(EDITOR'S NOTE: After the news broke following his death that photographer Joe O'Donnell may have been taking credit for several famous news photographs that he didn't shoot, journalists started looking into his past and examining O'Donnell's images and history. Several published stories got specific details about individual images correct, but we felt there was a larger story to tell. Journalist Heather Graulich and research assistant Laurie Graulich began working on O'Donnell's story weeks ago and when it was finished, we decided to publish on the Web site instead of in the magazine, partly because of its length but also due to the timeliness of their findings in light of other published stories.)
By Heather Graulich
© 2007 News Photographer magazine
(SEPTEMBER 15, 2007) - By now, every photojournalist in the country with a computer and a pulse has heard of Joe O’Donnell.
Heard of him, yes. Heard that when the retired photographer died in Nashville on August 9 at age 85, obituaries began appearing worldwide crediting him with taking one of history’s most iconic images, that of a tiny John F. Kennedy Jr. saluting his father’s casket.
There was just one problem: the picture that ran with the obits wasn’t by O’Donnell. It was famously that of retired United Press International photographer Stan Stearns.
And that’s when everything exploded.
A tenacious band of former UPI shooters known as the Downhold group went on the offensive, examining Web galleries and archives of photos that O’Donnell claimed to have shot and finding at least five other historical images he clearly did not.
From there, the scandal mushroomed online, with photographers of all stripes weighing in with theories and questions. The New York Times, relying on a press release and photos from a Nashville gallery that represented O’Donnell, published the obituary on August 14 with two erroneous photos. It ran a correction on September 5 and promised it was “researching other claims made by Mr. O’Donnell in the obituary.” (A follow-up article in the Times appeared September 15.)
Yes, everyone has now heard of Joe O’Donnell. But his death, the cruel illnesses that preceded it, and the shadowiness of time – even haphazard photo-crediting practices at the height of his career – muddy the waters of an already complicated story.
“It’s too late for me to figure this out,” says O’Donnell’s Japanese-born widow, Kimiko Sakai, also a photographer. “If he were alive he could explain to them.”
The sad irony is that by the end of his life Joe O’Donnell didn’t need to claim anyone else’s work. He had already sealed his legacy with remarkable photos he actually took. And he had enjoyed a rich and interesting career.
For more than 20 years, he worked for the United States Information Agency, photographing U.S. presidents, world leaders, and historical events for government publicity purposes. He collected fascinating stories and souvenirs for his children.
But the photography of which he was most proud, the work that would deeply affect his view of the world and become his true legacy, occurred before his USIA job.
As a young Marine photographer, he took astonishing pictures of the destruction in Nagasaki and Hiroshima after the dropping of the atomic bombs at the end of World War II. For seven months he shot with two cameras, he later recalled, turning half over to the government and keeping the rest for himself.
