Oliver Siodmak’s Rants & Raves

As many of you know I recently changed hosting providers. An activity that I don’t recommend for the weak hearted .. but more on that another time. Anyway, I needed to rebuild my blog and I decided to focus on those entries that others had trackbacked or referenced first. I was of course shocked to come across this item posted on AppleSwitcher.com by Otto Boners (real name?).

Here is what his posted on their board:

Found this link (http://www.siodmak.com/blog/?p=78) while googling, so I know I didn’t dream the name.

Talk about synchronicity. I was about 22 years old, a little pipsqueak, and I was freshly installed as a newly hired editor of a pulp magazine in New York City.

OK, then, as now, I was an avid collector of old stuff. That weekend, at some dusty antique shop, I had purchased a bunch of copies of a WWII military magazine, called “Yank”. It was a military published periodical for servicemen. No “reason”, I just liked the way the covers looked and bought some for a few dollars.

Don’t ask me why, but I was looking at one of them and noticed some photos that I liked. The name of the photographer struck me. “Alex Siodmak”. I have no idea why but the name stuck in my mind.

So the next week I’m sitting in my office, and one of the secretaries tells me that some freelance photographer has come to the office cold and wants to get some work.

The guy comes in, we talk awhile, he shows me some photos. He’s much older than me. I tell him that maybe I can use him for an assignment in the future, but I have no work right now.

He’s insistent. He wants to take me to lunch. I’m young and I like lunch, so I agree. We go to a place across the street and have pastrami sandwiches.

We’re in the middle of lunch, talking about nothing in particular, when I’m suddenly struck with a realization. “ALEX SIODMAK”. That’s his name. That’s the name of the photographer in “Yank” magazine in 1944. (this was around 1977).

I lean forward, look him in the eye, and I say “I really liked your photographs in the August, 1944 issue of YANK magazine”.

It takes a minute for him to digest this. He sits back in his chair, an almost frightened, confused look in his eyes. It does not compute. He doesn’t say anything for a while, then he composes himself. He stares at me. He is visibly pale and shook up.

“How did you know that”?

“I just know, that’s all.” I reply.

The rest of the lunch is a blur. He barrages me with questions, insists that NOBODY even knew he had photos in Yank. He never put it in his portfolio. He barely remembers himself.

He says I’m just a kid, how could I have known about what he did in WWII? He asks if he was set up for some kind of gag.

The whole thing totally freaks him out.

He takes his portfolio, we leave the restaurant, and he never calls me again. He is totally and completely mystified, spooked. There is no rational explanation for what happened in his mind.

Cue Twilight Zone music.

That’s my true story. Not an important story, but a strange one. I never forgot the name.

Now I have re-read this posting a few times and I don’t know what to react to first; this man’s recount of his meeting with my father or the comments from the masses that followed. Come to think about it .. it would probably be best that I not comment on either.