Born
in England on June 16, 1925, Michael Rougier began his career
as a photographer for the Montreal Standard newspaper.
His big break came when he was assigned to photograph cattle being
shipped to Argentina from Canada. While in Argentina, he made photos
of the then-camera shy Eva Perón, eventually smuggling the pictures
out of the country and back north. Those images ran in both
the Standard and
in LIFE, where he was hired as a staff photographer in November 1947,
remaining with the magazine for more than two decades. (He eventually
left at the end of 1971, a year before LIFE ceased publishing as a
weekly.)
During
his 24 years with the magazine, Rougier displayed the sort of
versatility for which so many of LIFE’s photographers were known.
He covered the Korean War — with his greatest work focusing on
children orphaned by that conflict. He covered the Hungarian
revolution of 1956, weddings in North Dakota, Boy Scouts, horse
racing, drug-addled Japanese teens and countless other stories, in
countless other locations. He exemplified the ideal of the staff
photographer, for whom no assignment was too small (or too big).
Early
in his career at LIFE, he accepted a handful of assignments that
illuminated his compassion for the powerless. The first was a story
about a blind poodle named Midget. The story goes that he almost
passed out in the operation room while Midget was being operated on
to restore her sight. He also photographed a story in Texas in 1948
about a cat that got around via wheelchair. He even adopted a goat
after covering a “goat round-up” in Virginia in 1950.
The
one story that most perfectly captures Rougier’s remarkable empathy
for his subjects, however, involved a Korean orphan named Kang. In
1951, he was sent to southeast Asia to cover the Korean War
(replacing his LIFE colleague, John Dominis). While there, Rougier
came across the Taegu orphanage and met Kang, a boy who would
eventually be introduced to the LIFE’s readers as “the boy who
wouldn’t smile.”
At
one point, Rougier sent a remarkable open letter to his colleagues
back at Time Inc. in New York Time, asking — in fact, almost
begging — for assistance to help Kang and the orphanage. (“You
might be a helluva long way from war in a bar in New York but these
kids can’t remember anything but war — few of them remember
anything of their life before their mothers, fathers, brothers and
sisters were killed right before their eyes. Get the contacts of my
first take and look at them — look at Kang — and then
please — send some stuff.”)
The
letter got results. The orphanage received money, books, vitamins,
clothing. Kang did, eventually, smile and was adopted by an American
family.
From
the first, Rougier was recognized as a stellar photojournalist by his
peers, and won Magazine Photographer of the Year honors from the
National Press Photographers Association in 1954.
In
1964, meanwhile, on assignment in Antarctica, Rougier almost met his
death when he was seriously injured after tumbling more than 600 feet
down a mountainside while covering scientists who were working at the
bottom of the world studying glaciers. Today, the peak is called
“Rougier Hill,” in honor of the intrepid photographer who nearly
died on its slopes.
In
1964, he and correspondent Robert Morse spent time documenting one
Japanese generation’s age of revolt, and came away with an
astonishingly intimate, frequently unsettling portrait of teenagers
hurtling willfully toward oblivion.
In
Rougier’s photographs — pictures that seem to breathe, at once, a
reckless energy and an acute despair — we don’t merely glimpse
kids pushing the boundaries of rebellion. Instead, we’re offered
the rare and disquieting gift of complicity: this generation of lost
boys and girls, Rougier’s pictures suggest, is trying to tell us
something — something reproachful and perplexing — about the
world we’ve made. Or rather, the world that we’ve broken.
The
teens and other young adults portrayed in Rougier’s pictures, Morse
noted in a 1964 LIFE special issue on Japan (where some of these
images first appeared), are “part of a phenomenon long familiar in
countries of the Western world: a rebellious younger generation, a
bitter and poignant minority breaking from [its] country’s past.”
All
through that past, a sense of connection with the old traditions and
authority has kept Japanese children obedient and very close to the
family. This sense still controls most of Japan’s youth who besiege
offices and factories for jobs and the universities for education and
gives the whole country an electric vitality and urgency. But as its
members run away from the family and authority, this generation in
rebellion grows.
Michael
Rougier, who was an accomplished sculptor in addition to being a
masterful photojournalist, died in Canada on January 5, 2012.
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