The Life of A Salesman

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Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman came out in 1949. The play was about a common man, Willy Loman, lost in the American dream, and its exhortation was that “attention must be paid” to such a person.

Among those who heeded the call was Cornell Capa, staff photographer for LIFE magazine. He produced a photo essay about a real-life salesman, Robert Brooks, as he went on a four-week tour through the Midwest, peddling a line of umbrellas for L.P. Henryson Inc. of New York.

Brooks’s circumstances weren’t completely identical to those of Miller’s protagonist. Willy’s sons were fully grown, for example, while Brooks’ daughter was not yet two years old. But they were both salesmen, and Capa’s story documented the stresses of a job, including the pressure of living on commissions and the isolation of life on the road.

Brooks’ tour that took him from his home in Long Island, N.Y., out to Cincinnati, Indianapolis, St. Louis, Chicago and Detroit. He traveled by train, and made this tour four times a year. LIFE said that Brooks was doing better than most of the three million “outdoor salesmen” working in America back then. But still, he had to front his own expenses and only earned money from completed sales. That year he faced a difficult marketplace in which shoppers were looking to economize. A buyer in Cincinnati rejected all Brooks’ higher-priced umbrellas, asking “What have you got, honey, that I can sell at $4.98?”

Brooks’ job also took an emotional toll. As LIFE put it, “Wherever he goes, he takes his loneliness with him.” When Brooks arrived in his Chicago hotel and found three letters from his wife waiting at the front desk, he went to his room and ripped open the letters before even taking off his raincoat. While he did find some camaraderie during his travels, either from fellow salespeople or visits with old friends, LIFE said “Brooks gets homesick as soon as he hits the road.”

Toward the end of the trip, Capa photographed Brooks standing outside a theater showing the movie Dead Man’s Gold, a negligible Western starring Lash La Rue. Brooks had already seen all of Hollywood’s major releases during his trip, so this was how he looked to pass the evening.

For the trip Brooks netted $2,600 (or about $35,000 in today’s money). LIFE assured its readers that this payday was not as good as it sounded, in part because of the uncertain nature of his profession: “Before making another trip he must wait (meanwhile living on the proceeds of the last one) until the market has renewed itself. And next time he may find the buyers so far up off their knees that they will ask “What have you got, honey, that I can sell for 98 cents?”

Traveling salesman Robert Brooks says goodbye to his wife Carol before headed out on the road for four weeks to sell umbrellas, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Robert Brooks says goodbye to his 19-month-old daughter Liza before headed out for a four-week sales trip, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

On the first stop of his four-week sales trip across the Midwest, Robert Brooks promoted his line of umbrellas to buyers in Cincinnati, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

In Indianapolis traveling umbrella salesman Robert Brooks waiting a half hour to be seen by a buyer during a four-week tour of the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

During a four-week sales tour traveling umbrella salesman Robert Brooks visited with a friend in Indianapolis he knew from service in World War II, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling umbrella salesman Robert Brooks slept on the train as he rides from Indianapolis to St. Louis as part of a four-week tour, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Umbrella sales Robert Brooks, on the St. Louis stop of a four-week road trip across the Midwest, checked out a model being offered by his competition.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling salesman Robert Brooks, worn out and bored during a four-week tour of the Midwest, arrived at the St. Louis train station, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling salesman Robert Brooks had cocktails with a department store buyer in St. Louis during a four-week sales tour of the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Umbrella salesman Robert Brooks went to bed surrounded by samples during the St. Louis stop of a four-week road trip through the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Alone in the club car of a train going from St. Louis to Chicago, traveling umbrella salesman Robert Brooks showed weariness during his four-week tour of the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling umbrella salesmen Robert Brooks didn’t wait to take off his coat before reading three letters from his wife that were waiting for him when he arrived at his hotel in Chicago as part of a four-week sales tour, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling salesman Robert Brooks made one of a series of sales calls with buyers during his four-week tour of the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Traveling salesman Robert Brooks found company with other traveling salespeople during a stop in Chicago on his four-week tour of the Midwest, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Robert Brooks, in the latter stages of a four-week sales trip, looked for entertainment on a dull night in Detroit; turning to lower grade cinema because on his trip he has already seen all the major releases, 1949.

Cornell Capa/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Bourke-White’s Images of the Northwest Territories, 1937

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The archetype of the LIFE photographer was a combination of artist and adventurer. That ideal was celebrated in the form of Sean Penn’s character in the 2013 film The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, but in real life no one embodied it better than Margaret Bourke-White.

Bourke-White was one of the magazine’s original four staff photographers, and her adventurous spirit was on display in LIFE’s Oct. 25, 1937 issue, which featured two related stories from her. The first, which began on page 40, was headlined “A 10,000-Mile Tour of Canada’s Northwest with Lord Tweedsmuir.” She had traveled along with Canada’s governor general as he visited remote communities in the Northwest Territories.

Bourke-White’s second story in that issue, which began on page 119, was also set in Canada’s Northwest Territories, but in that one the photographer briefly became a subject. She was on a separate tour with Archibald Fleming, the Anglican Church’s first-ever Bishop of the Arctic, when their small plane encountered heavy fog and had to make an unplanned landing in an unpopulated location. Bourke-White was the lone woman in the traveling party of five, and she pitched in to gather driftwood to build a fire while they waited who-knows-how-long for the fog to clear. That was typical of the hardiness she demonstrated throughout her career.

Bourke-White’s willingness to go the distance in the Northwest Territories resulted in an intimate portrait of the lives of indigenous people in one of the most remote locations in North America. Her photo essays in that 1937 issue, which include shots of Inuit people at their homes and at a Hudson’s Bay Company trading post, document an ancient culture being touched by outside forces, and are the reason LIFE photographers like her were always up for a journey, no matter how arduous.

LIFE photographer Margaret Bourke-White gathered driftwood for a fire after her plane made a forced landing due to fog in the Canadian Arctic, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

After a forced landing due to fog in the Canadian Arctic, members of the traveling party of Archbishop Archibald Fleming studied maps to determine their whereabouts, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Rev. Archibald Fleming served as the Anglican Church’s first-ever Archbishop of the Arctic, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Inuit people arrived by boat to meet the plane of Rev. Archibald Fleming, Anglican Bishop of the Arctic, in the Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Inuit people greeted Rev. Archibald Fleming, Anglican Bishop of the Arctic, after his landing in the Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A priest played during vespers in the Church of St. Theresa, Fort Norman, Northwest Territories, Canada, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

An aerial view of Aklavik, a town on the Mackenzie River delta in the Northwest Territories of Canada, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Canada’s governor general, Lord Tweedsmuir, looked at a map of his domain made of moosehide and embroidered with silk that was given to him by the townsfolk of Fort Simpson in the Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

In Kugluktuk (then known as Coppermine) people gathered outside the Hudson’s Bay Company trading post, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

An Inuit person traded wolverine fur for flour, baking soda, tallow, butter, jam and tobacco at the Hudson’s Bay Company store in Kugluktuk (then known as Coppermine) in the Northwest Territories, 1947.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Furs at the Hudson’s Bay store in the Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

White fox pelts at the Hudson’s Bay Company store in the Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Inuit children at the Sacred Heart school in the tiny town of Fort Providence in the Northwest Territories awaited a visit from Canada’s governor general and the chance to perform a dance they had spent months rehearsing, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The sisters of the Sacred Heart School harmonized along with an organ in Fort Providence, Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

This Inuit family enjoyed such modern conveniences as a victrola, a sewing machine, and a coal-burning stove in their tent, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Portrait of an Inuit mother and her child in Kugluktuk (then known as Coppermine), Northwest Territories, Canada, 1937.

.Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

An unidentified Inuit couple in Kugluktuk (then known as Coppermine), Northwest Territories, Canada, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

An Inuit mother tended to her child in Canada’s Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A scene from Inuit life in Canada’s Northwest Territories, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Bourke-White: Finding Wonder in a Paper Mill, 1937

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Margaret Bourke-White was already seen as a major talent in photojournalism when she was hired as one of the first four staff photographers at LIFE magazine. She quickly demonstrated her abilities when she shot the first cover story in the magazine’s history, on the building of Fort Peck Dam.

The magazine was in its second year when Bourke-White undertook a major photo essay on the manufacturing of newsprint. She followed the process from the beginning, with lumberjacks moving felled trees downriver to the paper mill, where the wood was pulverized and treated and turned into the stuff that newspapers were printed on. The photo essay ran in LIFE with the headline “Portfolio on Paper: Driving Logs from Forest to Factory“

Why was LIFE interested in this process? Well, in 1937 the demand for newsprint was skyrocketing because of the newspaper industry was in its heyday. The U.S. had 2,084 daily newspapers that year, compared to 938 in 2025.

Bourke-White captured all the mechanical details involved in the making of newsprint. But with her artistic eye Bourke-White also made photos that went beyond the documentation of an industrial process. Some of the images fascinate because of the scale, as humans seem dwarfed first by the log piles and then the industrial machinery that turned the logs into newsprint. Bourke-White also captures details such as the spikes in a lumberback’s boots that help him maintain his balance atop waterborne logs, or the patterns created by freshly made newsprint hanging to dry.

If you enjoy this story and want to further appreciate—or possibly own—more of Bourke-White’s work, see some of her most famous images in the LIFE photo store.

A worker prepares logs to be moved downstream to a peper mill, 1937. The International Paper Company either owned or leased 20,000,000 acres of forestland in Canada’s Upper Gatineau region.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Spiked boots and a form of grappling hook known as a peavey were the favored tools of loggers guiding felled trees over the water, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Workers formed a boom in Wahwati Creek in Canada by chaining logs together; when the boom was full, it would be carried downriver by a tugboat, 1937. formed by combining several logs together being filled by loggers floating other logs into it in preparation for travel down Wahwati Creek to the paper processing mill.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Lumberjacks working on a jam of logs on their way to the International Paper Company, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Massive collections of logs, called booms, were tugged downriver to a paper mill as part of the process of making newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Loggers worked to move logs downstream to a paper mill, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Workers managed logs on their way to be milled, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A worked sprayed water on a massive store of logs to keep them from catching fire before they could be processed at a lumber mill, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Images from Margaret Bourke-White’s photo essay about the process of turning timber into newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At a paper mill wood that has been pulverized and treated with chemicals is spread out into sheets and on its way to becoming newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At a paper mill pulverized wood is turned into newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At a paper mill freshly made newsprint hangs to dry, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Paper being processed at the International Paper Company, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Images from Margaret Bourke-White’s photo essay about the process of turning timber into newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At a paper mill workers handled 20-foot-wide rolls of freshly made newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Workers at a paper mill handle a freshly made 20-foot-wide roll of newsprint, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At a paper mill an inspector fanned sheets of finished stock to check for flaws, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finished rolls of newsprint, weighing 1,400 pounds each, are ready to be shipped from the International Paper Company, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finished rolls of newsprint are ready to be shipped from the International Paper Company, 1937.

Margaret Bourke-White/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The Making of a Mermaid, 1948

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The concept of the mermaid has been around since at least the 14th century, and this beloved creature has shown up in dozens of movies, including Splash and The Little Mermaid. LIFE was there in 1948 when Hollywood took its first stab at making a mermaid look real.

The movie was a 1948 summer release called Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, which was a light romance about a man who goes fishing and makes an unexpected catch. The mermaid was played by Ann Blyth, who had been nominated for an Academy Award a couple years earlier for her supporting role in Mildred Pierce. In February 1948 LIFE devoted a story to the making of a custom-fitted tail for Blyth. The story’s headline announced that this tail cost $18,000 (or about a $250,000 in 2026 dollars) and called its creation “the most ambitious make-up job ever to be performed on the nether extremities of an actress.”

The brains behind the tail was Bud Westmore, a Hollywood makeup legend who would also be featured in LIFE for his work on another semi-aquatic figure, The Creature from the Black Lagoon. For the mermaid’s tail Westmore made a plaster-of-Paris mold directly from Blyth’s body. He then encased the resulting model in rubber and carved the tail. LIFE staff photographer Allan Grant documented every step in the process.

And when it came time for Blyth to get into the water on the movie set, another LIFE photographer, Loomis Dean, was there to take pictures.

Unfortunately when the movie actually came out, LIFE’s film critic was not so impressed. A group review of Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid and two other summer releases was headlined, “Three expensive movies aim at fantasy and miss it by a mile.” The quality of the tail was not remarked upon at all.

It’s a sentiment all too familiar to modern moviegoers. Special effects can be spectacular, but the story still needs to work. A tail can be great and the movie can still flounder.

Actress Ann Blyth had her legs coated in grease before a plaster mold was made of her legs as part of the crafting of a state-of-the-art mermaid’s tail for the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Allan Grant/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Makeup artists crafted a mermaid’s tail for actress Ann Blyth for the film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid,” 1948.

Allan Grant/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Master makeup artist Bud Westmore fitted rubber to a plastic mold while making a tail for actress Ann Blyth in the 1948 movie “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Allan Grant/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth showed off the custom-made, $18,000 tail she wore in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth showed off the custom-made, $18,000 tail she wore in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth starred in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth and William Powell starred in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth starred in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Ann Blyth starred in the 1948 film “Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid.”

Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb Had the “Right Stuff,” But at the Wrong Time

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There is one aspect of the space race that America lost decisively, and it had to do with gender. The first woman ever go into space was Russia’s Valentina Tereshkova, in 1963. America didn’t send its first woman to space until twenty years later when Sally Ride flew on the Space Shuttle Challenger in 1983.

But while America lagged, it was not because of a lack of qualified candidates.

In 1960 LIFE ran a story on pilot Jerrie Cobb headlined “A Lady Proves She’s Fit for Space Flight.” Cobb, 29, had just become the first woman to pass all the tests that America’s male astronauts had gone through as part of Project Mercury.

Cobb, from Oklahoma, had been taught to fly by her father and earned her first pilot’s license at age 16. She then set world records for speed, altitude and distance in the twin-engine class. Her accomplishments drew the attention of Dr. W. Randolph Lovelace II, who ran America’s astronaut training program. In 1959 Lovelace invited Cobb to try out.

Cobb withstood the gauntlet, demonstrating that she had what author Tom Wolfe would famously refer to as “the right stuff.” LIFE reported, “After a series of exhaustive and exhausting medical tests, 75 in all, during which she complained less than the Mercury men had, Jerrie Cobb easily passed the rigid requirements laid down for astronauts-in-training.”

LIFE staff photographer Ralph Crane documented Cobb going through her challenges. The magazine concluded, “It now appears inevitable that manned space flight will at some future date become co-educational.”

But that future date turned out to be more far off than expected.

In 1963 the frustration oozed from pages of LIFE when the magazine reported on Tereshkova’s history-making flight for Russia. By that time a dozen other American women had followed Cobb in passing the astronaut qualifying tests. LIFE’s story, headlined “The U.S. Team is Still Warming up the Bench,” fumed about the opportunity denied to these women, including Cobb, who was now what the magazine described as a “never-consulted consultant” to NASA administrator James Webb.

LIFE said, “Two years ago, when Russian space scientists visiting the U.S. first let on that they had a training program for female cosmonauts, Jerrie Cobb went to Washington, collaring anyone who would listen, pleading for a formal American woman-in-space program. The best she got was polite indifference.”

Today a NASA tribute page to Cobb explains why she never had the opportunity to go to space by saying “any hopes of becoming an official NASA astronaut were dashed when she, as a private citizen, was denied access to training facilities at a Navy base in Florida. At the time, all astronaut candidates were required to have military jet fighter experience, and the military did not allow female jet pilots.” The Air Force would not began to train female jet pilots until the mid-1970s.

So that was that. In 1999, after John Glenn flew a celebrated space mission at age 77, some pushed for Cobb to get the same chance, but she was again denied.

While Cobb never went to space, she demonstrated heroism in other—arguably more impactful—ways as she used her pilot’s skills to serve humanity. She moved to South America and spent 30 years delivering medical supplies to indigenous populations in hard-to-reach areas. The governments of Brazil, Ecuador, Paraguay, Colombia and France honored Cobb for her humanitarian work, and in 1981 she was nominated for the Nobel Prize.

Cobb died in 2019 at the age of 88.

In 1960 Jerrie Cobb became the first U.S. woman to qualify to become an astronaut, though she was never given an opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

In 1960 Jerrie Cobb became the first U.S. woman to qualify to become an astronaut, though she was never given an opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb, who became a licensed pilot as a teenager and would later qualify to become an astronaut, flew a plane in her native Oklahoma, 1960.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Project Mercury’s Dr. W. Randolph Lovelace II questioned Jerrie Cobb as part of his process of determining if Cobb was capable of becoming an astronaut, 1960.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

This pulminary test was one of the many hurdles that Jerrie Cobb passed in order to prove her fitness as an astronaut, 1960.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb in 1960 passed all the qualifying tests to become America’s first female astronaut but was never given the opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb in 1960 passed all the qualifying tests to become America’s first female astronaut but was never given the opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb in 1960 passed all the qualifying tests to become America’s first female astronaut but was never given the opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb, a veteran pilot who qualified to become an astronaut in 1960, said she thought of the sky as “God’s unspoiled world which humans should not trespass upon without a feeling of reverance.”

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb in 1960, after she became the first woman to pass the tests required to become an astronaut.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jerrie Cobb in 1960 passed all the qualifying tests to become America’s first female astronaut but was never given the opportunity to go up into space.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Wild Way to Move a House

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In 1951 the people of Goose Rocks Beach wanted to move a meeting hall from nearly Kennebunkport up the coast to use as a community house. The question was, how to get the structure to its new location?

The innovative answer: float it on the ocean.

LIFE reported on this endeavor in a story headlined “House at Sea: A Maine Man Lets the Ocean Handle His Moving Job.”

The delightful article captured the local color as well as the details of the feat. Here’s how the story began:

A few words go a long way down on the coast of Maine, but by last week the lobstermen of Kennebunk Port were speaking whole sentences in wonder. Silently they had watched a good-sized house as it was towed out to sea, anchored overnight in the ocean and landed nine miles north at Goose Rocks Beach. Skeptically they had prophesied she’d founder (“there’ll be a lot of timber in the water before morning”). And worst of all, they had been shown their error by a freshwater man from Lewiston.

The man from Lewiston was named J.N. Jutras, who had come up with the plan, which he executed for a fee of $4,000 (or about $50,000 today). He floated pontoons on the beach at high tide, loaded the house onto the pontoons at low tide, and then floated the house off into the water.

One passenger rode in the house for its journey: Dorothy Mignault, who was president of the Goose Rocks Beach Association and a lead character of this book on Maine history. One lobsterman questioned her wisdom, telling LIFE, “You wouldn’t get me in that damned thing for all the dollars from here to Boston.”

The images by LIFE staff photographer Yale Joel show that the move became a community effort, with all hands on deck to bring the floating house to shore.

Not only did the Community House survive the trip, but all these years later it still serves visitors to Goose Beach. The structure, though, is in need of some help, which is why there is a $250,000 capital campaign to keep the Community House afloat, if you will.

The people of Goose Rock, Maine, helped bring ashore a house that was relocated over nine miles of water from Kennebunkport, 1951.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At the beginning of its relocation by water, a house was set upon pontoons in Kennebunkport, Maine, 1951.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mover J. N. Jutras posed while waiting for high tide so he could bring the house to shore at Goose Rocks Beach in Maine, 1951.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

This house was photographed while in the process of being relocated by water from Kennebunkport to Goose Rocks Beach in Maine, 1951.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

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