Here’s a few things to know about Ralph Morse, the man who took these sweet photos of springtime in Brooklyn in 1949.
Morse made his name as a combat photographer during World War II. He had seen enough action that, when interviewed by fellow LIFE photographer John Loengard for the book LIFE Photographers: What They Saw, he was able to recount, from experience, such details as how the steel of a Navy boat can heat up when it is taking fire from all the explosions. Morse was at the battles of Normandy and Verdun, and also at Guadalcanal, where he took a famously horrific photo of a skull on a tank. Morse told Loengard, “It’s a great picture to show people who want to go to war what war is really like.”
Morse’s experience is something to keep in mind when viewing the photos that this native New Yorker took of springtime in Brooklyn in 1949. This isn’t the sort of assignment that made for war stories. But his background informs the way he cherishes the details of a sunny April day: a boy propelling a toy car with his feet, a girl enjoying a refreshing drink from atop her tricycle, kids piling into an ice cream truck.
Morse’s photos here also show appreciation for the more sedate and adult enjoyments of early spring—the sowing of seeds in the garden, the start of seasonal cleaning, a chance for a bask on the rooftop
For decades baseball teams have held their spring training camps in either Florida or Arizona, but it used to be that teams would venture to all sorts of warm-weather locales, from the Carolinas to Texas. Some even took their act abroad, as the Brooklyn Dodgers did in 1942, when they set up camp in Havana.
They were not the first team to prepare for the upcoming season in Cuba—the New York Giants did so first in 1937. So LIFE’s story in its March 23, 1942 issue, “They Practice and Play Hard at Spring Training in Havana” was less about the location and more of a convention preview of what their editors saw as an up-and-coming team.
But the photos of the Dodgers’ Cuban venture let you know right away that you are in the tropics. Many players and coaches go through the practice shirtless. At night players slept under mosquito nets.
The main characters in these photos are the Brooklyn manager, Leo Durocher, and two of the team’s stars, Pee Wee Reese and Pete Reiser. Durocher and Reese, both Hall of Famers, are familiar to most baseball fans. Reiser is more obscure today, and that is a tale of hard luck. Reiser won the NL batting title in 1941 but his career career was derailed by his all-out playing style, especially when he was chasing fly balls. In the ’42 season he fractured his skull after running into an outfield wall and was said to never be quite the same. In 1947 he was knocked out by another horrific wall collision. (It’s no surprise that Brooklyn was the first team to pad its outfield walls). In later years Durocher swore that Reiser had as much talent as Willie Mays.
After 1942, the Dodgers stayed out of Havana for several years, owing to World War II travel restrictions, but they would return one more time, in 1947, with rookie Jackie Robinson. Dodgers leadership thought that Cuba, with passionate fans who had been cheering on Black players for years, was the right place to ease Robinson into his history-making season.
And that was Brooklyn’s last dance in Cuba. The next year, 1948, the Dodgers established a regular spring training home in Vero Beach, Florida that become known as Dodgertown, and the team stayed there for decades, before relocating in 2009 to hot spot of the moment, Arizona.
The Brooklyn Dodgers infield (left to right) of 1B Dolph Camilli, 2B Billy Herman, SS Pee Wee Reese and 3B Arky Vaughan posed outside Tropical Stadium in Havana during spring training, 1942.
John Olson arrived at LIFE late in the original run of LIFE magazine, and when he came on board at the age of 21, he was the youngest staff photographer in the magazine’s history. The pictures he shot for LIFE from 1968 to 1972 offer a kaleidoscope view of a turbulent period. He photographed soldiers in Vietnam, and hippies in a commune. He was with Janice Armstrong while she waited for husband Neil to return from the moon, and with feminists on the march for justice. He photographed the presidency of Richard Nixon, and the rock stars who provided the soundtrack for an age of upheaval.
He says that he appreciates it all now much more than he did then. “At the moment they all seem like just another day at work,” Olson says. “It’s absolutely amazing by chance to have been in all of those places.”
The story of Olson’s journey into photography is a remarkable one. He grew up in Wayzata, Minnesota, outside of Minneapolis. His father was a seed corn salesman, and his mother died before he knew her. His family subscribed to LIFE, and from the age of 12 he knew that he wanted to shoot for the magazine. Among the images that fascinated him were the photographs coming out of Vietnam from Larry Burrows.
In 1967, Olson was drafted and sent to Vietnam—he actually asked to get transferred out of a longterm stateside training project and into a combat zone. Once in Vietnam he able to join Stars & Stripes as a photographer. He had been scheduled to leave for Hawaii for R&R on January 30, 1968, the day that North Vietnam launched its war-changing Tet Offensive, so Olson shot photos while his trip was delayed. Three days later he was able to leave for Hawaii and, in violation of protocol, he kept going and soon he was in New York, showing his photos at the Time-Life Building, and eventually meeting LIFE photo director Richard Pollard.
Olson returned to Vietnam for LIFE for four months toward the end of 1968, until he asked to come home, thinking if he stayed, “I’m going to get killed.” Once back in the U.S. his assignments included a stint in the Washington bureau, photographing the early days of the Nixon presidency. As the youngest photographer on staff, he was also sent out to document the ’60s counterculture, memorably embedding in a commune and documenting their lifestyle.
Among the stories he shot was one he threatened to quit over unless he was allowed to do, so important did be believe it to be—a story that following a soldier from Vietnam to his return home to the United States, and the difficulty of making that transition. His story “A Veteran Comes Home—To Limbo” ran in LIFE’s April 16, 1971 issue.
After LIFE shuttered in 1972, Olson turned to more lucrative commercial and corporate photography and also directed television ads. But, he says, “The pinnacle of my career in work quality was with LIFE Magazine.”
His most absorbing project today is one that he sees as fulfilling a vital mission, and which connects directly to his love of photography. He began to think of the particular struggles of the blind, and the great challenge of going through life without being able to absorb information visually. He did this, he says, without ever having known anyone who was blind.
He started a company which renders photos in three dimensions and also include sensors that respond to touch with audio clips, so that blind people can run their hands over the photos and absorbing its information. So far his company has done 19 museum installations, including at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond, the Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum, and the Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia.
The project took a great leap forward in January 2021 when Olson’s company, Tactile Images, announced a partnership with Getty Images and The National Federation of the Blind. Getty is granting access to its comprehensive and unparalleled collection of photographic images, which runs from Matthew Brady’s Civil War images on forward, while the National Federation of the Blind is putting up $500,000 to help make these three-dimensional images available to the public through dislpays and installations.
“When you ask blind people what they want to see, they say `everything,'” Olson says. “There’s no better partners for us than Getty, who has everything, and a community that wants to see everything.”
Presented here are a selection of Olson’s photographs for LIFE, and of the works for the blind that his company now creates.
While working for Stars and Stripes during the Vietnam war, John Olson took this photo of wounded soldiers atop a tank.
Olson’s company transformed his original photo into a version that imparts its information to the blind through touch and sound.
Courtesy of Tactile Images
Olson says that when blind people encounter this three-dimensional rendering of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, they often comment that “her smile is not what was described to me.”
Courtesy of Tactile Images
Tactile Images embedded this photo with 27 audio tracks that both describe what is happening and relate the story of Washington crossing the Delaware.
Courtesy of Tactile Images
This tactile version of 3 Musicians, a collage by artist Romare Bearden, was commissioned by the Virginia Museum of Fine Art.
Courtesy of Tactile Images
Women marched down Fifth Avenue in New York City as a part of the Women’s Equality March on August 26, 1970. The march, organized by the National Organization for Women, commemorated the 50th anniversary of the passing of the Nineteenth Amendment, which granted American women full suffrage.
John Olson/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Janet Armstrong, wife of astronaut Neil, watched from her home in Texsa as her husband’s trip to the moon and back made a successful splashdown, 1969.
President Richard Nixon readied to throw out the first pitch of the 1969 baseball season as manager Ted Williams of the Washington Senators, Major League Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn and manager Ralph Houk of the New York Yankees looked on at RFK Stadium in Washington, D.C.,April 7, 1969.
John Olson The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Denis Hayes, coordinator of the first Earth Day, 1970.
John Olson The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Barbara Reid, one of the organizers of the first Earth Day celebration, 1970.
John Olson The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sgt. Mike Ball on patrol near the end of his tour in Vietnam, 1970.
Frank Zappa in his Los Angeles home with his dad, Francis, his mom, Rosemarie, and his cat in 1970.
John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock
“They had a parrot in a cage,” Olson remembers of the shoot at Clapton’s grandmother’s home. “Eric’s grandmother, Rose Clapp, left the room, and the parrot talked. It said F—you! I couldn’t believe it. So Mrs. Clapp comes back and I say, ‘The parrot talks.’ And she says, ‘Yes, he says gobble gobble .’ So Eric and I are talking and I ask, ‘Hey, what’s that parrot say?’ and he looks at me like I’m crazy. He says, ‘The parrot says F—you.’ There was a group then called Delaney & Bonnie, and Eric said they stayed there for a couple of weeks and taught the parrot how to say it.”
In 1970 Yale University Law School hosted a Russ Meyer film festival; Meyer is flanked by two stars from his movies: Cynthia Myers (left) of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and Haji of Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!,
Inspired by Entertainment Weekly’s recent special issue A Celebration of Black Film, LIFE presents this collection of photos from its archives featuring groundbreaking Black stars.
Most of the multi-talented actors and actresses in these photos are shown outside of the world of film—either acting in a theatrical production or singing. But the names include pioneering figures of cinema: Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, Lena Horne, Hattie McDaniel, Ossie Davis, Dorothy Dandridge, Sammy Davis Jr., Diahann Carroll and also Cicely Tyson, who died on January 28, 2021.
Enjoy this tribute.
Front cover of Entertainment Weekly: A Celebration of Black Film
Back cover of Entertainment Weekly: A Celebration of Black Film
Hattie McDaniel collected her Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of Mammy in ‘Gone With the Wind’; she was the first African-American to win an Oscar.
WHEN ABC BROADCAST A REMAKE OF AN episode of All in the Family, shot before a studio audience in 2019, the network recreated the Bunker family home In Queens, New York, down to the doilies and faded wallpaper, with Woody Harrelson and Marisa Tomei taking up Carroll O’Connor and Jean Stapleton’s roles as Archie, the ultraconservative loading-dock worker, and his kindly wife, Edith. Set in 1976, the episode centers around the unexpected arrival of David Brewster, their son-in-law Mike Stivic’s high school friend, a Vietnam War draft dodger who fled to Canada but just sneaked home for Christmas. When Edith invites David to join them for the holiday dinner, Mike cautions his friend not to tell Archie what he’d done—and to avoid such topics as “politics, religion, sex, books, movies, war, peace, guns . . . grapes, lettuce.”
Archie, meanwhile, has invited his pal Pinky Peterson, whose son Steve was killed in the war. Mike’s worst fears are realized—David’s secret spills out and the joyous gathering quickly devolves into a bitter confrontation over the war, with a spitting-mad Archie yelling, “What he done was wrong!” Finally Pinky stands up and makes peace. “My kid hated the war too,” he says. “But he did what he thought he had to do. And David here, he did what he thought he had to do . . . if Steve was here, he would want to sit down with him. And that is what I want to do.” Pinky then walks over to David and shakes his hand.
All in the Family debuted 50 years ago in January 1971, two years before the United States withdrew from Vietnam, and four years before that divisive conflict ended. Fifty-eight thousand Americans died in Southeast Asia, and when the Christmas special originally aired in 1976, the war was still a festering wound. The very day ABC restaged the show in 2019, Congress had started impeachment proceedings against President Donald Trump, and the country found itself as polarized as ever. So much had changed in four-plus decades—and yet so little.
Back in the 1970s, of course, it was bold for a sitcom to take on such a sensitive topic as the war. But All in the Family was unlike anything seen before on television. Up until then, TV had a blandly homogenous quality. Three networks, ABC, CBS, and NBC, ruled the airwaves, and the newly created Public Broadcasting Service had a niche audience. They all worked under a draconian Television Code, and offered wholesome and uncontroversial family entertainment. There was no political content, and situation comedies were inhabited by white middle-class families, noble lawmen, and quirky country folk. One of the few working-class shows was The Honeymooners, which centered around Brooklyn bus driver Ralph Kramden, his wife, Alice, his sewer worker friend, Ed Norton, and Ed’s wife, Trixie. It went off the air in 1956 after just one season, but would gain classic status in reruns. The Honeymooners influenced another series about working stiffs—this one animated: The Flintstones, which first aired in 1960 and featured Fred Flintstone, a prehistoric quarryman from the town of Bedrock, his wife, Wilma, best buddy, Barney, and his wife, Betty.
That was about it for blue-collar comedy until Archie Bunker barged into America’s living rooms. Here was a full-throated “angry white man” from the borough of Queens who proudly proclaimed, “I hate change.” Americans had never seen a character like Archie on their television screens. He epitomized President Richard Nixon’s Silent Majority—conservatives who felt overlooked by the general public and Washington politicos—and he broadcast his biases and prejudices every week as he jostled with Mike and his feminist daughter, Gloria, while demeaning the superficially dim but disarmingly insightful Edith.
Yet though Archie was proudly reactionary, he harbored a hidden kindness, and the show possessed a subversive and not so subtle radicalism. During All in the Family’s nine seasons on CBS, creators Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin used their series as a televised soapbox to masterfully portray the upheavals and concerns racking the United States. They slyly wove current events into a sitcom and used the medium to explore the rifts within American society and culture. The show pondered the war, the Watergate scandal, and the liberal-conservative divide and depicted the country’s changing views on such topics as politics, race, sex, religion, and women’s rights.
The character of Archie could easily have been one-dimensional, even villainous. But Carroll O’Connor’s indelible portrayal presents him as deeply flawed yet oddly likable, with reservoirs of decency—more absurdly misguided than malevolent. Through All in the Family, Lear, the program’s mastermind, sought “to show that if bigotry and intolerance didn’t exist in the hearts and minds of the good people, the average people, it would not be the endemic problem it is in our society.”
As a result, All in the Family quickly did more than become a top-rated, Emmy Award–winning series that promoted a positive, progressive agenda. This revolutionary show about a reactionary man helped foster an openness in culture. It transformed the very nature of what could be broadcast into our homes, and paved the way for other shows with working-class as well as racially diverse protagonists. Half a century later, its humor and message remain prescient, as it plumbs problems that still vex our families and society, and seeks to understand and explain the very soul of America.
Here is a sampling of images from LIFE’s new special issue All in the Family.
The cover of LIFE’s special issue on All in the Family
Chester Maydole/MPTVImages
The cast of All in the Family: Jean Stapleton (Edith), Carroll O’Connor (Archie), Rob Reiner (Mike) and Sally Struthers (Gloria).
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
Carroll O’Connor and Jean Stapleton performed the show’s opening theme song, “Those Were the Days.”
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
Archie’s disdain for the liberal son-in-law he called “Meathead” represented a clash of generations and cultures.
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
In the episode ‘Judging Books by Covers’, Archie Bunker learned that a football-playing friend was gay
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
Producer and writer Norman Lear (center, in dark blazer) spoke with Carroll O’Connor on the set of the show ‘All in the Family,’ Los Angeles, California, 1971
Photo by CBS Photo Archive/Shutterstock
The dinner table was often where conflicts played out on All in the Family.
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
After Rob Reiner and Sally Struthers left the regular cast, All In The Family transformed into a new show called Archie Bunker’s Place, which ran for four seasons and centered around Archie’s bar.
Photo by CBS via Shutterstock
In 2017 Norman Lear brought back a reimagined version of one of his hit 1970s shows, One Day At a Time. Pictured are executive producer Mike Royce, executive producer Gloria Calderon Kellett, executive producer Lear, and actresses Justina Machado and Rita Moreno.
ABC’s “Live In Front of a Studio Audience” from 2019 recreated classic sitcom episodes, including one from All in The Family, featuring (l-r) Ellie Kemper, Marisa Tomei, Woody Harrelson, Ike Barnholtz and Jeese Eisenberg.
At this juncture, the answer is not clear. But that’s okay because, wherever it is, odds are, you’ve been there.
The diner is a place of welcome—to families, friends, and loners. In our culture it has been home to Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks, the gang from Seinfeld, and of course the guys in the movie Diner. While the phenomenon of the diner can feel like pure Americana, the concept translates globally. In the recent Netflix series Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories the food is different, but the spirit is the same.
While the coffeehouse and the bar offer a variation on these comforts, the diner stands out because it’s as welcoming to kids as it is to adults, and because its charms are available any time of day (or night).
The photos taken by John Loengard in 1962 capture all this appeal. Loengard was a giant on the LIFE staff, and noted chronicler of such figures as The Beatles and Georgia O’Keeffe. Here he cast his eye on a subject that, while more humble, is every bit as enduring.
The dinner is part of a filling station, and the sign out front promotes two food item: burgers and “bar-b-q burgers.” And Pepsi. What’s telling about these diner photos is how little attention is paid to the food. In one photo a chef-waitress adds French fries onto plates with burgers on them. But the food, while essential to the diner experience, is also beside the point.
Loengard’s lens drinks in all the details. The kid draining his drinking glass. The guys leaning into each other, confiding either their innermost thoughts or their prediction for the game. The women sharing a laugh, while a notice about a public sale sits in front of them. The restless kids moving from booth to counter.
Then there’s the young man carefully picking out songs on a juke box. Because of course this small country diner has a juke box.
Looking at these pictures can make a person hungry, especially these days—and not just for fries.