A friend informed me about this photograph / story the other day, and it seemed like something readers of this blog might be interested in (it definitely interested me). I’m not condoning suicide at all, just merely passing on a story.
The following text is borrowed from this site.
On May 1, 1947, Evelyn McHale leapt to her death from the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Photographer Robert Wiles took a photo of McHale a few minutes after her death.
The photo ran a couple of weeks later in Life magazine accompanied by the following caption:
On May Day, just after leaving her fiancé, 23-year-old Evelyn McHale wrote a note. ‘He is much better off without me … I wouldn’t make a good wife for anybody,’ … Then she crossed it out. She went to the observation platform of the Empire State Building. Through the mist she gazed at the street, 86 floors below. Then she jumped. In her desperate determination she leaped clear of the setbacks and hit a United Nations limousine parked at the curb. Across the street photography student Robert Wiles heard an explosive crash. Just four minutes after Evelyn McHale’s death Wiles got this picture of death’s violence and its composure.
From McHale’s NY Times obituary, Empire State Ends Life of Girl, 20:
At 10:40 A. M., Patrolman John Morrissey of Traffic C, directing traffic at Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, noticed a swirling white scarf floating down from the upper floors of the Empire State. A moment later he heard a crash that sounded like an explosion. He saw a crowd converge in Thirty-third Street.
Two hundred feet west of Fifth Avenue, Miss McHale’s body landed atop the car. The impact stove in the metal roof and shattered the car’s windows. The driver was in a near-by drug store, thereby escaping death or serious injury.
On the observation deck, Detective Frank Murray of the West Thirtieth Street station, found Miss McHale’s gray cloth coat, her pocketbook with several dollars and the note, and a make-up kit filled with family pictures.
The serenity of McHale’s body amidst the crumpled wreckage it caused is astounding. Years later, Andy Warhol appropriated Wiles’ photography for a print called Suicide (Fallen Body).
April 18, 2009 at 10:15 am |
Am really honored that you’d call me a friend…
Top stuff.
xSx
Ps: An inconsiderate story teller? The same could be said about any representation of history though.
‘Come and walk down memory lane, no one sees a thing but they can pretend’
You’re fucked either way in my opinion, for if you invest too much emotion into such a tale you’re called a phoney with a love of embellishing the tragedy with a few limp fingers pointed in your direction for ‘not having enough going on in your own life’ (which we know isn’t the case for yourself). Or you can be accused of seeming apathetic about the thing whilst regurgating tales of the past with dry eyes.
Boils down to the inner sensitivity of a person that can never be measured I suppose. Everything is so subjective and vague and to me that’s the worst fucking tragedy of it all.
Every man’s an island too far to reach,
hate to talk, words feel cheap…
April 18, 2009 at 11:01 am |
The most beautiful things are always the saddest. *Sigh*
April 18, 2009 at 11:58 am |
That photo is just compelling beyond words. I can’t look away. Amazing.