For those who have not heard, the founder of Apple Computer is dead. I once had the opportunity to photograph him.
I had this photography assignment for my color class, you see. The assignment was to create a presentation of about 50 slides with music. So I was out with my Pentax K-1000 taking pictures of small pieces of the city of Palo Alto. Someone had left some green and yellow balloons tied to the chairs outside of a coffee shop, so I put my color rules into play and took a couple of pictures.
I looked up and there he was, sliding down the street on his roller blades. The bad boy hero of Silicon Valley strode on wheels not twenty feet away. He saw me standing there. Almost instantly the happy smile dropped from his face. “A photographer! My afternoon is ruined!” I could hear the disappointed words flow out of his head and onto the pavement between us.
Looking him in the eye, I let the camera drop to my chest and took my hands off of it. Yes, Mr. Jobs, I was saying to him, you, too, are entitled to your private moments. He kept speeding on and disappeared into a tunnel that ran under the CalTrain tracks.
I never saw him again.
I’m curious: what would you have done?