Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #142
…Aw heck, Judith, you know I’m just a small town paper guy. I am grateful for any scraps you send my way…
“Now that was one hell of a picture!” asks Harv Pearson of Judith Eastman. The two of them have been literally attached at the hip since their serendipitous meeting. Together they are taking photographic journalism to another level. Pictures taken at the Pan-American Exposition are gaining form in one of the three baths of liquid in this very dark room. A dim red bulb allows them to see their work, but little else.
“I was actually setting up for John Philip Sousa. When I heard the shots I turned the tripod, approximated the angle and snapped.” The President had not reached the ground in the aforementioned image; a moment frozen in time, for human eyes to see, now and forever.
“You do realize that you have a pretty good look at the gunman…..here?”
“I thought so,” Judith agrees, “though at first that bandage on his hand looked like real wound dressing”
“So, how many duplicates does this make?” This particular picture is in great demand, making Judith an Eastman known in her own right. She is not exactly Matthew Brady, but neither is he and dying in a charity ward like him is not in her long-range plans.
“Ten, but do you remember what a time we had getting the government to release it for publication?”
“Don’t remind me. All my articles on the assassination ran with file photographs of McKinley.”
“Well, how soon we forget,” she quips with mock indignation. “What about all the other pictures of the Exposition, including everyone and his brother with the President! Were they but chicken feed to you?”
Harv best backpedal, lest he be banished from her good graces. He can ill-afford to lose either her technical skills or her friendship, especially since he is not far from expressing his undying love for this incredible woman. If you throw in the national magazine the pair is envisioning, he cannot let professional considerations to be divisive.
“Aw, heck, Judith, you know I’m just a small town paper guy. I am grateful for any scraps you send my way.”
“Don’t give me that poor old country boy routine.” She parts the dark to embrace him, fully appreciating that authentic charm. His nose for news and unfailing loyalty do not hurt his chances either. “Hurricanes and assassination and who knows what else have given you the most respected by-line I’ve seen in years. Your name has been mentioned in the same breath with Horace Greeley. Small town, my eye!
Alpha Omega M.D.