How One of the Most Iconic Images of Muhammad Ali Came to Be

APRIL 1968

"Ali had just gotten his title taken away because he had refused to go in the Army, so he was a martyr. Our story was Let's do him as a martyr. Who's a martyr? Saint Sebastian is a martyr. When he got to the shoot, we explained what it was all about—we never told people what they were going to do before they got to a shoot; they would never show up if we did—and there was a little hassle given the fact that Saint Sebastian is a Christian. Ali said, 'I'm a Muslim now.' And so we got Chicago on the line and I spoke to Herbert Muhammad, Elijah Muhammad's son, from the Nation of Islam. I told him this was going to be a cover of Esquire magazine, and Herbert Muhammad said, 'Oh, that's good publicity. I'll tell him that he can do it.' And so Ali did. It was a pretty straightforward shoot, except that the arrows turned out to be a major headache. We'd practiced on a model beforehand, and when we tried sticking the arrows on the body with glue, they were so heavy that they hung down. So we put a bar across the studio's ceiling and hung fishing line to hold up the arrows. It was a pain in the ass, because Ali had to stand very still for a long time, till we got all the arrows lined up at the right height. He didn't complain, though. He was one of the few people in public life who was just like his reputation. He was funny. He was relaxed. He wasn't a bullshitter."

MAY 1969

"I shot Andy Warhol a lot. His mother lived up the block from me on Lexington, and he had a little studio on Eighty-seventh before he moved downtown, and he would be available anytime, for no money. This was actually two shoots. The first, to shoot the can by itself, took a few days, and I dropped marbles in the soup and tried to photograph the marble just as it hit the liquid so I could get a nice hole. Then we invited Andy over, showed him what we were going to do, and had him stand up doing a lot of arm things. [George] Lois sent it out to a retoucher, and the retoucher made one print with Andy in the hole in the soup."

DECEMBER 1963

"Everybody knew Sonny Liston was a nasty son of a bitch. Make him Santa Claus? It was just the wrong thing to do. But that was the kind of cover that Harold [Hayes] wanted to do, and that was my assignment—there was no plan B. So I went out to Las Vegas, where Liston lived, and met him in a room at the Thunderbird Hotel, and I explained what we wanted. He said, 'Forget about it. I'm not going to put on any goddamn Santa Claus hat.' By the strangest coincidence, the manager of the hotel came into the room and brought his little girl, a six- or seven-year-old whom Liston took affection to. So after he refused to put on the hat, I said, 'Well, let's take a picture of what's-her-name.' He liked her. So we took a couple pictures of her. And then I said, 'Let's put a Santa Claus hat on her.' So we put a Santa Claus hat on her. And then: 'Let's take the pictures with the two of you together, and let's take the Santa Claus hat off her and put it on you. Just for one shot.' Little by little by little, we took a whole bunch of pictures of the two of them. And then little by little got rid of her."

NOVEMBER 1968

"The magazine was running a story about the fact that journalism had become so intrusive, so for the cover I shot a crucifixion scene—Jesus on the cross, and all around him and on top of a truck were reporters with video cameras and microphones. I thought it was going to be a terrific cover [re-created from the original image, above], but this all happened at the same time as the Democratic convention in Chicago in 1968. All hell started breaking loose and the police were beating up protesters, so Harold said, 'I'm going to send four writers to Chicago. We'll do a quick story, and I want you to do a picture of the writers [from left: Jean Genet, William Burroughs, Terry Southern, and John Sack] with some beat-up protester.' We all jumped on a plane, got to Chicago, and met in the lobby of the hotel that night. I said, 'I'm going to go out to find a location to shoot the four of you. You guys be ready in the morning.' So my assistant and I went out and walked around the neighborhood. I found this great cobblestone street, and I climbed up on a mailbox and had my assistant lie down on the street to mimic a beat-up protester. Just then the police pulled up and asked, 'What are you doing?' I said, 'Oh, I'm just taking pictures,' and I showed them my press pass. Now, the police hated the press. The press was saying they were beating up protesters when they thought they were keeping the peace. So when they saw I was press, they called in the paddy wagon and took us off to jail. Sometime in the middle of the night, they told us we could go. I got back to the hotel, and we decided there was no point trying the shot in another place in Chicago. The next day, we all flew back, and I knew a place on 155th Street that had cobblestone just like the one in Chicago. We shot the picture and faked Chicago—the guy on the ground is a model—and Harold wanted it for the cover. The cover of Jesus on a crucifix was never used."

NOVEMBER 1970

"I got a call from Harold or Lois—it would have been one or the other—explaining that we got Lieutenant [William] Calley and he was coming to the studio, and that I had to get a half-dozenOriental children, from about two to six, to photograph with him. Everybody knew about My Lai [the massacre in Vietnam for which Calley was convicted of murdering twenty-two civilians], and I felt very shaky about the whole thing. Calley came to the studio not knowing the concept, and somebody, it was Lois or Harold, said, 'Here's what we're going to do; this is going to show that you're not a monster.' I don't know all the details of the conversation, but to this day I don't understand why he ever did it, except that he probably thought it would make him look good. The kids came in. This kid went here. That kid sat on the lap. Put your arm around her. Look directly at the camera. Look good. Look happy. Look pleasant. Calley was very nice. Quiet. I didn't like him, and I didn't believe he was innocent. But, you know, like Nazi guards at Auschwitz, it was my job. I was uncomfortable doing it, but I don't think I would've turned down an assignment from Harold because I didn't agree with it; I respected his opinion, and I could see why this was his kind of cover. It seemed like a good, controversial cover."