Len Millard photo exhibition opens at library
Len Millard’s demeanor is loaded with good ol’ boy vernacular that seems derived from a mix of the 1960s and the wild West of yore. Anyone who has known him, even briefly, has heard his twanged “Howdy pardner.”
An abridged version of his life reveals a past that has been lived colorfully and simply — an easy-ridin’ journey.
But one shouldn’t be fooled. Behind the persona is a character whose calculations have gotten him into some hi-falutin events including many at the top of the political world. Perhaps one the greatest paradoxes about Millard is the contrast between his aw-shucks mannerisms and his attraction to the nation’s political echelon.
When Millard takes off the dude hat, he puts on some others — including those of historian and photographer.
Currently, some of the fruit of that particular ambition is exhibited in the lobby of the Falls Public Library. It is entitled “Inauguration 2009.” On display is a series of photographs of the Obama inauguration that Millard took personally, from a station about 75 feet from the Capitol podium where the 44th American president took the oath of office. Millard’s finesse got him selected from almost 10,000 press applications to cover the event.
But his awe over the adventure is real.
“You’re thinkin’ things like ‘I’m standin’ where Abraham Lincoln was standin’,” he told The Daily Journal.
Millard, his son Joel Brueske, and Ranier residents John Bruggeman and Sue Swendsen drove 22 hours straight to attend the Jan. 20 inaugural event, arriving Friday afternoon. The father and son (who later got separated) were at the United States Capitol building at 4 a.m. the next morning.
“It was like Mecca,” he said about the accelerated circling of 1.8 million people. “They were walking on the freeway.” Millard explained that passes were colored to match the coordinated gates where people should enter the area. A Daily Journal press pass got him a yellow media pass.
“Amazing, we parked right at the Capitol, which is really something to get into now,” Millard marveled. Admitted by guards, people were then filed through security inspections.
Once in place, Millard continued to be amazed by the copacetic crowd. “A rare moment in history,” he said. “Just smiling faces. And not one arrest in the whole city of Washington D.C. during that time,” he added. Millard periodically stood on his chair and took pictures of the crowd. “Boston Globe” columnist Ellen Goodman sat in the row behind him.
Millard carried with him a travel log in which is inscribed a message that he considers one of the greatest treasures from his journey. It was handwritten by Dr. Charity Smith, a black woman from the Arkansas Department of Education, who wrote these words:
“Today we celebrate the most precious moment in time — a time when our dreams are no longer left deferred. It was an historical dream come true — a time, a season, a moment, a day, a place. This was a day when the great cultural tapestry of America came together.”
Smith’s eloquence sums up Millard’s memories of that historical moment.
“I felt like ‘Forrest Gump’ — saying to myself, ‘What am I doing here? Holy buckets, I’m so lucky.’
“Of all the things in my life, I can’t imagine anything else that would come close.”
Millard got his start in photography at the age of 13 as a special correspondent for The Daily Journal, when he photographed Pres. Dwight D. Eisenhower at a 1960 national Boy Scout Jamboree. He and seven other local boy scouts brushed shoulders with the late Eisenhower who was nearing the end of his two terms as president.
Millard has photographed seven U.S. presidents at various political conventions and election primaries. Previously an iron worker, he once quit a job in Hawaii to transfer to Washington D.C. so he could photograph the Watergate hearings. He credits the late Sen. Hubert H. Humphrey with getting him that press pass.
In 1976, he chartered a jet with his Alaska Pipeline coworkers to attend the nation’s Bicentennial Celebration. The photographer, who prefers shooting with film, also covered Woodstock 1994 and many other concerts.
Another highlight of his photography expeditions was spending 18 days in New Orleans after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. He and Phil Paulbeck of the Falls experienced the realities of the tragedy.
“The rest of America doesn’t know what really happened there, unless you see it,” Millard said. Twice more, he has returned. “Mardi Gras is my old stompin’ grounds,” he admits. But he described a bewildering image in New Orleans where in areas the size of football fields, just the front stoops are all that remain of many homes — leaving open, empty spaces dotted with concrete steps that lead to nowhere.
Millard plans to continue to capture images that create a visual history of what makes America, America. And he will be a part of that, with his own unique identity — a quirky mix of what’s happened yesterday and a shrewd sense of staying in the middle of it all.
