In August 1980, LIFE magazine organized a V-J Day reunion. Philip B. Kunhardt Jr., LIFE’s managing editor, thought it would be fun1 to unite the nurse and sailor from the photo journal’s most cherished image, thirty-five years after Eisenstaedt captured the renowned kiss. Kunhardt had the nurse. He needed the sailor. His invitation read as follows:
Usually the actors in such fleeting real-life pageants remain anonymous. For 34 years Eisie had no idea who either participant was. But recently the nurse stepped forward and identified herself. You will meet her in our Camera at Work section in this issue—as well as some of the other war-weary people Eisenstaedt photographed that August day 35 years ago this month.
Now, if the sailor can recognize himself, would he please step forward?2
He did. So did many others. More guests arrived than LIFE anticipated. To make matters worse, most overstayed their welcome. Some never left. While clearly a number of respondents had no business coming forward, LIFE should have anticipated the party crashers.
On V-J Day, August 14, 1945, friends kissed friends, husbands kissed wives, and sailors kissed nurses. Arguably, more people kissed on that day than on any other in history. Owing to sheer volume, distinguishing a photographed V-J Day kiss in San Francisco, California, from another in Minneapolis, Minnesota, or Times Square, New York, requires familiarity with each picture’s surrounding geographic landmarks. The LIFE issue that focused on V-J Day celebrations caught enough kissing couples in the act for Dorothy Burkhart to write a letter to the editor suggesting the magazine change its name to “Love.”3
Other magazines and newspapers also shared images of V-J Day couples with their readership. A few of those publications selected pictures snapped in Times Square, and for good reason. On August 14, 1945, probably more people kissed at that crossroads than at any other place in the world. In that specific section of New York, tens of thousands of revelers in the early afternoon swelled to well over a million partygoers by night. V-J Day pictures and films of Times Square show that just about everyone replicated a facsimile of Eisenstaedt’s couple, or at least it seemed so. By the end of the day, no kiss stood out for acknowledgement—well, except for that one particular picture, of that one explicit kiss, performed by that specific couple whose color contrast, body configurations, and tangible passion forever expressed the relief and elation that World War II was over.
Interestingly, and perhaps predictably, more male suitors petitioned LIFE for the sailor’s part in Eisenstaedt’s iconic photograph than did female candidates for the nurse’s role. One reason for the gender imbalance might be that LIFE invited only sailors to come forward. And, of course, that made sense. The magazine already recognized Edith Shain as the nurse. Another reason for the discrepancy in male and female applicant numbers could be feminine modesty, and sailors’ lack thereof. After all, social norms suggest he gets to be a hell of a guy. She may get tagged with something a bit less flattering. But with all these contributing factors in place, the biggest reason accounting for the respondent gender gap might be the historical circumstance in August 1945. During that summer, many American servicemen enjoyed leave as the military made preparations for an invasion of Japan. This arrangement most certainly upped significantly the number of sailors in Times Square on August 14. Relatively speaking, caregivers were in short supply.
While circumstances and conditions determined one gender coming forward in greater numbers than the other, the situation did not affect the degree of insistence expressed by male and female applicants. In this arena, no gender gap exists. Responding sailor and nurse candidates knew they had a part in the famous photo. And they said so repeatedly and vehemently.
The sheer number of kissers increased the odds that a sailor or nurse might see themselves in the famed photo. But what details does the photo really hold? V-J Day, 1945, Times Square reveals little in the way of distinguishing facial features. The photographer’s vantage point and the pictured couple’s pose work together to conceal what might otherwise be telling traits. The viewer cannot determine a nose’s exact length, an eye’s precise shape, or the curvature of lips. Further, the sequence of pictures limits the view to the duration of the entanglement. No snapshots exist before or after the encounter. With no interviews, follow-ups, or written notes of the event, there is little with which to base identification.
Incongruously, the lack of available details about V-J Day, 1945, Times Square does not preclude people from consideration, but rather encourages persons of almost every physical composition to draw themselves into the picture. What is distinguishable in the picture—a tall, Caucasian sailor in a dark uniform with no indication of rank kissing a shorter nurse dressed in white with her hair tied up—resembles a host of sailors and nurses. If a sailor wore a formal blue uniform, ran through Times Square on V-J Day, 1945, and kissed a woman in a white dress, he can legitimately claim a part in one of the nation’s most celebrated and revered photographs. The prospect of a leading role in the iconographic photo could seduce an aging sailor’s or nurse’s memory to revisit what did, or did not, take place on that August 14, 1945, afternoon. They might deduce: “I was in Times Square when World War II ended. I wore my Navy uniform (or nurse uniform) that day. I kissed a lot of WACs, teachers, secretaries, and nurses—or sailors. It was a hell of a time. I remember the occurrence as if it were just yesterday.” But, of course, the photo was not taken yesterday. Well over a half-century has passed. Both photographers—Alfred Eisenstaedt and Victor Jorgensen—are dead. Only murky memories, contentious claims, and a processed role of film remain.
With limited substantiated evidence, but many eager applicants in waiting, LIFE’s 1980 invitation opened the floodgates. Former sailors from various geographic points rushed forward spouting their cases. The outpouring of candidates created a crowded pool of testimonies to wade through. In this teeming sea of competing and often conflicting “evidence,” the sailors’ and nurses’ splashing made for a slippery deck, and one where LIFE officials needed to sort out authentic versions from red herrings. And for a time the magazine executives tried to do that.4 However, after reading and listening to persistent petitioners’ claims for several weeks, LIFE could not tell for sure which petitioner was the real kissing sailor. They determined that the mystery of who kissed whom would have to persist.
But even with an acknowledging nod to the choppy waters, the magazine performed their lifeguard duties miserably. Abruptly, LIFE turned away from the chaos and controversy they had put in motion. The trusted photo journal held no concluding ceremony and provided no closure. Instead, they threw their hands up, as if raising a white flag to an enemy that did not exist. Rather than investigating competing claims thoroughly and determining whose story and evidence deserved another hearing, they left the public drowning in competing testimonies. The magazine simply left matters floating.
This “ending” caused a problem. What was to be done with the sailors and home front nurses who had come forward in good faith? LIFE acted decisively on this front. In essence, they called everyone out of the pool. However, the sailors and nurses refused to leave. LIFE management then drained the water, leaving would-be competitive swimmers to sweat it out in a cement basin beneath the burning sun of public curiosity. Perhaps LIFE expected the swimmers to dry up and blow away. If that was the plan, LIFE sorely underestimated their fighting spirit. The World War II sailors and home front civilians had persevered through the financial miseries of the Great Depression and survived the most destructive war the world had ever known. If need be, they had the stamina to prevail in a prolonged battle with a magazine. Unbeknownst to LIFE, the contest they sponsored had just begun.