Dennis Anderson: Photos are a fine vintage

Some historians date the invention of the camera, at least its concept, to a time before Christ. But it wasn't until much later -- 1840 -- that the first U.S. patent was issued in photography.

Ever since, Americans have been documenting their lives outdoors, particularly the camps they've erected, the fish they've caught and the game they've killed.

Now a book ("Oxley Outdoors," online at www.vintagehuntingphotos.com) has been published by a White Bear Lake man, Rich Oxley, who used photographs taken mostly by his late grandfather, W.T. Oxley of Fergus Falls, Minn., to document a slice of outdoor history in ways few books have.

An Iowa native, W.T. bought a farm near Fergus Falls and moved there in 1906. By then he was already a photographer, if an accidental one.

"The diamond in his wife's wedding ring had come loose when they lived in Iowa," Rich said. "So he took it to a local jeweler. But the jeweler lost the ring, and when W.T. came to claim it, the jeweler offered him a camera instead, which he took."

No one knows quite how W.T.'s wife, Maggie, took this news.

Still, the compensation was fortuitous because by all accounts -- including the sampling of photos on this page -- W.T. was a natural photographer, and a curious, inventive one as well.

Not incidentally to his interests, at that time, Fergus Falls was ground zero for ducks in Minnesota, as bigwigs from the Twin Cities were moving their duck camps from southwest Minnesota to Lake Christina, not far from W.T.'s home. Included among these hunters was James Ford Bell, who, having already seen the effects of farmland drainage on wetlands in the Heron Lake areas, was shifting his waterfowling to the Fergus Falls-Ashby area, en route to his eventual stop on Delta Marsh, Manitoba.

What great times must have awaited these men on October mornings as they rowed their wooden skiffs and sipped hot coffee from thermos bottles while looking out over wood blocks carved by hand!

By interest and profession, W.T. documented these outings, along with hunts for whitetails and forays for prairie chickens, under photographic conditions that had to be trying.

Example: Film speeds were much slower then, so movement of subjects had to be limited. Also, cameras weren't waterproof, or even close to it. And all of the gear was cumbersome compared to today's equipment.

"My grandfather used a hay wagon as a portable photographic studio," Rich said. "In addition to the outdoor photography, which he obviously loved because he and his family were avid hunters and fishermen, he was a commercial photographer who worked on commission."

Their conquests.

But unlike today's hunters, most of whom can quickly produce digital cameras (or phone cameras) from their pockets, backpacks or duffels, and take images just as quickly, W.T. had to give his photos considerable thought.

Rain or snow couldn't be falling. And as Bill Marchel discusses in his column today, even modern cameras, as sophisticated as they are, can't turn gray skies into blue. Employing his relatively primitive gear, W.T. had to be even more considerate about when he took photos, and under what conditions.

It's obvious that great care was given to display fish and game in exactly a given way in W.T.'s photos. Look, for example, at the very specific manner in which his ducks are arranged around his waist in the large photo on the back page. At the same time, he is careful to evoke a nonchalant look that suggests, This ain't nothin'. You should see what I got this morning!

The image of W.T. also makes the point that quite a difference exists between taking a photo and taking a snapshot.

It's difficult to tell from the angle the photo was taken whether the car has a pickup bed or perhaps a rumble seat. But look also at the tires and wheels on the trailer: They're the same model, apparently, or at least the same size, as those on the car.

Similarly, the heads of hunters' decoys are shown in the boat, their stiff outlines suggesting (I'm sure correctly) that they were hand-carved.

Finally, consider the skiff-like design and construction of the boat and compare it to the apparent size of the marsh to be hunted (large). Sure, a shallow-draft duck boat of that kind would be easy to row. But it could hardly be considered seaworthy.

What's more, unless the boat was jammed tight in bulrushes, its stability for shooting -- even if only one hunter were aboard -- would be questionable. And it would appear highly unlikely that a hunter or hunters could stand to shoot in such a craft.

The deer camp photo, circa 1915, is also telling. Again, this is a setup shot, in which the men were arranged proudly with their fallen game. Notice the rifles arranged in the animals' antlers (except for the doe on the left, and even she is given her due with a rifle propped between her ears). Notice also the size of the magazine of the gun most prominently displayed (the one in the middle.) Doubtless its owner could shoot and keep on shooting until something fell.

"My grandfather died in 1955, and when he did, we had an overwhelming collection of these photos to deal with -- they're all on glass plates, some three-by-four, some eight-by-ten -- and I've gradually gone through them," Rich said.

Initially, Rich offered some of the hunting and fishing photos for sale on the Internet (www.vintagehuntingphotos.com). Surprised by their reception -- hunters from as far away as Florida purchased them to line the walls of their cabins and camps -- he subsequently decided to publish his 200-page coffee table-style book as a tribute to his grandfather and as a chronicling of a time now long since past.

"I grew up in Fergus Falls, learning to hunt and fish with my dad," Rich said, "and I remember him telling me, 'I probably lived in the best of times when things were a little slower. We actually had time to talk to our neighbors, or have them over for this or that, perhaps to give them some ducks or fish.'"