I have a story you might like about a Serious Photographer.

I was in the Navy, in Japan, in 1973, maybe 1974. A Nikon F2 caught my eye in the Navy Exchange. Memory says it was $300, a month and a half’s pay. I at some point acquired two zoom lenses, 43-86 and 80-200. That 80-200 was a delight, as was the camera itself. I could track someone in a baseball game, keep them focused and zoomed in, and get 2 shots per second without a motor drive.

I was a lowly E-3, refused to be promoted. There was an E-6 in the shop next door who heard I had the F2, and brought his F2 over to show me. He had the motor drive (4/sec with the mirror free, 5/sec with it locked) and a replacement back which held a roll of film to take 500 (FIVE HUNDRED!) pictures. He was bragging how when he wanted a picture of, say, an A-6 coming in for a landing and the lighting and sky were just right, he’d show up on the gallery around the flight deck and pop off 100 frames. Then he would develop the negative, hold it up to the light, pick the one frame he wanted, print it, and throw the rest of them away.

Having brought me into this secret club of his, he asked, “How do you develop your pictures?”

“There’s a shop off base where they develop them for nnn Yen each. They’ve pushed Tri-X nnn times for me for only nnn Yen extra.” (I forget the exact push times, but it was the maximum ASA the F2 would handle, I think 9600, which would make it push 24 times. Not a lot of contrast, but fantastic fun on a moonless night.)

He looked at me in horror. I swear his next words were “You … you’re not a photographer! You’re a snapshotter!” And took his fancy rig and left before I could snipe back that he wasn’t a photographer, he was a movie taker.

I stand by that. I got a lot of good pictures by watching the subject and taking one picture at the right time. Like a baseball player sliding into 2nd, or a kid at a BBQ. There was no skill in what he did.