Tuesday, July 29, 2008

A Beloved Photographer, Remembered a Decade Later

I can't believe it's been 10 years. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was so damn hot. Some weekend filler for the paper - lots of old tractors at some kind of tractor show. That was Central Illinois for ya. It would be the last time I would go out on assignment with Herb Slodounik, one of the hardest working journalists I've ever known. I remember helping Herb lift his hundreds of pounds of camera equipment out of the back of his car, the sweat pouring off of him and we'd barely gotten started. He was bound and determined to shoot up until the very end.

I was the medical reporter then, and Herb also was determined to live. We spent a lot of time talking about the latest herbal drink he drummed up, and whether or not I thought it work. "Of course it will, Herb. Drink up."

But, in the end, the cancer got him. His thousands of photos, though, they live on forever. And 10 years ago this week, when he died, those photos took on an even more special meaning. I even have a photo of his fungal-covered feet. I swore secrecy but it's too funny not to share. We were writing a Lifestyle front on nail fungus. Yea, poor Herb had a bad case of it. The doctor didn't have any patients in his office for Herb to shoot. So he fessed up and kicked off his shoes. His bad boys were plastered, close-up, right on the front of the Sunday section.

Below is the article I wrote for the newspaper after he died. I "reprint" it here today in his honor. We miss ya Herb!

Herald & Review (Decatur, IL)
July 25, 1998 Section: News Page: A1
Memories of photographer endure for H&R colleagues
STEPHANIE ERICKSON
H&R Staff Writer
DECATUR -- By putting nearly 180,000 miles on his little gray Mazda and thousands of rolls of film into his camera, Herb Slodounik became a familiar face across Central Illinois. On Thursday, the 57-year-old Herald & Review photographer died after a nine-month battle with cancer.
Slodounik, who during his 28 years at the Herald & Review photographed everything from Mikhail Gorbachev to quiet neighborhood scenes, worked diligently until just four days before his death.

``You only meet a few people like Herb in your life,'' said Herald & Review Editor Peggy Bellows. ``He came to work every day he could, he never used his illness as an excuse to do anything but his best.'' ``He really wanted to live. He'll be an inspiration to me for a long time.''

Sharon Slodounik, who married Herb in 1984 in the James Millikin Homestead, said Herb fought until the end. "Even Monday he was trying to exercise on the treadmill to get strength in his legs,'' she said. ``As much as he was deteriorating, he didn't sit and whimper about what was happening to him. He was treasuring the time.''

``Part of me is gone and my heart is broken,'' she said. ``When I was having a real hard time, Herb would say `You're going to be fine. You are a strong person.' It's because of Herb I am a stronger person. He made me stretch and grow.''

Judy Tatham, former police reporter at the Herald & Review, said she was one of the first people Herb talked to when he suspected he was ill. ``He was worried about missing work and the impact on his family, but he never expressed self-pity,'' said Tatham, who is retired and living in Arizona.

The last click of Slodounik's camera came Sunday, when he painstakingly completed an assignment in Nokomis, capturing an auctioneer surrounded by Spanish-American War items.
That last roll of film was one of more than 35,000 processed during his career at the Herald & Review.

``I guarantee it that scrapbooks all over Central Illinois are filled with his pictures,'' said H&R Chief Photographer Dennis Magee. ``That's his legacy.''

Bob Strongman, former chief photographer at the Herald & Review who retired in 1981, hired Slodounik in May 1970. That year, after studying in San Francisco and working at newspapers in Montana and Iowa, Decatur became Slodounik's permanent home.

``Herb was very meticulous,'' recalled Strongman. ``And he was always trying something new -- new techniques, new equipment. We always laughed and joked about various assignments and results and critiqued each other. I enjoyed him very much.''

Kelly Huff, an H&R staff photographer, first met Slodounik in 1978 when Huff was a teen-ager applying for an internship. ``He came across as a professional and real sure of himself,'' Huff said. ``He didn't think twice about giving you direction.'' Huff, like many photographers, gobbled up the tips Slodounik bestowed upon him. ``He was a master of lighting and seeing shapes and images,'' Huff said. ``He was able to make you laugh, make you cry, make you think about it. He was never one for the glitz and glamour to become a national icon award winner. He was the steady rock that kept this photo department going. He will be missed.''

Sharon Slodounik said Herb even provided tips to vacationers snapping photos. ``I'd say `Honey, not every one wants to take a better picture,' '' she said.

Magee said, ``Two things were vitally important in Herb's life. First, by far, was his family. Second was his work.''

Slodounik leaves behind three children: Aaron, Rebekah and Hannah.

``When I was discussing with them that he was going to die, Rebekah said, `Who is going to give me lectures on how everything works? Who is going to help me choose courses in college?' '' Sharon said.

The children, she said, looked to Herb for guidance.

``And he was tender and playful,'' she said. ``He knew how to become childlike with them. He would point out the little things -- the beauty of the Earth, the beauty of a first bud. The things that he loved he tried to teach to his kids.''

Magee, who began working with Slodounik eight years ago, called him a ``workhorse.''
``To keep going, day after day, after 28 years, is a remarkable thing,'' he said. ``He really loved being a photographer and he was honestly doing the best work of his life the past four to five years.''

Some of that work put Slodounik, a native of Bronx, N.Y., right in the middle of the friendly competition among photographers.

While covering the aftermath of Decatur's 1996 tornadoes Slodounik ``got up every day and shot my butt off,'' Magee said. ``He was just glowing, white hot. Although he didn't say it, I think he enjoyed making me look bad all week long. All those years of experience -- he was just smarter than me.''

One of the most stirring images was that of two friends embracing, which in 1997 earned him first place for a photo story or series in the Illinois Press Association contest.

Those who found themselves in front of Slodounik's camera also testify to his precise ways.

``He was an absolute perfectionist,'' said Bill Requarth, a retired surgeon. ``It had to be just right. He knew exactly how to set the lighting and after he got it all set he'd go back and change it.''

Although they met during a photo shoot, Requarth and Slodounik became fast friends due to their common interest in stock trading. Slodounik struck up conversations with his subjects almost as naturally as he photographed them.

Requarth also admired Slodounik for being Internet-savvy.

``He was a very avid user of the Internet and he understood how to do it,'' said Requarth, 86. ``He often gave me Internet references for me to look up on various subjects.''

As he battled cancer, Slodounik also turned to the World Wide Web to learn more about the disease that had been robbing him of energy, researching the latest treatments and joining discussion groups.

``He was really a student of that disease,'' Requarth said.

Co-workers at the Herald & Review also remember Slodounik for a myriad of idiosyncrasies, from goofy sailor-type hats to a hand-held computer that he insisted was the key to an organized life.

Bob Jelks called Slodounik conscientious.

``He was a person that whatever he did, he did it wholeheartedly and he did it right,'' Jelks said. ``And he was a very, very intelligent man. You didn't start talking about something you didn't really understand or he would check you on it.''

For years Slodounik periodically sought the pampering of Jelks, a masseuse at His Hands Massage Therapy at the YMCA. After being diagnosed with cancer, some of Slodounik's handball friends paid for him to receive weekly massages to help his circulation.

``He said, `Bob tell me who they are.' But I think he knew.''

``It was the least we could do,'' said Bob Ohlsen, a Decatur attorney who played handball with Slodounik for about 25 years. ``We liked him a lot.''
Ohlsen says he'll never forget the image of Slodounik stepping onto the handball court.

``The first thing he'd say is `No mercy,' '' Ohlsen said. ``He could really rally from behind, and he'd walk out of there whistling because he knew he'd had a great game.''
While Slodounik usually sought Jelks' care each Friday morning, his last visit was on Tuesday.

``After the treatment we talked,'' Jelks said. ``I felt like it was the last time. I prayed for him and said `I love you.' We held hands and his strength was so incredible. I'll never ever forget that moment. And I'll never forget him.''

Jelks said he asked his friend if he had fulfilled his dreams.

``Yes,'' Slodounik responded. ``I got to be a photographer.''

A yellowed application to the Herald & Review revealed Slodounik's career objective: ``To be one of the best photojournalists in the U.S. and to enjoy my work and take pride in a job well done,'' he typed. ``I want to work with a growing organization in a creative atmosphere that uses pictures well and is dedicated to responsible journalism.''

Although accolades did not motivate him, dozens of Illinois Press Association and Illinois Press Photographers Association awards made their way into his collection of photographic memories.
Life magazine published one of his photos twice. It was entitled ``It's grate, but is it art?'' and showed two little girls peeking into a ventilation grate in a museum.

Among the nearly 1.3 million frames Slodounik snapped over the years were the 1974 Norfolk & Western Railway Co. explosion and the ice storm of 1978. Slodounik also shot nearly every Decatur Celebration ``and more city festivals than you can shake a stick at,'' Magee said.

Tatham said, ``One of the things I'll treasure for the rest of my life was a picture he took of me shaking hands with Mikhail Gorbachev.''

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