Dear Friends: American Photographs of Men Together, 1840-1918

by David Deitcher

A groundbreaking presentation of rarely seen photographs, history, social observation, and pictorial analysis provides an entirely new perspective on male friendship in the nineteenth century and suggests a surprisingly broad-minded attitude toward physical intimacy between men. Inside Out, QPB, & Reader's Subscription.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Photography, LGBT, Art, Gay, Queer

159 pages, Hardcover

First published April 1, 2001

Reviews

[Richard Jespers · Rating 5 out of 5]

A number of years ago I bought a box of notecards entitled Dear Friends, featuring fifteen cards of five different subjects: pairs of nineteenth-century men photographed in intimate poses. Recently I became aware that these photographs were featured in a book by the same title. Deitcher, art historian and critic, has put forth a large collection of such photographs and makes speculative commentary about his subjects. He explores if men of the nineteenth century were less concerned about how they were viewed than men in the ensuing centuries seemed to have been. Are these heterosexual men holding hands, with arms around each other, brothers of one brand or another? Indeed, did people even use terms like hetero- and homosexual? They did not, not until Freud and his ilk contrived them.

Among many interesting observations the author brings to the reader’s attention is the idea that men’s work was largely artisanal, that a teen would live under the same roof under the direction of an older man for several years, to learn a trade before venturing out on his own. In his town my own grandfather (born 1894) lived with a man old enough to be his grandfather and learned the harness-making trade. With advent of the industrial age this kind of relationship faded away. Men became isolated in their work, and competitive, though ironically they worked elbow-to-elbow in factories. It is lovely to think that men of varying sexualities might have felt comfortable in their skins enough to express physical affection that might or might not have been sexual. After all, I believe prepubescent boys find a certain strength by being physically close to their fathers. I too one day will have a strong body like this one. I too will father children. I too will be strong. On TV the other night the camera panned over a major league baseball game crowd, and an older boy was standing behind one would presume his father, with his arms loosely around the man’s neck. The father, perhaps born in the seventies, was okay with it, kind of like a lion would withstand the affections of a cub. It was a touching sight, one seldom seen when I was that age. Deitcher seems to echo my feelings:

“My initial enthusiasm on seeing this photograph was soon tempered by recognizing their mutual resemblance. Could they be father and son? The collector also enclosed a copy of documentation that had accompanied the photograph when he bought it. In part, the documentation read: ‘A piece of paper behind the image has the names Henbraon Van Pelt and Ed Thomas.’ So, I concluded, they are not father and son” (132).

I believe Deitcher may be as intrigued with the idea that men in the same family could be close physically, that in that earlier time men of our frontier were not as concerned with appearances as they have become in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Deitcher ends the book with this thought, one I find endemic to his project:

“We are left, then, with uncertainty, with that blend of desire and doubt that transports the observer to conduct research that itself leads back to uncertainty. In their elusiveness, their resistance to naming and categorization, such photographs become their own poetic evidence of the fluidity that marked the relations they reveal yet cannot prove” (150).

Alas, the bite of it: the observer perceives the truth of a certain reality, feels it in his bones as he views these affectionate men, but in the end the observer cannot bring forth the proofs needed to record it as history.

[Nik Maack · Rating 2 out of 5]

I should probably never buy books written by academics. They make me mad. On page 51 I hit this passage of text and just stopped reading:

"The fact that the photographs in this book can ultimately only perpetuate uncertainty regarding precisely what they picture in no way detracts from the significance of their recovery and collection. From a queer perspective, this self-imposed horizon of historical knowledge has a salutary effect, inasmuch as it rejects the hubris that so often motivates more elaborately legitimated attempts at historical reclamation."

No. Just, no.

Equally irritating is the decision to reprint the photographs as actual size, meaning that a 2 inch by 3 inch antique photo takes up an entire page, surrounded by a lot of blank space. Why not blow them up? why not show us a better view? Why not make them legible?

I bought this book online, sight unseen, as I'm always looking for photographs of men. I paint portraits. I want source material to work from. Maybe if I take photos and blow them up myself, they could work.

They are great photos. I wish they were larger. And I wish the text was clearer. Strangely, the first part of the book (up until page 51) was less academic, more personal. It felt like the author wrote that part as an introduction to his academic paper.

I would much rather have had more of his interesting insights into his own internalised homophobia, his dealings with photography collectors, etc. When he dived into theory, I completely checked out.

[Frederic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unfortunately I find the effort to see sexualities in every old photo of people touching no more useful or interesting than the counter efforts to deny them. At several points in the text the author acknowledges the impossibility of knowing much about such images, but nevertheless engages in such readings, often with paragraph-length detailed descriptions of images that are right there for readers to see themselves. I was also curious to find no mention of topics that may be relevant, like bundling, or the Hellfire Clubs, and little recourse to the pornographic literature, art, and photography of the periods that also may shed light on different kinds of relationships and behaviors. And although many aspects of the historical research are strong, certain lapses -- such as not recognizing commercially-available masks for fraternal burlesques, in the image on p.145, which might lead to the literature on those practices -- demonstrate how many things can be in the eye of the beholder. Great photos, and well reproduced (although as some have noted some enlargement might have been done, and some of the cabinet cards are even reduced to near-CDV size), but the text offered less nuance than I had hoped.

[Jonathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent collection of images of men in America up to the end of WWI. The accompanying text covers all aspects of what the images may represent, as almost all are anonymous, and also discusses the way that male relationships were seen at this time, and how they are interpreted now. As an addition to queer history they are fascinating and important, as photographs they are intriguing and often captivating.

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

A photo is worth a thousand words.
Explore male friendships from 1840-1918, using black and white photographs of mostly anonymous men posed together, and learn about male relationships through American History.
Fascinating read as well as makes you rexamine the photographs presented. There are well over 80 photographs featured and it was quite the fascinating read in terms of what defines masculinity, sexuality, and friendship.

[Brian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Surprisingly much more than a photobook - a really interesting discussion on friendship and how it changed during and since the Industrial Revolution.

[Claire · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author's analysis got quite dull and repetitive around the middle, but the last third of the book blew me away. Totally amazed. And the photos?? What a marvelous collection! They all melted my queer little heart 💚

[Autumn · Rating 2 out of 5]

The photos are absolutely wonderful; funny, moving, romantic, and mysterious. The text that accompanies them is in turns too academic and too meandering.

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply gorgeous.

[todd · Rating 5 out of 5]

More books like this need to be published. Hybrid of cultural scholarship and vernacular photos.