tore agencies such as Brown Brothers,
European Picture Service and Freelance
Photographers., But in 1937, Dr.
Bettmann came up with an idea that so-
lidified his prominence in the picture in-
dustry.
While looking through an old book his
father had given him, he discovered an
illustration that forecast the invention
of the radio. On impulse, he sent it to
Dr. Frank Stanton of CBS.
A few days later he received a call
from the station's advertising manag-
er. Could Dr. Bettmann "gather more
information about the listening device?"
he asked. Dr. Stanton wanted to use it
in a national ad campaign.
`This national exposure —reinforced
by the Bettmann credit line (which ac-
companies the photos) — did much to
make my work known in the field," Dr.
Bettmann said. "I proved that old
graphics could be used effectively and
tastefully in modern promotion."
As Dr. Bettmann'a professional life
prospered, so did his personal one. In
1936 he met Anne Clemens Gray, a wid-
owed antique shop
owner with three chil-
dren ranging in age
from 15 to 20. He felt
he had found a soul
This photo
mate and they were
of Adolf Hitler
married soon after.
shows his
"I was extremely
typical
oratorical
lucky," he said, gaz-
pose.
ing at a picture of his
wife, who died in 1988. "I couldn't have
loved any of them more."
After the CBS campaign, the Bett-
mann credit line started cropping up
everywhere. Customers ranged from es-
teemed scholars like Dr. Alfred Kinsey
to Hustler magazine. Once a slim man
in his early 30s quietly rummaged
through the Archive's movie files. He
gave his name as "Johnny Carson" and
explained that he wanted to develop vi-
sual gags for his new TV show, Dr.
Bettmann said.
Another time a hurried assistant
asked if his boss could borrow a picture
for "inspiration." The $5 payment came
back signed, "Andy Warhol."
"I wish I hadn't cashed it," Dr.
Bettmann lamented in his autobiogra-
phy. "Who can see around corners?"
There were some orders even Dr.
Bettmann could not fill. Requests for
pictures of Andrew Jackson at the Bat-
tle of New Orleans or physicist Daniel
Gabriel Fahrenheit went unanswered
because such images did not exist, he
said.
He was also never able to obtain the
rights to pictures by his favorite pho-
tographer, Alfred Eisenstaedt of Life
magazine. Dr. Bettmann enjoyed
Thanksgiving dinner with Mr. Eisen-
staedt and a mutual friend at an au-
tomat two weeks after he arrived in the
THE BETTMANN ARCHIVE
The Picture Man
United States. He was overwhelmed to
be in the presence of the man who was
already a nationally renowned photog-
rapher.
"He was ingenious at capturing the
decisive moment in a picture that so few
people have," Dr. Bettmann said. "He
was very modest then. I understand he
became arrogant later, but he had much
to be arrogant about."
Still, by the time Dr. Bettmann sold
the Archive to the Kraus-Thomson cor-
poration in 1980, he had amassed more
than 6 million images on a wide variety
of subjects. Today the number has grown
to more than 16 million, Mr. Pierce said.
And thanks to Mr. Gates, all of the pic-
tures will soon be available on-line and
on CD-ROM, he added.
"I'm really happy about the sale (to
Mr. Gates)," Dr. Bettmann said. "I feel
like what we started as a horse and bug-
gy operation finally made contact with
the 20th century."
He's pleased to see photographs slow-
ly being replaced by digital images
throughout the world.
"When you used to mechanize pic-
tures there was a decline in quality," he
said. "There needs to be a selection (of
different kinds of pictures). But it's in-
credible what you can do today for more
people."
A few years ago, Dr. Bettmann even
dabbled in a modern form of pictures:
film. Struck by his likeness to Dr. Sig-
mund Freud, the Ladd Co. invited him
to appear as a nagging, half-senile psy-
choanalyst in the movie, Lovesick. Most
of Dr. Bettmann's performance wound
up on the cuffing room floor, but he rel-
ished the opportunity to play a piano
duet with the film's star, Dudley Moore.
But despite his lifelong immersion in
the world of pictures, Dr. Bettmann sur-
prisingly prefers the written word. Af-
ter he retired and moved to Florida in
the 1980s, he focused his energies on
writing books. One of his 13 efforts, The
Good Old Days — They Were Terrible!,
became a cult classic and annually sells
more than 200,000 copies.
"This is biting the hand that fed me,"
he said. "But I regret that everything is
in pictures these days. Pictures give an
immediate impression of things, but you
really need text to put them into per-
spective."
He pointed to a picture of renowned
humanitarian Albert Schweitzer seat-
ed at his piano. "All this shows is an old
man at his piano," he said. "It tells noth-
ing about his intellect or the medical
mission he established in Africa."
But Dr. Bettmann does not regret the
path he chose. "My work gave me a
wonderful education," he said. "I almost
felt like I was witnessing history first-
hand.
"We live too much in the present
sometimes. We need to cultivate and
cherish our heritage more."
Dr. Bettmann is working on a new
project — a pictorial history of women.
He also is a scholar-in-residence at Flori.
da Atlantic University in Boca Raton,
where he volunteered as curator of rare
books until a few months ago.
"Working next door to Otto Bettmann
has been the greatest privilege of my
career," said Zita Cael, FAU head of
special collections and libraries. "He is
the most gracious, funny, brilliant
man."
Perhaps Dr. William Morris, FAU di-
rector of libraries, described Dr.
Bettmann best. "Soon after I met him,
Otto was hospitalized with some sort of
intestinal blockage," he said. "I went to
visit him and he was sitting up in bed
so hard' at work writing things that he
didn't realize I was in the room."
It's easy to see why such perfor-
mances are not surprising.
"I feel we have been given an assign-
ment in life to work as long as we can
be useful," Dr. Bettmann said. "If we
live to be very old, we must be doing the
right thing."