The Democratic National Convention (DNC) has been held every four years since 1832. The convention is typically known for its pomp, with colored balloons and decorated hats, and plenty of cheering and yelling. Speakers from the party convey policy goals and the party officially declares its nominee for president.
With the Covid-19 pandemic necessitating social distancing, the 2020 DNC was designed in the form of shortened online programing. The digital format broke years of party tradition of gathering delegates in large arenas—including near the end of World War II, in 1944, and through the four DNC’s from 1960 through 1972.
Newspaper boys held up headlines noting the assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler outside the 1944 Democratic Club before the Democratic National Convention.
LIFE staffers were sent to photograph national party conventions nearly every year they were held. The first major coverage of the Democratic National Convention appeared in the July 29th, 1940 issue. The article, “President Roosevelt Answers a Call to Run for a Third Term,” featured photographs of delegates and reporters at nightclubs where they “sought refuge from (a) dull convention.”
In later issues, LIFE published more color news coverage, so photographs of conventions through the 60’s show lively and patriotic displays of party nomination. The 1960 Democratic National Convention made it as cover news for the July 25th issue. It took place at the Memorial Sports Arena in Los Angeles, California. Senator Lyndon B. Johnson received the nomination for Vice President, and joined the Democratic ticket with John F. Kennedy.
Supporters of John F. Kennedy at the Democratic National convention, 1960.
Accompanying the glitter and buttons were a group of female supporters for John F. Kennedy known as the “Kennedy Cuties.” The group wore matching pinstripe dresses, conspicuous hats and colorful buttons. They cheered on attendees and danced in a conga line at the airport for Kennedys arrival to the convention.
Presidential nominee John F. Kennedy beside his Vice Presidential nominee Lyndon B. Johnson, Democratic National Convention, Biltmore Hotel, 1960.
Kennedy won the 1960 election, defeating incumbent Vice President Richard Nixon. By the fall of 1963 Kennedy and his team were preparing for the upcoming presidential election. Although he didn’t formally announce his candidacy, Kennedy’s motorcade travels and appearances were used to sound out policy themes for another presidential run.
Less than a year after Kennedy’s death, 1964 DNC took place at Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey. President Lyndon B. Johnson, was nominated for a full term and Senator Herbert Humphrey of Massachusetts was nominated for Vice President.
The 1964 Democratic National Convention in Jersey City Boardwalk Hall, New Jersey.
On the last day of the 1964 convention, Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy introduced a short film in his brother’s memory. RFK was met with a standing ovation for nearly 20 minutes as the crowd cheered and yelled in adoration for him and his late brother. In addition to the short film, and RFK’s brief tribute, attendees were able to view memorial areas with photographs of President Kennedy.
Robert F. Kennedy on the phone at the 1964 Democratic National Convention.
Similar to the “Kennedy Cuties” at the 1960 DNC, Johnson had an all female group of supporters called the “Johnson Jersey Girls.” LIFE staff photographer Ralph Crane took photographs of the group dressed in matching dresses and enjoying rides at the Atlantic City boardwalk.
The “Jersey Johnson Girls” riding in a teacup ride at the Atlantic City boardwalk during the 1964 Democratic National Convention.
In the 1964 election Johnson defeated Republican nominee, Arizona senator Barry Goldwater, in a landslide. Johnson’s full term as president established several civil rights passages, a “war on poverty,” and increased involvement in the Vietnam war. The increased military presence sparked a strong anti-war movement, which set the stage for the following election, in 1968.
The 1968 DNC was held at the International Amphitheater in Chicago, Illinois. Johnson’s popularity rapidly declined due to Vietnam war involvement, and as a result he announced he would not seek re-election. Several democratic candidates competed for the nomination. They included LBJ’s Vice President Hubert Humphrey, Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota, Senator Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts, Senator George McGovern of South Dakota, Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine, and George Wallace, the Governor of Alabama.
Delegates holding signs to support Hubert Humphrey at the 1968 Democratic National Convention, Chicago.
Hubert Humphrey won the nomination for President, and Edmund Muskie received the nomination for Vice President. The convention discussion revolved around Vietnam war involvement, and civil rights unrest. Riots in hundreds of cities followed the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. earlier that spring.
Antiwar signs at the 1968 Democratic National Convention Democratic, Chicago.
Humphrey lost the 1968 election to Republican Richard Nixon, who promised to restore law and order in rioting cities and provide new leadership in the Vietnam war. Four years later, the 1972 Democratic National Convention took place at the Miami Beach Convention center in Miami Beach, Florida.
The convention nominated Senator George McGovern of South Dakota for President and Senator Thomas Eagleton of Missouri for Vice President. Eagleton was later dropped from the ticket and replaced by Sargent Shriver of Maryland.
Convention attendee wearing a hat with political buttons at the 1972 Democratic National Convention.
Humphrey lost the 1972 election to Richard Nixon in a landslide election, but the 1972 DNC implemented new delegate selection reforms. This became the first formal set of party rules for nomination procedure.
The following is the introduction to LIFE’s special issue The Road to VJ Day
On the evening of August 14, 1945, the words “OFFICAL—TRUMAN ANNOUNCES JAPANESE SURRENDER” streamed around the New York Times Tower’s news zipper. President Harry S. Truman’s proclamation marking the end of World War II unleashed a wave of communal ecstasy. Before long, some 2 million people packed into Times Square. They tossed hats into the air, cheered, embraced, and cried. From high up in office buildings and hotels, others threw down confetti and streamers. “The victory roar that greeted the announcement beat upon the eardrums until it numbed the senses,” observed the Times.
Meanwhile, locals dressed in ritualistic dragon costumes led processions along Chinatown’s narrow downtown streets as people crammed onto fire escapes, waved American and Chinese flags, and watched the sacred dance that symbolized peace. Across the East River in Queens, thousands staged impromptu parades, and in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, residents strung up effigies of Japanese emperor Hirohito. Soldiers, sailors, and small boys first used them for target practice, and then set them ablaze. Similar celebrations broke out from Maine to California. And far to the west, in Honolulu, where the war began for America with the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, church bells pealed, military bands strutted, and families turned out in their Sunday best, while soldiers, sailors, Marines, and civilians hopped into jeeps and cars and cruised around the city, blaring their horns.
The most devastating war in human history was truly, indisputably over. It was almost impossible to believe. In Europe, where Nazi Germany had surrendered on May 7, troops who had nervously been preparing to take part in a planned invasion of Japan let out a collective sigh of joyous relief. Paul Fussell was a second lieutenant based near Rheims, France. Thirty-six years later the author recalled in an essay for the New Republic that “for all the practiced phlegm of our tough facades we broke down and cried . . . We were going to live. We were going to grow to adulthood after all.”
Japan had begun the war in China by attacking Beijing in 1937; with Adolf Hitler’s ravenous aggression in Europe two years later, bloodshed spread like a pandemic across the globe, taking the lives of 65 million people, including more than 400,000 American servicepeople. After years of grinding, seemingly interminable conflict, two U.S. attacks on Japanese cities with a terrifying new weapon hastened the war’s end. The first use of the atomic bomb, on August 6, 1945, destroyed Hiroshima; the second, three days later, devastated Nagasaki. The twin mushroom clouds are believed to have killed almost 200,000 people and seemed to have been unleashed by an omnipotent, supernatural being, one whose wrathful power forced Hirohito—whom his people viewed as a descendant of the gods—to surrender.
Some 27,000 U.S. military members had been held prisoner by the emperor’s forces. One of those now liberated was Lieutenant General Jonathan Wainwright, who had been imprisoned since the Philippines fell in 1942. Wainwright was the highest-ranking American POW, and following his release General Douglas MacArthur made sure he was on hand to take part in the official Victory Over Japan Day on September 2, 1945, as a witness to Japan’s formal surrender onboard the USS Missouri.
While many states once celebrated that signing, now only Rhode Island remembers the occasion with its Victory Day. And of the 16 million Americans who served in the war, no more than 300,000 now survive. A dozen of those who fought at the Battle of Iwo Jima in 1945 returned to that speck of a volcanic island, now called Iwo To, in March 2019 to commemorate one of the Pacific war’s bloodiest engagements, which took the lives of about 6,800 Americans and some 18,000 Japanese. Also at the ceremony were U.S. Marines and Japanese military troops. Yoshitaka Shindo, a member of Japan’s House of Representatives and the grandson of Lieutenant General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, the battle’s Japanese commander, also came to honor the fallen.
The once strapping and now bent American warriors all wondered why they were the lucky ones who could be there. “I had a lot of Marine buddies killed here,” said E. Bruce Heilman, who served as a sergeant (and died at 93 in October 2019). “For 74 years these guys have been dead, and I’ve been having family and marriages and success. You think about that. Why me?” And Barney Leone, a former machinist’s mate second class on the USS Nemasket, likewise remembered friends who headed off to their deaths, and how after the war he devoted his life to visiting schools to teach about the war and tell of the heroics of his comrades. “They died for each one of you,” he said. “The freedom that you’re enjoying, myself included, somebody paid for with their life. Appreciate the freedom you have, try to get along with each other. I’m 94 years of age now. I think I’m here to carry that mission out for those who are not able to be here to do that.”
Here are a selection of the many photos that appear in LIFE’s special issue The Road to VJ Day.
Cover image: Joe Rosenthal/AP/Shutterstock
Smoke billowed during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941.
U.S. Navy/National Archives
During the attack on Pearl Harbor, the battleship known as the West Virginia (center, foreground), shredded by bombs and torpedoes, was on fire and sinking. Behind her, the Tennessee was struck by two bombs but would emerge from repairs In May 1943 and go on to participate in some of the most critical actions in the war, from Tarawa to Okinawa. At the far left, the hull of the Oklahoma is visible behind rescue boats.
U.S. Navy
On Dec. 8, 1941, one day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt asked for a declaration of war against Japan as he addressed Congress in a joint session. War was declared by both houses within a half hour of the President’s speech.
Bettman/Shutterstock
In 1942 Japanese Americans saluted the flag during their forced internment during World War II.
Photo by Hansel Mieth/The LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock
Gen. Douglas MacArthur (C) and Gen. Richard Sutherland (L) and Col. Lloyd Lherbas waded ashore during the American landing at Lingayen Gulf on January 9, 1945.
Photo by Carl Mydans/The LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock
Two emaciated American civilians, Lee Rogers (L) and John C. Todd, sat outside a gym which had been used as a Japanese prison camp following their release by Allied forces liberating the city, February 1, 1945.
Photo by Carl Mydans/The LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock
In September 1945, soldiers raised the American flag at Atsugi Airbase in Japan as the first occupying forces arrived.
Photo by Carl Mydans/The LIFE Picture Collection via Shutterstock
October 1945: This Hiroshima neighborhood had been reduced to rubble by one of the two atomic bombs that the United States dropped on Japan, bringing World War II to an end.
Bernard Hoffman/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
On December 7, 2015 in Honolulu, U.S.S. Arizona survivor Lou Conter saluted the Arizona Remembrance Wall during a memorial service marking the 74th Anniversary of the attack on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor.
The deaths of two of the nation’s most influential civil rights advocates came during a time marked by protests for police reform and racial justice, in the wake of the killing of George Floyd. John Lewis, 80, and Cordy Tindell “C.T.” Vivian, 95, both died on July 17, 2020. At the time of his death. Lewis was serving his 34th year in the U.S. House of Representatives. Vivian was an important minister and leader. A story about some of Lewis and Vivian’s work in the 1960s, as well as unique LIFE photographs chronicling those events is below.
John Lewis (R) seated during a discussion with other freedom riders while in the basement of Reverend Ralph Abernathy’s Church, Montgomery, Alabama, May 1961.
A Mississippi National Guardsman standing on a bus next to freedom riders Reverend C.T. Vivian (C) and Paul Brooks (R), as they traveled from Montgomery, Alabama to Jackson, Mississippi, 1961.
Both John Lewis and C.T. Vivian were on the front lines of 1960’s racial justice reform. They were part of the original Freedom Riders and worked alongside Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Vivian served as King’s field general and Lewis helped organized the 1963 March on Washington, where King delivered his historic “I Have a Dream” speech.
Several LIFE staffers photographed these early reform movements. Their images are extraordinary freeze-frames of the 1960’s fight for racial justice, capturing the passion and resilience of the activists and demonstrators.
Most LIFE photos taken of the 1961 Freedom Rides were never published. Many are from LIFE photographer Paul Schutzer who, four years earlier had photographed the Prayer Pilgrimage for Freedom March in Washington. He took photos of the riders while on the buses and in safe houses at stops on their routes.
LIFE photographer Joe Scherschel also captured scenes from the Freedom Rider’s trips, often photographing National Guard troops around the busses and the interactions the group had challenging “white only” sections within bus terminals. Scherschel and Schutzer’s photos are from the leg of the Freedom Rides from Montgomery, AL to Jackson, MI.
Reverend C.T. Vivian on a bus with the freedom riders traveling from Montgomery, AL to Jackson, Mississippi, 1961.
The Freedom Riders made a series of bus trips in 1961 to challenge segregated interstate travel through the South. The original group was made up of 13 activists (7 Black and 6 white) chosen by the Congress of Racial Equity (CORE). Their plan was to travel on Greyhound and Trailways busses from Washington, D.C. to New Orleans, Louisiana.
While driving through Southern states, they were met with violence from mobs of Klansmen and segregationists. Once, stopped at a bus station in Rock Hill, South Carolina, the group tried to enter a white waiting room together. John Lewis, then 21, was brutally attacked by a white police officer. Two of his fellow riders were also attacked and beaten. The Freedom Riders responded with non-violence and decided not to press charges.
Violence escalated as the group moved down to Alabama. The first bus was firebombed near Anniston. Klansmen ambushed the buses and nearly burned the riders alive. Similar violence occurred in Birmingham, where riders were dragged from the bus and beaten. At this point, the original Freedom Riders separated. Several flew to New Orleans to a rally, where they were scheduled to speak.
John Lewis continued on the rides along with several new group members from the Nashville Student Movement (NSM). C.T. Vivian was among the Nashville activists who replaced injured riders in Montgomery, Alabama. Vivian and Lewis were familiar with one another from having organized non-violent sit-ins and protests throughout Nashville.
The Greyhound bus station in downtown Montgomery became another site of white violence, so the Freedom Riders sought refuge in Reverend Ralph Abernathy’s First Baptist Church. Abernathy was also a leader of the civil rights movement and a close friend of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. On Sunday, May 21, 1961, more than 1,000 people and civil rights activists gathered in the church to show support for the Freedom Riders.
Rev. Ralph Abernathy delivering a sermon to activists and demonstrators taking refuge in his church, 1961.
While white angry mobs gathered outside, Schutzer and Scherschel took photographs of the riders, demonstrators, and fellow-supporters. The images are powerful portraits of the relentless fatigue experienced by the Black community during these acts of violence.
Freedom riders sitting during a service in Rev. Ralph Abernathy’s Church, Montgomery, Alabama, May 1961. John Lewis is looking at the camera. From left to right: John Lewis, Carl Bush, Joseph Carter, William Mithcell, rest unidentified.
Freedom riders sitting during a service in Rev. Ralph Abernathy’s Church, Montgomery, Alabama, May 1961. From left to right: John Lewis, Carl Bush, Joseph Carter, William Mithcell.
Portrait of Freedom Riders, in the basement of Rev. Ralph Abernathy’s Church, Montgomery, Alabama, May 1961. Pictured are, front row, from left: Allen Cason Jr., Frederick Leonard, Etta Simpson, William B. Mitchell, Ruby D. Smith, John Lewis, and Charles Butler; second row: Joseph Carter, Lucretia Collins, Patricia Jenkins, Carl Bush, Catherine Burks, and Paul E. Brooks; standing: Clarence Wright, Bernard La Fayette Jr., Rudolph Graham, and William Harbour.
The Freedom Riders met in the basement of the Rev. Ralph Abernathy’s church and got on the phone with Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy to call for help. Kennedy dispatched the National Guard, who used tear gas to disperse the violent crowd, and helped to escort the people inside the church to safety.
Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy during a press conference to discuss the violence facing the Freedom Riders, 1961.
The images of Lewis show his bandaged head, from wounds he received when he was beaten upon the group’s arrival to the Montgomery Greyhound bus terminal.
Demonstrators and activists gathered outside of Montgomery First Baptist church, while being protected from white violence and escorted by National Guard troops, 1961.
After Kennedy’s troops successfully disbanded the mob, the Freedom Riders were loaded onto a National Guard truck and moved from the church to the safe house of Dr. Richard Harris. There, they continued organizing plans for the Freedom Rides, and rested before their next departure. Schutzer went with the Freedom Riders to the safe house and continued taking photographs. Below, a view of bandaged John Lewis speaking with other Freedom Riders.
A bandaged John Lewis (center left) discussing with Rev. Abernathy and other Freedom Riders at a Montgomery safe house, 1961.
On May 24, 1961, after spending some time in the safe house, the Freedom Riders were escorted by the National Guard to the Montgomery Trailways bus station. The group, including John Lewis and C.T. Vivian, got on a bus that departed for Jackson, Mississippi. The troops Kennedy had sent in cordoned off streets and the station to protect the riders.
National guard soldiers patrolling around the Freedom Riders’ bus Montgomery, Alabama, 1961.
Freedom riders standing at a bus terminal ticket counter to get tickets for their 1961 ride from Montgomery, Alabama to Jackson, Mississippi. Reverend C.T. Vivian (back center) facing Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. leaning against the counter.
National Guard troops patrolling the Montgomery Grayhound bus terminal after violence broke out in response to the Freedom Riders’ demonstrations, 1961.
National Guard members sitting in front of Reverend C.T. Vivian on a bus with the freedom riders traveling from Montgomery, AL to Jackson, Mississippi, 1961.
Demonstrations of hate continued, including by the Lincoln Rockwell “Hate Bus.” Seen along the routes of the Freedom Riders, the bus was adorned with slogans supporting white supremacy. Groups of white men dressed as Nazis rode the bus to speaking engagements of civil rights activists and followed the Freedom Riders.
White men dressed as Nazis standing by a ‘Hate Bus’ to oppose the Freedom Riders, 1961.
Upon arrival to the Trailways bus station in Jackson, Mississippi, John Lewis and C.T. Vivian were arrested along with other Freedom Riders. The violence in Montgomery drew worldwide attention and forced the National government to intervene with civil rights hate crimes.
Rev. C.T. Vivian stepping into the Jackson Mississippi Police car after his arrest, 1961.
Freedom Riders Patricia Jenkins (Front left) and Ruby Smith (Center) being taken into custody by police officers during their arrest at the bus stop in Jackson, Mississippi, 1961.
Freedom Riders Ruby Smith (L) and Patricia Jenkins (C) being ordered by a white police officer during their arrest at the bus stop in Jackson, Mississippi, 1961.
C.T. Vivian went on to join the executive staff of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) as the Director of Affiliates. He coordinated local civil rights groups and advised King while organizing demonstrations in Alabama and Florida.
John Lewis also continued fiercely with his civil rights activism. Two years later, he went on to help plan the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, which included King’s historic “I Have a Dream” speech. The march, which took place in August of 1963, was photographed by LIFE’s Francis Miller, Robert W. Kelly, and John Dominis.
Portrait of racial justice activists and organizers for the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 1963. Bottom right to left: Roy Wilkens, Martin Luther King, A. Philip Randolph, Cleveland Robinson, Whitney Young. Top row right to left: Walter Reuther, Floyd McKissick, Reverend Eugene Carson Blake, John Lewis, Rabbi Joachim Prinz.
Civil rights activists standing arm in arm for the March on Washington, August, 1963. From left to right: John Lewis, Matthew Ahman, Floyd McKissick, Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Rev. Eugene Carson Blake, Cleveland Robin, Whitney Young, Roy Wilkens, Walter Reuther.
It was not until 1994 that Byron De La Beckwith, a white supremacist and long-time Klan member then age 74, was found guilty of first-degree murder in the 1963 killing of civil rights activist and U.S. Army veteran, Medgar Evers. De La Beckwith had been tried decades earlier for his horrific crime—he shot Evers in the back, with a rifle, as Evers stood in the driveway of his Jackson, Miss., home—but two trials ended in hung juries. When De La Beckwith was finally held accountable, Evers’ widow Myrlie, who had fought for justice for her husband for more than 30 years, felt she might finally be free of the anger and hate she had borne for so long. Her words upon hearing the verdict? “Yes, Medgar!”
Here, LIFE.com presents a series of photographs by John Loengard, including one that remains among the most stirring of the Civil Rights era: a portrait of a dignified, deeply grieving Myrlie Evers comforting her weeping son, Darrell Kenyatta, at Evers’ funeral
Evers killing was just at the start of the pattern of domestic terrorism that would, in some ways, define the era—the murders of John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King and others had not yet occurred. The daylight killing of a man of Evers’ stature and significance was appalling. Although to the Evers family and to those on the front lines, not unforeseen, “We all knew the danger was increasing,” Myrlie Evers wrote in the June 28, 1963 edition of LIFE. “Threats came daily, cruel and cold and constant, against us and the children. But we had lived with this hatred for years and we did not let it corrode us.”
Medgar Evers was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery on June 19, 1963.
Myrlie Evers comforted her son, Darrell Kenyatta Evers, at the funeral of murdered civil-rights activist Medgar Evers
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Martin Luther King, Jr., Ralph Abernathy and other civil rights leaders walked in Medgar Evers’ funeral procession, Jackson, Miss.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Mourners bid farewell to slain NAACP official Medgar Evers at his funeral.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Mourners at Medgar Evers’ funeral, Jackson, Miss.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Mourners at Medgar Evers’ funeral.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Mourners at Medgar Evers’ funeral, Jackson, Miss.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Myrlie Evers (front row, second from right), wife of Medgar Evers; her son, Darrell Kenyatta; and other mourners at Medgar Evers’ funeral, Jackson, Miss.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
LIFE magazine, June 28, 1963.
John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
One of the most innovative and original artists of modern times, Christo, died at age 84 on May 31, 2020. His death came 11 years after the passing of his wife, Jeanne-Claude. Known as artists under a singular name, ‘Christo and Jeanne-Claude,’ they worked as one to create their eye-grabbing, large-scale site-specific installations.
Christo in front of his environmental installation “Corridor Store Front.”
To commemorate Christo is to ponder an eccentric designer of architectural clothing. His projects with Jeanne-Claude, called wrappings, masterfully dressed buildings and monuments in an act that was both a makeover and a demolition. Although his most recent works made use of colored barrels, curtains, archways, and island extensions, his most iconic pieces deployed vast swaths of sheeting made from plastics and fabrics. The sheets, held up by miles of thick, prickly-strung rope, billowed in cascades and met at the cinches.
In 1968 LIFE staffer Carlo Bavagnolicaptured Christo gracefully constructing his first large-scale wrapping project, and Bavagnoli also shot two other installations by Christo and Jeanne-Claude that same year. These photos capture Christo’s skill at highlighting both the physical and bureaucratic structures that surround public architecture.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s wrappings challenged the visual presence of public architecture by, as Art News put it in their tribute to the late artist, “deconstructing and reconstructing the way we think about those structures.” In effect, their sheets covered fine architectural details but highlighted building structure. Sharp juts of corners and smooth curves of domes became accentuated, while a new void of color and texture called on viewers’ memories to fill in the details of a building that was simultaneously on display but held hostage.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude bunched up plastic sheeting while constructing “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” for Documenta IV in 1968.
The artwork was more than the finished product. Every step and challenge of a wrapping constituted the piece. Christo and Jeanne-Claude pushed back against the wills of city officials, insurers, and engineers to gain permissions. Exploring the restraints of these civil systems was part of the work. In 1972 Christo told the New York Times:
“For me esthetics is everything involved in the process – the workers, the politics, the negotiations, the construction difficulty, the dealings with hundreds of people… The whole process becomes an esthetic – that’s what I’m interested in, discovering the process. I put myself in dialogue with other people.”
That process prevented the two from seeing through large-scale wrappings early in their careers. But in 1968, the Kunsthalle in Bern, Switzerland, became the site for their first large-scale wrapping. Wrapped Kunsthalle pushed their nearly decade-old proposals into reality, at last at their imagined scale.
The museum was a running start. During 1968, Christo and Jeanne-Claude embarked on five major projects that involved over 50,000 square feet of sheeting, and over 4 miles of rope. Bavagnoli shot three of these installations.
Wrapped Kunsthalle: Bern, Switzerland
Wrapped Kunsthalle was part of an international group show for the Kunsthalle museum’s 50th anniversary. A dozen artists participated, by presenting a variety of environmental works. Instead of showing something inside the halls, Christo and Jeanne-Claude cloaked the museum in 26,156 square feet of reinforced polyethylene. Christo said of the exhibition, “We took the environments by eleven other artists and wrapped them. We had our whole environment inside.”
Christo stood on top of the Swiss art museum, Kunsthalle, fastening rope and plastic sheeting around a pillar for his installation “Wrapped Kunsthalle,” 1968.
Christo adjusted plastic sheeting on the Swiss art museum, Kunsthalle, as spectators walk by. The covering was part of his installation “Wrapped Kunsthalle,” 1968.
Christo sat on a monument across the street from the Swiss art museum, Kunsthalle, so he could observe his installation work on “Wrapped Kunsthalle,” 1968.
Visitors moved through a slit of plastic sheeting from Christo’s “Wrapped Kunsthalle” to enter the Kunsthalle Swiss art museum. The museum was covered all but for one opening for visitors to move in and out, 1968.
It took six days to wrap the museum, with help from an 11-person team. It was both an installation feat, and a bureaucratic one. Insurance companies refused to protect the museum while it was wrapped. In lieu of insurance, six security guards were hired to stand watch for potential fire and vandalism. The measure was so costly that the building was unwrapped after a week.
A panorama view of Christo’s “Wrapped Kunsthalle,” the Swiss art museum covered in plastic sheeting for an art show celebrating the museum’s 50th anniversary in 1968.
In July 1968, while Christo was working on Wrapped Kunsthalle, Jeanne-Claude was in the town of Spoleto, Italy. The two had proposed wrapping the Spoleto Opera House for the Festival of Two Worlds, but they were denied due to fire laws. Instead, they wrapped a medieval tower landmark and a baroque fountain at the Spoleto marketplace.
With Christo in Bern and Jeanne-Claude in Spoleto, neither was able to see the other’s completed wrapping. But later in the summer, the two reunited and completed 5,600 Cubic Meter Package.
A medieval tower on the outskirts of Spoleto, Italy was wrapped for the “Festival of Two Worlds,” 1968.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude completed 5,600 Cubic Meter Package as part of the contemporary art exhibition, Documenta IV in 1968. The installation was the largest ever inflated structure without a skeleton.
Its construction involved the two tallest cranes Europe had to offer, plus professional riggers, heat sealed fabric and a 3.5-ton steel cradle as a support base. Christo and Jeanne-Claude had a chief engineer, Dimiter Zagoroff, who created the base and helped coordinate the package’s inflation. The result was a striking display of collaboration and engineering work, the sort of which would continue through the rest of Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s lifetime of installation.
Christo and his head engineer, Dimiter Zagoroff, discussed the construction of the metal support base for “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” 1968.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude discussed with their head engineer, Dimiter Zagoroff, the details of construction for “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” during Documenta IV in 1968.
Christo, Jeanne-Claude, and other members of the construction team, fastened the inflation tube around the metal base of “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” for Documenta IV in 1968.
The son of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, Cyril Christo, read a book during the construction work on “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” for Documenta IV in Germany, 1968.
Christo used a machine to heat a section of plastic used to seal up “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” for inflation. The installation was part of Documenta IV in 1968.
Christo worked with his construction team to slide a large roll of plastic into rope casing of his “5,600 Cubic Meter Package,” for Documenta IV in 1968.
The following is from the introduction to the special issue, LIFE: A Story of America in 100 Photographs, which is available here.
A great photograph tells not one story but many, through what it plainly reveals and what it suggests. And great photographers—like great artists, writers, carpenters, farmers, clergy, all—see beyond the limitations of their talent, beyond their resources, to something more. “Never have I found the limits of the photographic potential,” the LIFE photojournalist W. Eugene Smith once observed. “Every horizon, upon being reached, reveals another beckoning in the distance. Always, I am on the threshold.”
Two of Smith’s photographs (Country Doctor, Burning Cross) appear in LIFE, A Story of America in 100 Photographs. Dozens of the others were taken by his colleagues and peers. Indeed, all of the photos in this story have appeared in the magazine or book or website pages of LIFE, which has long been a chronicler of American life. The images trace back to 1850 (soon after the dawn of photography itself, and shortly before the United States was solidified into the Union (as we know it now) and continue, with gorgeous and colorful aplomb, into the 21st century. They are delivered here throughout the decades, each image augmented by a body of text, a story in words and facts meant to add context and understanding, meant to illuminate more than to guide.
If a single photo—and the sentences nestled beside it—carries so many strands of meaning, then so does a collection of photos, bearing a narrative that is at once available in discreet pieces and as a whole. This collection. This narrative. The U.S. flag adds a 49th star. Moving trucks fill suburban driveways. Route 66 invites travelers west. Disneyland opens. John F. Kennedy and wife Jacqueline attend his inaugural ball. Marines in Vietnam carry off wounded comrades. A busboy kneels by the fallen Robert F. Kennedy.
It has been said that you don’t take a photograph, you simply borrow it, nabbing a bit of history, adding those hints of possibility, so as to stand, looking forward or back, on the threshold.
Shirley Temple celebrated her eighth birthday at 20th Century Fox in 1936, when, in the middle of the Great Depression, she was the biggest box office star in America.
Alfred Eisenstaedt The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Tears streamed down the cheeks of accordion-playing Chief Petty Officer (USN) Graham Jackson as President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s flag-draped funeral train left Warm Springs, Ga., April 13, 1945
Ed Clark The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
As America began its move westward, Route 66, here shown in Seligman, Arizona in 1947, took on a special romance for those who yearned to strike out for adventure.
Andreas Feininger The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Dr. Ernest Ceriani made a house call on foot, Kremmling, Colo., 1948. The generalist was the lone physician serving a Rocky Mountain enclave that covered 400 square miles.
W. Eugene Smith/Life Pictures/Shutterstock
Truck driver Robert Nuher and his family gathered around the television in 1949, at a time when screens first invaded the American living room. A new station had just debuted in the Nuhers’ hometown of Erie, Pa.
Five years after the end of World War II, American soldiers were fighting again, the time in Korea. Here Marine Capt. Francis “Ike” Fenton pondered his fate and the fate of his men after being told that his company was nearly out of ammunition, 1950.
David Douglas Duncan
The Golden Gate Bridge, photographed from a helicopter in 1952.
In the years following World War II, Americans flocked to the suburbs. Here moving trucks arrived at a new planned community in Lakewood, Calif. in 1952.
Disneyland opened in 1955 in Anaheim, Calif. Built on what had been 160 acres orange groves and walnut trees, Disneyland wasn’t the world’s first theme park, but it quickly became the standard by which others would be measured.
Billie Holiday, a singular jazz vocalist known for recordings of such songs as “Strange Fruit” and “God Bless the Child,” performed at one of the late night jazz sessions hosted by LIFE photographer Gjon Mili. Holiday, raised partly in a Baltimore brothel and partly in a home for troubled girls, endured childhood sexual abuse and later became addicted to alcohol and heroin, before dying at age 44, in 1959.
President John F. Kennedy, after beginning his presidency with a speech that declared “the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans,” celebrated with his wife Jacqueline at his Inaugural Ball.
U.S. Marines carried their wounded during a firefight near the southern edge of the DMZ, Vietnam, October 1966. Photographer Larry Burrows, whose images brought home to LIFE readers in full color the horrors taking place in Vietnam’s lush countryside, was killed along with three other photographers when their helicopter was shot down over Laos in 1971.
Larry Burrows/Life Pictures/Shutterstock
Football’s escalation in the American consciousness took a great leap forward in 1967, when Bart Starr led the Green Bay Packers to a win over the Kansas City Chiefs at the Los Angeles Coliseum in the first Super Bowl.
The 60s were defined by three assassinations: President John F. Kennedy, civil rights leader Martin Luther Kind, and Senator Robert Kennedy, who in 1968 was making his own run at president. After winning the California primary and giving a victory speech at L.A.’s Ambassador hotel, RFK was fatally shot by Sirhan Sirhan. Seventeen-year-old busboy Juan Romero, who had just shaken Kennedy’s hand, registered the shock of a nation.