin walking with three dogs at a red carpet event, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding a dog, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Willie Wilkerson (left) and Aretha Franklin (center left) with record executive Clive Davis (center right), 1992.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a cheetah print jacket, 1992.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Essence Awards, April, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (L) and Lena Horne (R) at the Essence Awards, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Essence Awards, April, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (L) and Rod Stewart (L) rehearsing for a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin during rehearsal for a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (center left) with Rod Stewart (L) at a 1993 AIS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at an event, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Artists Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, and Aretha Franklin at an unidentified event, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with Guns N’ Roses member, Slash, at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opening, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding a camcorder at Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opening, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singers Aretha Franklin and Al Green performing at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the 39th Annual Grammy Awards in 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the 39th Annual Grammy Awards in 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Musicares tribute dinner in New York, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin performing at VH1 Divas Live, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

(L-R) Mariah Carey and Aretha Franklin VH1 Divas Live concert at the Beacon Theater, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

A Ceremony of Surrender: The Formal End to a Brutal War

During the war in the Pacifc, an estimated 161,000 American soldiers lost their lives. Japan lost an estimated 2 million soldiers, along with approximately 800,000 civilians—with roughly a quarter of them dying when the U.S. dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The carnage is worth keeping in mind when viewing the neat and formal imagery of the ceremony that brought an end to the fighting in the Pacific, and thus the second World War.

“World War II formally ended at 9:08 on a Sunday morning, Sept. 2, 1945, in a knot of varicolored uniforms on the slate-gray veranda deck of the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay,” LIFE reported. “When the last signature had been affixed to Japan’s unconditional surrender, Douglas MacArthur declared with the accent of history, `These proceedings are closed.’”

MacArthur was featured on the cover of LIFE in the Sept. 17, 1945 issue, which included coverage of the surrender ceremony. The cover identified him as “Commander of Japan,” a role he assumed during the American occupation. LIFE devoted nine pages to the ceremony, and four more to a story on the ruin left by the atomic bombs, headlined “What Ended the War.”

The ceremony took 23 minutes and was broadcast on television. LIFE’s account, while largely factual, had its undercurrents of sadness—the story noted that General Douglas MacArthur‘s hand trembled as he spoke.

MacArthur had not bothered with a necktie. He read his preliminary remarks sonorously from a sheet of paper. He called on those present to rise above hatred “to that higher dignity which alone benefits the sacred purposes we are about to serve…” He stood stiffly erect, but the hands that held the paper trembled. Then, amid a silence that was almost palpable, the signing began, losers first.

The verbal punch thrown at the end of that paragraph betrayed the bitterness of the four years of fighting, truly a long and brutal journey. It’s fitting that the USS Missouri now resides in Pearl Harbor, available for tours as visitors learn the history of the war in the Pacific.

But on Sept. 2, 1945, everyone signed the documents, a big-boy version of the schoolyard scene in which fighting kids agree to shake hands and go on their way, theoretically having learned something from what their hostilities cost them.

From left to right: an unidentified aide, Gen. Douglas MacArthur, Adm. Chester Nimitz and Adm. William F. Bull Halsey arrived on deck for the signing of the official surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri, anchored in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A vessel carrying Japanese envoys pulled up alongside the American battleship USS Missouri for the official signing of the unconditional surrender of Japan held in Tokyo Bay, Japan on Sept. 2, 1945

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The Japanese delegation surrendering in front of Allied officers on the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Japan, September 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life PicturesShutterstock

The Japanese delegation awaited the signing of the articles of surrender ending World War II aboard the USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mamoru Shigemitsu (center), Japan’s foreign minister, stood next to his aide, Imperial Army General Yoshijiro Umezu, waiting to sign official surrender documents aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Allied officers and crew crowded the decks of the USS Missouri as senior Japanese delegate Mamoru Shigemitsu signed official surrender documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers on the USS Missouri watched the signing of the official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers on the USS Missouri for the signing of official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers aboard the USS Missouri for the signing of the official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

American officers abd enlisted men saluted during the playing of the US National Anthem prior to the signing of the official surrender of Japan aboard USS Missouri anchored in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The Japanese delegation, including Mamoru Shigemitsu (top hat, cane) and Gen. Yoshijiro Umezu (immediately to the left of Shigemitsu), faced Gen. Douglas MacArthur (at mic) and Allied officers during the official, unconditional surrender of Japan, held aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gen. Douglas MacArthur signed the official surrender of Japan, as Gen. Jonathan Wainwright and British Gen. Arthur E. Percival looked on aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

British Adm. Bruce Fraser signed the official surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Russia’s representative, Gen. Kuzma Derevyanko signed the official surrender of Japan aboard battleship USS Missouri, ending what was for Russia only a 25-day involvement in the Pacific war.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The procession of signatories on the surrender documents including Canadiean Col. L. Moore Musgrave, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

New Zealand, represented by Vice Marshal Leonard Monk Isitt, was the last of the many signatories of the documents ending World War II during the ceremony on the battleship USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Photos/Shutterstock

Japanese signatories looked on as U.S. General Richard Sutherland checked over official documents mistakenly signed in the wrong place by several Allied officers during the surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri on Sept. 2, 1945; he fixed the problem with his fountain pen.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

All Together Now: The Highs and Lows of A One-Room Schoolhouse

The one-room school house was once a defining aspect of life in rural America, with nearly 200,000 of them dotting a landscape, but now only a few hundred such schools persist. The schools were already being viewed as a relic in 1941, when LIFE went to document one in Ryegate, Montana.

The school was, in the modern parlance, off the grid. LIFE described it as a “clapboard building” standing in a “stark and lonely” stretch in Golden Valley County. It had no running water or electricity, no telephone or telegraph. But in 1941 it was a place of learning for 17 boys and girls between the ages of six and 16.

“From farms as far as four miles away, they come to school on horseback, in cars, on foot,” LIFE wrote in its May 12, 1941 issue, which featured a U.S. Army parachutist on its cover. “They wear blue jeans, checked shirts, cotton dresses, and stockings. Their talk is of the chores they do at home when school is over: milking cows, splitting kindling, gathering eggs, running tractors, putting up preserves.”

Their teacher was Dorothy Albrecht, a 24-year-old from Billings, Montana who had come to Ryegate for her first teaching job. In a school day of 330 minutes, she taught 32 “classes,” four per day for each of the eight grades. Her pay was $90 a month—which today would be about roughly $1,660. LIFE said that pay rate was better than the national average for teachers in 1941. Albrecht was also given a place to live—a two-room cottage next to the school.

The images of kids arriving at school on horseback, taking spins on the merry-go-round and playing baseball out front certainly conjure a sort of nostalgia for a simpler life.

But the photos also capture what was hard about the situation, particularly for young Ms. Albrecht. According to the story she bathed once a week, sitting in a washtub with a scrub brush, cleaning herself in water that she had to collect from a cistern, haul 100 yards and then heat on the stovetop. LIFE’s photographer, Hansel Mieth, also photographed her sitting at her desk at night, writing letters by the glow of a kerosene lamp—surely not the ideal way for a 24-year-old to spend her evenings.

Note that 80 years later, the town of Ryegate remains quite small, with the 2010 census putting the town population at 245. The website for the Ryegate Public School, home of the Blue Demons, shows a building that, while not huge, has multiple rooms, and the school claims a 100 percent graduation rate and a 2:1 student-teacher ratio. The high school has 39 students in pre-K to 8th grade and 14 students in grades 9-12 . Education, in short, remains an intimate experience.

The one-room schoolhouse, teacher’s cottage and outhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A student raised the American flag at a one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Children raised the flag outside of a one-room country school in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Clem and Frances Shaff rode to school on their pony, Shortie, in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Some students came to school on horseback in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Dorothy Albrecht, 24, taught at the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, in 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Students ranged from ages 6 to 16 at the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Wayne Sillivan (standing), a 16-year-old eighth grader, was the oldest student at the one-room school in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Clem Schaff, who arrived at school on horseback, did battle with a history book at one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A student took a water break at the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Ms. Albrecht and the students at the one-room schoolhouse had lunch while listening to radio reports about the war, April 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Children played outside of a one-room country school in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Ms. Albrecht took a turn at bat during a baseball game outside the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Dorothy Albrecht, the 24-year-old teacher at the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Dorothy Albrecht, who lived in a two-room cottage by the one-room schoolhouse, hauled coals, Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Bathing was a complicated process for 24-year-old schoolteacher Dorothy Albrecht in rural Montana; first she needed to haul water from a cistern 100 yards away from her cottage and heat in on the stove before climbing into the washtub, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Dorothy Albrecht, teacher at a one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, stretched out on her sagging iron bed and prepared for the next day’s lessons, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

At night Dorothy Albrecht wrote letters by a kerosene lamp in the two-room cottage provided to the teacher at the one-room schoolhouse in Ryegate, Montana, 1941.

Hansel Mieth/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

What Meets the Eye: The Photography of Co Rentmeester

Co Rentmeester, the man behind so many renowned photographs, began shooting for LIFE as a side job.

Rentmeester was born in Amsterdam, and as a rower he represented the Dutch in double scull at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome. He then came to America and eventually enrolled as a student at the ArtCenter School of Design in Los Angeles. While taking classes he connected with the Time Inc. bureau there, accepting whatever assignments they had, because at $125 a pop, the photography gigs paid better than his previous side job, pumping gas for a dollar an hour.

He had been shooting mostly for Time magazine, usually basic portraits, but also some for LIFE when he got the call to help out with a big breaking news story: the Watts riots of 1965, which stemmed from a drunken driving arrest that grew violent and lasted for five days. Rentmeester rushed to the scene.

“As I drove on Imperial Avenue, the whole thing was breaking right in front of me,” he recalled recently. “Stores were going up in flames, looting was going on.” He would jump out of his car to shoot a few frames and then duck back in and drive away before the crowd could zero in on him. “That’s how I worked for 48 hours,” he says.

His Watts photos landed on the cover of LIFE, and he began shooting more for the magazine. Then LIFE came to him with a proposition: going to Vietnam for three months to document the war. Rentmeester said yes, and within 48 hours of arrival in Vietnam, he went from getting set up with credentials and a uniform to being thrown into battle. Suddenly he was in foxholes with soldiers, machine guns were firing, and he could smell the dead bodies around him. “I will never forget the shock of going from the reality of life on the outside to suddenly being in the middle of death,” he says.

But after his three months were up, he came back for more. In 1967 he took a photo which was named Photo of the Year by the World Press Organization. He was working on a story about how American tanks were having a hard time navigating the marshy Vietnamese landscape, and during one bogdown he went inside a tank with a gunner and snapped a picture that captured life inside: a glimmer of light coming through the tank’s optical aiming device and illuminating the eye of a gunner covered in sweat and grease. “To get down to the bottom of the tank, with no room to crawl around and no light, it was really very tricky,” Rentmeester says. The soldier in the photo, PFC Kerry Nelson, would in subsequent battles go on to win a silver star for a display of bravery that included continuing to fight after sustaining a wound in which he lost his sight. Years later Rentmeester spoke to Nelson’s wife, who said that he never knew about the acclaim the photo of him had achieved.

In May 1968 Rentmeester sustained his own Vietnam battle wound. He was near the airport in Saigon when he was caught in a firefight. He jumped in a three-foot-deep gully to protect himself but a bullet hit him in his left hand and shattered the lens of his camera.

Rentmeester, who is ambidextrous, returned to the United States for hand surgery. After that he took his camera out into less violent terrains, including several assignments photographing wildlife. One such assignment led to one of the more beloved LIFE covers.

He went to Japan to photograph a study being done of snow monkeys on Mt. Shiga, of interest not just for their rarity and appearance but for their intensely structured societies. The snow monkeys’ rituals included bathing together in the hot springs. “I just spend four and five days waiting for the snow monkeys to come out of mountains,” he says, and his patience was rewarded as the monkeys eased themselves into the hot springs, creating a memorable cover shot.

The 1972 Olympics led to more memorable photos—some of athletes, and another of a hideous tragedy. In the leadup to the ’72 games he captured swimmer Mark Spitz in the water with what he called a “dragging shutter” which made it seem as if the water was in motion while Spitz’s head was in perfect focus. The innovative shot was named the World Press sports photo of the year.

Then at the Olympics in Munich, Rentmeester was in his rental car, driving to the athlete’s village when he heard a radio report—In German, which the Dutch native understood well enough—that Israeli athletes had been taken hostage. After being turned away from the village itself, Rentmeester found a spot of a hillside in which he had a narrow view of the Israeli compound 300 meters away. From that vantage point he snapped photos that showed members of the Black September group that was staging the assault “I set up there with a long lens all by myself for about a half hour with a tripod trying to pick out little things,” he recalls. “Then twenty other photographers were in the same spot. You couldn’t go anywhere else.”

During the run-up to another Olympics, Rentmeester shot what is arguably the most seen photo of his career—and arguably is the all-too-correct word here, because Rentmeester has gone to the Supreme Court over the photo, which inspired the “jumpman” logo for Nike’s Michael Jordan clothing brand.

The year was 1984, and Rentmeester went to Chapel Hill, N.C., to photograph basketball star Michael Jordan. He set up on a hillside that would give him a clean skyline, and while he was waiting for Jordan to appear, Rentmeester’s team mowed the hillside and bought a portable basketball hoop from a toy store that they set up on the hill. When Jordan arrived on the set, Rentmeester asked Jordan to jump straight up while holding a basketball aloft. And instead doing a regular basketball jump, Rentmeester asked Jordan to splay his legs in the manner of a ballet dancer. With the way the hoop had been positioned, it appeared as if Jordan was sailing in for a gravity-defying dunk. “It worked beautifully,” Rentmeester says.

The image ran across two pages in LIFE. But then six months later Rentmeester was in a meeting in Chicago with a corporate client and saw an image of Jordan doing the same jump on a Nike billboard, except that this time Jordan, who played for the Bulls, appeared to be sailing across a Chicago skyline. Nike then began to use a silhouette of the pose as the “jumpman” logo.

Rentmeester, who was a freelancer at that point, eventually sued Nike for appropriating his image—they had paid his $150 for a research copy, but they did not have permission for the public usage, he says. Nike argued that the logo was made from a version of the picture they staged themselves. You can read about the years-long legal battle here, but the end result is that the judges sided with Nike, despite the undeniable similarities with the pose that Rentmeester conceived. Rentmeester says, “To this day, I  feel I was entitled to have my case heard in front of a jury.”

This collection of Rentmeester’s work shows the broad scope of the subject matters he tackled, giving a feel of what it was like to be a LIFE photographer—shooting the Amazin’ 1969 Mets baseball team one day, actor Donald Sutherland and his family, including young Kiefer the next, maybe popping in on the wedding of the president’s daughter. Look here, and there’s only one verdict to be reached, which is this this is an amazing body of work.

This man was driven from his home during the 1965 Watts riots, which lasted five days. The photo made the cover of LIFE’s issue of August 27, 1965.

Courtesy of Co Rentmeester

Firemen attempted to deal with one of the many fires set during the 1965 Watts riots, which lasted five days.

Courtesy of Co Rentmeester

PFC Kerry Nelson, his eye illuminated by light coming through his aiming sight, squinted to line up his 90-mm cannon; the photo was named 1967’s World Press photo of the year.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

American tanks often struggled to move through the swampy terrain in Vietnam, 1967.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

American B-52 dropped a payload of bombs onto Viet Cong positions during the Vietnam War, 1968.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers of the Second Battalion, 173rd Airborne Brigade saluted 98 pairs of boots arranged to commemorate each man who died in the fighting in and around Hill 875; the monthlong battle of Dak To cost 280 Americans and 1,641 North Vietnamese their lives.

Co Rentmeester/Life PIctures/Shutterstock

Soldiers of the Second Battalion, 173rd Airborne Brigade prepared to honor fallen comrades represented by 98 pairs of boots arranged to commemorate each man who died in the fighting in and around Hill 875; the monthlong battle of Dak To cost 280 Americans and 1,641 North Vietnamese their lives.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

LIFE photographer Co Rentmeester near the DMZ in Vietnam.

Life Pictures/Shutterstock

LIFE photographer Co Rentmeester, 1968.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

An orangutan swinging from a vine in the jungles of North Borneo, 1968.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A group of Japanese macaques sat in hot spring in the Shiga mountains in Japan, 1969.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Snow monkeys n a tree branch in the Shiga mountains, Japan, 1969

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A Japanese macaque or snow monkey sat in a hot spring in the Shiga mountains during a snowfall, 1969.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

January 30, 1970 LIFE Magazine cover

January 30, 1970 LIFE Magazine cover

Photo by Co Rentmeester

Polar bears in Hudson Bay, Canada, 1969.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/1969

Tom Seaver dominated for the Miracle Mets in 1969, going 25-7 and winning the first of his three Cy Young awards.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Tom Seaver, 1969.

Tom Seaver won 25 games, the most in the majors, as the leader of the Miracle Mets in 1969.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Fans cheered on the 1969 Mets as the team drove toward its first World Series title.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

O'Hare Airport, 1970.

O’Hare Airport, 1970.

Co Rentmeester The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Donald Sutherland, 1970.

Donald Sutherland, 1970.

Co Rentmeester The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Donald Sutherland and his son, Kiefer, in New York, 1970.

Donald Sutherland and his son, Kiefer, in New York, 1970.

Co Rentmeester The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

California, 1970.

California, 1970.

Co Rentmeester / LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock

Near Malibu, California, 1970.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

California, 1970.

California, 1970.

Co Rentmeester / LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock

In an enema room of the Bronx VA Hospital in New York, disabled spinal injury patients wait up to four hours to be attended by a single aide, 1970.

In the enema room of the Bronx VA hospital, spinal injury patients waited up to four hours to be treated by a single aide, 1970.

Co Rentmeester The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

President Richard Nixon escorted his daughter Tricia down the aisle at her wedding to Nixon aide Edward Cox in the Rose Garden of the White House, Washington DC, June 12, 1971.

Co Rentmeester/LIfe Pictures/Shutterstock

US swimmer Mark Spitz trained for 1972 Munich Olympics.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/1970

Al Feuerbach, 1972 U.S. Olympian.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

US wrestler eventual gold medal winner Wayne Wells (top) overpowering W. German Adolf Seger in freestyle welterweight elimination match at the 1972 summer Olympics in Munich, West Germany.

US wrestler eventual gold medal winner Wayne Wells (top) overpowered West German Adolf Seger in freestyle welterweight elimination match at the 1972 summer Olympics in Munich, West Germany.

Co Rentmeester The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

US swimmer Mark Spitz held a big lead in the 200-meter butterfly at the 1972 Olympics; he set a world record in the event while winning one of his seven gold medals at the Games.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A stocking-masked Black September terrorist looked out from balcony in the Olympic village where his group was holding nine Israeli athletes hostage after killing two others; all the Israeli athletes died in the incident, along with five of the eight hostage takers and a West German police officer.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/1972

A German policeman leans against a wall outside an apartment where Israeli hostages are held, Munich, September 1972.

A German policeman leaned against a wall outside an apartment where nine Israeli hostages were held in the Olympic village in Munich, September 1972.

Co Rentmeester/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

In 1984 Michael Jordan jumped straight up while doing a ballet split on a hillside in Chapel Hill, N.C., with a toy basket staged cannily in front of him, in 1984; the image led to a lawsuit between its photographer, Co Rentmeester, and NIke over the company’s “jumpman” logo.

Courtesy of Co Rentmeester

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