BOOK: ‘Seventh and Madison’ by William Helburn
When discussing advertising and fashion photography of the late-1940s through 1960s, the name William Helburn is not generally on the tip of everyone’s tongue. Instead, Richard Avedon, Jerry Schatzberg, and Milton H. Greene regularly come up. Bill Helburn, it seems, has been relegated to the shadows of the era. In the end, it was his own choice to remain quieter and less famous than his colleagues and friends.
Helburn is now getting the recognition he deserves through the recently-released Seventh and Madison: Mid-Century Fashion and Advertising Photography. The title refers to the area in New York City where Helburn would work for many years. Robert and Lois Allen Lilly meticulously compiled the book straight from Helburn’s archives. The majority of the photographs are never-before-seen outtakes from various shoots done by Helburn for various magazines and advertising campaigns. An excellent choice, made right at the start of the book, is to give the reader insight into Helburn’s world inside and outside of his career. His life reads as if Ian Fleming had chosen to be a fashion photographer rather than an international spy.
His story begins when he photographed an Amelia Earhart fly-in as a child. Even though his father went broke in the Depression, his charm allowed him to rub elbows with the likes of George H.W. Bush and Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy, long before they were famous. Due to medical reasons, he wasn’t able to live his dream of being a pilot in WWII. Instead, he joined the 949th Engineer Aviation Topographic Company, where he practiced photography and honed his skills. His company worked on the aerial maps which were used in the attack on Hiroshima. Upon the return of the Enola Gay, Bill Helburn became one of the people who developed the film which was recorded during the attack.
After the war, he returned to New York and, through a few fortunate circumstances, ended up at Richard Avedon’s studio in the late 1940s. Via his own experimentation, he developed his own technique of back-lighting. Not only was the technique influential, it also set him apart from other photographers. Soon his career took off, as well as his personal life. He openly admits to his own womanizing and affairs during his marriages and serious relationships. As if a booming business and constant female companionship were not enough, he also found himself constantly traveling the world, counting Hollywood stars among his good friends, and racing cars during his free time. The high life ended in the 1970s on his own terms, when he decided to retire and raise his family.
Only four colleagues were selected to honor Helburn: George Lois, Jerry Schatzberg, Sunny Griffin, and Ali MacGraw. The inclusion of MacGraw is fairly perplexing, as the only image of her included in the book runs opposite her essay. Based only on the photographic content of the book, it appears that she didn’t have much of an impact on either Helburn’s career or life. According to her, however, posing for him was a big move for her career. Even though she is one of the people thanked by Helburn in his dedication, it creates a mystery as to why there’s only one picture of her in the entire book.
The photographs themselves are stunning portraits that showcase an entire era of American advertisements and fashion and demonstrate Helburn’s genius from behind a lens. It’s fascinating to see the variety of products for which Helburn was hired to do the advertisement photography. Helburn often chose to keep his name off of the advertisements he worked on which allowed him to take on multiple accounts without any companies knowing that the same photographer who was shooting their ad campaign was likely shooting the ad campaign for their rival, too. If he’d left his name on his work, it’s doubtful he would have been able to shoot for Cadillac and Buick, Coca-Cola and Canada Dry. It proved to be a smart and lucrative business decision.
One cannot help but compare Helburn’s advertisements to the advertisements of today. The core concept of the ads for cosmetics appear to have changed very little over the years. The focus is set on the face of the model; the main difference between past and present appears to be that Helburn would rely more on lighting to create the desired effect, while today, the reliance is more focused on digital airbrushing.
Today, it’s less likely for a group of Hollywood stars to come together to advertise a specific product — unless they’re all part of a cast who signed on to do the advertisement as a promotional tie-in for their film or series. In 1957, however, young starlets were brought together to be in a campaign for Canada Dry ginger ale. The concept itself was relatively simple. Bring in Tuesday Weld, Sandra Dee, Carol Lynley, Millie Perkins, and a young model, and create the atmosphere of a sleepover. Three of the girls crowd around at the bottom of a twin-sized bed. The fourth girl stands atop the bed, a stuffed fox over one shoulder, a hat with silk flowers upon her head, and an empty bottle of Canada Dry serves as her microphone while a record player sits at her feet. The image evokes a youthful innocence and being able to recognize the young girls means that it will not be quickly forgotten. A genius creation manufactured to appeal to both teenagers and their parents.
Artistically, Helburn himself admits to utilizing ‘shock value’ within his photographs in order to receive attention. Possibly the best example of this usage is in a 1953 shot for Jenna Bags. Dovima poses behind a strategically placed over-sized leopard print tote while holding a smaller, white handbag with black trim, in her right hand. Her high heels are mismatched, each one corresponding to the design of one of the bags she holds. It would appear that the only true clothing she is wearing, are a pair of white gloves. To top off the imagery, an apple is held in her right hand, surely creating a comparison between the model and Eve. A somewhat daring move for 1953. Helburn, however, shows tiny glimpses of fabric at both her chest and hip. This way, he lets the audience know that the nudity is simply an illusion.
The women’s fashions he photographed evolved greatly through the 1950s and 1960s. The ’50s fashions were meant to be as feminine as possible. Trousers on women were a definite no-no. The first appearance of pants are in a 1958 shot with a skiing theme. The concept of a woman in a dress down to her ankles, holding skiis, would be laughable. Even that photograph was more for editorial use than fashion. The first true fashion shot of a woman in pants is from 1964. As time goes by, skirts slowly become shorter, coats become less bulky, fabrics go from monochrome to wildly inventive, eye-catching patterns. Men’s shirts are re-tailored as a new piece of must-have high fashion. The only part that did not change was the photographer. His techniques are what tie all of the images together.
Helburn shot editorial images of celebrities throughout his career as well, a variety of which appear in the book. Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward in 1955. Bert Lahr in 1960. Benny Goodman in 1962. Maurice Chavalier in 1963. Joey Heatherton in 1966. Sharon Tate in 1967. Maud Adams in 1969. Even some of Helburn’s own self-portraits make it into the pages. Showing such a wide variety of his work, creates a great appreciation for the man who spent decades behind the lens.
A significant takeaway from the book is the story of Helburn’s affair with British model Jean Shrimpton. It becomes a borderline uncomfortable read as it delves into the fact that both Helburn and Shrimpton were involved with others when it began; Helburn with his model fiancee (and future wife) Angela Howard, and Shrimpton with photographer David Bailey. It then progresses into how Howard and Bailey had an affair, most likely as revenge. The affair between Helburn and Shrimpton seems to have begun in 1964 and ended in 1967 when Helburn introduced her to Terence Stamp, whom she quickly went off with.
It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that Jean Shrimpton was not only Bill Helburn’s lover, but his muse as well. She appears in the book more times than any other model, and choosing to recount this particular relationship, as opposed to any number he could have included, must mean that the relationship was quite significant to the photographer. In fact, her face is used as the frontispiece for the book. We see Jean Shrimpton before we even see Bill Helburn.
As readers and observers, it’s virtually impossible to not help but attempt to figure out what their relationship was at the precise moment each image of her was taken. In 1964, on what appears to be a blustery New York mid-morning, she sits on a rooftop in just an oversized purple sweater. With her lashes, heavy with mascara, she manages to communicate a vulnerability with her body, while simultaneously, her eyes scream out with a strong sense of passion. Perhaps that was the begining of the affair. Or at least a flirtation.
In 1967, she poses for Ladies’ Home Journal with Terence Stamp. Looking beyond the gaudy, multi-colored sweaters each were wearing, there’s more than a hint of tension within the photographs. Stamp manages a posture conveying strength as well as protectiveness. When he looks into the camera, it’s almost as if he is issuing some sort of challenge to the man behind the lense. Shrimpton’s face conveys a nervousness that is not seen in her other photographs. Yet her body language seems to say that she is happy and comfortable with the man who has his hand resting on the nape of her neck. Obviously, the affair between model and photographer is finished.
The only true fault of the book lies within a lack of Helburn’s recollections involving the images presented within the pages. Considering how extraordinary his career was, more memories of specific photoshoots would be expected.
That’s not to say there are no stories pertaining to certain photographs within the book. There are some bits and pieces scattered throughout the opening of the book. The most memorable story involves Bill Helburn going to meet actress Sharon Tate for the first time, before he photographed her for Esquire in 1967. In order to break the ice, he decided to purchase her a present. The present ended up being a vibrator, and her reaction upon opening the gift box it was packaged in, was to say, “Bill, how did you know I needed a pink one?”
That story ends up being the main “behind-the-scenes of a particular shoot” recollection that we receive. There are mentions of how he enjoyed using Angela Howard for many of his sessions and how he photographed his son Will for a Levy’s Jewish Rye campaign. Those fleeting mentions simply create a greater desire to know more about the sessions themselves. The concepts for many of the images seem to be very intricate, and it would be wonderful to have a window into how Helburn approached those sessions. Even taking the artistry out of the equation, it would be interesting to know how some of his subjects were on set and how they approached the job of model. One particular photograph from 1960 featuring Ben Gazzara, Eddie Fisher, Bobby Darin, and Red Buttons for McCall’s magazine practically screams out to have its story recounted by the photographer. It’s a missed opportunity, for sure.
Yet, there is some major confusion created due to one story. According to the introductory portion of the book, Helburn became depressed in 1969 following both his divorce from Angela Howard and the death of Sharon Tate. At that time, he went down to Miami with three models, a hairdresser, and a stylist. During the shoot he met a then-unknown Lauren Hutton. He recommended she go back to New York with his party. While they did not travel together, she did go to New York and ended up signing with Eileen Ford. The confusion is created nearly 100 pages later when there’s a black-and-white photograph of Lauren Hutton dated 1965. Several pages after that is a color photograph of Lauren Hutton advertising John Begg whiskey dated 1964. Even more photos of her appear later on, which are dated 1968.
How could Helburn discover Lauren Hutton in 1969 when he had already been using her as a model since at least 1964? At first, the assumption could be made that Hutton’s name was used by accident in the place of a different model. This theory flies out the window, however, because Helburn makes mention of her trademark tooth gap. It’s strange that this kind of error would have gone to print. Someone should have caught how greatly the story and the photographs differ and made an effort to straighten everything out.
Even with its faults, Seventh and Madison makes for a very compelling book. The assortment of the photographs alone is worth the price of admission. The text itself is not essential for being able to enjoy the photographs. Anyone with a serious interest in photography can study and take inspiration in what is presented. It’s also the perfect addition for anyone with an interest in 1950s and 1960s culture. It only took five or so decades, but now Bill Helburn can be fully appreciated for his contributions to advertising and art.
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Bulsara Faruk