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Democratic Presidential Candidate Joe Biden, Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, February 09, 2020.

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I’ve been photographing Joe Biden on and off since I returned from the Vietnam War in 1973. This latest photograph of him was made February 9 this year in Hampton, New Hampshire, as he campaigned for president. In this frame the former Vice President was talking about his son Beau who died in 2015. The hurt he was feeling can be seen here. This was not acting.

In 1972, at 29 years old, Joe Biden was the sixth youngest person ever elected to the U.S. Senate, and it was a happy time in his life. But that joy was short lived. A few weeks after he was elected, Biden's wife Neilia and their one-year-old daughter Naomi were killed when a truck hit their car. His young boys Beau and Hunter survived the accident. Five years ago, one of them, 46-year-old Beau, died of brain cancer. As a father of three sons, I can’t imagine his anguish. When Biden spoke via video at the funeral of George Floyd in Houston, his message was straight from his heart and personal experience. He opened by saying,

“To George’s family and friends, Jill and I know that deep hole in your hearts when you bury a piece of your soul in this earth. As I said to you privately, we know. We know you will never feel the same again. For most people, the numbness you feel now will slowly turn day after day, season after season into purpose through the memory of the one they lost. But for you that day has come before you can fully grieve. And unlike most, you must grieve in public. It is a burden. A burden that is now your purpose to change the world for the better in the name of George Floyd.”

Looking at this portrait of him you know he meant it.  Photography can reveal a bit of someone’s soul. I believe this portrait is one of those moments.

 

Photo by David Hume Kennerly

 

Canon 5DS R, 100-400 lens @400mm

Center for Creative Photography, The University of Arizona: David Hume Kennerly Archive.
© Center for Creative Photography, Arizona Board of Regents

Robert F. Kennedy, Portland, Oregon, October 25, 1966.

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In 1966 as a 19-year-old cub photographer working for the Oregon Journal, I had the opportunity to photograph Sen. Robert Kennedy when he came to town. Kennedy was the first national politician I covered, and he made one hell of an impression. Like most people my age now, I’ll never forget where I was when it was announced that his brother President John F. Kennedy was shot three years earlier, so seeing him was particularly meaningful to me. I was also struck by LIFE Magazine photographer Bill Eppridge who was traveling with Kennedy.  Eppridge, as big a league photographer as there was, gave a hand to this panicked young photog when I couldn’t figure out how to get through the crowded labor hall into the right spot. He not only led me through the throng, but guided me to the best position to get a good shot. It was an unselfish act that informed the rest of my career as an example of how to treat others.

But the capper wasn’t that moment. After the event Sen. Kennedy, his staff, and press corps, made their way to Portland International Airport in a ragtag motorcade. I followed them to get one last photo of Kennedy before he left. A DC-3, its engines idling, waited on the tarmac. Senator Kennedy bound up the stairs, turned, waved, then entered the plane. But it was Eppridge who provided the decisive moment. The lanky photographer climbed the aircraft steps, looked around for one last photo, then ducked inside. Its door closed, and the old DC-3 taxied out and took off. I felt like Rick in the final scene of Casablanca. It was the moment that changed my life. I wanted to be on that plane, to document those who were making history. That flight not taken led to countless others that I did.  Thanks to Robert and Bill for showing me the path.  I will never forget you.

Photo by David Hume Kennerly with an assist by Bill Eppridge

Center for Creative Photography, The University of Arizona: David Hume Kennerly Archive.
© Center for Creative Photography, Arizona Board of Regents

The Girl with the Cap Gun and ‘Tude

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(The Girl with the Cap Gun and ‘Tude. Brooklyn, 1969)

One of the true joys of having the time to go back through my archives at a more leisurely pace is uncovering the occasional gem that was hiding away.  In this case one that has been unseen for over 50 years. I took this in my Brooklyn, New York, neighborhood in 1969, a place that was a photo-rich environment, and an area where I loved taking pictures every week-end as an escape from my regular job of taking pictures! (I love my work). This little girl was packing a pistol and an attitude to match. Her brother appeared to just be along for the ride. We know who’s the boss here, and with luck both of them are still alive and kicking.

Another undiscovered Kennerly image now discovered

Center for Creative Photography, The University of Arizona: David Hume Kennerly Archive.
© Center for Creative Photography, Arizona Board of Regents

Creating an Archive and Thank You

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I first met David Hume Kennerly in 1993. A year later, we were married in Hanoi, Vietnam on March 30, 1994. About two weeks after we met, David asked me to look at images he was considering including in his 1995 book, Photo Op. My dad and uncle were both photographers, so I was intrigued. I didn’t know that he was an important photographer, yet. In fact, I didn’t figure out just how important until about two years after we were married.

David’s studio was in a shabby temporary rental in a storefront on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks. Anyone familiar with LA knows that neighborhood it is one of the least glamorous in LA. But when I stepped into that space with photos pasted up on the walls and strewn across the floor, I was stopped cold. These were the images that taught me how to understand my past. The very images. The actual ones. I thought he might have ripped them out of books. But when I understood that he had actually made these photos himself – when it hit me that he put himself into the middle of some of the hottest hot spots in the world to help people like me understand these historic events - I became overwhelmed. I had a hard time catching my breath. Such is the power of David’s images that brought my whole past back to me in a single breathtaking moment.

On Friday, October 11, 2019, The Center for Creative Photography at the University of Arizona officially announced that it had acquired the David Hume Kennerly Archive. The announcement rolled out with an inspired celebration that included an exhibition David Hume Kennerly: Witness to History at the university’s administration building, Old Main, that will run through the end of the year, as well as a pop-up exhibition that dotted the campus mall during Family Weekend. The Center also published a mini Kennerly Archive website to put the collection in an academic perspective and made more than 100 Kennerly images instantly available online. The celebration culminated with In the Room, presented by Bank of America, an event that paired Kennerly with fellow Pulitzer prize-winner and former Newsweek Magazine colleague, Jon Meacham, for an in-depth look at photography and history.

Jon Meacham, David Hume Kennerly. Photo by Byron Kennerly
Jon Meacham, David Hume Kennerly. Photo by Byron Kennerly

However, the journey from that afternoon in which David’s particular genius for capturing truth in 1/500th of a second took my breath away, and this week’s acquisition announcement, required decades of hard work from a small army of dedicated professionals and visionaries. One early visionary was Dr. John Schaefer, then President of the University of Arizona and co-founder of the Center for Creative Photography with Ansel Adams. He first asked David to bring his archive to the CCP in 1979, more 40-years ago. The next mention of this idea came up a mere 38-years later. David and I were in conversations with several universities about a possible acquisition of David’s archive. Alan Siegel, the visionary branding guru and good friend suggested to CCP’s chief curator and, then interim director, Becky Senf that she take a look at David’s work. Shortly afterwards, she came to our place in Santa Monica  to view the collection and expressed real interest. David and I worked with Becky and, later, CCP’s Meg Hagyard to figure out how to structure a partnership with the CCP. David had always wanted his archive to be a vibrant well-utilized educational resource. Too often photographic archives are packed up in boxes that may be safely stored, but often rarely accessed. So, Meg organized a meeting with Dr. JP Jones, the dean of UA’s College of Social & Behavioral sciences who quickly saw the educational possibilities contained in David’s photos of historic events. Later, Annie Breckenridge Barrett came on board as Director of the Center. Her bold and powerful vision aligned with that of incoming University of Arizona president, Dr. Robert Robbins. Both were committed to pairing the resources in David’s archive with U of A’s extraordinary academic resources to build an incredibly powerful educational resource to serve future generations.

However, before David’s body of work could be shown or described, it had to be gathered, organized and documented. It had to be transformed from a massive collection into a digestible archive. That’s where the small army comes in. David and I were so moved that so many of those people who helped create the David Hume Kennerly Archive traveled from far distances to attend the announcement celebration on October 11. We were so grateful that Sandra Eisert, David’s photo editor during his tenure as chief White House photographer, could attend. Dear friends like Charles and Christine Jennings also traveled to attend. Sometimes, it took encouragement from good friends to keep us going when the task felt impossible. Colleagues Pam Seagle and Larry Dirita from Bank of America flew in from the East Coast. David’s ten-year relationship with Bank of America has not only been professionally rewarding, but has allowed us to continue to invest in the David Hume Kennerly Archive. Without that support, I don’t think this archive would exist. And Jim Hornstein, our brilliant and loving attorney who helped us craft the archive structure was also there with his wife Victoria, as was the most wonderful Bob Ahern, who has helped the world see David’s images through his work as the Director of Archives at Getty Images. Jon Moeller and Hugh Millstein, whose company, Digital Fusion in LA created the exhibit prints that now hang in Old Main on the U of A campus. And a huge, huge thank you has to go to Connie Grazia, Nadine Licosti, and Maureen Sternin of Red Thread Productions who produced the In the Room event. Bravo! Most importantly, our incredible archivist, Randa Cardwell was able to attend. Randa came on board almost five years ago and has worked tirelessly to make help us make the intangible tangible. She was provided skillful support from Truman Lusson and Jessica Chappe. And we were so pleased that our three beautiful boys could join us in Tucson for the announcement. Byron, Nick, and James have never known a world without the archive, and I’ve sometimes wondered whether they thought of it like a greedy younger sibling.

David Hume Kennerly Celebrates at CCP. Photo by Byron Kennerly
David Hume Kennerly Celebrates at CCP. Photo by Byron Kennerly

In addition to the wonderful people who were able to join us at the announcement celebration, a few important contributors to the archive could not. David’s master printer, Dave Healy, whose work is the crown jewel within the fine print collection. Also, our irascible tech guru Ben Levy, who planted the concept of an archive in my head more than twenty years ago and who encouraged us to take risks with a crazy new concept called digital asset management. And finally, Alan Siegel, who had that first conversation about the archive with Becky Senf.

However, amidst the celebration, my heart is also heavy, thinking of the important photographic archives that aren’t. Too many photographers have lost their images or have had them snatched away. Too many priceless records of history have been forever destroyed or abandoned or forgotten in the face of the enormous effort and cost to manage these fragile treasures.

David and I are so very fortunate to be surrounded by so many visionaries who helped us carve out a path for this archive that simply didn’t exist before. To those who were able to celebrate with us, those who could not, and especially to those many talented and dedicated professionals at the Center for Creative Photography, we extend our heartfelt thanks. The work of helping those today understand the world of yesterday is so very important. But taking up that task with a medium that is so delicate and complex and beautiful as photography is a true calling. Thank you, Bobby, Annie, Meg, Becky, and everyone at CCP for taking up that calling. We are honored to partner with you.

Extraordinary Circumstances: The Presidency of Gerald R. Ford

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On March 26, 2019 an exhibition of my photos will open at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It is the first-ever show of my time as President Ford’s chief White House photographer and is a vivid comparison between then and how things are now.  If you are old enough to remember that period, you know it was a dark time in America’s history.

On August 9th, 1974, Richard Nixon had just resigned in disgrace, the first and only president to do so. Along with the political crisis caused by Watergate, the economy was in recession, unemployment was through the roof, and the United States was still fighting a war in Vietnam.  But there was a light at the end of that harrowing tunnel. His name was Gerald R. Ford. As Mr. Ford stepped forward under dire and extraordinary circumstances to accept the mantle of the Presidency, he told Americans hungry for straightforward and honest leadership, “our long national nightmare is over.”

That same night President Ford offered me the opportunity to be his chief presidential photographer, in effect tossing me the keys to the kingdom. He and Mrs. Ford allowed me unfettered upstairs, downstairs access to him, his family, and the inner workings of the White House.  A new and transparent era was about to begin in American politics, and I had a front-row seat to document it for history.

I photographed every major event during Mr. Ford’s time in office.  But the most important image that emerged from those thousands of photos was a close-up portrait of President Ford’s humanity. I saw a man who cared about people for who they were, not for what they appeared to be. I saw a President who was truthful, intelligent, forthright, and courageous, who was concerned about the welfare of the country, a person who was always loyal to his friends and those who worked for him. I saw a true leader and a great man.

All of those qualities were evident at one of the most personal, dramatic, and sad moments of Ford’s Presidency. Moments after President Ford publicly conceded the 1976 election to Jimmy Carter, his close personal aide Terry O’Donnell and I entered the oval office. We were the only ones in there.  He put his arm around Terry, thanked him for his service, and asked if there was anything he could do for him.  I had tears in my eyes as I photographed that moment. Here was a someone who just lost the biggest prize on earth but was unselfishly thinking about how to help another person.  That’s just the way he was.  That’s why I loved the guy.

Note:  I personally selected all the photographs that will appear in the exhibition.  Some have never been seen, and each in its own way reveals the man who worked so hard to heal our nation.

Jonestown, a Personal Recollection

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Story and Photographs by David Hume Kennerly

JONESTOWN — 1978: TIME cover by David Hume Kennerly

Some anniversaries should be remembered, others you would rather forget. This one cuts both ways. Forty years ago on November 18, 1978, in a place carved out of a remote jungle in Guyana, over 900 people were murdered or committed suicide. Jonestown. A name that will live in infamy.

Time Magazine’s New York bureau chief Don Neff and I were in Miami, working on a Colombia-related drug story for the magazine that day, and word hadn’t yet reached the outside world about what happened in Guyana. Sunday morning’s edition of the Miami Herald changed all of that. The headline said that a U.S. Congressman had been shot in Guyana. Details were sketchy, but it appeared that Rep. Leo Ryan of California, some aides of his, and members of the press, had been attacked during a visit to the Peoples Temple Agricultural Project in Jonestown, (better known as Jonestown).  The congressman was there to investigate claims that some of his constituents were being held in Jonestown against their will, and he had gone to get them out. 

Neff and I immediately decided to head down there. Having an American Express card proved valuable, we charted a jet, put the charge on my card, and off we went to Georgetown, Guyana, a place 2,000 miles away in South America.  

When Neff and I arrived in Georgetown late Sunday, I ran into my good friend and fellow photographer Frank Johnston of the Washington Post.  He had linked up with Charles Krause of the Post who had been shot along with Ryan and the others,  but survived.  Krause was still reporting the story, he is definitely my kind of journalist! Frank briefed me on what he knew about what had unfolded, and told me some of the names of reporters who had been killed. I knew two of them, Don Harris of NBC whom I had known from when he covered President Ford a few years earlier, and Greg Robinson, a photographer for the San Francisco Examiner.

The plane which U.S. Congressman Leo Ryan was about to board when he was shot and killed in Port Kaituma, Guyana. On November 18, 1978 over 900 members of the People's Temple Cult led by Reverend Jim Jones died in Jonestown, Guyana victims of mass murder and suicide.

The following morning at a Guyanese government press conference, they announced that there had been some mass suicides, but due to poor communications it was not clear exactly what had happened.  There was even talk that there might be some Jonestown militants who would fight the government and were holding out in the area. The officials said a small press pool would be taken into up there, and rightly chose Johnston and Krause to make the trip.  

Neff and I, however, were determined to get there on our own, which proved to be a saga in its own right.

A national emergency had been declared and no unauthorized planes would be allowed to fly into the Jonestown area.  The networks all had out-of-country aircraft standing by, but the government said that no non-Guyanese pilots or planes would be allowed anywhere near the place.  Neff and I switched into high gear to try and find a pilot and an aircraft and pilot that would pass muster with the Guyanese.  And we found them. The only ones in all of Guyana, in fact, that met their requirements. 

Now we needed permission to take off and land at Port Kaituma, the nearest runway to Jonestown, the place where Leo Ryan was assassinated, and where the journalists were also killed.  We needed the information minister to green light it with the director of aviation, and after several hours of spirited conversation she agreed, except for one slight problem, she didn’t sign a letter to that effect. The aviation director was a real stickler for protocol and wanted the piece of paper. We pleaded our case with an extremely efficient secretary to the minister who signed it for us, and it worked. When we found out that we would be getting the flight we invited NBC’s Fred Francis and a cameraman along who had been unable to get their own ride. It was the least we could do for them after their colleagues were killed.

The small Cessna we rented had a few issues that we noticed when we got in it. There were bullet holes in its side and seats. Also some dried blood splattered around. The pilot told us that the damage was caused by Larry Layton, a close follower of Jim Jones, who tried to kill the passengers and him in the plane who were Jonestown defectors. One of the passengers disarmed Layton before he killed them all. This happened in Port Kaituma at the same time as the other shootings of Ryan and company.  Layton had been sitting where I was on the plane, and I stared at the bullet holes in front of me on the trip north. The pilot was a gutsy guy to go back there less than a day after the shooting, and we definitely gave him a bonus.

Larry Layton, a close follower of Jim Jones, was held by authorities on the runway at Port Kaituma.

(Layton was the only former Peoples Temple member to be tried in the United States for criminal acts relating to the murders at Jonestown. He was convicted on four different murder related counts, including conspiracy and aiding and abetting in the shootings of Congressman Ryan. He served 18 years, and was released in 2002, and to this day is the only person ever to have been held criminally responsible for the events in Guyana.)

As we winged toward the scene, the pilot said he would fly over Jonestown. We were still at a distance, but it appeared to me that there were scores of people alive and gathered around a big tin-roofed structure in the middle of what appeared to be a small village or compound. As we drew closer it turned out I was wrong.

I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life, more than two years in Vietnam covering the war guaranteed that, but nothing prepared me for the shock of what I witnessed that day.  The people who I thought were gathered around the pavilion were dead. They looked like colorfully dressed but lifeless dolls strewn along the ground, most of them facedown, many of them huddled together in groups.  There were hundreds of them.  I don’t wish that sight on anyone.

GUYANA- NOVEMBER 18: (NO U.S. TABLOID SALES) On November 18, 1978 over 900 members of the People's Temple Cult led by Reverend Jim Jones died in Jonestown, Guyana victims of mass murder and suicide. (Photo by David Hume Kennerly/Getty Images)

The pilot circled a couple of times, tipping the wing so I could photograph the tableau of death, then headed to land on the dirt strip at Port Kaituma a few miles away.

The twin-engine Otter aircraft that had carried the ill-fated Congressional delegation, one of its tires shot flat, was off to the side of the runway. This was the scene of Rep. Ryan’s death, along with the murders of Don Harris, NBC cameraman Bob Brown, Greg Robinson, and temple defector Patricia Parks. Nine others were injured but survived including Jackie Spier, a Ryan aide, who is now the Congresswoman in her bosses’ old district, NBC’s Steve Sung, and San Francisco Examiner reporter Tim Reiterman. The bodies and the wounded were evacuated to Georgetown before we got there.

We walked around the disabled plane, and there was still evidence of remains at the scene. We buried them by the side of the runway.

The only living thing in Jonestown after the murder/suicides that killed 909 people.

A Guyanese military helicopter gave us a lift into Jonestown, a distance of about six miles. As the chopper approached the isolated settlement, the smell of death wafted up from below. It’s something that you can’t get out of your system, it’s a unique and unsettling odor.  I fashioned a facemask from a towel that I’d brought from the hotel and sprinkled some cologne on it. It didn’t help much, the dead had been in the 100+ degree for over three days. 

As I walked among the corpses it was eerily tranquil, as if they had just gone to sleep and forgotten to wake up. Other than bloating from the heat, they were fairly intact. I was used to the wounds of war, bodies torn to bits, burned, battered, blown up. This was different. Families with their arms around each other lay face down, in some cases the little feet of their children sticking out between them. One dead child was by himself, the adults, maybe his parents, a few feet away.  It was sickening. They had deliberately murdered their kids. More than 300 of them died in that isolated outpost, a third of the 918 who perished at the whim of a monster.

The only living thing in Jonestown outside of the few Guyanese authorities surveying the site was a blue and yellow parrot perched above a small group of the dead. He seemed to be surveying the scene, and I wondered what he witnessed, and remember joking to myself, “If only he could talk.” 

I moved silently through the still life of horror, carefully stepping over bodies that were under a large pavilion, taking pictures, documenting the unspeakable, doing what I was trained to do. It wasn’t easy. 

Bodies litter the main pavilion of the People's Temple Cult in Jonestown. In the background, above Jim Jones's throne-like chair, a sign reads "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it"

At one the end of the building was what appeared to be a throne-like chair where Jim Jones had sat to rule his subjects. Above it was a black sign with white letters printed in capital letters:

THOSE WHO DO NOT

REMEMBER THE PAST

ARE CONDEMNED

TO REPEAT IT

The scene struck me later like the moment in Stephen King’s, “The Shining,” where novelist Jack Torrance, instead of writing his book, is typing the same thing over and over for hours on end:

        All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

        All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

It was then that the audience realized that Torrance was either totally mad or possessed by demons.  

Near the throne was a reel-to-reel tape recorder, and a microphone where Jones had exhorted his followers to commit, “revolutionary suicide,” and to take the poison that ultimately killed most of them.  It was all on audio tape, and is one of the most chilling things you will ever hear.  There is screaming and shouting in the background as he tells them,‘Stop the hysterics. This is not the way for people who are Socialists or Communists to die. No way for us to die. We must die with some dignity.’” 

Just behind the throne on a wooden walkway outside the building was a giant vat filled with a purple liquid. It was Flavor Aid, (not Kool-Aid), laced with cyanide. It is where people lined up with their cups to dip into the deadly mix. Dead bodies lay near the vat, and all around the area.  (My photo of the purple poison surrounded by the bodies was used on the cover of Time Magazine and became their biggest seller ever to that point). 

The corpse of Jim Jones had been dragged out of the pavilion and was sprawled out face up a few feet from the devil’s brew.  He had apparently been autopsied on the scene, and his abdomen was crudely stitched back together. Jones appeared to have died from a single gunshot wound to the head. On top of everything else it was an even uglier sight, but I photographed him anyway. It was his show, and thankfully the end of the play.

The pavilion in Jonestown where Jim Jones sat as he exhorted his followers to commit mass murder and "revolutionary suicide."

For this piece I reread my book Shooter to refresh my memory on this, and will quote exactly what I wrote about the aftermath:

“The wars I have covered, for all their violence and gore, have never given me nightmares. Somewhere in my subconscious is a safety valve that spares me that. Not so with Jonestown. A week after my departure I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I’d dreamed that I had walked into a room and encountered the bloated—but living—body of Jim Jones, seated on his throne. I turned to escape but found my path blocked by one of Jones’s followers, flesh dripping from his bones. I twisted into wakefulness just as a rotting hand reached for my throat.”  

I should add that I slept with the lights on for the rest of that night!

Flash forward 40 years. Time hasn’t really brought any understanding to me of why people would do such a thing. To blindly follow a crazed leader unto death, and to murder your children doing it, doesn’t make any more sense to me now than it did then. As a person who has always had a fierce streak of individuality, it’s pretty much unfathomable. As a father, I’d like to think that I’ve passed some of that  independent thinking along to my three sons. It would be my greatest gift.

Jim Jones's autopsied body on a boardwalk outside the pavilion in Jonestown where he told his people to kill themselves, on November 18, 1978. Over 900 members of the People's Temple Cult led by Jones died there. Jones died of a bullet to the head.

David Hume Kennerly named University of Arizona’s First Presidential Scholar

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Prolific political photographer David Hume Kennerly has been appointed as the first University of Arizona presidential scholar by President Robert Robbins, the school announced Tuesday.

Kennerly won the Pulitzer Prize at 25 for his documentation of the Vietnam War and served as chief White House photographer for President Gerald Ford, among many other titles.

The unpaid, honorary appointment highlights the university’s drive to support the arts, humanities and social sciences, which are critical to success in the global economy, according to university officials.

Kennerly will work with the UA’s Center for Creative Photography, located on campus at 1030 N. Olive Road, to develop a series of lectures and events for students and the community that draw on his 60 years of experience.


David Hume Kennerly has photographed every president since Richard Nixon. Here are George H.W. Bush, Barack Obama, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter.

 

“How wonderful for students to hear a lecture where David (Kennerly) is the one actually talking about the contextual history of his photographs,” said Anne Breckenridge Barrett, the center’s director.

His résumé includes capturing images from 12 presidential campaigns, every president since Richard Nixon, several wars and many other significant moments in history. He was close friends with world-renowned photographer Ansel Adams, who co-founded the UA center.

With this appointment, Robbins “is recognizing visual history as a key element in teaching where we’ve been as a country and society, where we are today and where we are heading,” Kennerly said in a statement prepared by the UA. “Pairing the Center for Creative Photography with the university’s courses in arts, social sciences and humanities will produce informative, entertaining and unique programming and lectures.”


President Gerald Ford prepares to take a picture of David Hume Kennerly, 27, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer in the White House Oval Office in Washington, Aug. 11, 1974. Ford named Kennerly as official White House photographer. Kennerly left his assignment with Time Magazine to replace Ollie Atkins in the post. (AP Photo/Charles Harrity)

“We’re thrilled at the center to have his partnership and contribution,” Barrett said.

“It’s a very good indicator of the university’s belief in the center and ability of visuals to connect us all.”

View Kennerly’s portfolio at kennerly.com

The original article written and released by Mikayla Mace of the Arizona Daily Star can be viewed here!

2016: A Campaign Like No Other

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I have photographed every presidential campaign since 1968.  Twelve of them.  The only one I didn’t cover was the election of 1972 when I was in Vietnam photographing the war. [Click below to view my Pulitzer Prize Portfolio, which includes many photos from Vietnam]

NEW YORK -- APRIL 14: Presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders debating at CNN Brooklyn Navy Yard Democratic Debate, New York, New York, April 14, 2016. (Photo by David Hume Kennerly/GettyImages)

My fifty years of coverage doesn’t make me an expert on the presidential selection process, but it does give me a singular frame of reference. Through my camera, I’ve spotted success and failure from every angle.  I’ve documented candidates who were considered inevitable, those who seemed to appear out of nowhere and everyone in between. I’ve found that certain campaigns had their own personalities and others trudged along with a dreary sort of resignation.

However, through all those campaigns – the thousands of rallies and town hall meetings, the hundreds of victory and concession speeches, the dozens of conventions and inaugurations, I can safely say that neither I nor anyone else has ever seen anything like the Great Presidential Melee of 2016.

GREEN BAY -- OCT 17: Singer Anastasia Lee waits to sing the National Anthem at the start of a Trump campaign rally in Green Bay, Wisconsin, October 17, 2016. (Photo by David Hume Kennerly/GettyImages)

My coverage started in the primary season with Hillary v. Sanders, and Trump v. Everyone Else. And, of course, the unlikely winner and current president is Donald J. Trump.  My coverage swung from 2015 where I photographed all the candidates individually, all the way through to the home stretch. I was on the Hillary Clinton plane when she first got word of FBI Director Comey’s shattering announcement about reopening the email investigation, then spent the last few days heading toward the finish line with Trump. I was in the ballroom in New York City where most people were anticipating a concession, but instead ended up with a Trump victory speech.

I’ve chosen a small sample of my Campaign 2016 photos for this gallery.  The entire collection will reside in my archive along with the rest of my campaign and political photography. Together, these collections provide a half-century continuum of images that document the peaceful transfer of power in our country. I am grateful to have taken this wild ride and am even more grateful to be able to share this collection and the entire archive with those interested in taking a close-up look at how America has chosen its leaders.



Kennerly Archive Project



Pulitzer Prize Portfolio

News from the David Hume Kennerly Archive

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This month marks the two-year anniversary of our full-time push to turn David’s extraordinary collection of images documenting 50 years of American and world history and culture in to a living archive.  My husband, David and I, made the commitment in May of 2015 to focus our full attention and resources to this mammoth project.  We hired the incomparable archivist, Randa Cardwell to help guide the project and together we have turned this spectacular collection into an archive that tells the story of a generation.

But even though we launched the project officially, David and I have worked at gathering and organizing the historic contents of his life’s work for nearly two decades. This project has been all-consuming, rewarding and powerful.  We have unearthed many clues about who we are as a generation and how we got to where we are today.  David and I are excited that these wonderful photographs and treasures might soon be available to future generations for study, research and appreciation.

While this project has been fantastically rewarding, it has also been difficult and expensive.  To help fund our work, we created a portfolio of the eleven images that comprised his 1972 Pulitzer Prize in Journalism for Feature Photography.  These images had never been able to be presented together before now.  In fact, the portfolio only exists today because of the work we’ve done on the archive.

David Kennerly

Since the portfolio was made possible by the Archive Project work, we decided to set aside the first ten portfolios in the edition of 50 to help fund the completion of this important project.  Only three remain for purchase and they are only available through this private offering.

Please contact me for more information about acquiring the David Hume Kennerly Pulitzer Prize Portfolio and helping us complete this important project.


View Pulitzer Portfolio

Introduction of Kennerly Archive Project Archivist, Randa Cardwell

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Progress Report from the Kennerly Archive

We are so fortunate to have been able to bring Randa Cardwell on to the Kennerly Archive team last year – a team that now numbers three, counting Rebecca, Randa and myself.  Randa graduated from UCLA with a Masters in Library and Information Sciences, with a subspecialty in digital and photos!  She has a fantastic instinct for pictures and doesn’t seem the least phased by the size of my monster collection.  Her skills and expertise have pushed the Kennerly Archive Project into overdrive and her judgement has allowed us to effectively sift through piles to locate and protect the gems.

Thank you, Randa!

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