5 Fast Facts About Abraham Zapruder

ABC News
ABC News

Abraham Zapruder’s amateur footage of the John F. Kennedy assassination is one of the world’s most instantly recognizable clips. Zapruder himself doesn’t get quite as much press, so let’s take a look at five things you might not know about the cameraman and the odd journey his film has taken.

1. He Wasn’t a Professional Cameraman

Most of us remember Zapruder as the man behind the most famous home movie of all time, but he wasn't a professional filmmaker. His real work was in the dress game.

Zapruder, who had immigrated to New York from the Ukrainian city of Kovel as a teenager, found work in the garment industry and eventually opened Jennifer Juniors in Dallas. His offices were in the Dal-Tex building located across the street from the Texas School Book Depository from which Lee Harvey Oswald fired the fatal shots at the presidential motorcade.

2. He Didn’t Even Want to Take His Camera

The famous film might not even exist if not for the persistence of Zapruder’s secretary.

Zapruder had originally planned on bringing his camera, a Bell & Howell Director Series Model 414 Zoomatic, to work with him to film the motorcade. When he woke up on the morning of the assassination, though, he thought it was too gloomy outside to get decent footage, so he left the camera at home.

By midday the weather had brightened up, and Zapruder’s secretary convinced him that it was worth the trouble to go home and retrieve the camera. Zapruder eventually relented. He then headed out to Dealey Plaza to find a good place to film.

Tourist Stands Where Zapruder Filmed. © Barbara Davidson/Dallas Morning News/Corbis

3. The Film Earned Him a Lot of Money

Zapruder quickly contacted authorities and let them know that he had footage of the assassination. Since Oswald had been taken into custody relatively quickly, it didn’t seem that the film would have all that much value to any investigation. The Secret Service and FBI asked Zapruder for copies, but they told him the original was his. Whether he kept the film or sold it was up to him.

Zapruder was open to selling the footage, but he wanted to make sure it ended up in the hands of a group that would treat it with dignity. (Zapruder later revealed having nightmares about exploitation theaters showing the film for a quick buck.) Life magazine swooped in and bought the print rights of the film for $50,000. The magazine then realized that it would be smart to buy all of the rights, so it renegotiated a deal in which Zapruder would receive six annual payments of $25,000 in exchange for the print and motion picture rights.

Zapruder didn’t hoard the money, though. His lawyer worried that the story of a Jewish man cashing in on the assassination might incite anti-Semitic sentiment around Dallas, so Zapruder gave the first $25,000 payment to the widow of policeman J.D. Tippit, one of Oswald’s other victims.

4. His Family Got the Film Back…

The American public got its first look at the full film when ABC’s Good Night America (with Geraldo Rivera) ran it as part of a March 1975 broadcast. The next month Time Inc. sold the copyright and the original film back to the Zapruder family for $1. (Abraham Zapruder had died of stomach cancer in 1970.)

Zapruder’s family really capitalized on the film after reacquiring the copyright. His son rented the film out for one-time viewings, and although estimates of the exact fee vary, Oliver Stone allegedly paid at least $40,000 to use the footage in his film JFK.

5. …and Then Lost It Again

A 1997 decision by the Assassination Records Review Board took the original copy out of the Zapruder family’s hands. As an important artifact of the assassination, the film itself became a permanent part of the National Archives’ Kennedy Collection. (According to a New York Times story that ran when the film changed hands, it had become so fragile after years of viewings and copying that the original could no longer be projected for fear of damaging it.) The National Archives had already had physical possession of the film for nearly 20 years; the family had given it to the Archives in 1978 for safekeeping.

The Justice Department actually had the task of acquiring the film and compensating the Zapruder family for its loss, and that’s where things got interesting. The government offered $1 million. The Zapruder family countered that since it was a one-of-a-kind relic, it should be valued more like a Van Gogh painting. Their counteroffer: $30 million. After a couple of years of haggling, a federal arbitration panel awarded the Zapruders a $16 million payment for the film in 1999.

That fee only paid for the physical copy of the film, though. The Zapruder family maintained ownership of the copyright. Not for long, though. On December 30, 1999, the family donated the copyright, along with its collection of films and photographs, to the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza.

Celebrate the Encyclopedia Britannica's 250th Birthday by Checking Out Its First Edition Online

Encyclopedia Britannica volumes on display at the New York Public Library
Encyclopedia Britannica volumes on display at the New York Public Library
Mario Tama/Getty Images

While those gold-embossed, multi-volume sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica were a feature of many an American childhood, the origins of the venerable reference work actually lie in Scotland. Two hundred and fifty years ago—on December 10, 1768—the first pages of the Britannica were published in Edinburgh. To celebrate the anniversary, the National Library of Scotland has put a rare first edition of the encyclopedia online.

The first edition was the brainchild of printer Colin Macfarquhar, engraver Andrew Bell, and the editor William Smellie. It was published in 100 weekly sections over three volumes (completed in 1771), but explicit engravings of midwifery scandalized some subscribers, and were ripped out on the orders of the Crown. The entries of the first edition—some of which ran to hundreds of pages—reflect the biases and preoccupations of their time: woman is defined as "the female of a man," while there are 39 pages devoted to horse diseases. Nevertheless, the work was a significant accomplishment that drew on at least 150 sources, from essays by famous philosophers to newspaper articles. It also featured 160 copperplate engravings by Bell.

The title page on the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica
The title page on the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica

In a statement from the National Library of Scotland, Rare Books Curator Robert Betteridge said, "By the 20th century Britannica was a household name throughout the English-speaking world, and what is especially interesting about this publication was that it had a distinctly Scottish viewpoint. The first edition emphasized two themes—modern science and Scottish identity, including ground-breaking and controversial articles on anatomy and Scots Law."

The first edition (which includes those ripped-out midwifery pages) will appear as part of an exhibit on the Scottish Enlightenment at the National Library of Scotland this summer. For now, you can view all three volumes of the first edition, from "A—the name of several rivers" to Zygophyllum, a genus in botany—online here.

[h/t American Libraries]

The Time German and Russian WWI Soldiers Banded Together to Fight Wolves

iStock.com/567185
iStock.com/567185

During the winter of 1917, Russian and German soldiers fighting in the dreary trenches of the Great War’s Eastern Front had a lot to fear: enemy bullets, trench foot, frostbite, countless diseases, shrapnel, bayonets, tanks, sniper fire. Oh, and wolves.

In February of that year, a dispatch from Berlin noted that large packs of wolves were creeping from the forests of Lithuania and Volhynia into the interior of the German Empire, not far from the front lines. Like so many living creatures, the animals had been driven from their homes by the war and were now simply looking for something to eat. “As the beasts are very hungry, they penetrate into the villages and kill calves, sheep, goats, and other livestock,” the report, which appeared in the El Paso Herald, says. “In two cases children have been attacked by them.”

According to another dispatch out of St. Petersburg, the wolves were such a nuisance on the battlefield that they were one of the few things that could bring soldiers from both sides together. “Parties of Russian and German scouts met recently and were hotly engaged in a skirmish when a large pack of wolves dashed on the scene and attacked the wounded,” the report says, according to the Oklahoma City Times. “Hostilities were at once suspended and Germans and Russians instinctively attacked the pack, killing about 50 wolves.” It was an unspoken agreement among snipers that, if the Russians and Germans decided to engage in a collective wolf-hunt, all firing would cease.

Take this July 1917 New York Times report describing how soldiers in the Kovno-Wilna Minsk district (near modern Vilnius, Lithuania) decided to cease hostilities to fight this furry common enemy:

"Poison, rifle fire, hand grenades, and even machine guns were successively tried in attempts to eradicate the nuisance. But all to no avail. The wolves—nowhere to be found quite so large and powerful as in Russia—were desperate in their hunger and regardless of danger. Fresh packs would appear in place of those that were killed by the Russian and German troops.

"As a last resort, the two adversaries, with the consent of their commanders, entered into negotiations for an armistice and joined forces to overcome the wolf plague. For a short time there was peace. And in no haphazard fashion was the task of vanquishing the mutual foe undertaken. The wolves were gradually rounded up, and eventually several hundred of them were killed. The others fled in all directions, making their escape from carnage the like of which they had never encountered."

Afterward, the soldiers presumably returned to their posts and resumed pointing their rifles at a more violent and dangerous enemy—each other.

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