There I was last night, nice and comfortable watching another epic Ken Burns production on Public Television, this time on The Dust Bowl in the Southern Plains.  Ken Burns is a documentary filmmaker that gets it.  Burns takes an extraordinary amount of energy to put all the pieces together, painstakingly marrying historical photos with indelible narration and interviews about a certain subject. His past work includes The Civil War, The War and Baseball.  All of which were remarkable works of art.

If you are a photographer (or not) these documentaries put you right in the drivers seat.  The riveting Dust Bowl images of Arthur Rothstein, Dorothea Lange, Russell Lee, Walker Evans and others of the Farm Security Administration (FSA) documented the human struggle of drought and the Great Depression.

As the story unfolded, I was reminded why photojournalists do what they do.  We got in to the business to document the world one slice at a time.  Although we’ve seen the Dust Bowl images a thousand times (well, at least I have) I’m still haunted by the eyes of the people therein.  However fleeting they can be, the photographs chronicle in real truth the struggles of man against nature (and man-made nature).

I was absolutely immersed in the story when an image popped up on the screen of a construction crew standing for a portrait on U.S. Route 64 that parallelly splits the Oklahama Panhandle.  There was my dad, off to the right in clear view standing on a paving machine.  It was a Works Project Administration (WPA) job.  I fell out of bed, tears came to my eyes.

Now you see, my dad was born in 1905 and had me when he was 59.  A few years ago, he passed away of natural causes at 102.  He would often tell me stories of farming wheat (with a ton of expletives thrown in for good measure) with his dad in the Oklahoma Panhandle of Beaver County, where a fair chunk of Burns story is told.  He was just four when he plowed his first field with a till and draft horses, later steam engines came along, then finally gas powered tractors.  I could relate a hundred stories here.  Suffice it to say that the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl took a lobe of my dad’s memory. After years of battling the elements and falling wheat prices, ” I only got 13 cents a bushell one year.”  He decided he’d had enough and left the farm equipment in the field to pursue other avenues of making money.  As thousands of others did.

When I was younger, he would take me back there to meet relatives.  I remember so much about Oklahoma and the Southern Plains.  The thunderstorms, tornadoes, the undulating gentleness of the land.  The way wheat waved under an evening sun, windmills creaking and pumping in the wind carved iconic memories that have shaped and molded who I am as a photographer, a husband and father; as a person.  I romanticize about going back and spending a month in the Southern Plains, documenting the landscape. I’ve only touched the surface; photographically really not much at all.

Vicariously, I have dreams and memories to live on for now.

My dad, Harry Porter, then 95, walks from Sunrise School that he attended until the eighth grade in Beaver County Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 2000.

An abandoned home under a dying thunderstorm in Beaver County, Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 2000.

US Highway 64 near Beaver, Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 2000

Longhorn cattle off of U.S. Highway 64 in Beaver, Oklahoma. Kent Porter Archives 2002

Storm gust front, near Guymon, Oklahoma. Kent Porter Archives 2002

Lightning strike, Beaver County Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 1993

Spring sunset, Near Boise City (pronounced Boyce City) Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives, 2002

Wheat field under twilight near Dalhart, Texas. Kent Porter archives, 1993.

Tornado display along U.S Highway 64, Beaver County Oklahoma. Kent Porter Archive 1993

Hailstorm, Guymon Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 2002

Sunset over wheat field, Beaver Oklahoma. Kent Porter archives 1993

-Kent Porter






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  1. Kim

    Beautiful story just in time for Thanksgiving. Thanks for sharing!

    November 21st, 2012 11:41 am

  2. Tracey Young

    Your Dad had a lot in common with my Grandpa, Verne Foster, born in 1890 in Indian Territory and he had a farm in Logan OK for a time (where my Dad was born in 1941). My PaPa, Verne, lived to be 102 also.
    Is this Sunrise school a different school than Sunset school? Sunset school is where my Dad went to school. Do you know where there might be any old pictures of that school, if it’s different from this one.
    Great article!

    April 1st, 2014 7:30 pm

  3. weather

    Tracey, same school district! My dad was born in 1905…Im sure they both new of each other or at least siblings. I will see if I can dig up my old pictures of the school. It was called the Sunset School district and Sunrise School in particular. The building still stands and there was a move underway to restore the building. Not sure what happened.

    April 2nd, 2014 11:10 am

  4. Robert R. Mercer

    That is SUNSET SCHOOL your father is standing in front of, not Sunrise. I know, I attended it, too. And I have a place 3 miles from there, today. There was a Suprise School a few miles over. I know of no Sunrise School.
    R. Mercer

    May 1st, 2014 1:09 pm

  5. weather

    Thanks Robert. I guess you would know the Huddleston family then?

    May 9th, 2014 4:52 pm

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