Les Wiseman - 1985

 

I often write here about the mentors of my life who were or have been responsible for whatever success accrues to my name.

There were my grandmother, mother and father, Brothers of Holy Cross in Austin, Texas, Ramón Xirau who taught me philosophy at Mexico City College, Captain USN, Onofrio Salvia, Argentine artist Juan Manuel Sánchez who compelled me to read Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain in Spanish, and said I was an artist, my wife Rosemary, two art directors at Vancouver Magazine, Rick Staehling and Chris Dahl who forced me to take photographs beyond what I was comfortable doing, Vancouver Magazine editor Malcolm Parry who told me I had to write (it became a cover article) besides taking photographs and quite a few more.

And writer John Lekich gave me a little trick I use all the time. He said, "Whatever you put in your first paragraph, do so in your last.”

There was one mentor that is becoming more and more obvious these days of reflection with two cats on top of me while I stare at the ceiling on my bed.

This is writer Les Wiseman who now lives near the Victoria, BC airport. I had a chat with him on the phone yesterday Sunday (almost two hours) and that cemented in me that I have to make known to whoever might read this how important he was in my life.

My journey to meet Wiseman (it was in 1978) really began in a Mexico City high school for rich American kids. One day they asked me, “Mr. Hayward what do you think of Alice Cooper?” My answer was, “I don’t know. Who is she?”

Once Wiseman convinced Malcolm Parry that his magazine should have a rock column I was dispatched to take photographs for what Wiseman wrote about.

From him I learned:

He gave me advice that began, “As your attorney…” How was I to know that he was using a phrase of one Hunter S. Thompson? How was I to know that by saying I was his Lenso the Argentinian lensman that he was equating me to Thompson’s Ralph Steadman?

Wiseman told me, “If you are going to listen to one heavy metal band it has to be Motorhead." With the band, during a very early morning interview at their hotel, the band and Wiseman drank screwdrivers without orange juice. I did not imbibe.

Such was the enormous credibility for his talent in writing about rock music that we were given instant access back stage to bands where even our city newspaper photographers had to content themselves in shooting on the concert floor. Because of Wiseman we had access to The Police three times.

One day Wiseman, having some sort of conflict (I never asked), called me up and said, “Alex let’s go tonight to Boston Bar and come back on the next day.” My Rosemary, who was much more understanding than I was, told me, “You go.” And we did. In our trip there and back we only listened to Lou Reed tapes. It was in that trip that I fell in love with Reed’s Caroline Says. We bonded in my Italian Fiat X-19 which cooperated by not breaking down.

When I started writing Wiseman gave me this advice:

"Unless you are Charles Dickens you never begin in the beginning. You start in the middle and work both ways."

"If you are writing about something you do not know anything about, do research and ask an expert."

"If you want to write a profile on a person, look for quotes from family, friends, journalists, etc. Place the papers on your floor in many piles and start mixing them without too much order."  

One of my best friends is famous animator (classical style as even now he uses no computer) Marv Newland. When I first met him at Vancouver Magazine around 1979 he never gave me any attention. That changed when Wiseman had the idea of using a local rock band (the Subhumans) as a Christmas themed rock column with an elaborate photograph I had to take.These Christmas themed rock columns became well known and I shot some of my most complicated photographs. We did everything possible to make them spectacular. I immediately learned that a photograph without any written copy meant nothing. It was our collaboration that gave me a purpose.

I have no idea whose idea it was (Wiseman’s or Parry’s?) to drive around Howe Sound and write about it. This was not rock and in the light of day (not in dark backstage sessions at the Commodore Ballroom) but somehow Wiseman proved he could write about anything and do it well.

Besides all the advice he gave me it was working with him that gave me an insight on how he wrote. I was always present at his interviews. Then I would see the finished product inside a magazine a month later.

Besides Vancouver Magazine, Wiseman worked for others. One, that  we both collaborated, for was TV Guide. I would state here that he made even that magazine a literary one.

My journey into appreciation of rock and roll I can pinpoint to the assignment I received to take photographs of live bands when Vancouver was infamous for having clubs that played canned disco. One of the joints I had to go to was called the Smilin’Buddha. I had read several articles in the Vancouver Sun about policemen being called to stop riots and violence there.

I arrived and I passed past the huge doorman/bouncer Igor. I was in fear for my equipment. On the stage was a band called the K-Tels fronted by a guitarist called Art Bergmann. Within a few minutes I put my camera bag at a corner and I started jumping up and down (it was called the pogo) with the rest of the fans. Since that evening in 1979 Art Bergman and I have been friends and from him I understand that he is proof that Vancouver does have people who are passionate in what they do.

And yes Wiseman was and is passionate in what he does.

P.D. From Wiseman I heard the term ecdydiasts . And yes we were both fans. We even convince Parry at Vancouver Magazine that would do an article, a cover it was, on them based on the money that passed hands. Wiseman also wrote a variant of the article for a local business magazine called Equity. The title of the piece was, "Sex Sells".