The Later Journeys - 23: Picture This

                    
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Gerry intended to head back to East Rutherford at the end of the evening. Our sofa was available for an overnight, but he said he had “always hated that thing.” But it was quite suitable for conversation.

We transferred the pot of brewed coffee to the small but comfortable living room. For the first time, we lit a fire. Actually, Warren and Trevor laid it but Gerry got it going. He’d been doing it since he was a teenager, staying here with his grandparents. Ben informed us that he “much enjoyed” a good winter fire and would be pleased if we assigned him that chore, along with his barn tasks.

“So, Ben,” Gerry asked, “What types of 21st century things have you learned about from this crew?”

Ben proceeded to tick off various innovations such as zippers, electricity, radio, telegraph, telephone, indoor plumbing, microwave ovens, refrigerators and automobiles. Gerry nodded. “Good. What about photography?”

Ben confessed to having learned nothing regarding that subject.

“For good reason,” interjected Warren. “A lot hinges on it.” He turned to Ben. “We have seen numerous portraits of you; it must have taken a fair amount of your time posing for them.”

Franklin sighed. “I am, of course, grateful for the time and talents of the painters,” he said. “Posing, however, could be an ordeal. Monseur Duplessis was perhaps the most perceptive, but not even to his brush would I have submitted myself more than once.”

“If someone wanted to create a portrait of you now, they might be able to view one of the existing paintings for the purposes of copying what was there, and that would save you having to sit for long periods of time.” Franklin nodded. “But there is now a method that would produce an instant portrait. It’s a technique that began in the early nineteenth century, and we can thank two other Frenchmen, Nicéphore Niépce and Louis Daguerre. For a long time, photographs were known as Daguerrotypes. At first, once the subject was captured on film, the exposure needed nearly a week to develop. That time became shorter and shorter as the years passed. We now have what’s known as digital photography. Trevor showed you his phone, right Trev?”

“Just for the purposes of helping to demonstrate a rotary-dial phone. We didn’t go any further into mobile phones because so many other technologies are involved.”

“True,” said Gerry, pulling out his own iPhone. “But you have seen one of these?” he asked Ben, who responded in the affirmative. “These cellular phones contain a camera, for creating these instant portraits. I’d like to demonstrate. Jas, Warren, Trevor, would you kindly pose in front of the fireplace?”

We did so. The fire wasn’t roaring, but the heat was pleasant as we arranged ourselves, trying to decide on formal or casual. Gerry got up and paced from one side of the room to the other, framing us from different angles. Finally he stopped and addressed Ben.

“You see our friends there, notice how they’re dressed. If you saw a portrait taken right now, you’d know for sure that it had just been produced, am I correct?”

Ben saw an opportunity to show off his newly discovered idiom. “Okay,” he said with a smile. Gerry probably didn’t even notice.

“All right, so now I can take their picture, as it’s commonly referred to now. Ready, everybody? Smile!”

I really hate having my picture taken; I always come out looking drunk. But I did my best to smile and look at Gerry’s viewfinder, and even managed not to blink when the flash went off.

“Ready, Ben?” Gerry asked, sitting down next to Ben. A few taps and swipes, and then he held the screen up so that Ben could look at it. Ben leaned forward, adjusting his eyeglasses; then he looked up at the three of us, who had continued holding the pose for comparison.

“Such faithful reproduction, in the blink of the eyes!” exclaimed Ben, repeatedly looking from one to the other.

“I can show you hundreds of other photographs on this phone,” said Gerry. “People, animals, landscapes, documents, interiors, as well as pictures I didn’t take myself but simply images copied from other places on my computer -- but I don’t think anyone’s talked to you about computers yet,” he rushed on, realizing the error. “Don’t worry, they will. That will open up a lot more vistas for you. The point is that it’s possible to take pictures of nearly anything. Depending on the light and the angle and the background, a picture taken with a cell phone like this can be very realistic, or it can look blurry or muddy, and that’s true of a picture taken with any sort of camera. It depends on the photographer’s skill. There’s much more to it than pressing a button. When you start getting out and meeting more people, we can help you learn about the entire history of photography. It really is something. Early photos were only black and white. And color photos, you can pretty much tell approximately when in the 20th century they were taken because the color has washed out. It’s an amazing science all on its own.”

“I see,” said Ben. “It has taken these many decades to advance in quality.”

“Exactly,” said Gerry, who paused a moment, and then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, said, “Ben, would you like me to take a picture of you in the same way now, so that you can have a recent portrait?”

The three of us were still standing by the fire but had relaxed our posture. We were all a little anxious to see how Ben would respond. If he declined, we were prepared to press the issue.

But Ben showed no hesitation. “I would much like to see it,” he said.

“Great!” said Gerry. Ben got up immediately and we created a space for him with us. “We can take several; let’s start with all of you together. Is that all right?” All of us gave assent, and a moment later, Ben was treated to our faces, none smiling as before, since we knew Ben was not about to relax that much after years of unsmiling poses. Still, the view was a good one. Gerry said he’d send a copy to each of our phones and added this shot to a folder to be processed by a mail-order company and sent to Ben.

“Mail?” asked Ben. “Is there a...postal service still?”

“Oh yes,” I answered. “It’s been in continuous operation from the days when you were the first Postmaster General. It’s gone through a number of reorganizations but is still extremely reliable. It’s the least costly way to deliver paper correspondence. The US Postal Service has over 500,000 employees.”

Ben smiled.

Warren asked Ben if he remembered us talking about a document he would need if he were to travel. “It includes a photo of you, and it’s my understanding--” he looked back at Gerry with eyebrows raised “that Gerry can do something to get you one, is that right?”

Gerry nodded. “Yes. I have a few connections who are very skilled at creating photo IDs.” We managed to omit from the conversation any hint that what Gerry proposed doing was completely and utterly illegal, and could not only derail his current efforts to minimize the record of his recent incarceration, but also land the rest of us in prison for conspiracy. But repeated conversations had assured us that Gerry knew what he was doing and that the card Ben got would be indistinguishable from other “Real IDs” issued by the motor vehicle department. We’d already agreed that it would be merely an ID and not a driver’s license. At age 79, there would be no questions about why Ben wasn’t driving now.

The rest of us sat back down, with Ben remaining posed next to the fireplace. Gerry got up and carefully adjusted his camera, and Ben, so that the resulting photo would be the standard full-face seen on driver’s licenses and state IDs. The fireplace had no mantel. Above the hearth the bricks were painted a neutral cream color, so the background was ideal for the bland quality of a bureaucratic document. Ben held still for Gerry, who snapped a few shots before thanking Ben. Ben remarked at the comparative ease and simplicity of this type of portrait, compared to months of sitting still for a painter.

Back on the couch, Gerry swiped the screen to give Ben a view of the different poses. Ben liked one slightly better than the others and we agreed. He was still wearing the black Princeton warm-up jacket, but only the smallest bit of the collar showed, and it helped offset his complexion to make him look perhaps five or more years younger.

“I’ll make sure you get hard copies of all of them,” he promised Ben, who probably inferred what Gerry meant by “hard copies” since he didn’t bother to inquire.

“I have one more portrait I’d like to show you,” said Gerry, reaching for his wallet. He produced a piece of green-gray paper, which all of us had seen numerous times. He handed it to Ben, who bent forward, squinted, reared back, flipped it over and studied it silently for at least two full minutes.

“One hundred dollars?” he read. “This is the currency of the nation?”

“It is,” said Gerry.

Ben continued examining the bill, seeming much more interested in the reverse side than the obverse. “Independence Hall,” he said, and then chuckled. “They renamed the State House. It looks better here than when I last saw it.”

“Because they rebuilt it almost from the ground up, during the 1800s,” said Warren.

Gerry dug in his pocket for coins, and laid a sample of each on the table for Ben to examine.

“I imagine there was once a one-hundred dollar coin, but if they ever made one, it’s no longer in circulation.”

“There is,” Trevor was quick to clarify. “The platinum eagle bullion coin, 1997.”

“Here is George,” Ben commented when he picked up the quarter. Naturally, other than Jefferson on the nickel, none of the other faces registered with him. Gerry checked his wallet again and was able to produce additional paper with portraits of Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton (readily recognized by Ben), and Harriet Tubman, but Ben did not get to see Ulysses Grant or Thomas Jefferson because neither Gerry nor any of us had those less-common bills available.

“One hundred dollars,” Ben murmured. “The Duplessis.” That portrait, painted only a couple of years earlier in France, was destined to become the iconic portrait of Benjamin Franklin.

“Yes,” said Gerry. “A lot of people simply refer to the one hundred dollar bill as a Benjamin.” Ben smiled and looked down, mildly embarrassed.

“Like photographs, coins and postage stamps are collectors’ favorites,” said Warren. “Popular hobbies -- and sometimes expensive ones.”

“I’m going to stay out of the discussion,” said Gerry, stuffing money back into his wallet and pockets. “But before I get this ID printed, the bunch of you will need to tell me the information you want on it. Birth certificates are easy, but everything needs to match up. If we get the ID just right, we can probably see our way clear to a passport later on, if it’s needed.”

“Thanks so much, Ger,” I said.

“‘Tis but a trifle,” he smiled.

Thanks as always for reading. Comments welcome. Here's the next chapter.