International photographer (Jan-Dec 1941)

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ThE CAMERAMAN ilN tNe MR By Tommy Morris If anyone ever steps up and offers you an opportunity to handle a camera in an air picture — my advice, which usually isn't worth much, is to jump at the chance. I'm speaking from experience this time, for only recently I was fortunate enough to be included in the large camera crew which went to Texas to film Paramount's "I Wanted Wings." It was a lot of work, of course, but an experience and a thrill that was well worth having. "I Wanted Wings'' is the story of the training of air cadets for the American Air Corps. We were quartered in San Antonio, for both Randolph and Kelly Fields, the primary and finishing instruction bases, are located near that city. Ray Milland, Brian Donlevy, William Holden, Veronica Lake, Constance Moore and Wayne Morris play the principal roles, with Mitchell Leisen directing. In all, there were about 140 persons in the troupe. We had our headquarters in the St. Anthony Hotel, and had excellent accommodations and meals. The entire location was handled perfectly. A production office was set up at the hotel, and all arrangements were conducted in the same manner as they are at the studio. Whenever we wanted anything, or needed something done, we merely called this production office, instead of trying to locate a business manager or assistant director. It saved time for everyone. Our camera crew was an extensive one, with plenty of work for everyone concerned. The first unit was headed by Leo Tover, with Ernie Laszlo, Otto Pierce, Frank Burgess, Byron Seawright and Charles Russell. Loyal Griggs was in charge of the second unit and transparency backgrounds, aided by Arthur Lane, James Grant and S. A. Sanford. The air crew consisted of Elmer Dyer and myself, ably piloted by Paul Mantz, the noted flier. Kenny Lobben and Don English made up the still crew. An air picture naturally takes more equipment and planning than is normally used — much more than one would think. We had three special camera planes, for example, and two air cameras. One plane was a fast little Boeing, on which we fastened a stationary camera, either on a wing or in the landing gear. Paul lined his windshield up as a finder, and operated the camera from a switch in the cockpit. He was welcome to those shots, by the way, for they were all fast dives, follow shots and forced landings. The other two planes were a high-wing Vega for side and down angles, and a lowwing Orion for shooting up at formations from underneath. The Vega was used most, as the majority of the shots we made were down or at an angle out the side. Mantz built a sliding camera mount which fitted in the doorway. By moving it out we were able to shoot nearly straight forward or backward. To reload all we had to do was to slide the camera into the cabin, out of the slip stream. The force of the slip stream, at 250 miles an hour, is tremendous. It is so strong that it can break a man's arm should he be so incautious as to suddenly thrust an arm into the open air. On some days we went on four hour flights, and would reload six or eight times in the air. The sliding mount proved itself of immeasurable value in this point alone. But we did discover we should be careful. One day we forgot to lock the mount, and when Paul went into a steep bank, the camera slid out to the end of the track and nearly took Elmer with it. As mentioned, we used two cameras on the job. One was Dyer's Akeley, for fastpanning action shots, and the other his special rack-over Bell & Howell for plates. I'd like to say right here that a lot of credit should go to Paul Mantz. What a flier he is! I'd be willing to go up in anything he could get off the ground. We had a few trips in pretty rough weather and wondered if the plane would hold together, but we always got home all right. Paul has a great mechanic, too, in Jim Barton, who always had the planes in tiptop condition. In fact, his only advice to us was: "As long as I stay in the cockpit, boys, you stick with me. Don't bail out unless I do." He never did — so we didn't either! Elmer had a plenty tough job on the stick end of his camera against that fast air speed. It was no fun, as he was usually lying on his stomach fighting the wind and nearly being torn apart holding his camera in position. My job was to assist Elmer in the usual work — change filters, lenses, reload, keep records of jshots. In addition I wore a receiving headset and talked with Mantz by microphone, relaying signals from Elmer regarding plane positions and speeds. Paul was in radio contact with the Army ships, so we managed to get some nice formation shots. The biggest thrill to me was hedgehopping about ten feet off the ground, just skimnmg trees, barns, houses and fences. One day Mantz phoned back to us and said to look out the windows and hold our hats. We did — and he promptly flew right between two huge oak trees, sliding underneath the lowest branches by inches. Our greatest inconvenience was temperature. It usually was about 100 degrees or more on the ground, and 30 degrees (two below freezing) at 16,000 feet. We had to put on coveralls and jackets before each flight and got awfully hot if we didn't go up right away. Five minutes later we'd be in freezing temperatures. Sometimes we had to drop down to around 6000 feet, thaw out, then go back up again. One morning I got my face terribly sun and wind-burned, went aloft in the afternoon and got it frozen. The skin didn't peel off — it came off in chunks. Flying with the Army planes was a great thrill. We dodged in and out of formations and covered all angles. For most shots we used either 18 or 36 ships because that number was enough to fill the screen for comparatively close shots. Our biggest day was a graduation of cadets from Kelly field, and we flew with 96 beautiful silver pursuit type of planes. The young men the army is training for air work are really magnificent. They're 100 per cent in physique, mentality and personality. They first get a fourweek course in basic flying. They then are graduated, and move to Kelly field and are instructed in the use of a faster and better type of plane. After Kelly, the boys become officers and either go into the service or become instructors at the various C.A.A. fields throughout the country. From now on I'll never begrudge a single cent of taxes that goes towards this preparedness work. Just the sight of that graduation at Kelly Field was worth the price! For myself, I'm sorry I couldn't have gotten more Leica shots of my own. Usually I was too busy with pencil and telephone, but I did manage to get a few. Those silver ships from Kelly, and the dark blue and yellow ones from Randolph are great subjects. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind winning my wings myself. 17