Photographing the Cotton Compress of Vicksburg with the Texas Leica (Panatomic-X B&W film)

Background

Dear Readers, for many years, I have used a splendid bear of a camera, the Fuji GW690II rangefinder, also known as the Texas Leica. It has a similar morphology to a Leica rangefinder, except it is, well, really big. The name is most appropriate. As you know, everything in Texas is larger: the vast open spaces across which you must drive, the enormous pickup trucks with dual rear wheels, the oil pumped from the  Permian Basin, the out-sized personalities like President Lyndon Johnson, the magnificent mansions in the River Oaks section of Houston, and the credit card bills of the ladies who occupy said mansions.

Notes on the Fuji Rangefinders

Fuji's original medium format cameras using 120/220 film were the Fujica G690 and GL690 from the late 1960s and mid-1970s. These had interchangeable lenses, and examples in good condition are highly coveted now. They provided a generous 6×9 negative area (actually, about 55×82mm). The GW690 Professional followed in 1978. This differed from the earlier models by having a fixed 90mm f/3.5 lens. The GSW690 Professional had the same body but was equipped with a wide-angle 65mm f/5.6 lens.

In 1985, Fuji made minor revisions and introduced the GW690II, GSW690II, and GW670II. My Texas Leica is the GW690II, which I bought new in 1991.

In 1992, Fuji introduced version III in sizes 6×7, 6×8, and 6×9. It is confusing to keep them all straight, but all are excellent picture machines; choose the negative size you want and look for an example in good condition. The leaf shutter is in the lens, and all controls are on the lens. On mine, filter size is 67mm.

The GW690II camera is a handful. The rangefinder is not as contrasty as one in a Leica, but the Fuji one works well. The body does not have the über-precise meticulous craftsmanship feel of a Rolleiflex or a Hasselblad, but the optical results from the 90mm f/3.5 EBC Fujinon lens are stunning. It is a five-element design with  four groups, all multi-coated. The film moves flat across the film gate and may lie flatter than in the Rolleiflex or Hasselblad. With the 690, you get 8 exposures on a roll of 120 film. When 220 film was in production, a roll would yield 16 exposures.

The main feature I miss in the GW690II is a self-timer. Because I often take pictures in old factories or buildings, I like to place the camera on a shelf or platform for a long exposure. But the lack of a timer means I need a cable release to avoid vibrating the camera. The older Rolleiflex is more handy in this respect.

The classic Panatomic-X Film

My favorite black and white film is the long-discontinued Panatomic-X. Eastman Kodak Company introduced Panatomic-X in 1933 and discontinued it in 1987. The film had been reformulated during its five-decade existence, so my late production was different than the original. It was designed to be an extremely fine grain film, which meant it could be enlarged for large prints and still retain details. This was of value to architectural, fine-art, and aerial photographers. Some 9-inch aerial photography film was a version of Panatomic-X. The version I have in 120 size was rated at ISO 32, but I shoot it at 20 and develop it in Rodinal at 1:50 dilution. Agfa’s Rodinal was a developer that retained the grain structure and therefore looks “sharp” (i.e., it does not have solvent action to partly dissolve the edges of the grain clumps). Used with good lenses and careful technique (that means a tripod), the detail in a Panatomic-X negative is astonishing, even in this age of 36-megapixel digital cameras.

My stock of Panatomic-X expired in 1989, but the rolls have been in the freezer and seem to be perfect. Unfortunately, only 15 rolls are left. Eventually, all good things come to an end. And honestly, Kodak TMax 100 or Ilford Delta 100 are almost as fine grain and will be a suitable replacement.

The Vicksburg Cotton Compress

A cotton compress was a facility that compressed raw cotton into dense bales. Early compress facilities were steam-powered and were active in Autumn, when the cotton was being harvested. Decades ago, compresses were found throughout the US South, when cotton was king. The cotton bales were transported away by rail or by steamboat. When I visited Łódź, Poland, a major textile and industrial center in the 1800s and early 1900s, I was surprised to learn that much of their raw cotton had once come from the USA South. I assume cotton bales from towns like Vicksburg were shipped down the Mississippi River and then transferred to ocean-going vessels in Baton Rouge or New Orleans.

In recent years, cotton production in Mississippi has greatly reduced and has been replaced with corn (for ethanol) or soybeans (export to China). The Vicksburg compress at 2400 Levee Street was in business through the late 1990s or early 2000s. I wish I had asked the operators if I could take photographs when it was in action. 

The historic brick buildings at the Vicksburg Cotton Compress at 2400 Levee Street are almost completely gone. Around 2010-2011, a company bought the buildings and removed the bricks for use somewhere else. Newer steel sheds are still standing but abandoned. There is no obvious action to reuse them.

I took the black and white film photographs in this article on a cold, gloomy day in late December of 2010. I also used a Sony DSC-R1 for digital photographs, which I have shown before (click the link). (Also click any photograph to enlarge it.)

I especially liked the textures and complexity of the tool benches and storage bins. These were old and well-used - from an era when we made things in the USA.

I think this was the machine that compressed cotton into mashed bales. I do not know how it all worked, and I wish I had asked to see the process when the compress was open in the 1980s and 1990s.

Cooper Postcard Collection, courtesy of Mississippi Department of Archives and History. Date not specified.

Vicksburg compress, from the Cooper Postcard Collection, courtesy Mississippi Department of  Archives and History.  Date not specified.

 I hope these massive old timbers were recycled. These were probably old-growth pine or cypress.

An interesting pedestal sink with a single metal support post. I could have a traditional sink like this at home.

Photographs technical:

Film: Kodak Panatomic-X film, which has been out of production since the late 1980s. I developed the film in Agfa Rodinal 1:50.
Camera: Fuji GW690II 6×9 rangefinder camera with a 90mm ƒ/3.5 EBC Fujinon lens.
Exposures: I exposed at EI=20, so all frames were tripod-mounted, and many exposures were ½, 1, or more sec. long.
Scanning: Minolta Scan Multi medium-format film scanner, operated with Silverfast Ai software, film profile set at Tri-X 400 setting.
Clean-up: I used the heal tool in Photoshop CS5 to clean up lint and other marks.

Mouldering away, the Levee Street Tank Farm, Vicksburg, Mississippi

A petroleum tank farm sits at the junction of Levee and Fairground Streets. The facility has been unused since before I moved to Vicksburg in the mid-1980s. For many years, the fence was intact and the gate closed. Then, for several years, I saw a "For Sale" by the General Services Administration sign. The GSA is the agency that manages real estate and other property (like motor vehicles) of the US Government. Then there were no signs at all for a few years.

Levee Street tank farm, April 7, 2018

In April, the gate was open, no one was around - it was too good to resist.

Former compressor building? 

The brick building on the right in the photograph above once must have contained compressors or other heavy industrial machinery. Evidence for this are the concrete supports, now semi-engulfed by vines and jungle. I have watched this building for years as its roof collapsed. 

View of Fairground Street Keystone Bridge, April 8, 1990, 4×5" Fujichrome transparency from Tachihara camera, 75mm f/8 Schneider Super-Angulon lens

Many years ago, my daughter and I climbed one of the metal stairs to the top of a tank. I carried up my 4×5"camera and tripod. There was a pungent smell of petroleum products coming from open valves. No one cared about fumes in 1990? From the top was a great view of the old Fairground Street Keystone bridge. The bridge still stands, but it has been closed to car and pedestrian traffic for 20 years and part of the approach on the west side has collapsed.

This is another 1990 view of tanks and piping, taken on Fujichrome 4×5" film with a 75mm f/8 Schneider Super-Angulon lens. Surprisingly, last week, when I biked by the site, I saw a fellow on a lawnmower cutting the grass. Someone is doing some maintenance there.

The 2018 black and white photographs are from Kodak TMax 100 film with a Pentax Spotmatic camera and the 24mm f/3.5 Super-Multi-Coated Takumar lens. This is fine early-1970s equipment. This version of the lens was made from 1972 to 1976, has 9 elements in 8 groups, and features multi-coating on the glass surfaces to reduce flare and reflections from the internal air-glass surfaces. I mounted the camera on a tripod.

A River (Ditch) Flows through Vicksburg: Stouts Bayou

Stouts Bayou (in red), Vicksburg, Mississippi. Map created with ESRI ArcGIS Online.

Definition of bayou. 1 : a creek, secondary watercourse, or minor river that is tributary to another body of water. 2 : any of various usually marshy or sluggish bodies of water. (from Merriam-Webster online)

Stouts Bayou starts its circuitous path in northeast Vicksburg somewhere in the gullies below Beulah Cemetery, according to the US Geological Survey topographic map. It flows approximately southwest through town, passes by the Lee Street ball field (near Vicksburg High School), continues south near the Vicksburg water treatment plant, and eventually discharges into the Mississippi River just north of Letourneau Landing. I asked a friend, a former city engineer, about the bayou. He said that a Works Progress Administration (WPA) project in the 1930s channelized much of the creek as it wound through the then-developed parts of the city (which, back then, meant the areas occupied by white residents). But the city did not acquire the right-of-way. Private property owners own the land on which the bayou flows and the city does not have a perpetual easement or permission to have access. In decades past, when labor costs were low, city workers would regularly clean trees and debris from the channel. I do not know how they got permission to access private land or if they bothered with such bureaucratic business in the past. City workers still clean brush and trash from the sewer or water pipes that cross the bayou in various areas. But the pipes are often located near bridges or roads and have easy access. But for general cleaning, the city now needs to secure written single-use access permission and hires contractors for the work. I read in the Vicksburg Post in 2017 that some land-owners refused to grant the city single use permission and the contractor could not reach some areas of the bayou. As usual, as an outsider not employed by the city or trained in law, such nonsense baffles me.

Since the channelization project in the 1930s, the bayou has received little maintenance. Some of the banks have been rip-rapped (stone placement) or concreted, but many of the 1930s panels are buckled or lifted. That means there is more friction for the flow.

We will take a short tour of Stouts Bayou from various bridges in town, starting upstream and moving downstream. (Click any photograph to enlarge it.)

1920s bridge at Grove and 4th North Streets, Vicksburg. Photograph from 2012.

This brick arch bridge on Grove Street is an example of the robust infrastructure built in the 1920s. The bridge seems to be sound, but the weeds and brush could use trimming.

Stouts Bayou from East Avenue (near Olive Street).

Looking south from the bridge at East Avenue, the stream bed is a mess. Trees have displaced some of the original concrete channel, blocks have been uplifted, and trash and debris have been discarded into the channel.

Stouts Bayou west from Drummond Street bridge.

Stouts Bayou west from Drummond Street

The bayou passes under Drummond Street just south of the Bowmar Avenue intersection. The channel is a dirty mess with brush, broken concrete slabs, and trash.

Avenue B footbridge, January 2018.

Stouts Bayou from Avenue B footbridge, January 2018.

West of Drummond Street, the land drops into a valley occupied by a series of small streets with letter names. A steel footbridge crosses Stouts Bayou from Avenue B to Valley Street. The photograph above is the view south taken during the January 2018 snow storm.

Stouts Bayou from Avenue C. Kodak Ektar 25 film from Hasselblad camera.

The view south from Avenue C shows carelessly placed riprap for stream bank protection. Some of the 1930s concrete channel appears displaced.

Stouts Bayou, National Street. Kodak TMax 100 film.

At National Street, the Bayou still has the concrete channel. During low water, I have walked in the channel here.

Stouts Bayou from Lee Street. Kodak Ektar 25 film from Hasselblad camera (50mm Distagon lens).

The bayou flows south under a bridge on Lee Street, just west of where Stadium Drive joins Lee. Not a pretty sight. This an example of what is happening to infrastructure all over the USA.

Stouts Bayou at Patricia Street (Moto G5 photograph).

Stouts Bayou at Patricia Street (Moto G5 photograph).

Patricia Street is a little known street that extends off Army-Navy Drive, past the City's maintenance and vehicle shops. Patricia dead ends, so there is no through traffic. The bayou marks the west edge of a small community of houses. I have photographed there before, but over the years, many houses have been demolished.

Stouts Bayou bridge (approx. 1903) was replaced in 1937 with a similar girder span and then again in the 1960s with a modern concrete span.

The bridge in the photograph above is in approximately the same position as the contemporary concrete span that carries the North Frontage Road. The Kansas City Southern Tracks are in the same position as a century ago, and the bayou runs under one of the spans on the right (from a 2000 brochure titled Highways in Harmony, Vicksburg Military Park Tour Roads from the National Park Service, documented in 1997 by the Historic American Engineering Record (HAER)). Photograph attribution:

46. Steel viaduct spanning stout's bayou and railroad on South Confederate Avenue. Destroyed circa 1938. - Vicksburg National Military Park Roads & Bridges, Vicksburg, Warren County, MS

Title: 46. Steel viaduct spanning stout's bayou and railroad on South Confederate Avenue. Destroyed circa 1938. - Vicksburg National Military Park Roads & Bridges, Vicksburg, Warren County, MS
Creator(s): Faust, William A. II., creator
Date Created/Published: 1997
Medium: 4 x 5 in.

This ends out short tour of Stouts Bayou. South of town, it is less accessible, and I have not seen where it flows into the Mississippi River.

Footloose around Vicksburg, Mississippi, with Kodak Ektar 25 Color Film

Dear readers, I had one last roll of the long-discontinued Kodak Ektar 25 color negative film in 120 size. I loaded it in the Hasselblad and wandered around Vicksburg. The Ektar is quite contrasty, so I prefer to use it when the light is overcast, or, best of all, foggy or rainy. Vicksburg offers plenty of topography and interesting architecture, so we will take a semi-random tour around town. (Click any photograph to enlarge it).

Clay Street, Vicksburg, view east, 250mm ƒ/5.6 Sonnar lens.

Let us start this short tour with Clay Street, a major east-west thoroughfare. This is the first view of Vicksburg that many tourists see when they exit I-20. A friend called this the ugliest street in America. That is a bit harsh, but much of it certainly qualifies as the typical ghastly American commercial strip with crummy fast food joints, steel buildings, car parts stores, and Dollar stores.

My friends at Warfield's Servicenter kindly let me take pictures. They have kept the family cars running for many years. Highly recommended.

Jackson Street, Vicksburg, view east, 250mm Sonnar lens.

Three blocks to the north is Jackson Street, which still retains its brick paving blocks. Many of the houses are a century old. The photograph shows how the street follows the hills and valleys of the local terrain.

Walnut Street is also in the oldest part of town. This is a 1992 photograph I found in my archives.

Veto Street runs from Monroe Street (behind me) west towards Mulberry Street. It is an odd curved road. Did a streetcar once run on it? This 1992 photograph shows the Warren County library in the distance. I took it from the roof of the former Vicksburg Hospital. The hospital was demolished two decades ago and the Vicksburg police station in now on this footpad.

Former "Colored Motel," US 80, east of Mount Albans Road, 50mm Distagon lens.

Before the interstate was built in the early 1970s, Highway US 80 was the main road between Vicksburg and Jackson. Just east of the intersection with Mount Albans road, a pink motel is almost covered with kudzu. In the early 1980s, you could still see a big sign stating "Colored Motel." Somewhere in my negatives I may have a photograph, but that is a project for another day.

East of town on Culkin Road is the former Culkin Academy. It has been empty for at least two decades. A worm farmer rented the premises for a few years.

In downtown Vicksburg, the neighborhood near the junction of Marcus Street and Halls Ferry Road is known as Marcus Bottom. Many of the cottages here have been demolished over the years.  This photograph is from the Halls Ferry Road bridge where it crosses Stouts Bayou.

These shotgun houses are on East Avenue. The slope in the foreground drops down into Stouts Bayou.

Grammar Street once had 10 or 12 of these little shotgun houses. Only two remain now. Even a decade ago, they were pretty nasty.

Union Avenue descends from Sherman Avenue south towards the Vicksburg Military Park. This is not the Union Avenue within the park, but possibly it once connected in the era when there were multiple park entrances. And this outside Union Avenue is a bit odd. The west side is City of Vicksburg, while the east side is Warren County. Residents on the west get their water from the City, while residents on the east get it from Culkin Water District. The old Chevrolet and the house with blue tarp roof in the photographs above are in Warren County.

I found a 2010 photograph of this same Bellaire. Since then it moved across the street to the Warren County side.

Ford Road, Vicksburg, March 16, 2018

Near the flood crest, March 16, 2018.

Young Alley (off Ford Road), March 16, 2018.

Finally, here are some scenes from the spring flood, when high water forced some of the residents in the Ford subdivision to evacuate. The crest on the Vicksburg Gage was 49.90 ft on 03/16/2018 (from the National Weather Service). This area west of North Washington Street and just north of the Anderson Tully wood mill has always been vulnerable to flooding. Over the years, many houses have been bought via a FEMA program and demolished.

These photographs were taken on Kodak Ektar 25 film with a Hasselblad 501CM camera, with 50mm, 80mm, and 250mm Zeiss lenses. All pictures were tripod-mounted. The film was expired and the colors are off. My scanner software does not have a profile for Ektar 25, so I use the Ektar 100 one instead. Is it "accurate?" Who knows? Can you really remember how the scene looked weeks after you were on the site? If you want boring perfection and "accuracy," use digital.

This is no. 02d of my irregular series on Abandoned Films.

Typical shotgun houses: Arcadia Place, Vicksburg, Mississippi

Arcadia place is a dead-end street a few blocks west of Drummond Street. It features a set of almost-identical shotgun houses. I have photographed here before and occasionally walk by to see if they have changed. They are an excellent example of modest early-20th century architecture, low-cost homes built for workers. Much has been written about the American shotgun house, but I am not an architect or sociologist and am unfamiliar with the literature. These little houses are disappearing from the South, and I try to photograph them when I can. I previously wrote about these houses in 2010. This 2017 photograph is a Kodak Ektar 25 frame from a Hasselblad camera.

Arcadia Place, 4×5" Fujichrome Astia film, 135mm Schneider Xenar lens.

Arcadia Place, Kodak Panatomic-X film, Fujifilm GW690II 6×9 camera. 

The little houses in 2003 and 2004 looked about the same as now, but the porches were open then. These were film frames taken with a 4×5" Tachihara camera and a 6×9 Fujifilm GW690II medium format camera.

This is the view from the east across Stouts Bayou (below the rip rap in the foreground). I do not know if the Bayou ever rises enough to flood the yard and the street beyond. The houses are up about 2 ft on their post and beam foundations, so they are probably safe from flooding.