Restoring Bernie Kolenberg’s Faces of Vietnam

You've undoubtedly encountered Bernie Kolenberg's work, even if his name eludes you. He's the talent behind some of the most iconic images of the Capital Region: historical snapshots of Downtown Troy and Albany in the 1950s and 1960s, alongside poignant photos capturing the Kennedy brothers during their campaign visits, Martin Luther King Jr.'s visit to Albany, and the funeral service for Eleanor Roosevelt. John F. Kennedy became a favorite subject of Bernie's long before he was president, culminating in the publication of the book "Albany to Arlington" after Kennedy’s assassination as a tribute. The photos in the book reveal a depth to Kennedy and highlight his ability to inspire others. They also revealed Kolenberg’s talent for capturing the humanity of his subjects with empathy and compassion.

He was both a friend and colleague of author William Kennedy. Together, Kennedy and Kolenberg worked to cover stories for the Albany Times Union. Their collaborative efforts served as the inspiration for Kennedy's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel in 1983. A photograph captured by Kolenberg became the muse for the characters in "Ironweed," shedding light on the realities of life on "Albany’s skid row." At the time, William Kennedy had recently returned to the Capital Region after spending several years as a reporter and editor in Puerto Rico. He was working as a reporter and writing his novel in his off hours. Bernie Kolenberg, an esteemed photographer for the Times Union, shared Kennedy's dedication to finding and telling hard stories.

During my conversation with William Kennedy, I had the opportunity to ask him about his memories of his friend Bernie Kolenberg. Kennedy wrote Kolenberg’s memorial, which was published in the Albany Times Union shortly after his passing. Over the course of our two-and-a-half-hour discussion, Kennedy recounted stories of Bernie's daring exploits, such as climbing antennae and hanging from balconies, all to capture a unique perspective and tell overlooked stories. "He would do anything for an angle or a story idea. He had a great imagination," reminisced Kennedy.

Bernie progressed from being a copyboy to becoming a prominent page-one photographer, mastering his craft through self-teaching, imagination, and determination. Reflecting on the photojournalists of his era, Kennedy remarked, "The greats may have possessed superior technique compared to Bernie, but none surpassed his depth of compassion or understanding of the pathos that lies at the core of most artistic endeavors."

Bernie was a master behind the camera, possessing a unique talent for conveying profound narratives through his photographs. This ability was evident not only in his poignant images from Vietnam but also in his everyday reporting responsibilities with the Times Union. A quote featured on the opening page of his book, "A Memorial Tribute, John F. Kennedy, Albany to Arlington," perfectly encapsulates his remarkable storytelling prowess: “In the hands of a sensitive and perceptive craftsman like Mr. Kolenberg, the camera does not merely record the surface of things; rather, it somehow reveals the feelings and emotions beneath the surface, capturing intangible qualities that one would not expect a camera to capture.”

A true technical innovator ahead of his time, Bernie was at the forefront of a major shift in photography during the 1950s. Among the first photographers in the Capital Region to embrace change, he transitioned from the cumbersome, medium-format Speed Graphic camera to the sleek, lightweight 35mm Leica M3, which was introduced in 1954. This transition not only revolutionized his approach to photography but also influenced the visual landscape of the era.

Bernie's photographs radiate the unmistakable Leica aesthetic, marked by crisp detail, rich contrast, and a unique depth of field. This distinctive style is evident in his press conference snapshots from the 1960s, where Bernie confidently wielded his trusty M3 while his colleagues stuck to their conventional gear. The smaller and lighter Leica M3 enabled him to maneuver discreetly, granting him access to scenes without the obtrusiveness of larger cameras. This agility facilitated the capture of genuine reactions with remarkable speed and precision. Kennedy retold a story when Bernie hid the camera under his coat to get a news photo that would have been impossible otherwise.

The most powerful chapter of Bernie Kolenberg’s career came when he documented the Vietnam War. It was a crucial story, and he felt compelled to be there. His images of warfare exhibit the same delicate touch as his depictions of everyday life. Infused with empathy and compassion, these photographs resonate deeply, reflecting a consistent thread throughout his body of work. "The Vietnam photos were indeed art; there's no question about that," remarked Kennedy. It was uncommon for a photojournalist to make the jump from a local news beat to a war zone, but Bernie had to go.

Tragically, he became the first American war correspondent to be killed in Vietnam. In the spring of 1965, he spent five weeks in Vietnam as a freelance photographer before returning to his wife, Mary, 8-year-old son, Kevin, in Wynantskill, and his position at the Times Union.

Driven by a determination to capture the harsh realities on the ground, Bernie soon found himself back at the Saigon Bureau of the Associated Press. Taking a second leave of absence from the Times Union was not without its anxieties for Bernie; the uncertainty of leaving his job and returning to Vietnam weighed heavily on him. However, his commitment to telling the story propelled him back to Southeast Asia.

During a one-week assignment with the Associated Press, tragedy struck. On October 2, 1965, the U.S. Air Force Skyhawk aircraft Bernie was aboard collided with another aircraft over the Bing Dinh province. He was just 38 years old. Reflecting on Bernie's apprehension about returning to Vietnam, Kennedy remarked, "I had never seen him afraid before. The war truly scared him, and he witnessed an immense amount of death in his brief time there.”

Over the past few years, I've embarked on an ongoing project dedicated to reclaiming, restoring, and retelling the history of the Capital District. The aim is simple: to shed light on the remarkable narrative of the Capital District through research, writing, and the restoration of historical photographs. While black and white images can sometimes feel distant from our present reality, viewing the past in color makes it more relatable and, in many ways, more understandable. Additionally, it exposes the inequalities and injustices woven into our collective history with greater clarity and definition.

With nearly three decades of experience as a commercial photographer and photojournalist, my historical restorations have garnered significant attention. This project stands out as one of my most rewarding, blending research, journalism, cartography, art, history, and photography. In January 2024, a member of Bernie’s remaining family, Joanne (Wait) Ziter, reached out to me after discovering my work on social media. What started with a few emails quickly evolved into a series of phone calls, ultimately leading to a meeting to retrieve what remains of Bernie’s photos — his legacy. Encased within an airtight box were 43 stunning photographs, each a testament to Bernie's remarkable talent and enduring legacy.

Approaching nearly 60 years old, some of the photographs began to show signs of wear and tear. Surface tears, dented corners, scuffs, and scrapes were evident, as expected with media of this age. I took on the task of photographing them, meticulously restoring the accumulated years of wear, and in some cases, completely rebuilding parts of the images. Once restored, I uploaded them to the cloud for safekeeping.

As an experienced photographer, spending time with these images provided me with insight into Bernie's choices behind the lens. Over the course of about 15 hours of photographing and restoring the images, I gained an understanding of his style in both subject matter and framing. I came to know him as a photographer as intimately as the photo editors of the 1950s and 1960s knew his work, maybe more as I worked on the pixel level on many of them to reclaim details lost by time.

Bernard Kolenberg, a son of Troy, New York, was not just a photographer but also a storyteller who paid the ultimate price to capture images like the ones now sitting in a box in my office. I could sense the profound connections, and I felt compelled to honor his memory by telling his story and shedding light on his remarkable Faces of Vietnam photos, along with his wider body of work and writing — images that capture humanity in ways very few photographers are capable of. The emotion and empathy emanating from these photos made the task a privilege and an absolute honor to undertake on his behalf. I am thankful to have been able to do this for him, and his family. Willam Kennedy expressed his opinion that Bernie would have ascended to much larger stories and recognition had his life not been cut short in Vietnam.

Described by Kennedy as "a folk hero among journalists and a mythmaker," Bernie's legacy continues to inspire. My hope is that by restoring these images, we are contributing to the preservation of his legacy and keeping his memory alive for generations to come. While the exact number of news correspondents killed in Vietnam remains uncertain, Bernie holds a significant place in history as the first casualty among them. His story and sacrifice should be remembered. Notably, Bernie is the only civilian listed on the Vietnam War Memorial in Riverfront Park in Troy, New York.

Here's to Bernie and Bill, and to the storytellers everywhere, and for their sacrifices.

I extend my sincere gratitude to Joanne (Wait) Ziter, Brendan Kennedy and William Kennedy for their invaluable contributions to this project.

All images courtesy of the Bernie's family.

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