Born in 1922 in the Manassas section of Memphis, Tennessee, and dying in the same city in 2007, Ernest Withers led as full a life as anyone could possibly want or expect. He achieved national and international notoriety as a significant photojournalist.
Withers was a go-getter and a hustler and, through luck, fate, or a combination of both, found himself at or near every seminal event of the 1960s civil rights movement. Virtually every still image displayed in the new documentary “The Picture Taker” was shot by Withers, whose personal archive is estimated to be close to 1.8 million photos.
Two Halves, Not Three Parts
In lieu of the traditional three-act narrative, director Phil Bertelsen divides the film into two distinct, radically different halves that will likely end up dividing audiences.Shortly after getting married, Withers joined a segregated unit of the U.S. Army where he quickly developed an interest in photography and honed his craft by taking portraits of his fellow soldiers.
After leaving the service with funds he received through the G.I. bill, Withers hung his shingle on the storied Memphis thoroughfare, Beale Street.
For reasons never clearly explained, Withers temporarily abandoned his passion and took a job as one of the first black policemen in Memphis. This was at a time when race relations in Memphis were beginning to simmer, and the city’s law enforcement higher-ups thought that bringing black town members into their ranks might reduce tensions.
Politics, Sports, and Entertainment
In addition to covering anything resembling politics and civil rights, Withers also worked closely with baseball teams affiliated with the Negro leagues, and any musical acts traveling through town.As Memphis was also the home of the Stax-Volt record label, he had multiple opportunities to capture images of the likes of Isaac Hayes, Carla Thomas, Sam and Dave, Ike and Tina Turner, B.B. King, and Elvis Presley. Withers was also the official Stax photographer for two decades.
After receiving a send-off funeral rivaling that of a head of state, Withers became the providence of legend. A 7,000-square-foot museum on Beale Street dedicated to his works opened, and his archives have been earmarked for permanent inclusion at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of African American History and Culture. Pretty impressive stuff, indeed.
The Other Shoe Drops
This is the part where things get fuzzy. Either in 2010 or 2013, a journalist with the Memphis newspaper The Commercial Appeal filed a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) release with the FBI.As early as 1946, the FBI identified Withers (code name ME-338-R) as a probable communist, due to his affiliation with the United Negro Veterans of America (UNVA).
The FBI considered the UNVA to be an arm of communism in the United States and began leaning on Withers in a largely benevolent, patriotic manner. Recognizing his bourgeoning profile in Memphis, the FBI convinced Withers to cooperate with them in order to clear the UNVA of any communist connections.
In reality, the FBI wanted Withers, who had earned the respect of the black community, to chronicle through photographs the percolating civil rights unrest. As he had entrée into secret meetings with high-level members of various groups (who trusted him completely), Withers would become the perfect mole.
Withers was initially duped, but not duped enough to charge the FBI for the photos he took at these various clandestine events, the bulk of which took place between 1968 and 1970.
It is well worth noting that Bertelsen does not present these highly inflammatory accusations based on mere hearsay or conjecture, but rather with images of actual, semi-redacted, official government documents.
There is little to no doubt that Withers was a willing participant in this wide-reaching operation.
What is interesting in Bertelsen’s movie are the reactions of the principal interviewees and how they greatly differ in tone during the two distinct halves. In the opening portion, Withers is regarded as an integral cog in the civil rights movement: an indispensable recorder of history whose work was a leading factor in the success of the cause. All of that is true.
Most of these individuals’ attitudes go into sidestep or sidetrack mode when pressed on the accusations of Withers’s being identified as a snitch or traitor to the cause. Some go from idealized, near hero worship to barely cloaked disgust.
Some shrug it off as an untidy sidebar that results in their looking away from the camera. Others employ doublespeak, stating that what Withers might have done had no effect whatsoever. Former Atlanta mayor, Martin Luther King associate, and U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Andrew Young goes so far as to state that “the movement was transparent and didn’t have anything to hide anyway.”
“The Picture Taker” isn’t perfect, but it does go far in dispelling perceptions. If Withers served the good of the cause visually, that was great. If his motives were murky, that’s still OK as long as the ultimate goal was reached.
If what he did was done under duress and only mildly distorted the message, we’ll discount his actions as somewhat inconsequential.
High praise needs to be lavished upon Bertelsen for not cherry-picking the facts and for presenting a warts-and-all profile of a well-intending but significantly flawed man.
