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An Adventure of Mine*
Taking the Model Home
THE PHOTOGRAPHER
While attending college, one of my major hobbies was photography. I had received a camera when I graduated from high school. I became active in the local camera club on campus.
A partner and I ran a sideline dance portrait business during the school year. We took souvenir photos of couples at formal college dances, as well as at fraternity and sorority parties.
THE CAMERA CLUB
Each quarter the camera club held a "Model Shoot" so the club members could practice their camera skills. A professional model agency would provide a model for a Saturday afternoon. In the Spring and Fall quarters, we usually went to a nearby state park. In the Winter quarter, the model shoot would be held in a large recreation room of one of the university dormitories.
During my Junior year at college, I served as President of the local camera club. In this role, it was my responsibility to arrange for the quarterly model shoots. It was early December and we would be shooting indoors under flood lights and in front of a large seamless backdrop.
I called the Model Agency located in a larger city about an hour away.
Everything was arranged. The usual fashions: party dress, casual skirt, slacks, bathing suit. I would pick up the model at the agency at noon for our 1:00 p.m. scheduled model shoot.
I would also be responsible for driving the model back to the agency afterwards.
PICKING UP THE MODEL
I was up bright and early Saturday morning. After breakfast, I assembled my camera equipment and made sure I had plenty of film . l (This was before the days of digital cameras.) I saw to it that the backdrop and flood lights would be set up in the recreation hall.
After an early lunch, I got my car and headed down the highway to pick up the model. When I reached the agency, the manager informed me that the young lady whom they had scheduled, had called in ill. However, they had arranged a substitute model and hoped that would be O.K.
I said, "Sure."
The substitute was an attractive young lady - a relatively tall, slender blond. As we were driving to campus, I tried some light conversation.
"What do you do when you are not modeling?" I asked.
"Oh, I go to school," she replied.
"Drake University?" I asked. (She was obviously not an engineer and I assumed she attended the liberal arts college near the agency.)
"No, North High," she responded.
I was instantly at a loss for words.
THE PHOTO SHOOT
The model shoot went off without a hitch. The more-advanced club members usually called out the poses. The more-novice members tried copying the different angles. Some used flash photography. Others relied on the available light of the photoflood setup.
All in all, it was a very nice afternoon. Everyone seemed to have a good time.
THE TELEPHONE CALL
As we are wrapping up the afternoon activies, my business partner reminded me that we had not yet arranged for as assistant to run the cash box while we take dance pictures that evening. He suggested maybe our young model would enjoy being our helper and earning a little extra money.
We asked her.
"Yes," she said, "but I need to call my parents first."
"Good idea," I thought, and arranged for her to make the telephone call.
Her parents were agreeable but we would have to drive her home rather than just back to the model agency office. That was fine with us. I let the agency know what is happening.
THE UNIVERSITY DANCE
It was the annual "Christmas Dance" and lots of people attended. Many people wanted souvenir dance picture. We did a good business taking dance pictures of couples.
Our young assistant seemed to enjoy herself as she collected money and made change. My business partner even invited her to dance during a lull in the picture line.
The time got away from us. The university dance had ran late. By the time we had disassembled our setup, rolled up the backdrop, and put away the flood lights, it was after midnight.
THE TRIP HOME
As I was driving down the highway to take the young model home, I suddenly remembered that she is only a high school student and how very late it is.
All I could think was, "I sure hope I don't have a burned-out tail light that might cause a highway patrolman to pull me over."
EPILOGUE
We made it. I got the model safely home. Her father met us at the door and thanked me for saving him a trip to pick up his daughter at the agency.
At last I was on my way back to campus -- tired and a nervous wreck.
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