THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 23, 1997 TAG: 9702220050
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E9 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TERESA ANNAS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 143 lines
FOR A DECADE, photojournalist Flip Schulke placed himself in risky situations to document the civil rights movement. In 1962, he sneaked onto the riot-torn University of Mississippi campus in a car trunk, then braved tear gas and sniper fire to get his pictures.
While shooting for Ebony and then Life magazine in the 1950s and 1960s, Schulke's lens often was aimed at the movement's leader, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
Recently, in a classroom at Tidewater Community College's Visual Arts Center in Portsmouth, Schulke reminisced about the Baptist minister he considered a friend. He told how the two shared a love of Southern fried chicken, and how King was a great listener.
``I think historians in the year 2020 will call Martin Luther King Jr. the greatest American philosopher of the 20th century,'' he said.
The 67-year-old photographer, who lives in West Palm Beach, Fla., with his wife, Donna, still bears signs of the '60s. His blue eyes projected a gentle idealism. Wavy, shoulder-length gray hair was brushed back from his face. He wore blue jeans, a denim shirt and a necktie decorated with cartoon children of many colors.
Schulke was 28 and on assignment from Ebony when he first met King in February 1958.
In his 1995 book, ``He Had A Dream'' (W.W. Norton, New York), the third photo book he published on King, the photographer described that first encounter:
King, then 29, was speaking at a fund-raising rally in Miami. Afterward, Schulke approached King with questions about race issues. The two sat up all night discussing civil rights, and the role photography could play in spreading the word about the movement and the injustices that gave birth to it.
``Our friendship was formed during that long evening in Miami,'' Schulke wrote.
Here's the sort of man Schulke saw in King: In meetings to plot strategy, ``he would sit and listen to what everybody had to say. And he would say what he thought, then rattle off just what they should do.
``But he would find something valuable in what every person said,'' Shulke told the TCC group. ``So that when he put it all together, everyone felt they were part of it.''
Schulke also remembered photographing King en route to Montgomery, Ala., to serve a four-day prison term for ``trespass violations'' during a 1963 protest march. During the flight, King counseled Schulke about his lack of faith.
King was bound for jail in hostile territory, yet ``he was more worried about my soul,'' the photographer said. ``This is why I think this man was so great. He was so unselfish.''
That was October 1967; the next time Schulke saw King, he was lying in a casket, having been gunned down on the balcony of a Memphis motel on April 4, 1968.
``It should be very obvious to you that I am not objective about segregation,'' he told the TCC group. ``There's nothing to be objective about. I've never seen a story that is objective about the Holocaust. There is no defense.
``And I am very proud I did it this way. Everyone says the press is supposed to be objective. But you are born to a certain family, and a certain area, and you go to a certain college, and you are affected by all this.
``You have to know your biases. And all you can do is try to be fair.''
Schulke became a witness to an era:
In September 1962, he photographed the protest of James Meredith's admittance to the University of Mississippi. His pictures showed white mobs brandishing Confederate flags. He also showed Meredith as a dignified young black man in shirt and tie, studying quietly at a desk.
In 1963, he covered the March on Washington; at the march's finale, he photographed King from yards away as he delivered his famous ``I Have a Dream'' speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
The next year, he photographed King at the pulpit of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, hammering home his message of nonviolent protest. He also went home with King for Sunday dinner, and shot pictures of King as a family man playing with his kids in the back yard.
In those days, ``Life magazine had such incredible clout,'' Schulke said. So he often was able to get close and even exclusive coverage of major stories.
When activist Medgar Evers was killed in June 1963, Schulke was the only photographer allowed into the Evers home. Evers' murder is the subject of the recent feature film ``Ghosts of Mississippi.''
His well-known portrait of widow Myrlie Evers with a single tear streaking her cheek is included in ``Appeal to This Age: Photography of the Civil Rights Movement, 1954-1968,'' on view through March 2 at The Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk.
Another particularly famous picture by Schulke also is of a widow - Coretta Scott King, whose portrait at her husband's funeral graced the cover of Life.
In the picture, Coretta sits stiffly in a church pew. Her posture is dignified, her face stonelike in its composure beneath the long, black veil. Her expression registers grace and pain in equal measure.
Flip was a master of sympathy and empathy,'' said Benjamin Chapnick, president of Black Star photo agency. Schulke marketed his photo stories through the prestigious New York agency for more than 40 years.
``He could look around and take very strong individual moments that brought you into the situation with the people involved. You think of Coretta King at the funeral, and you think of Myrlie Evers in a similar pose.''
Of all the important civil rights photographers, Schulke is in the top echelon, said Vme Edom Smith. Her father, the late Cliff Edom, started the Missouri Photographic Workshop that helped launch a new era of concerned documentary photography in America.
Smith brought Schulke to Portsmouth to speak to her TCC class, ``Social Institutions Through Photography.''
Smith, who moved to Portsmouth last year, first met Schulke when both were students in 1952 at the fourth Missouri Photographic Workshop, held in Jefferson City, Mo. Each year, the workshop was held for a week in a different small town in Missouri; in 1993, Smith and her parents, Vi and Cliff Edom, published a book of workshop photos taken from 1949 to 1991.
In the book, ``Small Town America,'' a lanky, dark-haired Schulke is shown in a group picture of the 1952 workshop participants. Several cameras are hung around his neck, and his hands are on his hips in a determined posture. In 1965, he returned on staff.
The 1952 workshop had put him in contact with major photographers associated with the Farm Security Administration who had documented tough times during the Great Depression.
Meeting those people was among the influences that ``made me want to become a magazine photographer,'' he said.
He said he's just as idealistic as he was in those days. ``And I've seen more death and destruction than anybody in this room. I still feel we can change bad situations.''
Think about Rosa Parks, he said. She was a solitary seamstress who refused to relinquish her bus seat to a white person, a nonviolent rebellion that paved the way for desegregation.
``So when people say, `I can't change anything alone,' I say, `You are not alone. You have your friends, your community, your family. You can change the world.' '' ILLUSTRATION: Photos by HUY NGUYEN/The Virginian-Pilot
Photographer Flip Schulke prepares slides for his recent show at
TCC's Visual Arts Center in Portsmouth.
Schulke took many photos of his friend the Rev. Martin Luther King
Jr.
Graphic
ON EXHIBIT
Flip Schulke's photography is included in ``Appeal to This Age:
Photography of the Civil Rights Movement, 1954-1968,'' an exhibit on
view through March 2 at The Chrysler Museum of Art, 245 W. Olney
Road, Norfolk. Hours are 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday,
1 to 5 p.m. Sunday. Admission is $4, adults; $2, students and ages
60 and older; free, ages 5 and younger and on Wednesdays. Call
664-6200.
KEYWORDS: PROFILE