It was Bob Dole's last campaign stop on Sept. 18, 1996, in Chico, Calif., when he leaned over the stage railing to wave to the crowd. The platform was a little higher than usual - maybe three or four feet - and the sky above Mr. Dole was a classic California blue. J. David Ake, who was covering the campaign for Agence France-Presse, knew the move was coming - the Republican candidate did it at every stump speech - so he moved underneath to capture it in a wide shot from below, against that postcard sky.
There was no reason to think the banister wasn't securely attached.
The next thing the photographer knew, Mr. Dole âfilled my viewfinder,â Mr. Ake said. âLiterally. He started to reach, and he came right down at me.â
Mr.Ake dropped his camera and did his best to stop Mr.Dole's head and shoulders from slamming into the concrete below. The candidate bounced up and continued the rally. Most of the campaign reporters never saw what happened.
But for three photographers in the buffer zone stage right, it affected their lives in different ways. One caught the candidate, saving him from possible injury, while another caught the brunt of the falling banister, fracturing several bones in his foot. And one got the shot that captured the essence of a campaign that was starting to fall flat for a 73-year-old ca ndidate whose age was already turning into a campaign issue.
âWhen we got back to the plane I called my editor and said I had good news and bad news,â recalled Mr. Ake, who is now assistant chief of photography for The Associated Press's Washington Bureau. âThe good news is, I'll be in The New York Times tomorrow. The bad news is, it'll be me in The New York Times tomorrow.â
Rick T. Wilking, who was shooting for Reuters, got the frame that defined the day: Mr. Dole grimacing on the ground, with Mr. Ake cradling the candidate's head (Slide 3).
âDavid and I had two different experiences,â said Mr. Wilking, 57, who now freelances. âPoor guy. I feel bad for him as a photojournalist.â
The shot drew attention not just to Mr.Dole and Mr. Ake, but to Mr.Wilking as well.
âPeople pointed fingers,â he said. âLike, âWhy didn't you try to save his life, just like anyone else would?' The Washington Post had several hundred cancellation s because they ran the picture on the front page.
âBut there wasn't time. He was off that stage and back up in three seconds,â Mr. Wilking added, âI was crucified by readers for being a heartless photographer, while my colleagues were high-fiving me.â
It was the first year that campaign photographers used digital cameras, which meant they could transmit pictures to the East Coast in time for the next day's newspaper.
âIf I'd been shooting film, those pictures would've been 12 hours later, and maybe never seen the light of day,â Mr. Wilking said.
Michael Green, who was a staff photographer for The Associated Press and is the now a photo editor in it's Washington bureau, also made an appearance in Mr. Wilking's picture. When the banister started to come down, Mr.Green, 55, tried to stop it, but it landed on his foot.
âYou can see my cowboy boot, and David's hands cradling Dole's neck,â Mr. Green recalled, referring to Mr. Wilking's photograph. âSecret Service guys were trying to push me out of the way to get to Dole, but my foot was still under the banister.â
With two broken bones in his foot, he was back at work the next day. âThey weren't big bones,â he said.
When the morning papers hit the stands with Mr. Wilking's image, Mr. Green said, âMy boss wasn't real happy until he found out what happened.â
But so it goes on the campaign trail. Even Mr. Wilking said his shot wasn't met with instant hosannas. The digital cameras weren't great then.
âAt first they said, âThe color's pretty bad,' â he said. âI said, âLook at the content.' â
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