Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 2006/11/06
[Author Prev] [Author Next] [Thread Prev] [Thread Next] [Author Index] [Topic Index] [Home] [Search]Walt, Here is a "clip" on Migrant Mother" " Florence Owens Thompson was born on September 1, 1903, in the Indian Territory of the Cherokee Nation (now Oklahoma) and spent her childhood and early youth on a small family farm outside Tahlequah. Much hardship When she was 17, Florence married Cleo Owens and in the next decade, became mother to six children. Cleo died of tuberculosis in 1931 but a couple of years later, Florence became pregnant again from her relationship with a wealthy Oroville businessman and gave birth to son. Subsequently, James R. Hill, a butcher from Los Angeles, came into her life and a daughter was born in March 1935. (Florence had three more children by Hill. She married hospital administrator George Thompson well after World War II). For a large part of her life, Florence suffered unmitigated anguish, penury and hardship, moving from one place to another, giving birth to and raising children. But she was also a woman who enjoyed life and loved her children. In 1983, Florence was stricken with cancer. A surgery resulted in a stroke. In order to raise about $1,400 for her nursing, her son Troy Owens sought the help of Jack Foley, who filed a story in San Jose Mercury News. Public response to the special "Migrant Mother Fund" was a staggering $35,000! Sadly, Florence never ever recovered from her sickness. On September 16,1983, a couple of weeks after her 80th birthday, she died. She was buried at a cemetery in Empire, California with a gravestone that read: "Migrant Mother: A Legend of the Strength of American Motherhood." The true picture Dorothea's picture of Florence, "Migrant Mother", is among the most famous photographs of American history. The iconic image â?? snapped in March 1936 at the Pea-Pickers Camp in Nipomo â?? captured the heart of the public, moved a nation, got reproduced thousands of times and now hangs in the U.S. Library of Congress. According to Geoffrey Dunn, award-winning documentary filmmaker, film professor and historian, "no other image in the American archive resonates with the emotional urgency and tragic poignancy of this photograph ... Indeed, Lange's sombre portrait has achieved near mythical status, symbolising, if not defining, an entire era in our nation's history." Dunn is, however, quick to add that for all its acclaim, the photograph remained shrouded in mystery and behind-the-scenes controversy. For one, the identity of the sitter (Florence) in Lange's picture was not known till the late 1970s when Florence expressed disdain for the image and declared that she felt "exploited" by Lange's portrait. "I wish she (Lange) hadn't taken my picture," she fumed. "I can't get a penny out of it. She didn't ask my name. She said she wouldn't sell the pictures. She said she'd send me a copy. She never did." Lange herself had recalled in 1960: "I did not ask her name or her history. She told me she was 32. She said that they had been living on frozen vegetables from the surrounding fields, and birds that the children killed..." In the field notes, she recorded: "Seven hungry children. Father is native Californian. Destitute in pea pickers' camp... because of failure of the early pea crop. These people had just sold their tires to buy food." Dunn remarks, "Lange was uncharacteristically remiss in ascertaining information about her subject. The little she did record was largely misleading and factually incorrect ... Through her negligence, in effect, Lange perpetrated a case of historic deception on the American public." While reconstructing the day when the famous photograph was made, Dunn reveals that Florence, the children and Jim Hill packed up their Hudson sedan and headed north to find work. On Highway 101, just outside of Nipomo, the timing chain on the Hudson broke and they were forced to pull into the pea-picker's camp to mend their car. "We got the radiator fixed and hurried back to camp to fix the car," he quotes Florence's son, Troy Owens. "When we got there, Mama told us there had been this lady who had been taking pictures, but that's all she told us, you know. It wasn't a big deal to her at the time." On Lange's assertion about their selling tyres to buy food, Dunn quotes Troy again: "There's no way we sold our tires, because we didn't have any to sell. The only ones we had were on the Hudson and we drove off in them. I don't believe Lange was lying, I just think she had one story mixed up with another. Or she was borrowing to fill in what she didn't have.... That photo may well have saved some peoples' lives, but I can tell you for certain, it didn't save ours." The picture had a silver lining. When Florence's sickness generated national attention and contributions and touching messages poured in from all over the country, Owens admitted: "None of us ever really understood how deeply Mama's photo affected people. I guess we had only looked at it from our perspective. For Mama and us, the photo had always been a bit of curse. After all those letters came in, I think it gave us a sense of pride."