The Wit and Wisdom of Herbert “Burt” Keppler
Memories of my mentor, the “conscience of the photographic industry.”
By Jason Schneider
Burt Keppler, as he was known to his many friends, was my boss, my dear friend, and my mentor for 39 years, so I knew him intimately, both as a person and as a personage. He was invariably charming, witty, and wise, had a great deadpan sense of humor, and an encyclopedic knowledge of photography and cameras. He was also a great journalist, a prolific natural writer who could effortlessly dash off brilliantly incisive articles on a wide variety of photographic subjects, typically imparting serious and useful hands-on information delivered in his signature folksy “off the shoulder” style that endeared him to countless readers. He was also responsible for cleaning up the shady practices in American mail order retailing, establishing of a Mail Order Code of Ethics that he enforced vigorously to the benefit of countless consumers.
But before I launch into my personal reminiscences, here’s an overview of Herbert “Burt” Keppler’s long and productive life for the those who may not be familiar with this towering icon of the photographic industry who passed away on January 4, 2008, at the age of 82.
Who was Burt Keppler?
Herbert Keppler’s impressive 57-year stint as a writer, editor, and publisher of photographic magazines earned him a worldwide reputation as one of the most respected and revered authorities in the photographic field. The recipient of numerous honorary awards and titles throughout his distinguished career, he was widely hailed as “Mr. Photography” and “The Conscience of the Industry.” He was a great proponent of the SLR, recognizing its inherent superiority as a platform for a wide variety of lenses, and wrote a seminal SLR column for decades. Keppler was also one of a small number Americans to receive “The Order of the Sacred Treasure, Gold Rays with Rosette” one of the highest awards to be bestowed upon a foreigner by the Emperor of Japan, for his notable contribution to the Japanese photographic industry and its phenomenal success in the U.S.
Herbert "Burt" Keppler in his office with his signature "pen jar", circa early 1960s, portrait by Alfred Eisenstaedt.
A smiling Burt Keppler gratefully receiving an International Center of Photography (ICP) Award. Note his signature florid necktie.
The son of Victor Keppler, a noted commercial photographer and illustrator, he developed an early passion for photography. After earning a B.A. degree at Harvard, Keppler was commissioned as an Ensign in the U.S. Navy at the end of World War II, served as an officer aboard an LCS (landing-craft support ship), and eventually became a Lieutenant, the commanding officer of a crew of 65. After the War, Keppler honed his natural writing skills as a reporter for the old New York Sun newspaper, and in 1950 he was finally able to combine his journalistic talents and photographic passion as associate editor at a new photographic magazine, Modern Photography. Over the years as Keppler rose through the ranks he put his indelible stamp on the magazine, transforming it into one of the most respected, admired, and financially successful publications of its kind in the world. After 37 years, he left Modern Photography as Editorial Director and Publisher to become Vice President and Publishing Director of Popular Photography in 1987, a publication he served for 20 years until his death in 2008.
Burt Keppler was and is universally acclaimed for his wide-ranging intellect, insightful writings, and unflinching honesty that helped to advance the industry he loved so deeply. He was a tireless advocate and thought-provoking guide for millions of amateur photographers all over the world, and a practical camera design and marketing genius whose advice was eagerly sought and implemented by countless photographic manufacturers. While Herbert Keppler appreciated the honors and recognition he received, there are no official honors given for his two most significant personal attributes—integrity and compassion. What mattered to him most is that millions of photography enthusiasts all over the world thought of him as “Kind Old Uncle Burt,” the man whose sage, warm-hearted advice and homespun counsel helped them get more out of their photography for over half a century.
Meeting My Mentor
On meeting Burt Keppler for the first time, I could hardly have imagined our encounter would be a life-changing event, but it was. It was 1969, I was 27, living with Glenda, my wife of one year, in a tiny Greenwich Village apartment crammed full of too many old cameras. So, I took the subway up to Modern Photography’s offices shlepping a bunch of moldy old folding cameras with me and was ushered into Burt’s corner office. After exchanging pleasantries, I proposed writing a couple of articles on what was then the rather arcane pursuit of camera collecting. I was immediately impressed by Burt’s warm, genial demeanor, his obvious passion for cameras, his openness to new ideas, and has willingness to give a young guy a chance. He asked me if I had enough material to do a series of articles, which he immediately named The Camera Collector. It was a column I was to write for 35 years, starting in Modern and ending up at Popular Photography.
Burt Keppler and Jason Schneider in Japan, circa 1973. Note vintage cut of SLR-slinging Schneider's jacket and his hippie-dippy coiffure.
My transition from being a monthly contributor to a fulltime staff member at Modern was equally fortuitous. A bright young guy named Jeff McCallum who was then running Modern’s test lab, and if memory serves, he was drafted into the Army and slated to serve in Vietnam. Left to his own devices, I think Jeff probably would’ve found a way to avoid military service at that perilous time, but his father was an Army Colonel, so that was out of the question, and he had to leave his position. That’s how I became Assistant Editor of Modern and the de facto lab guy in charge of camera and lens testing. Before he departed Jeff kindly showed me how to operate our Zelox shutter speed and metering system (EV) testers, and Bennett Sherman, a PhD and credentialed optics and electronics expert who wrote brilliant articles for Modern, showed me how to use our Gaertner optical bench, conduct resolution tests on lenses using USAF 1951 bar charts, and generally kept me on track. I rose through the ranks at Modern, eventually becoming Editor in Chief when Burt was forced out by a vindictive top management at ABC Leisure Magazines, Modern’s parent company. In 1987 I joyously rejoined Burt who had moved over to Pop Photo as Editorial Director, and was named Editor in Chief, a position I held until I stepped down in 2003.
Keppler and the SLR: He's shooting a vintage Ricoh and sporting a tweed jacket and an LCD watch. Image probably dates from mid '70s.
Words of Wisdom from the Master
Burt Keppler was not only a masterful writer, an astute and canny publisher, and a brilliant marketing guy, he was also a compassionate and effective teacher, a great role model, and a natural leader. In his own unassuming but persistent way he taught me practically everything I know about magazine writing, how to best serve an audience of imaging enthusiasts in a way that elevated their photographic experience, and how to run the editorial side a magazine. I think I did all these things reasonably well but never quite as brilliantly as my mentor. Here is some of Burt’s sage advice.
“The headline and subhead of an article or the cover lines on a magazine should always convey one explicit or subliminal message, ‘Read Me!’ Their primary function is to get people to read the stories, to interact with the content, and to be entertained as well as informed. A magazine is not like a textbook that you must read to pass the class—it’s entirely voluntary, and that’s why you must motivate the audience.”
“These days many readers don’t have the time or inclination to read lengthy articles even if they’re interested in the subject. The answer: use a layered top-down editorial structure, so readers can access the most important information by reading the head, subhead, and the first few paragraphs of the article. As a result, these readers will learn something, have an enjoyable experience doing so, and feel they got a good value for their money. If they’re sufficiently motivated, they can always go back an read the entire piece to get all the details.”
“If you describe it, show it. Every time you provide a detailed description of something such as a piece of photographic equipment or a technique, include a picture of what you’re talking about. The original Chinese proverb is ‘a picture is worth 10,000 words,’ and we Westerners have demoted it by one order of magnitude. While you don’t have to include a photo of everything you mention in passing, the rule of thumb is ‘include an image of anything that takes more than one short sentence to describe”. Your readers will thank you and they’ll come back for more.”
“Write as though you were talking directly to a friend. Not only will this ‘off the shoulder’ type of writing prevent you from getting tied up in verbal knots like passive voice and subjunctive phrases it also comes across as friendly, intimate, and accessible, all of which helps you get your points across without seeming preachy or didactic. Of course, everyone has his or her own writing style and I’m not suggesting you imitate mine, but creating a sense of direct, in-person communication is certainly a plus when it comes to magazine writing, especially when conveying complex ideas.”
“Assume nothing! Herewith a few of the things a good magazine writer should never assume- that ‘facts’ based on a single source are always accurate, that readers have the specialized knowledge required to understand what you’re talking about, and that the subject you’re covering is of sufficient general interest that people want to read a long, detailed article about it. Maintaining a healthy degree of skepticism is useful if it encourages you to check your facts and to assess your readers’ interests and capabilities before you start writing.”
Burt Keppler in the '50s (?) sporting what looks like an Astrakhan turban and clutching a long tele lens mounted on (what else?) an SLR.
Two tales of thoughtful compassion
Fine prints for the masses
In the course writing a detailed series of hands-on articles on black-and-white printing for Modern Photography, Burt, an accomplished black-and-white printer himself, suddenly came to the realization that most of his readers lacked an adequate frame of reference—they simply didn’t have a clear idea of what a perfectly executed, full tonal range, black-and-white print looked like! So, he offered to send them an 8x10 enlargement, custom printed by a master printer, for the grand sum of $2.00. At that price it's doubtful that the magazine even covered its costs, but getting a high-quality print into the hands of his beloved readers was more important than making money. It gave them something to aim at and would help them to take their photography to the next level. Burt was, among his many other attributes, a great teacher—one who cared deeply about his readers and was dedicated to elevating their experience with photography.
Remembering Japanese names
I was honored to travel with Burt Keppler to Japan more than 20 times during the span of my editorial career, visiting numerous Japanese camera and lens factories all over the country, and having countless meetings with top executives, factory managers, and production line workers. During these visits, we met literally hundreds of Japanese, and about 95% of the time Burt not only recognized them individually but was able to address them personally by name. I found this astonishing, and still do. It's certainly a testament to his extraordinary memory, but it could not have happened without intention and considerable effort on his part. It was his unique way of showing his gracious hosts the abiding respect and love he had for them. This was not merely an astute form of public relations, it came from his heart, and they knew it.
Burt Keppler's Japanese business card: Just another small indication of his commitment to being a thoughtful and gracious guest.
“Burt-isms,” the fine art of gentle sarcasm
When Burt Keppler was seated at a table with or without other people present, and another person ambled over and asked him the standard polite question, “May I join you?” ha almost invariably replied, “Why, am I coming apart?” Most people, including me, found this predictable retort amusing because he delivered it with perfectly feigned veracity without cracking a smile.
He also had a hilariously sarcastic and usually accurate response to the commonplace query, “How are you feeling?” He usually paused for a second flashing a thoughtful expression before replying, “Parts of me are excellent.”
When “things,” or the world in general, weren’t moving in a positive direction, Burt would often furrow his brow in mock dismay, and remark philosophically, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” This bleak aphorism, taken from the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 6:34), implies that one shouldn’t worry about the future, since each day contains an ample burden of evils and suffering. But coming from the mouth of Burt Keppler it came off as a wry acceptance of things as they are and a profound understanding that “this too shall pass.”
Burt Keppler in the early 2000s: Radiating a warm smile emblematic of a life well lived.
Burt Keppler passed more than 15 years ago, but his spirit lives on in his writings, his prodigious accomplishments, and his abiding love for people and photography that made the world a better place.
Memories of my mentor, the “conscience of the photographic industry.”
By Jason Schneider
Burt Keppler, as he was known to his many friends, was my boss, my dear friend, and my mentor for 39 years, so I knew him intimately, both as a person and as a personage. He was invariably charming, witty, and wise, had a great deadpan sense of humor, and an encyclopedic knowledge of photography and cameras. He was also a great journalist, a prolific natural writer who could effortlessly dash off brilliantly incisive articles on a wide variety of photographic subjects, typically imparting serious and useful hands-on information delivered in his signature folksy “off the shoulder” style that endeared him to countless readers. He was also responsible for cleaning up the shady practices in American mail order retailing, establishing of a Mail Order Code of Ethics that he enforced vigorously to the benefit of countless consumers.
But before I launch into my personal reminiscences, here’s an overview of Herbert “Burt” Keppler’s long and productive life for the those who may not be familiar with this towering icon of the photographic industry who passed away on January 4, 2008, at the age of 82.
Who was Burt Keppler?
Herbert Keppler’s impressive 57-year stint as a writer, editor, and publisher of photographic magazines earned him a worldwide reputation as one of the most respected and revered authorities in the photographic field. The recipient of numerous honorary awards and titles throughout his distinguished career, he was widely hailed as “Mr. Photography” and “The Conscience of the Industry.” He was a great proponent of the SLR, recognizing its inherent superiority as a platform for a wide variety of lenses, and wrote a seminal SLR column for decades. Keppler was also one of a small number Americans to receive “The Order of the Sacred Treasure, Gold Rays with Rosette” one of the highest awards to be bestowed upon a foreigner by the Emperor of Japan, for his notable contribution to the Japanese photographic industry and its phenomenal success in the U.S.
Herbert "Burt" Keppler in his office with his signature "pen jar", circa early 1960s, portrait by Alfred Eisenstaedt.
A smiling Burt Keppler gratefully receiving an International Center of Photography (ICP) Award. Note his signature florid necktie.
The son of Victor Keppler, a noted commercial photographer and illustrator, he developed an early passion for photography. After earning a B.A. degree at Harvard, Keppler was commissioned as an Ensign in the U.S. Navy at the end of World War II, served as an officer aboard an LCS (landing-craft support ship), and eventually became a Lieutenant, the commanding officer of a crew of 65. After the War, Keppler honed his natural writing skills as a reporter for the old New York Sun newspaper, and in 1950 he was finally able to combine his journalistic talents and photographic passion as associate editor at a new photographic magazine, Modern Photography. Over the years as Keppler rose through the ranks he put his indelible stamp on the magazine, transforming it into one of the most respected, admired, and financially successful publications of its kind in the world. After 37 years, he left Modern Photography as Editorial Director and Publisher to become Vice President and Publishing Director of Popular Photography in 1987, a publication he served for 20 years until his death in 2008.
Burt Keppler was and is universally acclaimed for his wide-ranging intellect, insightful writings, and unflinching honesty that helped to advance the industry he loved so deeply. He was a tireless advocate and thought-provoking guide for millions of amateur photographers all over the world, and a practical camera design and marketing genius whose advice was eagerly sought and implemented by countless photographic manufacturers. While Herbert Keppler appreciated the honors and recognition he received, there are no official honors given for his two most significant personal attributes—integrity and compassion. What mattered to him most is that millions of photography enthusiasts all over the world thought of him as “Kind Old Uncle Burt,” the man whose sage, warm-hearted advice and homespun counsel helped them get more out of their photography for over half a century.
Meeting My Mentor
On meeting Burt Keppler for the first time, I could hardly have imagined our encounter would be a life-changing event, but it was. It was 1969, I was 27, living with Glenda, my wife of one year, in a tiny Greenwich Village apartment crammed full of too many old cameras. So, I took the subway up to Modern Photography’s offices shlepping a bunch of moldy old folding cameras with me and was ushered into Burt’s corner office. After exchanging pleasantries, I proposed writing a couple of articles on what was then the rather arcane pursuit of camera collecting. I was immediately impressed by Burt’s warm, genial demeanor, his obvious passion for cameras, his openness to new ideas, and has willingness to give a young guy a chance. He asked me if I had enough material to do a series of articles, which he immediately named The Camera Collector. It was a column I was to write for 35 years, starting in Modern and ending up at Popular Photography.
Burt Keppler and Jason Schneider in Japan, circa 1973. Note vintage cut of SLR-slinging Schneider's jacket and his hippie-dippy coiffure.
My transition from being a monthly contributor to a fulltime staff member at Modern was equally fortuitous. A bright young guy named Jeff McCallum who was then running Modern’s test lab, and if memory serves, he was drafted into the Army and slated to serve in Vietnam. Left to his own devices, I think Jeff probably would’ve found a way to avoid military service at that perilous time, but his father was an Army Colonel, so that was out of the question, and he had to leave his position. That’s how I became Assistant Editor of Modern and the de facto lab guy in charge of camera and lens testing. Before he departed Jeff kindly showed me how to operate our Zelox shutter speed and metering system (EV) testers, and Bennett Sherman, a PhD and credentialed optics and electronics expert who wrote brilliant articles for Modern, showed me how to use our Gaertner optical bench, conduct resolution tests on lenses using USAF 1951 bar charts, and generally kept me on track. I rose through the ranks at Modern, eventually becoming Editor in Chief when Burt was forced out by a vindictive top management at ABC Leisure Magazines, Modern’s parent company. In 1987 I joyously rejoined Burt who had moved over to Pop Photo as Editorial Director, and was named Editor in Chief, a position I held until I stepped down in 2003.
Keppler and the SLR: He's shooting a vintage Ricoh and sporting a tweed jacket and an LCD watch. Image probably dates from mid '70s.
Words of Wisdom from the Master
Burt Keppler was not only a masterful writer, an astute and canny publisher, and a brilliant marketing guy, he was also a compassionate and effective teacher, a great role model, and a natural leader. In his own unassuming but persistent way he taught me practically everything I know about magazine writing, how to best serve an audience of imaging enthusiasts in a way that elevated their photographic experience, and how to run the editorial side a magazine. I think I did all these things reasonably well but never quite as brilliantly as my mentor. Here is some of Burt’s sage advice.
“The headline and subhead of an article or the cover lines on a magazine should always convey one explicit or subliminal message, ‘Read Me!’ Their primary function is to get people to read the stories, to interact with the content, and to be entertained as well as informed. A magazine is not like a textbook that you must read to pass the class—it’s entirely voluntary, and that’s why you must motivate the audience.”
“These days many readers don’t have the time or inclination to read lengthy articles even if they’re interested in the subject. The answer: use a layered top-down editorial structure, so readers can access the most important information by reading the head, subhead, and the first few paragraphs of the article. As a result, these readers will learn something, have an enjoyable experience doing so, and feel they got a good value for their money. If they’re sufficiently motivated, they can always go back an read the entire piece to get all the details.”
“If you describe it, show it. Every time you provide a detailed description of something such as a piece of photographic equipment or a technique, include a picture of what you’re talking about. The original Chinese proverb is ‘a picture is worth 10,000 words,’ and we Westerners have demoted it by one order of magnitude. While you don’t have to include a photo of everything you mention in passing, the rule of thumb is ‘include an image of anything that takes more than one short sentence to describe”. Your readers will thank you and they’ll come back for more.”
“Write as though you were talking directly to a friend. Not only will this ‘off the shoulder’ type of writing prevent you from getting tied up in verbal knots like passive voice and subjunctive phrases it also comes across as friendly, intimate, and accessible, all of which helps you get your points across without seeming preachy or didactic. Of course, everyone has his or her own writing style and I’m not suggesting you imitate mine, but creating a sense of direct, in-person communication is certainly a plus when it comes to magazine writing, especially when conveying complex ideas.”
“Assume nothing! Herewith a few of the things a good magazine writer should never assume- that ‘facts’ based on a single source are always accurate, that readers have the specialized knowledge required to understand what you’re talking about, and that the subject you’re covering is of sufficient general interest that people want to read a long, detailed article about it. Maintaining a healthy degree of skepticism is useful if it encourages you to check your facts and to assess your readers’ interests and capabilities before you start writing.”
Burt Keppler in the '50s (?) sporting what looks like an Astrakhan turban and clutching a long tele lens mounted on (what else?) an SLR.
Two tales of thoughtful compassion
Fine prints for the masses
In the course writing a detailed series of hands-on articles on black-and-white printing for Modern Photography, Burt, an accomplished black-and-white printer himself, suddenly came to the realization that most of his readers lacked an adequate frame of reference—they simply didn’t have a clear idea of what a perfectly executed, full tonal range, black-and-white print looked like! So, he offered to send them an 8x10 enlargement, custom printed by a master printer, for the grand sum of $2.00. At that price it's doubtful that the magazine even covered its costs, but getting a high-quality print into the hands of his beloved readers was more important than making money. It gave them something to aim at and would help them to take their photography to the next level. Burt was, among his many other attributes, a great teacher—one who cared deeply about his readers and was dedicated to elevating their experience with photography.
Remembering Japanese names
I was honored to travel with Burt Keppler to Japan more than 20 times during the span of my editorial career, visiting numerous Japanese camera and lens factories all over the country, and having countless meetings with top executives, factory managers, and production line workers. During these visits, we met literally hundreds of Japanese, and about 95% of the time Burt not only recognized them individually but was able to address them personally by name. I found this astonishing, and still do. It's certainly a testament to his extraordinary memory, but it could not have happened without intention and considerable effort on his part. It was his unique way of showing his gracious hosts the abiding respect and love he had for them. This was not merely an astute form of public relations, it came from his heart, and they knew it.
Burt Keppler's Japanese business card: Just another small indication of his commitment to being a thoughtful and gracious guest.
“Burt-isms,” the fine art of gentle sarcasm
When Burt Keppler was seated at a table with or without other people present, and another person ambled over and asked him the standard polite question, “May I join you?” ha almost invariably replied, “Why, am I coming apart?” Most people, including me, found this predictable retort amusing because he delivered it with perfectly feigned veracity without cracking a smile.
He also had a hilariously sarcastic and usually accurate response to the commonplace query, “How are you feeling?” He usually paused for a second flashing a thoughtful expression before replying, “Parts of me are excellent.”
When “things,” or the world in general, weren’t moving in a positive direction, Burt would often furrow his brow in mock dismay, and remark philosophically, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” This bleak aphorism, taken from the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 6:34), implies that one shouldn’t worry about the future, since each day contains an ample burden of evils and suffering. But coming from the mouth of Burt Keppler it came off as a wry acceptance of things as they are and a profound understanding that “this too shall pass.”
Burt Keppler in the early 2000s: Radiating a warm smile emblematic of a life well lived.
Burt Keppler passed more than 15 years ago, but his spirit lives on in his writings, his prodigious accomplishments, and his abiding love for people and photography that made the world a better place.
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