CAMERA “SCOOPS”

Greymouth Evening Star, 19 May 1938, Page 12

CAMERA “SCOOPS”

MAN WHO PHOTOGRAPHS NEWS. Mr. Bert Garai's first scoop as a iiews-picturc-gclter. m- he calls himself. was an accidental one. He. was in New York in 1915. and was introduced one i vciiing in a little Hungarian rc.-.i ama n l to a Russian who wore a black goalee beard ami strong pince-nez. The stranger liked playing chess, and his mime, says Mr. Gari in "I Gel My Picture." was Leon Trotsk': —“Trotsky used io concentrale on the game tin variably beating me. liy the way i, and he hardly ever spoke to me. But when he did ■ • It was one of those miraculous voices which it is impossible to forget. It had a strong, essentially’ masculine resonance. yet there was a sweet, velvety softness behind it that somehow seemed to caress one."

One day he asked Mr. Garni to make him some copies of an old photograph which he required for passport purposes. .Mr. Garai did so--and kepi one print for himself. Two years later. Hie Russian revolution broke out: Mr. Garai promptly produced his photograph and his account of ’['rotsky’s life in New York—-and so obtained his first scoop. Another of his exploits was to "hold up" Mtisiapha Kemal Ataturk. With his cameraman he. spent a long time in Ankara trying to track down the Dictator. Eventually’ they’ hired a cab. drove out to Kemals residence, and when they heard a car coming, ordered the cabby to place his vehicle across the road. Within a few seconds, a power! til 'Mercedes appeared from the direction of the house. I saw at once that it I contained the Ghazi and a young woman. presumably his wife. There was some angry hooting and the car stopped. The cabby was so terrified lhat be almost dropped the reins and s.mined Io be unable to get his horse /mi of the way. Tlm strong man <>f Turkey was in a furious temper, and when he spotted Chris- -who was. of course, already in action - he began to curse. Al least, that was what I gathered from his tone. But Mr. Garai got his pictures- although Ibe Ghazi not. unnaturally refused to pose. IN BORROWED PLUMES Mr. Garai had an awkward moment when he went to photograph Pope Benedict XV. The audience was for mid-day. and when he turned up at 31.30 he was told that he must wear evening dress. He rushed out, burst into a cafe that he had passed on the way to the Vatican, “and waving a hundred-lire banknote under the head waiter’s nose, I induced him to allow me to undress the smallest waiter in the establishment. Within a few minutes I had changed into ‘formal’ dress, though, unfortunately, even the smallest waiter at the cafe was several sizes bigger than myself. Then back to the Vatican 1 as fast, as my legs •would carry me. 1 arrived at one minute to 12.

Mr. Garai and his cameraman had an amusing experience, too, in Athens when they went to interview President Pangalos at the Foreign Office: “Now, the strong man of Greece worked in a small room, with hardly any windows, so that -when Chris let off the flashlight there was a terrific bang which seemed to shake the whole building. The next instant the door hurst open with an awful crash — and we were ordered to “stick ’em up," though not in so many words, but by the tacit and none the less effective method of having a couple of bayonets- pointed at our chests.” In Berlin, soon after the war. Mr. Garai obtained, be says, the first photograph of the ex-Kaiser wearing bis newly-grown beard. He bought it — after a great deal of trouble —from an old Court photographer. He express-

'cd it (o London- —which was just as well, for the old man changed his mind and pursued him to the railway station, trying to return the cheque: — •‘For God's sake, llerr Garai. let mo have it back.” he babbled. “1 don't know’ what made me do it. . . I'm a miserable wretch, a traitor . . Im ruined. ..." In vain did I assure him that Hie picture was already oti its way to London. and therefore beyond my reach. The poor old fellow was beside himself with grief, and even threatened to throw himself in front of my train unless I returned the picture at once Fortunately he didn’t carry out his threat —and later cashed the cheque. Mr. Garai had much trouble, too, in persuading General Ludendorff to pose for a photograph. He was hanging up a portrait, of himself when Mr. Garai called: — The “greatest military' genius” of the war looked just a grumpy old man, and he behaved as such throughout our visit. Al first he refused to have his picture, taken. Surely, I said, he would not like me to report to my papers that 1 had called on the General Ludendorff, had seen him banging his own portrait, find had been sent away. . .

Finally he tidied himself up and sat down at his desk. When the business was over, he growled a "Guten Tag” and started to climb on to the stepladder again! HITLER. DID NOT DRINK The photographer who went with Mr. Gerai to Ludendorff’s house was Herr Hoffmann, it friend of Herr Hitler from his more obscure, days.- Mr. Garai tells us that he was intorduce'd to many members of the early £Cazi Party: —

Hoffman treated us to good Munich beer, and over this we talked politics. The. only man who did not drink was Hiller: nor did he take an active part in our discussion. He sal almost ni(»tionless, with a stern, determined expi'c; ; sioii on his laeo, which was strangely accentuated by the lock ot hair falling over bis forehead. During his stay in Munich, Mr. Garai. being a. good news picture-getter, asked Herr Hoffmann for a photograph of Herr Hiller, although lie then had no idea, of the 1 prospects of the Nazi Party.

Wheii Hitler sprang into the news, I had the only available photograph of him, and 1 need hardly say that it sold “like hot cakes” on both sides of the Atlantic. It was a strange coincidence that I should have had almost the identical experience with two leaders of diametrically opposed political doctrines —Trotsky and Hitler. In Yugoslavia, tho late King Alexander invited Mr. Garai to accompany him on a fishing expedition. As he and his young cameraman were driving along in a luxurious limousine, they happened to glance behind them and saw an open ear following them: It was driven by a uniformed chauffeur, and in the back sat a man and a woman with the rain pouring on their beads. Of course, it. was Ring Alexander and Queen Marie-— they were soaking, while we could look out at them from the security of a sumptuous Rolls, their Rolls ... • Natinallv. we stopped our car with the idea of changing places' with their Majesties. But King Alexander waved us on.

Another affable monarch was exiting Alfonso. He not only helped Mr. Garai to move a desk to a better position, but- started to take him through various rooms, showing him the tapestries. One of the few people whom Mr. Garai seems to have fallen foul of is Mr. Eden. During a League meeting at Geneva, Mr. Garai learned that Mr. Eden was going to play tennis. He refused to be photographed, and when Mr. Garai’s cameraman took some pictures from behind a hedge, there was trouble!

I do not remember the exact details of the brief argument that followed, but I noted that Mr. Eden, despite his intense and fully justified annoyance,

did not say a single word that would not have fitted into a .polite conversation in a less heated- atmosphere. But it takes a good deal to rattle Mr. Garai. Even when he was held up by a bandit in Bulgaria, he may have lost, his money, but he got his picture—of the bandit -posed in an appropriate attitude! His book is a lively account of an eventful life, and is. as one might -expect, illustrated with adini.rable' photographs. —“John o’ London.”