I HAD NEVER seen Richard Nixon fly before. But pictures don’t lie.
There he was, years before he became president, hovering just a few inches above the ground with his feet pointed downward. Even in midair, he was stiff as only Nixon could be, every part of his body held just so. But in his eyes there almost seemed to be a smile.
A down-to-earth man was up in the air ... and enjoying it.
I found the picture in a Smithsonian magazine. The article was on photographer Philippe Halsman, the king of “jumpology.” During the 1950s, Halsman photographed a number of famous faces, from British nobility to American comedians. And each time, he would end the session with the same request: Jump for me.
They did. Oh, how they did!
Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis vaulted upward with a yell, embracing each other in a mirror image.
Mrs. Edsel Ford, the first jumper, took off with a billowing dress, a big smile and bare feet.
Even the Duke and Duchess of Windsor took the air hand-in-hand. In fact, he seemed to have reached a higher elevation than he expected, judging by the slightly startled look on their face.
All of them had been given permission to have a little fun and took it. And in doing so, they showed a little of themselves in the process.
Moments like that are worth far more than a thousand words.
I’m no photographer. But I have always loved the images that capture the sillier side of the rich and famous. It could be a playful Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out at the camera. Or a gruff J. Edgar Hoover staring down a bulldog that might almost be his brother. Or even a joyful Roberto Benigni stepping over chairs to get to his Academy Award. Anything that breaks through the wall.
It’s those moments that make them seem more human, less distant. Instead of an icon or a celebrity, we see somebody who’s not that far from us.
And those moments are a lot harder to get than they used to be.
You know what I’m talking about. It’s a rare celebrity or politician these days who doesn’t have an image consultant. Their clothes, their hair, their public statements are all carefully managed to project just the right persona. Even the spontaneity is carefully planned. (Anybody up for a “wardrobe malfunction”?)
It makes them a brand name, like Coke or Pepsi. And it does so very well. But it also distances them just a bit.
And of course, it can backfire horribly.
After all, nobody is perfect. Even image handlers. And when so much of an image is so carefully controlled, it almost guarantees that any uncontrolled moments the public catches are going to be a doozy.
Ask Mel Gibson.
Or Michael Jackson.
Or ... well., you can probably name a dozen others without any help from me.
Naturally, each dumb move reinforces the cycle. The handlers grow more concerned. The image grows more carefully controlled. And the next inevitable dumb move looks even bigger than before.
Maybe it’s time to drop the image. And just be people.
A lot of us could stand to do the same.
Granted, most of us don’t have press agents and zillion-dollar salaries. But we probably have the same worry as the biggest Hollywood star: “What will everyone think?” Taken to extremes, it’s the question that kills ideas, stifles impulses and makes the world a lot less fun.
Ask yourself: What would you do, if you weren’t afraid of looking silly? And does that really matter so much?
Maybe Mr. Halsman was right.
Sometimes you just have to tell the world to take a flying leap.