A double exhibit at the Missouri History Museum shows off Pulitzer-winning photographs—and the Post-Dispatch’s role in history

Newspaper photographers do more than shoot sharp images. They document our world for posterity.

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One of my pet peeves is the online article that makes use of Google Street View or stock images. It’s fine when circumstances require it, but when it’s a daily practice, it irks me. How can authors have any credibility if they never actually go out and look at what they’re writing about? I recently came across an article about redevelopment opportunities for an abandoned building. The accompanying photo captured a Google Street View image--of a building I'd watched being demolished several months earlier.

The new double exhibition at the Missouri History Museum, “Pulitzer Prize Photographs” and “In Focus: St. Louis Post-Dispatch Photographs” comes at a time when it’s more important than ever to highlight photojournalism’s invaluable role in documenting history. “Pulitzer Prize Photographs” is a traveling exhibition developed by the Newseum in Washington, DC. But “In Focus” is a first: a partnership between a history museum and its local daily newspaper to feature the work of photojournalists.

The Pulitzer Prize–winning photographs run around the exterior walls of the exhibit space, while an inner walled enclosure features the work of the Post-Dispatch team. There’s a great deal of synergy between the two sections, though, especially since the Post-Dispatch photography staff won the 2015 Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News Photography.

On a preview visit, I was joined by the museum’s director of exhibitions and research, Jody Sowell, and photojournalist David Carson of the Post. We talked intently about the role of the image in history and journalism. Perhaps in the age of the internet, someone might question the value of making a special trip to see photographs that are easily available online. But there is no substitute for seeing these images blown up and physically displayed in front of you.

“Both shows demonstrate the power of the still image,” observed Sowell. I nodded, thinking about the way a single photograph can capture an entire period—such as the image of Cabrini Green, or the Pruitt-Igoe demolition, or one of Sowell’s favorites, Nathaniel Fein’s Babe Ruth’s Final Farewell. While these images might be familiar, there is value in revisiting them, even if you’ve seen them dozens of times before. As Carson put it, “Photographs are like wine; they get better with age.”

Many of these photographs really have gotten better with age, particularly as some of the events they document seem to be repeating themselves. As I walked through the galleries, the images begin to interact with each other, heightening their poignancy in a way that cannot happen on a computer screen. Also, I noticed new details for the first time, such as the word “SLAVE” written across Mary Ann Vecchio’s shirt as she knelt over the body of Jeffrey Miller at Kent State, photograph by John Filo.

And of course, the stories behind the photographs make both exhibits special. Carson frequently champions the critical role of photojournalists in this era of shrinking newsroom budgets and hedge-fund buyouts of local newspapers. I enjoyed talking to him about his 19-year career at the Post-Dispatch, shooting steadily as the industry changed around him.

The winning portfolio of twenty images in 2015 for the Pulitzer Prize is on display in its entirety, crossing between the two exhibits. Nineteen images are hung together on one wall, and the image of Edward Crawford throwing the tear gas canister in Ferguson is in the Pulitzer exhibit. Carson recounted other memorable moments for me while we looked at the photographs. We first stopped in front of his colleague Robert Cohen’s photograph of Crawford and the tear gas canister, with the shower of sparks lighting the sky behind him.

“Only in Robert Cohen’s world is this guy wearing an American flag shirt,” Carson jokes, playing up his colleague’s seemingly inevitable luck in both composition and lighting. They aren’t simply photographers, but journalists as well, Carson underscores. Many people mistakenly believe that Crawford was throwing a Molotov Cocktail, but it was, in fact, a tear gas canister that he was throwing back towards the police. Photojournalists don’t just shoot; they capture the facts behind the image.

Carson had his own moment of serendipity when he photographed a riot police officer firing a tear gas gun: A single beam of light from the helicopter lit the background, and had he pressed the shutter a second later, it would have been gone.

In truth, these strokes of luck come out of skill, not happenstance. Carson and Cohen’s deep knowledge of their community steered them to key shots. “One thing I am really proud of,” Carson told me, “is we were always one step ahead of everyone.” He was talking about Ferguson, but the same has been true on many other occasions.

One of Carson’s most compelling stories was his photograph of looters inside the QuikTrip on West Florissant, shot less than an hour before it was gutted by fire. Already at home for the night, he was monitoring events in Ferguson, and he and Cohen decided to head up the area around the QuikTrip, where their colleague J.B. Forbes was already on duty. Carson stopped by the Post-Dispatch offices, grabbing bullet proof vests, gas masks, and the lens he usually uses for shooting Cardinals games.

Working his way through neighborhood streets, Carson finally reached the QuikTrip, where he saw Cohen standing outside the store. “Next guy that goes in,” Carson announced, “I’m following him in.”

One of his first sights inside the store was a 14-year-old stealing two liters of Pepsi. But Carson’s presence quickly drew the attention of a much larger man. “‘Hey, what are you doing?’” the man asked. “I look at this guy and he’s much bigger than me. He lifts his shirt and shows me his gun in his waist band. He asks me, ‘Who are you?’ I reply, ‘I’m with the Post-Dispatch and I’m making pictures. Your face is covered. Nobody can tell who you are. You’ll be fine.’” The masked man said OK—“and then he goes back to looting the store.”

Carson realized the man wasn’t happy with his continued presence, so he darted out of the QuikTrip, adrenaline rushing. Back in the newsroom, as he went to upload the picture on his computer, his hands were shaking so much he could barely type.

Not all the photographs in the Post-Dispatch exhibition have such dramatic stories behind them. Carson is also proud of how he and his colleagues capture St. Louis from a “360-degree view,” shooting such simple vignettes as a child running through a fountain. But unlike those who just crib from Google Street View, “We know the community,” Carson said. “We’re not just parachuting in for the big story. We’ll still be here afterwards. We create the visual record of St. Louis.”

A century from now, the people of St. Louis will still be able to use those images, much as historians such as myself use the 19th-century photographs in the collection of the Missouri History Museum.

“Photojournalists capture the first draft of history,” Sowell remarked. “They help us get the sense of what is happening in that moment, often putting themselves at risk in the process. If you’re going to tell St Louis history, there’s no better place to turn to than the Post-Dispatch.”

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