Garrett's big night out

In 40 years of shooting, one of my best assignments was a revelatory all-nighter in September 1989, with that original Merlin-like JR prototype.

The Philadelphia Committee for the Homeless called to ask if I would shoot a documentary for high school kids with misguided notions about the “freedom” of the streets, to show them the true grim picture.

PCH had helped one highly intelligent, formerly homeless kid named Michael Bowden pull himself up and get back into society and he volunteered to moderate the video and be our guide to that strange lost world. But he had been a denizen for 18 months and knew that if we arrived with a full crew, Steadicam, asistants, lights, etc., our would-be subjects would melt away into the darkness.

I showed Michael my brand-new little prototype and its small Obie light, and he conceded that just the two of us might be less intimidating, It was decided that he would wear a little wireless mike and I would be his sidekick as we penetrated the fluorescent labyrinth of Philly's subway concourses, observing our camera-shy subjects from the hip.

We began in twilight and worked until dawn. A PCH van carrying spare S-VHS-C tapes and batteries shadowed us on the streets up above, on call with a pair of klutzy portable cell phones.

I shot 25 cassettes, used 48 alkaline batteries, and dollied for miles with my tiny Steadicam and my backpack full of spares. We paased like ghosts through the churches ana agencies that pass out used clothing; we snaked along the dinner line to the steam tables at St. John's Hospice, dogged PCH volunteers bringing people to shelters, and trolled for breakfast at the dumpster out behind McDonald's. And everywhere we listened to our less fortunate brothers and sisters: the sad, the angry, the hopeless, and the hopeful; the druggies and tired old boozers; the appallingly dirty and the impossibly clean men, women, and even children who slept fitfully in subway alcoves ana under cardboard huts on the grand veranda of the Federal Reserve Bank and were roused up at dawn to trudge the long miles between meals and handouts and odd jobs.

Michael was brilliant. He still knew many of these wandering souls and they signed our releases, told their tales, and were somehow not scared off by my large self or my camcorder, hiding behind its dim little basher light.

My brother Shel was the principal editor at NFL Films and he donated his services to cut the video, and it premiered with a lot of hoopla and played for years at a number of the area high schools.

I am still proud of that tittle production and the influence it had, and I recently dug out a copy and realized what a unique chance it provided to learn what that little invention could accomplish. My camera was almost supernaturally invisible and inconsequential to our subjects, yet the moves have a breathtaking grave and weighty presence. It remains to this day one of my most satisfying and memorable shoots.

Garrett shoots the food line at St. Johns soup kitchen Note how accessonzed the prototype is with an Obie, transmitter, extra battenes, etc., and how much it resembles the Merlin

Those interested in the aesthetic aspects of the moving camera might also enjoy a pair of relevant articles online at: www.garrettcam.com/.zerb.php and a contemporary newspaper article about Garrett's 1989 homeless video at: www.garrettcam.com.