It was fairly early in my career as a photojournalist that I worked for the Talladega (Alabama) Daily Home newspaper. We were usually pretty busy because we had a staff of 5 photographers who covered a huge area- all of East-Central Alabama. One day though, I was eating my lunch in the paper's break room and reading a small article in our sister paper, The Anniston Star about a man who was living under a bridge on one of the major highways leading into Talladega. Since I wasn't busy that day, I decided to go see him and find out what his situation was. I went to the location and found a tall, frail looking man named Jack Williams. Jack had a very raspy voice and it turned out that he had terminal throat cancer and had been told he had 3 weeks to live. He explained that he loved the outdoors, so after getting all of his affairs in order, he decided he wanted to spend the remainder of his days hunting, fishing and camping. The owner of the land gave him permission to be there and charged him $1 a year for rent- payable at a later date. I ended up doing not just one, but several stories about Jack, and it garnered me a lot of attention and job offers from bigger (but not necessarily better...) newspapers. I think Jack, more than any other person I photographed, did more for my career than anyone else. I felt guilty about this, but he just laughed and told me he was happy to help. Very typical Jack Williams response.


In Alabama, there is usually a lot of flooding in the spring. Heavy rains happen at this time of the year, and Jack's little creek-side abode was flooded out. I offered him my couch until the waters subsided, and when we got to the apartment on Coffee Street, he gave me a strange look. I asked him if he was OK and he explained that he had lived in the apartment on the 2nd floor, left side- my apartment. In researching Jack, I found out that his family was pioneers in the area, starting the school, library and even the paper that I worked for.


Fast forward a few years and I was now working for a large newspaper company who was involved in the Newspapers in Education program. I was speaking to a group of 4th and 5th grade students and I was telling them about Jack. My point in this was that you can't judge people prior to knowing their situation and that Jack was a good example of this. To look at him, you would consider him homeless, maybe an alcoholic or a drug user, but know him and you find out that he loved to read National Geographic, Scientific America and some other "intellectual" magazines. He wrote poetry and could tell you about ANYTHING in the natural world. A very smart, well read man. Well, after I say this, one of the teachers gets up crying and leaves the room. I tracked her down after I was finished and asked if I had said something to offend her. She smiled and patted my hand and said "No, that man you spoke about, Jack Williams, he was my father. I had a bad falling out with him and was too proud to say I was sorry, so for the last ten years of his life, we didn't speak. Now, my only mementos of him are the articles you wrote. I have them hanging proudly in my home..." . Needless to say, chills ran up my spine. She had some questions about him that I was able to answer for her, and the next day I brought a box of things to her that he had given me over the course of the year and a half that I photographed him and gave them to her and tokens of her father's life. Sometimes, you just never know how the things you do will effect people.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading and have an excellent day! Here's the photo:

It was fairly early in my career as a photojournalist that I worked for the Talladega (Alabama) Daily Home newspaper. We were usually pretty busy because we had a staff of 5 photographers who covered a huge area- all of East-Central Alabama. One day though, I was eating my lunch in the paper's break room and reading a small article in our sister paper, The Anniston Star about a man who was living under a bridge on one of the major highways leading into Talladega. Since I wasn't busy that day, I decided to go see him and find out what his situation was. I went to the location and found a tall, frail looking man named Jack Williams. Jack had a very raspy voice and it turned out that he had terminal throat cancer and had been told he had 3 weeks to live. He explained that he loved the outdoors, so after getting all of his affairs in order, he decided he wanted to spend the remainder of his days hunting, fishing and camping. The owner of the land gave him permission to be there and charged him $1 a year for rent- payable at a later date. I ended up doing not just one, but several stories about Jack, and it garnered me a lot of attention and job offers from bigger (but not necessarily better...) newspapers. I think Jack, more than any other person I photographed, did more for my career than anyone else. I felt guilty about this, but he just laughed and told me he was happy to help. Very typical Jack Williams response.


In Alabama, there is usually a lot of flooding in the spring. Heavy rains happen at this time of the year, and Jack's little creek-side abode was flooded out. I offered him my couch until the waters subsided, and when we got to the apartment on Coffee Street, he gave me a strange look. I asked him if he was OK and he explained that he had lived in the apartment on the 2nd floor, left side- my apartment. In researching Jack, I found out that his family was pioneers in the area, starting the school, library and even the paper that I worked for.


Fast forward a few years and I was now working for a large newspaper company who was involved in the Newspapers in Education program. I was speaking to a group of 4th and 5th grade students and I was telling them about Jack. My point in this was that you can't judge people prior to knowing their situation and that Jack was a good example of this. To look at him, you would consider him homeless, maybe an alcoholic or a drug user, but know him and you find out that he loved to read National Geographic, Scientific America and some other "intellectual" magazines. He wrote poetry and could tell you about ANYTHING in the natural world. A very smart, well read man. Well, after I say this, one of the teachers gets up crying and leaves the room. I tracked her down after I was finished and asked if I had said something to offend her. She smiled and patted my hand and said "No, that man you spoke about, Jack Williams, he was my father. I had a bad falling out with him and was too proud to say I was sorry, so for the last ten years of his life, we didn't speak. Now, my only mementos of him are the articles you wrote. I have them hanging proudly in my home..." . Needless to say, chills ran up my spine. She had some questions about him that I was able to answer for her, and the next day I brought a box of things to her that he had given me over the course of the year and a half that I photographed him and gave them to her and tokens of her father's life. Sometimes, you just never know how the things you do will effect people.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading and have an excellent day! Here's the photo:

It was fairly early in my career as a photojournalist that I worked for the Talladega (Alabama) Daily Home newspaper. We were usually pretty busy because we had a staff of 5 photographers who covered a huge area- all of East-Central Alabama. One day though, I was eating my lunch in the paper's break room and reading a small article in our sister paper, The Anniston Star about a man who was living under a bridge on one of the major highways leading into Talladega. Since I wasn't busy that day, I decided to go see him and find out what his situation was. I went to the location and found a tall, frail looking man named Jack Williams. Jack had a very raspy voice and it turned out that he had terminal throat cancer and had been told he had 3 weeks to live. He explained that he loved the outdoors, so after getting all of his affairs in order, he decided he wanted to spend the remainder of his days hunting, fishing and camping. The owner of the land gave him permission to be there and charged him $1 a year for rent- payable at a later date. I ended up doing not just one, but several stories about Jack, and it garnered me a lot of attention and job offers from bigger (but not necessarily better...) newspapers. I think Jack, more than any other person I photographed, did more for my career than anyone else. I felt guilty about this, but he just laughed and told me he was happy to help. Very typical Jack Williams response.


In Alabama, there is usually a lot of flooding in the spring. Heavy rains happen at this time of the year, and Jack's little creek-side abode was flooded out. I offered him my couch until the waters subsided, and when we got to the apartment on Coffee Street, he gave me a strange look. I asked him if he was OK and he explained that he had lived in the apartment on the 2nd floor, left side- my apartment. In researching Jack, I found out that his family was pioneers in the area, starting the school, library and even the paper that I worked for.


Fast forward a few years and I was now working for a large newspaper company who was involved in the Newspapers in Education program. I was speaking to a group of 4th and 5th grade students and I was telling them about Jack. My point in this was that you can't judge people prior to knowing their situation and that Jack was a good example of this. To look at him, you would consider him homeless, maybe an alcoholic or a drug user, but know him and you find out that he loved to read National Geographic, Scientific America and some other "intellectual" magazines. He wrote poetry and could tell you about ANYTHING in the natural world. A very smart, well read man. Well, after I say this, one of the teachers gets up crying and leaves the room. I tracked her down after I was finished and asked if I had said something to offend her. She smiled and patted my hand and said "No, that man you spoke about, Jack Williams, he was my father. I had a bad falling out with him and was too proud to say I was sorry, so for the last ten years of his life, we didn't speak. Now, my only mementos of him are the articles you wrote. I have them hanging proudly in my home..." . Needless to say, chills ran up my spine. She had some questions about him that I was able to answer for her, and the next day I brought a box of things to her that he had given me over the course of the year and a half that I photographed him and gave them to her and tokens of her father's life. Sometimes, you just never know how the things you do will effect people.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading and have an excellent day! Here's the photo: