R. B.

R.B. was a talented 19 Year old violin player destined to become a world class soloist when, on her way to a music lesson, the strap of her violin case wrapped around her shoulder, got stuck in the doors of a commuter train, pinning her to the side. Realizing the precariousness of her situation, she furiously pulled on the case trying to dislodge it and banged on the side of the train in a vain attempt to elicit help from the conductor or a passenger. To her horror the train lurched forward, pulling her body along and dragging her legs 300 feet against the wooden station platform before she managed to free herself from the strap and a passenger, using an emergency lever, brought the train to a halt. One leg was amputated in the accident and the other was, as newspaper accounts at the time described it, “degloved.”

The accident happened in 1995, and all the pictures had been through the lab before. But litigation against the train companies was slow going and in 1998 R. B. retained the services of Robert Clifford, Chicago's most famous and successful personal injury attorney and A-1's number one client. New prints of everything were ordered, and at the end of only my second week in the darkroom, I was handed a half completed job of 3 sets of 4x5's of 100 shots of R. B.'s mangled legs due for emergency delivery in two hours. The assistant manager handed the negatives over and just said run 'em. Which, at that point, I really didn't know how to do - it was a trial by fire. The pictures were lousy, some of the worst I've ever printed, taken by an amateur with cheap film, inadequate ambient light, and a devastatingly bright flash. The negatives were hopelessly blue and the pop of the flash forced too much contrast making the highlights along the top of her legs impossibly shiny white, effectively obliterating the details of her wounds, while the underside was lost in an irredeemable darkness. All this had to be balanced out - the color shifted, the highlights darkened and the shadows lightened, revealing all the subtle and devastating nuances of lacerated scar tissue - while making all the prints look consistent and believable. Arms flailing, prints flying out of the machine, and my brain about to explode trying to remember what to correct and how, I somehow managed to get the job done, though an hour late. It was probably the most stressful three hours I've ever worked.

About a year and a half later the case finally went to trial with much publicity and controversy - Clifford was asking for over a hundred million dollars in damages! News editorials and public opinion ran in every possible direction, but nearly all focused on just whose fault the accident really was and how much money, if any, should be awarded. Many believed that R. B., rather than trying to pull the violin case strap free from the doors, should have simply let go of it, thereby saving herself from injury. These people believed the uniqueness of the instrument, a nearly 400 year old Amati valued at half a million dollars, overly influenced R. B.'s decision to stay with the instrument. Others even speculated R. B. was at fault for getting off the train too slowly. A more level headed group of opinion makers thought the train companies should have enforced a policy among conductors of a “second look” after shutting the train doors. Most people felt though, despite the seriousness of R. B.'s injuries, that she was unnecessarily greedy.

The attorneys representing the train companies ordered a mess of 24x30 blow-ups showing the interior and exterior of the train, the platform, and the violin case to illustrate that, though the strap may have been stuck, it wasn't physically possible for R. B. to have become pinned to the side. The defendants argued she had ample opportunity and the ability to extricate herself from the situation. They also, perhaps out of spite, ordered a picture of the violin.

Robert Clifford asked for many of the very same photographs, though in the more impressive 30x40 size, to document just how R. B. had indeed become trapped against the train door, hopeless to do anything but pull on the strap and bang on the door. And then he went one step further. He ordered blow-ups of her injuries.

When I walked into work that day and saw the task set before me - over 20 enlargements from those very same impossible negatives I had nearly killed myself over a year and half before - I thought it unreasonable, impossible, and I almost quit. It had already been a grueling week with all the other blow-ups both sides were ordering. The lab had been a frenzy of activity, everyone was stressed, and now I had to rush these prints out over night for a 9 a.m. delivery. I felt ill.

But 18 months had gone by since I made those first prints, and I had learned to do my job extremely well. Once I calmed down and assessed the situation, I knew exactly what to do and how to do it. I made a plan, took my time, followed my instincts, drew on experience and by the end of the evening they were finished and they were perfect. It was a great feeling. I realized I was at the peak of my ability.

At the end of the trial R. B. was awarded nearly thirty million dollars. A lot of folks thought Robert Clifford played too much to the sympathy of the jury, that he shouldn't have, in the end, focused so much on R. B.'s pain and suffering. It didn't bother me though - her injuries were the very reason so many people were involved in the case. I was proud of the work I and everyone else had done. My prints that night were immaculate. I mean, I felt like I made her those legs.