Not only did Rollie Free set the world speed record for a motorcycle back in 1948—he looked darn good doing it.
The key to setting the record for Free was cutting down on wind resistance. So when the 47-year-old accelerated his Vincent HRD Black Shadow, he positioned his body to be as horizontal as it could. Also, he wore only swim trunks as he whipped across the hard pack of the Bonneville Salt Flats. His plan worked to perfection, setting a record of 150.313 miles per hour.
In LIFE’s coverage of the event the magazine actually used a different photo, taken from a wider angle. That shot is majestic in its own right, giving more emphasis to the Utah landscape and also the black line that had been painted on the ground for Free to use as a guide.
All the shots in this gallery have their charm. The ones of Free’s friends giving him a push as he started out are pretty classic. The details in Stackpole’s photos are evocative of their era, from Free’s everyman physique to the media coverage of the speed record being dominated by still photography.
Free’s record has long since been broken. The current mark of 376.363 miles per hour was set in 2010 by Rocky Robinson—once again in Bonneville. While in 1948 Free rode a conventional-looking motorcycle, Robinson set his mark in a vehicle that looks more like a two-wheeled car, down to its encased cockpit. This meant that Robinson had no need to strip down to a bathing suit and position his body at an exotic angle, or do anything else that would result in a photo for the ages.
Rollie Free getting ready to break the motorcycle speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, 1948.
Peter Stackpole/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Rollie Free getting ready to break the motorcycle world’s speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, 1948.
Peter Stackpole/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Rollie Free getting ready to break the motorcycle world’s speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, 1948.
Peter Stackpole/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Rollie Free accelerated as he readied to break the motorcycle world’s speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, 1948.
Peter Stackpole/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Photographers captured Rollie Free breaking the motorcycle world’s speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, 1948.
Peter Stackpole/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Rollie Free, laying horizontally on his bike to reduce wind resistance, broke the world’s speed record for a motorcycle at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, September 13, 1948.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”
Prince invoked those words at the beginning of his song Let’s Go Crazy, which opened Purple Rain (both the movie and the album). Even though Prince had been making records for years before 1984’s Purple Rain, that release established him as both a major music star and also a singular one.
In his prolific career Prince released 39 studio albums and five live albums, and while the recorded music has brought joy to millions, his greatest work of art may have been his persona. He was a musician who carried himself like some sort of high priest. He managed to look like he was about to do something amazing even before he had done anything.
So it’s no surprise that still images of the music-maker have a special power. Prince is the subject of many photos in the LIFE picture collection, and two of those images–one from the Purple Rain tour and another of him playing the guitar in 1985—are among the best-sellers in the LIFE Print Store.
Most of the photos in this collection are of Prince working his magic on stage. But the photo at the end of this gallery shows Prince, face covered with a jacket, attempting to get away from photographers. Despite being a master of public image, he was not always ready for his closeup.
Prince in concert, 1985.
DMI
Prince At The Wiltern Theatre in Los Angeles, 1986.
American musician Prince (1958 – 2016) performs on stage during a pre-tour concert at the Wiltern Theatre, Los Angeles, California, May 30, 1986
Prince, circa 1988.
DMI
Prince On Stage
American musician Prince (1958 – 2016) plays guitar onstage during his ‘Purple Rain’ tour, Long Beach, California, March 10, 1985.
Prince, circa 1995.
DMI
Prince, circa 1995.
DMI
Prince, circa 1991.
DMI
Prince, circa 1988.
DMI
Prince
American singer, songwriter and musician Prince, circa 1985.
Prince performed at the Forum in Inglewood, California, February 17, 1985.
DMI
Prince, with Wendy Melvoin in the background, performed in Los Angeles, March 1985.
DMI
Prince in concert, circa 1995.
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Prince at a Hollywood event, January 12, 1986.
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Prince, 1996.
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Prince performned, circa 1985.
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Prince on stage, 1988.
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Prince doing his best to frustrate the paparazzi, circa 1985.
Along with coverage of the bombing, that issue of LIFE had a related story about the government’s massive facility in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. For years the doings at that facility had been a closely guarded secret, but now the truth could be told. LIFE’s story on Oak Ridge was headlined “Mystery Town Cradled Bomb.”
The goverment’s facility at Oak Ridge employed tens of thousands of people during the war. LIFE reported that Oak Ridge had dormitories for 13,000 people and barracks for 16,000, as well as 10,000 homes and apartments. There were also ten schools. That was all for a workforce that was largely unaware that Oak Ridge, along with locations in Los Alamos, N.M. and Hanford, Wash., was the home of the Manhattan Project.
Here’s how LIFE described the air of secrecy that permeated Oak Ridge:
Construction workers by the thousands came, labored and, sworn to secrecy, departed silently. Names famous the world over arrived anonymously, advised and departed like shadows. Guardedly—for over their heads always hung the threat of 10 years in prison or a $10,000 fine—Oak Ridge’s laboratory men, clerks, stenographers and scientists probed each other’s information without result. Supremely careful planning had compartmentalized work and therefore knowledge.
Photos by LIFE staff photographer Edward Clark helped pull back the veil. One distinctive trait of Oak Ridge was its sheer size—the facility was big enough to sustain its own economy, including shops and movie theater. The makeshift business district resembled an updated version of what one saw in the mining towns of the old West.
Then there was the signage around Oak Ridge, which hammered home the importance of secrecy.
One of Clark’s photos in particular captured the tight-lipped atmosphere. The photo shows a man reading a sign which says “What you see here/What you do here/What you hear here/Let it stay here.” Clark’s image is one of the most popular in the LIFE photo store. One imagines people are buying a reproduction of it to hang in their office—or, better yet, their rec room, where the photo might take on the spirit of “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
Of course the original purpose for this sign could not have been more serious. The secret of Oak Ridge was one that reshaped the world.
The Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Security checked a visitor’s car at the government’s Oak Ridge facility entrance, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
This sign at the government’s Oak Ridge facility, where the atomic bomb was developed, warned employees not to talk about their work, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A roadside sign on roadside near the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Workers leaving the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Shops at the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Shops at the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A movie theater at the government’s massive Oak Ridge facility, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
Ed Clark/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A sign at the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee, where the atomic bomb was developed, 1945.
In 1968 LIFE magazine summed up the appeal of French philosopher and author Albert Camus with a single sentence: “Camus looked directly into the darkness as saw sun—the human spirit.” The line came from a review of Camus’ book “Lyrical and Critical Essays.” And the fact that LIFE was reviewing such books at all is a throwback to a time when mainstream American media regularly chronicled the doings of French intellectuals.
LIFE’s 1957 story about Camus carried the headline “Action-Packed Intellectual” and began with the note that he “jealously guards his privacy.” But the author relented enough to allow LIFE staff photographer Loomis Dean a rare window into his life. Dean documented Camus at his publishing office, at home with his family, and preparing to direct a staging of his play Caligula. Camus declared to LIFE, “I consider myself an artist first, almost exclusively. What is an artist? Principally a vital force, and of that, frankly, I think I have almost too much. It wears me out.”
The most famous photo from Dean’s shoot—which is also one of the most popular images in LIFE’s online print store—is of Camus standing on the balcony of his Paris publishing offices. Camus looks like an avatar of 1950s intellectual cool. He even takes a drag on a cigarette, a throwback to the days when smoking was less taboo.
In the original story the image of Camus on the balcony ran with this quote from him: “I don’t like to work sitting down. I like to stand up—even at my desk. I probably need to wear myself out.”
It’s the kind of intellectual who could become popular—one who doesn’t take anything sitting down.
French author Albert Camus at the office of his Paris publishing house, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
French author and philosopher Albert Camus stands with an unidentified woman and reads one of a number of letters on a balcony outside his publishing office, Paris, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus leaned against a radiator in his office, Paris, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
French author Albert Camus, on the set of his play Caligula, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus directed a rehearsal of his play Caligula, Paris 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus directed actors during a rehearsal of his play ‘Caligula.’ Paris, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus smoked a cigarette outside Theatre des Mathurins, where the rehearsals of his play Caligula were taking place, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus kissed actress Dominique Blanchar after a rehearsal of his play Caligula, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus and actress Dominique Blanchar after a rehearsal of his play Caligula, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus (center) rehearsed with actors for his play Caligula at an outdoor Shakespeare theater in Paris, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Albert Camus (center, next to woman in glasses) dined with a group at a Paris restaurant, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
French author Albert Camus sitting in the garden of his Paris home with his 11-year-old twins Jean and Catherine, 1957.
Loomis Dean/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
French author Albert Camus poised at home with his 11-year-old twins Jean and Catherine, 1957.
In its heyday LIFE magazine introduced a great many artists to the country at large. Perhaps the most famous instance of this was its star-making profile of Jackson Pollock, but there are many other examples.
In 1951 LIFE showcased the sculptor Alberto Giacometti. Like Pollock, Giacometti’s works were instantly recognizable. His style was bluntly captured in LIFE’s headline: “Skeletal Sculpture: Artist Whittles Men to Bone.”
The story described how Giacometti arrived what it called his ‘stalagmatic style”:
Sculptor Giacometti, son of Switzerland’s foremost impressionist painter, started out 30 years ago producing conventional statues. But he lost his way among the innumerable details of the head and body which seemed to clutter up and conceal the underlying form of human beings. “I felt I needed to realize the whole,” he says. “A structure, a sharpness….a kind of skeleton in space.” To arrive at this “essence of man,” Giacometti gradually reduced his figures to pin size, then gradually stretched them out again to pipeline silhouettes whose slender fragility suggests the perishable nature of man himself.
That image is part of this gallery, as are several other frames that Parks took of Giacometti and of his work. Also included here is a photo of a Giacometti work taken by Yale Joel that cropped up in the background of a LIFE story from 1960 about art collector G. David Thompson. He was one of the most prominent art collectors of the 20th century, and he owned 70 works by Giacometti.
Alberto Giacometti in his studio, surrounded by his sculptures, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sculptor Alberto Giacometti in Paris, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti in his studio, 1951.
Gordon Parks.Life PIcture Collection/Shutterstock
Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti, surrounded by sculptures in his studio, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A Giacometti sculpture on a Parisian street, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
These Giacometti animal sculptures lived not far from Giacometti’s Paris studio, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sculptor Alberto Giacometti, 1951.
Gordon Parks/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Art collector G. David Thompson, 1959, with a Giacometti sculpture; he owned 70 works by the artist.
Evelyn Floret’s most outstanding trait as a photographer may well have been her ability to put her subjects at ease. She shot portraits for PEOPLE magazine from 1976 to ’96, and Floret says that the magazine often chose her for an assignment when they thought the subject might need a photographer with a gentle touch. “I’m a sensitive person, I’m appreciative,” Floret says. “I’m not critical. I have a positive outlook and an appreciation for people, and that would translate into how I would behave on an assignment.”
Indeed, Floret’s subjects look like they are posing before someone who they believe appreciates them and will take care of them.
Floret may have been able to connect with her subjects, most of whom are creative types, because she is an artist herself. In addition to being a photographer, she practices other visual arts, most notably sculpture. She says her interest in sculpture was an outgrowth of her portrait photography .
And Floret came to photography with a rich life experience. She was born in Paris in 1936, and four years later she and her parents had to flee that city when Germany invaded France. After moving from town to town for a year, she and her family sailed from Portugal to the United States, settling in St. Louis in 1941. Her nationality remained in important part of her identity. During World War II her family would host weekly brunches for French soldiers stationed at nearby Scott Air Force Base, where radio operators and technicians were trained. After Floret graduated college, her first professional work was teaching French. It tells you much about her convivial personality that, all these decades later, she is still in touch with some of her former students.
Floret, deciding she wanted an artistic life, later moved to New York. She briefly attempted to become an actress before finding her calling in photography. A couple LIFE photographers played key roles along the way. One of her formative experiences was taking a class at the New School with Phillipe Halsman. and it was John Dominis who helped pave her entry into the magazine world while he was working at PEOPLE.
In more than a few of Floret’s photos, she had the stars pose with their pets. For example, actress Nancy Marchand, who at the time was on the television show Lou Grant and would go on to play Olivia Soprano in The Sopranos, held her dog up close to her face. “The animals brought the pictures to life because the people loved them so much,” Floret said. “That was the case with Nancy Marchand.”
Floret has been reflecting on her career lately because she is currently in the process of completing a book that compiles her favorite photographs from her years with the magazine. Looking at all the portraits she shot of such talented and accomplished people has filled her with appreciation and wonder.
“I just treasure the people that I photographed,” she says. “I am reliving the joy of the result of the experiences, and I feel appreciation for the generosity of the editors who gave the assignments, and the people who allowed me into their private lives to take these very personal photographs.”
Enjoy this selection of images from Floret that highight both the range of people she photographed and also the quality of her artistry.
Author Alex Haley writing as he sits in rocking chair on porch of house on his farm. Floret described Haley as “a treasure’ and said that she loved his quote, “If i knew what success would bring, I would have been typing faster.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Actress Nancy Marchand with her dog in 1982, when she was a regular on the television show “Lou Grant.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Gloria Vanderbilt in 1979. After trying shots with the models facing forward, photographer Evelyn Floret asked the models to turn around. “She was like a little flower with that pink satin blouse in the center of it all,” Floret said. “I knew i had the picture when i saw that.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Lynda Carter of Wonder Woman fame and Robert Altman enjoyed a picnic on the banks of the Potomac in 1983. They married in 1984, and remained together until his death in 2021. Floret says, “They were very much in love. It was a joy to be around them.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
For a story on George Way, an expert antiques collector who also worked at a deli counter, Floret photographed him in the bed in which he sleeps, an Elizabeth I from 1571. At the time of the shoot, in 1991, the bed was valued at $400,000.
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Martha Stewart posed outside of her Connecticut home in 1987, when she had just come out with a book on wedding cakes.
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Martha Stewart in 1987. Floret described Stewart as “delightful, compassionate, appreciative, kind, soft-spoken, and humble.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Author Margaret Atwood in her Toronto home with her cat Fluffy, 1989. “She was dazzling to me,” Floret said. “But I never felt intimidated by anyone I photographed. I just had this desire to do the best I could by them.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Harvey Fierstein with cast members of La Cage aux Folles, a show that he wrote, in 1984. He brought cast members to a studio at 18th and Broadway to be photographed. “That’s an example of the effort people made to give me a great photo,” Floret said.
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
George Shearing, the blind jazz pianist, rode with his wife Ellie in Central Park, 1979. After the photo shoot Shearing sent Floret a thank you note written in Braille.
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Attorney Roy Cohn, 1984. For Evelyn Floret this was the rare case of her photographing an individual with a notorious reputation, and that influenced the resulting photo. “Having him in that setting seemed appropriate,” she said. “It was just like a mixed message. You could draw your own conclusions. Live animal and stuffed animal, animal that was made out of china.”
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Midori in 1981, at age 11. Later that year, at a New Year’s Eve concert, she would perform a solo with the New York Philharmonic. She went on to become a great performer and advocate for music education.
Courtesy of Evelyn Floret
Hugues de Montalembert was a painter who lost his sight after being attacked during a burglary in his New York apartment. He then turned to writing. Floret captured his spirit by photographing him riding a horse on a Long Island beach. Another horseman rode just out of view to guide De Montalambert along. Floret says, “I was nearly in tears while capturing this photo.”