And how does it pay? Please note: "A certain magazine once paid $100 for four prints of sundials. An amateur, who happened to be on the spot with a kodak, made over $200 out of a head-on railroad-collision. A New York professional netted $125 from the newspaper-use of a wedding-party, of considerable local prominence, which was leaving the church after the ceremony." One amateur "realised $300 a year for two or three years from a lucky snapshot of eight pet rabbits in a row."
A set of South-Pole photographs brought $3,000 from Leslie's and $1,000 more from the International Feature Service. These all, though, are very exceptional instances. The average print sells for about three dollars. But there is absolutely nothing in the world to hinder a wide-awake person with a camera from making from several hundred to over $3,000 a year from his prints. If he becomes a specialist he may earn as high as $5,000 or even more.
No discrimination is made between press-photographers. The person wins who "delivers the goods."
However, I do not mean that the instances of $200 or so for prints should be taken as the prices ordinarily paid. I do not maintain that there is a fortune awaiting the man with the camera; but I do say there are unlimited possibilities for salable photographs and almost an unlimited number of markets for them. But there are not "barrels of money" in it, for all. A person may add appreciably to his income for having sold photographs; and having developed the trade to a high degree, he may cash cheques to the amount of $5,000 or more a year. But not every one. Just some. And it isn't like the log and the falling off it. It's work—hard work—hard work.
Success at selling press-photographs does not depend on the size of the town you live in, the cost or manufacture of your apparatus, or on your literary ability. It depends on you and your worship of the homaged gods of success if you would sell photographs. The gift of these gods is the ability to make good.
II
THE TOOLS OF THE TRADE
Have you ever wakened in the drear dead of a dismal night, possessed body and soul with a great desire—an incontrollable, all-moving, all-consuming, maddening desire that knows no satisfaction—a desire for a new camera or a better lens? It is a sensation more disconcerting than that of the father who is detected by his small son in the act of rifling the latter's bank for car-fare. Never would I be so unwise as to cultivate that desire in any one; for that reason I do not here go deeply into a discussion of the best kind of camera for press-photography! Unless the camera you now possess is of a hopelessly mediocre grade, it will do very well.
A reflex camera is of course the ideal instrument for the purpose, for sharp focusing is so easy and so necessary. The high speeds of the focal-plane shutter incorporated into such a camera will rarely be utilised by the average user; but its other features are admirable.