My Dad's 35mm Slides
By David Stenhouse
My parents are goofing around at Hermosa Beach in Southern California during the late 1950s. My mom strikes a pose while sitting on my dad’s shoulders. Waves are crashing in the background, the sun is out, and a small group walks in the background. This photo has been converted from a 35mm slide and reveals a side of my parents that I never witnessed. A single shot out of thousands I am converting to digital.
From the 1950s to the mid-1980s my dad used an Argus 35mm camera, capturing friends, family, trips, and events, developing the shots into 35mm slides. In the late 1980s and into the 1990s, he used a Canon point-and-shoot. But the most memorable are taken with the older camera. Recently he gave me the Argus where it now sits in my office. A small mechanical device that captured moments in my family’s history, it’s a priceless object.
Family at Knotts Berry Farm. Late 1960s. Photo by George Stenhouse.
Old photos let us peer into a once-existing world. Until time travel is engineered, photos and video are our only portal to see history. Video provides sounds and movements, however, photos provide created artwork from a sliver in time. Most of us have thousands of unorganized digital photos spread across computers, phones, tablets, and the Cloud. I am no different. We take photos to preserve and share with others. They are our best evidence that we were there.
My dad would pull out the Kodak projector with family visiting. With a steady whine of the cooling fan and dust particles floating in the focused light, he would sit or stand in the back with a remote in hand, triggering the progression and narrating each photo. Many slides would pop in upside down, sideways, or backward, prompting him to suspend the whole operation. Some shots would bring about questions from my family, turning into mild disagreements about the photo content, “No, I think that’s Jack standing behind you”, or something similar. I’m confident this scene has played out in living rooms for decades.
The Argus C4 35mm sporting a 50mm f2.8 lens.
Forward to the present day and most under 40 will not know what to do with 35mm slides. “Lots” of hundreds are sold on eBay, bought up by collectors. If you do run across them in a parent’s or grandparent’s attic, take note. They may open up a view of your ancestors you haven’t seen.
My dad’s slides had been sitting in his garage for 17 years, where summers reach 100 degrees. Heat mistreats slides, as they can warp and discolor. Pulling each one out of the carousels, placing it in a Kodak converter, and hitting the convert button, I have noticed the amount of dust that has accumulated on these artifacts. Using software to correct lighting, color, focus, and removing specs of dust and fuzz is quite the ordeal (I haven’t done this on all of them, of course).
Siblings on a summer day at Pleasant Beach, Lake Chelan, Washington late 1960s. Photo by George Stenhouse.
As I have taken on this task, I view some of my dad’s photographs with a bit more scrutiny. I’m not a professional, yet I know what pleases my eye. Many are out of focus, the lighting is off, and some exhibit “double exposure”, where the film wasn’t advanced after a shot. I’m not a critic. My dad was working with a camera designed in the 1950s. Vintage 35mm photos are akin to music on vinyl and I’m appreciative he took the shots he did. Memories don’t have to be in high resolution.
So, my task is getting these slides into a format where they can be shared with family through the wonders of the Internet. I want to bring them back to life. Traversing these 35mm slides leaves no question about how photography found its way into my DNA. And now I’m learning about my family and the past.
A History Of Hard Work & Having Fun
Carol Stenhouse, grandparents, and a family friend enjoy a day on the water in Newport Beach, California 1950s. Photo by George Stenhouse.
I know my extended family mostly through photos. That’s partially the fault of geography and the rest is to blame on my nature. As one of the youngest cousins, I moved to North Central Washington state when I was 6 years old, about a six-hour drive to my closest relative. Frequent trips to visit extended family weren’t much of a part of my formative years and I haven’t followed through as an adult. This doesn’t mean I fail to appreciate the people and their backgrounds.
They are a group of industrious characters knowing how to turn anything into a living. Life is an adventure. A family full of wheeler-dealers, ministers, authors, comedians, musicians, motorcycle riders, surfers, pilots, professors, law enforcers and law-breakers, and business professionals—many of these lifestyles are displayed in the mass of photos I am sifting through. The dedication to hard work is obvious, but what comes out in these slides is the smiles and laughter. People who can poke fun at each other and tell a good story seem to have less stress and frustration. They have never been a compliant bunch and I like this crowd.
Carol Stenhouse at Yosemite National Park. Mid-1950s. Photo by George Stenhouse.
As the 1950s was a time to hit the road and see America, my parents did just that, evident by shots of them motoring through the West. I see more photos of them powering a boat off the coast near Newport Beach, California. This was all prior to any of us kids and obviously an enjoyable time in their young marriage. Scenes of church socials, western hunting and fishing trips, and extended family events are scattered through the oldest slides.
As they lived in Southern California, Oregon, and finally settling in Chelan, Washington, my parents lived an assortment of lives. My dad delivered groceries, owned a farm raising calves, worked for Kraft Foods, owned a small resort and then apple orchards, and later traveled the world selling Washington apples. My mom was at his side raising us kids and helping him with work when needed, including helping him and my brother build our log home in Chelan. So much hard work and just living. The journey is almost entirely captured in these boxes sitting in his garage. A journal without words.
Family Life Before Me
The slides reveal a family life existing prior to my arrival. Being the youngest sibling by seven years gave room for plenty of family experiences in which I did not partake. My brother and two sisters are spending time with cousins and friends during holidays, one Christmas where my dad snaps a photo of them and my mom in front of the fireplace—one of my favorites. They were all in school and well on their way into their lives prior to me being captured in any photos. I view a shot of them with other family members, all posing in a wagon at Knotts Berry Farm during the late 1960s. What fun that day must have been (I hope).
Teri, Sheri, and Mike photographed in the 1960s at Lake Chelan, Washington. Photo by George Stenhouse.
As time moves on through these slides, I slowly enter the scene, but a lot of family history has been recorded before me. I was the surprise of this group. The family has already moved from California to Washington, where my dad has now worked multiple jobs. They have lived in different houses and have landed at the farm in Graham, Washington. I join them like a football player trapped in the locker room, running onto the field with the game already in progress.
Bringing My Mom Back To Life
The family lost our mom to cancer in 2004, but thanks to the Argus camera and a man willing to lug it around, I have irreplaceable photos of her. Many display in her a personality I hadn’t seen. I see her visiting Yosemite, the Redwoods, and the Grand Canyon in the 1950s, just in her twenties. I find so many slides of her with us kids. A shot of her holding hands with my brother and sister on the Astoria, Oregon ferry is the photo I place at No. 1 in this lot of thousands. It’s a glimpse of a protective and loving mother on a day out with the kids. I have no idea what the group is looking at, but what I see is classic art captured from real life.
Carol Stenhouse with brother Mike and sister Sheri on the Astoria Ferry mid-1960s. Photo by George Stenhouse.
Seeing my mom as a young mother brings back memories of my wife with our daughter. With Tera now approaching her thirties, it’s amazing to note the similarities in raising children Shay and I experienced. Reality strikes me when I see my parents in photos where I am now much older than they were in those moments.
Because of how she passed and the illness that took my mom, the last few weeks of her life had been pretty much most of what I have remembered of the woman that raised me. By the 6th grade, my siblings had been moved out and married. From then on through college I had an abundance of one-on-one time with her, never realizing how tragic losing her was to me until years later. These photographs have brought my mom back, replacing the bad memories with wonderfully captured moments. I don’t believe when my dad snapped each photo of her, he ever realized how those moments would mean so much to his kids decades later. They are great gifts.
Scenes Of The Past
I have yet to spot well-known events, but history as I believe it existed for everyday Americans is displayed here. Hairstyles, cars, houses, appliances, and fashion. People and the environments add context to the shots. Examining historical photos and figures found in books or on the Internet is much different than looking at old photos involving your lineage. My parents drove now-classic cars and used old appliances to function through life. A 1956 Chevy towing a wooden outboard boat, Willy’s jeep, and a ‘32 Ford are captured in front of their Southern California house during the 1950s, striking up the “imagine if Dad still had that” thoughts. What I learned about history through my schooling, my parents lived it.
Gene Autry at a parade in Southern California mid-1950s. Photo by George Stenhouse. (CORRECTION - This is George Putnam)
I examine a closeup of a decorated cowboy in a parade leaning over his horse and speaking with someone in the crowd. After a little research and some comparisons on the Internet, I spot a “GA” on his holster. I believe this is Gene Autry, a popular actor, singer, and the founding owner of the California Angels. If you have heard the song Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, then you know Gene Autry. And here was my Dad snapping a photo of him in the mid-1950s. I now get to share that moment.
February 11, 2023 CORRECTION - The photo just above is of George Putnam, a long-time So. California news anchor.
The Project Presses On
I estimate 5,000+ 35mm slides are still to be converted, which I hope to have done by this coming summer.
We don’t have to be professional photographers with expensive equipment to take photos appreciated years from now. Just take the photo. If you have a phone in hand, take the shot. You will wish you captured more. I always wish I had taken more, and I can shoot thousands of photos in a matter of hours.
Many of your family and friends will run away from the camera, holding up their hands as if they are running away from a hailstorm. These people show up decades later wondering why no good photos of them exist.
Take the shot. Your kids may appreciate the moment.
Carrying around a camera since childhood, David Stenhouse has a love for capturing machines, people, and the U.S.A. He is now so blessed to spend each day running a business with his best friend, high school sweetheart, and wife, Shay.