Weegee (Usher Fellig)
[Photographer, b. 1899, Zlothew near Lemberg, Austrian Galicia (now Zolochiv, Ukraine), d. 1968, New York.]

 I can take a camera and paint with it. Nobody has exhausted the possibilities of the camera. 
 A picture is like a blintz... eat it while it’s hot. 
 When you find yourself beginning to feel a bond between yourself and the people you photograph, when you laugh and cry with their laughter and tears, you will know you are on the right track. 
 I have no inhibitions, and neither has my camera. 
 Every time I heard a sigh or a groan in the dark, I pushed the button. 
 I was no longer glued to the Teletype machine at police headquarters. I had my wings. I no longer had to wait for crime to come to me; I could go after it. The police radio was my life line. My camera... my life and my love... was my Aladdin’s lamp. 
 I would arrive at midnight, the cop at the information desk would be dozing... The police Teletype machine would be singing a song of crime and violence... Crime was my oyster, and I liked it. 
 Being a free-lance photographer was not the easiest way to make a living. There had to be a good meaty story to get the editors to buy the pictures. A truck crash with the driver trapped inside, his face a crosscross of blood... a tenement house fire, with the screaming people being carried down the aerial ladder clutching their babies, dogs, cats, canaries, parrots, monkeys, and even snakes... a just-shot gangster, lying in the gutter, well dressed in his dark suit and pearl hat, hot off the griddle, with a priest, who seemed to appear from nowhere, giving him the last rites. 
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