Terry O'Neill: Chronicles with a camera

As he prepares for a new exhibition, Sixties documenter Terry O’Neill recalls a golden age for photographers
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19 April 2012

Back in 1960, it never occurred to me that I could have a career as a photographer. I wanted to be a musician. When I started working for British Airways as a technical photographer, it was with the intention of becoming an air steward so I could fly to New York and be a jazz drummer.

The job was interesting, though, and it entailed going to art school once a week. We were given a homework assignment to take pictures of emotion. I went across to Heathrow airport with my Agfa Silette to capture people saying goodbye and crying. I shot a picture of the then Home Secretary, Rab Butler, asleep among a crowd of African chieftains. The editor at the [now defunct] Dispatch saw the shot and hired me to work at the airport every Saturday.

In the old days, there was only one terminal and it was packed with people, including all the celebrities. I started working with the guy on the Daily Sketch who was hanging out with all the stars such as Sophia Loren. I covered the airport for him so he could go off to the film sets. After a couple of months he died in a plane crash. I was offered his job and that was the start of my career.

Working for the Daily Sketch, I did early shots of The Beatles and the Rolling Stones and picked up photography along the way. I asked questions about lenses and effects and I just did it. Sixties London was so exciting. Every day I was doing something new — designer Mary Quant one day, model Jean Shrimpton the next. And for once, we had the say. It was the poor people from the East End taking over from the toffs in the West End. People took us seriously.

In a way, photographers such as myself, David Bailey, Terence Donovan and Brian Duffy created the Sixties. It wasn’t just who we were shooting but the way we shot them. I was using 35mm, which was a whole new approach. Before that, portraits were done in studios using special lighting and hoods, which took a long time to set up; 35mm film brought a whole new candid look to photography because you could carry your camera around and you had 36 shots on a roll.

I didn’t realise the impact of my work at the time. None of the Sixties stars took themselves seriously either. I used to hang out with all the rock ’n’ rollers and the models at the Ad Lib Club. Mick Jagger joked about still singing at 40 — I mean, he’s 68 now! We honestly thought we’d have to get proper jobs. I was going to work in a bank, and Ringo Starr was going to do the same.

I went to Hollywood when I was 24 as a freelance photographer. Being part of the London scene really opened doors for me over there. Fred Astaire and Shirley MacLaine threw a dinner for me. All they wanted to hear about was The Beatles and the Stones. That’s when I thought maybe the whole thing would last.

The most charismatic Hollywood star was Frank Sinatra. I was introduced to him through Ava Gardner. She wrote a letter of introduction for me to give to Frank when I met him. I don’t know what the letter said but Frank opened the door to me and I never looked back. I worked with him for more than 20 years, covering his concerts, rehearsals and films. Frank never queried anything I did. I could walk in whenever I liked and take photos of whatever I liked.

Frank had this air about him; he really did light up a room when he walked in. The only person Frank looked up to was Dean Martin. I often caught Frank watching him out of the corner of his eye. It was because Dean Martin just wasn’t interested in fame. He preferred to play golf all day.

The female stars of the Sixties had much more individuality than they do today. Audrey Hepburn was the most photogenic — you couldn’t take a bad shot of her. Brigitte Bardot was great too — a really great-looking woman.

I shot a lot of international magazine covers and I was really ahead of my time using 35mm. They hadn’t seen that before in Hollywood. Then, towards the end of my time in the States, I started using a Hasselblad, doing studio shots. I changed my style, learning to use lights and work with colour. I remember meeting Annie Leibovitz on a job when I was shooting Elton John. She studied everything I did, and improved it.

I didn’t come back to England until the late Eighties. I married an American girl [the actress Faye Dunaway]. These days I just work with people I know, such as Eric Clapton or Michael Caine.

You can’t take candid shots of today’s celebrities because they are brands and their management demand control of the images. It means the public only gets to see what the stars want them to see — or what the paparazzi can snatch.

It also means the big-name photographers today are more like art directors, with teams of assistants and technicians to create imagery that is planned and orchestrated.

It has really killed my style of up-close-and-personal photography — honesty, immediacy and intimacy has been extinguished and any reality is distorted through the lens of stalker photographers.

I think I was born in the most fortunate time ever. It was such a golden age for photographers. I doubt it will ever happen again.

Terry O’Neill/ Infamous is at Alon Zakaim Fine Art, W1 (020 7287 7750, alonzakaim.com) from May 1 to June 8. Open Mon-Fri, 9am-6pm. Admission free.

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