Black Shriners

There's a stamp on the back of this print, "ALEXANDER L. ADAMS, PHOTOGRAPHER, 1036 WESTMOOR DR.  N. W. AM 0934, ATLANTA, GA."  I couldn't find any biographical information about Adams.  Some of his photos are in the archives of Emory University in Atlanta.  The only other photo I could find of his was from the 1950s, it was taken in a beauty parlor and showed a young lady having her makeup applied.  Near as I can tell, Adams was one of the many commercial photographers who took pictures of what ever his clients paid him to take.  His prime importance is that he recorded black life in Atlanta.

I'm not going to go into the history of the Shriners.  For those who care, there's plenty of info on-line.  They are affiliated with the Masons, and they do have black affiliates, that date back at least to the early twentieth century.  I suspect they might go back towards the end of the Civil War based on some of the pictures I've seen, but I couldn't find any actual dates.

I didn't see any Shriners!

This story might not make sense to those who don't know southern California.  I like bicycles.  I like them a lot.  Yesterday I went out for a very long ride.  The Atwater Village neighborhood of L.A. to Fontana in San Bernardino County.  Depending on the route, a 115 to 120 mile round trip.  Now, for the non cyclists out there, that seems like a huge trip, but it's not.  I'm 59 and haven't had a 30, 31, 32, or a 33 inch waist for a very long time.  In short, I'm not even close to being some sort of iron man athlete.  We live in a world were people drive distances more than four or five blocks away, so we've all come to believe that any sort of trip beyond that distance, that doesn't include a car,  is some sort of heroic trek.  It's not.  In the nineteenth century, before Henry Ford and the Model T came along, people, especially rural people, often walked twenty or thirty miles a day.

Anyway, back to the story.  I made it to Fontana without any problem, but on the return trip, my bike chain snapped.  I zeroed out the bike computer, and started pushing.  Nine miles latter, I was at the Montclair Transit Center waiting for a train.  Now, I've got lots of photographs in the collection.  I've never counted them, but there are thousands of photos sitting in my files.  As I was waiting for the next train back to downtown Los Angeles, I thought, "Where are the Shriners?"  How strange the human mind that this one, very insignificant photo, should have come to mind.  Truthfully, I'm not sure it would ever have been posted here if my bike chain hadn't snapped.