December 2008 TRUCKER TALK
A LIFE IN FOCUS
BY WRITER & OWNER OPERATOR KIM GRIMM
I’m sure that many of you know who Bette Garber is. For over 30 years she took pictures of truckers and their trucks, produced four books and wrote for numerous trucking publications. She was also a dear friend of mine. Sadly, Bette passed away on November 13 at a hospital in Philadelphia at the age of 65, after a lengthy illness. Her passing has made me very sad, but it also got me thinking about all the great times we shared over the years. So, instead of writing a gloomy memorial, I decided to put together an enlightening tribute to my longtime friend, Bette Garber.
I met Bette in July of 1990 at the Walcott Truckers Jamboree in Walcott, Iowa. After I chased her down to take a picture of my truck at night and show her how I had fixed up the inside of the T-600 Kenworth I owned at the time, we became close friends. Bette and I shared many experiences on the road. I would like to share some of those experiences with all of you here now.
I am sure that many of you out there have enjoyed many of the pictures Bette took, the stories she wrote and the books (four of them) that she put together over the years. I know one driver that knew Bette six years longer than I did. After starting a conversation on the CB, Bette followed three flatbeds across the Pennsylvania Turnpike all the way to Fond Du Lac, Wisconsin, where she shot pictures of their trucks, and then wrote a story about them. That story still hangs on the wall in the office of that driver.
Over the years, Bette has helped and encouraged me. When I began taking pictures of trucks she told me, “You can have fancy schmancy equipment and still take bad photos, but if you have a decent camera and good composition, you can take great photos.” Then, when I started writing for 10-4, she encouraged me, listened to me, read my stories and gave me constructive criticism. She really helped me a lot. When shooting pictures of truckers out on the road she used to always tell them, “I can’t make you rich, but I can make you famous.”
Our first trip together was in 1991. We were in Los Angeles trying to make a delivery but couldn’t find the place. By 1:00 a.m. we were both getting frustrated and tired. Then, just as we approached a railroad crossing, the lights suddenly started flashing and the bells started ringing – it scared the heck out of us both and I floored it! We were a block down the street before the train actually came, but we were definitely awake after that.
On that first trip, Bette brought along a fully stocked cosmetic bag and I was very impressed at how she did her makeup every morning. As the years went on, she began to pack for the truck trips differently, opting for a more “au natural” look – just a little lipstick and the clothes that would be necessary for the time of year she was riding along.
Most people have no idea what she went through to get some of the shots she took while driving with me down the road. She used to hang out the window, use the mirrors, lay on the upper bunk with her camera sticking out the open side window, all sorts of crazy things, in search of the perfect angle. I remember one time she climbed atop my T-600 in the Virgin River Canyon to get a shot of two trucks running down the road together. Back in those days, the spot on the floor in front of the passenger seat was usually occupied by a tub filled with two or three camera bodies, three or four different lenses and an assortment of filters (Bette always said that filters made a picture sexy). She used star filters to make that extra sparkle where the sun hit a shiny piece of metal, orange, purple and red filters to make dramatic sunsets, a polarizer to take the reflection out of the windshield, and many others, all in an attempt to make her photos that much better.
Back then that tub on the floor was also filled with lots of rolls of film! Each camera had a different speed of film in it to capture different types of shots. Of course, the best picture usually presented itself to Bette after the roll of film hit number 36 (the end of the roll). There was always the chance that we would hit a bump when she shot in my truck. In fact, many of her pictures were ruined because of our “smooth” highways. It was always a crap shoot! And she never knew how the pictures turned out until she got home and spent a small fortune getting all the rolls developed. She would call me after she got them back and tell me about the great stuff she got and we’d both be bummed about the would-be great shots that didn’t turn out.
In addition to the pictures she took from the truck, we also stopped a lot so she could get out and take some, too. To get the right angle, she would often climb to the top of a ladder, while other times she’d just lie on the ground. One early morning in Rock Springs, Wyoming, we nearly froze our fingers off before dawn to catch a “sexy” shot with the lights of Rock Springs in the background. Sometimes we would stand beside a road for nearly an hour waiting for trucks to come by. And so many times, after we were ready to pack it up and look for a new spot, the perfect truck would come by. Maybe some of you were one of the drivers that blew the horn and waved at us standing out there.
Besides taking great pictures, we also got to play on some of our trips together. One time we were in Buffalo, New York, waiting on a load of beer, and found ourselves with a little time to kill so we took a tour bus across the border and went to Niagara Falls. We had these cheap little yellow rain coats and stood in the tunnel under the falls – it was so cool and we had so much fun! And that night we got to see the American Falls lit up with all the colored lights. It was almost like what normal people would call a vacation, only they probably didn’t have to go load beer in the middle of the night after that like we did. Once in Florida, while waiting to load orange juice, we got to have crab legs at a little diner and then walked in the gulf coast water in Clearwater Beach. The sand was so soft and the water was so warm. The sunset was spectacular, but the friendship was the best! Bette and I shopped and dined together all across America and had a great time doing it!
Back in 1993 we were walking in different water – the flood waters of the Mississippi River in Davenport, Iowa. It was not something we should have been doing, but Bette got some great pictures. That was during the Walcott Truckers Jamboree. Some years, if we didn’t get to see each other anywhere else, Walcott was our annual meeting place. And some summers, after that show, would be when Bette planned to get in the truck to ride along. How many photographers and journalists do you know that actually climbed in a rig and went trucking – for weeks at a time? Not many, I bet. Bette was a true professional and completely (or should I say helplessly) devoted to truckers and the trucking industry.
What might be a nightmare to most of us was a photo opportunity for Bette. She loved to take pictures of traffic jams, construction zones, accidents, and one of her favorites, a cop behind a truck. I always had a cleaner windshield when Bette was along with me (you can’t shoot decent pictures through a bug-splattered windshield). And when she would get on the CB, most drivers were happy to help by turning on their lights, activating a turn signal, getting in this lane or that lane, touching the brakes, whatever she asked them to do. She would have them do all sorts of things to help make the pictures she took more interesting.
And Bette didn’t just talk the talk when she went along, she walked the walk. I always tried to make her time with me as productive as possible, but if the load had to go that’s the way it was. And she always worked with it. She even got her own CDL – not to drive, but to better understand what the people she wrote about really went through. To me, you can’t walk the walk more than that.
I’m sure that most would agree that when it came to shooting a picture of a truck, Bette Garber was the queen. She did it well and she did it with an honest love for trucks and the people who drove them. I am blessed to say that she was my friend and I, like many others, will miss her tremendously. If you would like to send condolences to her family (or share some stories), send them to her brother, Joel Friedman, at 1465 McDaniels Ave, Highland Park, IL 60035.
Shortly before she passed away, I called my trucker/poet friend Trevor Hardwick and told him that Bette was sick. Trevor had never met Bette, but he had all of her books and loved her work. In school, Trevor pinned up pictures of trucks (not girls or rock stars) inside his locker – pictures that Bette had taken at truck shows. After we got off the phone, he wrote a poem for Bette, which I was able to read to her the day before she passed. She loved it and couldn’t believe how insightful it was, even though he had never met her. After she died, Trevor had to rewrite it a bit, but I thought you might like to see it, too, so I included it here in my article. Thank you, Trevor.
REMEMBERING BETTE
By Trevor Hardwick
I never got to meet you,
Now on Earth I never will.
Until we meet in Heaven,
And I tell you how I feel.
I know that you have honored,
Such a plethora of friends.
Spending all your time,
Behind that camera lens.
I can still recall the pictures,
From so many years ago.
Of images you captured,
From another big-time show.
A big ol’ 18-wheeler,
Dressed in pearly paint and chrome.
Or just a simple trucker,
In his home away from home.
I’ve always loved to flip,
Through pages of your books.
And read about the people,
In those pictures that you took.
But I admit my favorite ones,
Are those you took at night.
Of cool semi trucks in a cloud,
Of blazing chicken lights.
We both rolled down the road,
With a common point of view.
To give this awesome country,
A glimpse of what truckers do.
I look through a windshield,
And you looked through a lens.
We saw the same ol’ highway,
That never really ends.
Bette, I’d like you to know,
That I always was a fan.
For years you amazed me,
With that camera in your hand.
May the good Lord take you,
And show you that He’s real.
Sincerely, from a trucker,
Just a man behind the wheel.