Every picture tells a story

I don't know a lot about this photograph. I found it on the Internet a few years ago.

I know that my grandfather, Anthony Calvacca, is the man pictured second from the right. He was the chief photographer of the New York Post, but is without his camera in this picture. I assume he's in the company of other newspaper folks and perhaps their spouses. Most everyone called him Tony.

Obviously, this group of people is on a boat or ferry, presumably somewhere around New York City. From the style of clothing and the apparent age of my grandfather, I am guessing this picture was taken in the late 50s or early 60s.

My grandfather, and later my father (a news cameraman for WNBC and WABC), were Big Apple-media guys, each with their own unique stories and colorful experiences.

My father, Michael Calvacca, was in Time magazine for getting in fight with another television station news crew during a union dispute. Another story for another day. He also came to the rescue of Mason Reese, while doing a story about the child actor. Reese evidently was being harassed on the street by a mean-spirited passerby. My father won an Emmy and was pretty highly regarded in New York City media circles. He was friends with on-camera personalities such as sportscaster Marv Albert. When he died, WABC aired a 90-second obit/dedication at the end of the evening newscast. That's a lot of air time to give to one of your own.

My grandfather was a newspaper guy in the grittiest, street-wise sense. His photographs often appeared on the front of the tabloid. He was fearless in making great images. He helped friends and relatives get into the business. It was an era when friends helped other deserving friends get a job.

I know a lot less about my grandfather's career, but I do remember that when he retired, Mayor Beame held a farewell dinner at City Hall for him. Not bad for a newspaper photographer without an education and who worked on a family farm in New Jersey early in his life.

My career in journalism has been a bit different. Less glamorous, among other things.

I entered the newspaper business about the time it was transitioning from sort of a blue-collar, rough-and-tumble industry, to a more corporate, college-educated profession. It was an adjustment for me because of what my first-hand view of what journalism was before the locker room mentality of newsrooms was cleaned up. During my time at newspapers, journalism became more corporate. Like in many other businesses, you got ahead by playing the game more than by what you knew or how hard you worked.

But there is one unfortunate thing I share with my father and grandfather. We all were laid off or forced to retire too early.

My father was laid off from WNBC after winning an Emmy. Television news reports were transitioning from film to video tape in the 70s. There was no longer a need for the artful cameramen who documented news stories in the field in a similar manner to the way classic movies were filmed. Any schmuck with a video camera could create images by simply pointing a camera at a burning building or any other news event. And they could do it for far less money than the film craftsmen. Of course, the creativity and quality of video tape couldn't compete with film. But film itself was far too expensive. Tape was a bargain. Plus, the bean counters calculated that the average TV newscast viewer probably didn't care about quality. Our culture was quickly moving to a fast-food mentality across the board. You saw it in music, movies and even the nightly newscasts.

Fast forward to 2009 and look at all the video on so-called news web sites. The quality and composition is horrible, yet everyone within the industry runs around patting themselves on the backs like they are all a bunch of Frederico Fellini proteges. There isn't anything artful or even journalistic about most amateur video streaming online.

So while the technology improves, the creative capabilities continue to get watered down. Maybe one day the art of visual journalism will return, but for now, we're stuck with "citizen journalists" with camera phones because someone in power has determined that that is what will make their web sites profitable. Those who once aspired to be National Geographic photographers probably should look into wedding photography gigs.

My grandfather was pushed into retirement, not because he couldn't make compelling pictures anymore, but because he was no longer the future. I don't recall how old he was at the end, but I sure know he didn't want to call it quits. I remember stories about the dishonorable tactics the new owners of the New York Post used to get rid of anyone over a certain age. Despite my grandfather's unbelievable work ethics and dedication, not to mention ability to make pictures that helped put the Post on top back in the day, he was sent packing.

I see my grandfather in this black and white picture, on top of the world, and rubbing elbows with New York City's movers and shakers. I don't know the exact context of the picture, but I do know what it feels like to have the respect of others in your field. I see respect in that photograph.

USA TODAY let me go at age 51. As I outlined in an August posting, the circumstances of my being laid off stunk and involved more than just age. I am in a fairly profound jam as a result of one or two trivial-minded people making irrational decisions at a time when it's not good to be without a job. I turn 52 later this month. I don't feel that old because I am still very much involved in everything from new technologies to blasting away on my Stratocaster guitar through my Marshall amplifier. But those are hobbies, not a career.

Predictions of employment continuing to climb are reported almost daily. The newspaper business is in trouble and other businesses aren't doing much better. I, like so many other Americans, am just fighting to survive one day at a time, hoping that someone will see the many benefits I could bring to their business.

When I say survive, I do literally mean survive.

My grandfather died a short time after he was forced into retirement. He once told me, with a certain resignation in his voice, that there is only so much golf he could play. In my case, there is only so much blogging I can do or rock bands I can form or join.

My father got cancer a couple years after his layoff and died in his 50s. His passion was golf, much like my grandfather's. It wasn't enough to keep him healthy during his period of unemployment.

You can imagine some of the thoughts that run through my mind as I try to get back into the workplace. But when I look at that photograph, I come to realize something else. Nothing lasts forever. Our time on this planet is very short. Our time on top of our careers is even shorter. The concept of fairness in the workplace is as obsolete as film in a news camera. There is no rule that says just because I went to college, had an outstanding track record during my career, that I can't end up living on the streets in five or 10 years.

Yes, 50something is too young to not be working. I have so much to offer now that I didn't when I was in my 20s or 30s. Seasoning, perspective, a mountain of skills and life experience to name a few. Assets that could help any company make money. Trying to convince employers of that is quite a challenge these days. When I was in my 20s and 30s, and didn't have much versatility, all I needed to do to find work was send out a few resumes. Boy, what an upside-down world.

I don't want to give up on journalism quite yet, even though some say I should. It's hard to walk away from something that has been in your blood. I don't like the trends I see in journalism, but rather than criticize them in a blog, I would prefer to be part of the solution in a job. Whether I get another shot or not remains as big a mystery as that photograph of my grandfather.