John Kitsco

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Some folks are painters, doctors, plumbers. But Somehow I
found Aerial Photography - or did it find me? It all began some
years ago when a friend (Terry) phoned me and asked if I might
like to join him one evening around Thanksgiving time  to call
on a few farms and see what I thought about the idea of selling
Aerial Photographs.

Awkwardly, I tagged along. I watched Terry give his sales
pitch, offering many reasons why it was worthwhile to purchase
an aerial photograph, in this case - a farm picture. Well, I must
say, his enthusiasm was certainly contagious. He sold four
or five pictures in a short time. I remember clearly, the smell
of the farm, the long drives, straw bales in the field and cows
grazing, even the home cooked pies and fresh coffee.  Yes,
Harvest time.  I was hooked.

At this time Terry had a friend doing the flying and also the
plane rigged to fly and snap pictures. It was common to use
real high speed film and have the local photo finisher provide
the product. Maps were all over the wall, marked in a
serpentine fashion so the salesperson would know where to
start and where to finish. Terry was organized.  We both
worked long hours, sometimes facing rejection, vehicle
breakdowns, or calling in an area that a tornado or hail
storm had gone through. Naturally such areas produced poor
sales. But in other areas the majestic prairie not only had
a bountiful harvest but for us, a photo harvest.  Customers
liked looking at their farm from up above, the aerial point of
view. And these pictures became especially valuable  as the old
homestead passed on to the next generation. There were some
photographs with old wrecks hiding in the trees, perhaps a
winding stream going through the land, or even the Rockies
in the background. Each day of travel was special, rain or
shine. Winter or summer.  And many farm folk became friends.
The aerial photo captured a special moment in time. There
might be one with Grandpa on the old John Deere or little
Susan on her pony.

Eventually I decided I wanted to take my own photographs, so
started our own company. Complete with photo lab. I would
take the pictures, do the travel and sales. My wife would work
into the night, in our lab. We experimented with various types
of film, did some of the framing. Friends would ask, was that
you up there in the Cessna last Saturday?

One autumn day, some twenty years since I started I heard
the radio announcer talk about a plane crash. It was Terry
and a pilot he was working with. They did not survive. We were
devastated. My wife hoped I might take on other work. Myself
and a few pilots had our own close calls, icing, carb problems,
even a passenger door almost fell off during one flight.

Still, the greatest moments were doing the sales, after the
flight. The very cowboy appeal of this kind of work, like riding
the range. Stopping to allow a herd of cattle a chance to cross
the road, one day helping an Elk farmer find a baby elk, driving
someone back to their farm after they drove into the ditch in
the winter. All magic moments. Special moments. Watching the
sun set and hearing the lonely coyote call.

We went on to photograph not only farms, but towns and villages, the oil patch, family reunions, and sometimes using
a Bell Jet Ranger Helicopter to catch images of the boreal
forest on a day-long photo shoot.  Now, I often reflect on this
period of my life, shooting winter pictures through an open
window, getting up at 5 A.M. to get an early start. And just
having some older folks express joy in seeing their farm for
the first time from an aerial perspective, years of hard work
on their faces - these were special rewards, beyond all
expectations.  And getting older, I felt the need to move on
and now the younger folk are using digital images. But the
life of an aerial photographer does not change very much.
If Terry were alive, I know he would be on that phone asking
what time we would drive out into the countryside the next day,
and may the stars shine for all the pilots and photographers
that journey high, above ground...