George

I was pleased to see the Daily Progress editorial mentioning the martyrdom of Muhammad Ali. It reminded me of a wonderful moment, long ago.

In January of 1968 I was first assistant at the Carl Fischer photography studio in New York. A high point each month was shooting the Esquire magazine cover. Harold T.P. Hayes was the editor, and George Lois the designer in what was even then recognized as a significant achievement in American magazine cover design. Month after month for years they came up with a cover idea that often combined strong graphics with social comment. And Carl Fischer was an important participant in refining the layouts--his relationship with George went back twenty years, as I recall it, to their student days at Pratt Institute.

This was a time when feeling against the Vietnam war ran high--certainly among people I knew. The events surrounding Muhammad Ali's refusal to report for induction on moral grounds, and subsequent punishments, were very big news.

The April '68 cover, based on the lead article in the magazine, was to portray Ali as a martyr. The martyrdom of St. Sebastian by arrows, as in medieval art, was to be the point of reference.

On the day of the shoot the studio was crowded. Ali and his entourage, George Lois, Esquire senior staff (I don't remember whether Arnold Gingrich, the publisher, was there--he did come, sometimes), stylists, our prop-maker, makeup people and the studio photo staff. Finally, Ali took his place on the seamless background, and shooting commenced. Carl always took a lot of preliminary clicks, working his way into the situation and putting his subjects at ease.

Suddenly, someone noticed that one of Ali's sneaker laces was untied. There was a brief conference. It was decided that it would be too risky for him to move and take the chance of an arrow falling off.

So Steve Anderson, my second assistant, was designated to crawl out carefully and take care of it. As Steve was working on the lace, on his knees before the champ and bent to his task, Ali surveyed the situation with a gleam in his eyes, and leaned over. He spoke in a low voice with a feigned country-black accent.

"How it feel, white boy?"

- Dave Sagarin (electronic mail, March 23, 2004)