In 1980 LIFE’s kissing sailor returned to Times Square. George Mendonsa anticipated quite a homecoming. That didn’t happen. Instead of embracing their progeny, LIFE assumed the role of an overwhelmed paternal figure who could not discern fact from fable. But the publication mogul did find the wherewithal to proudly dangle pictures of Alfred Eisenstaedt’s V-J Day sailor in front of Time-Life book viewers. The reprinting contributed positively to their financial bottom line. The actual kissing sailor did not. He was expendable. As it turned out, sadly, so was LIFE.
In 2009 LIFE embarked on another publication pursuit, though this time in a different format from the past. This publishing effort utilized computer screens instead of paper. The new medium maintained some of LIFE’s original principles. Like the publication’s prior versions, the picture continued to trump words. Digitally showcasing today’s top photos, viewers can sign up as fans on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. LIFE has reintroduced itself to a new generation of viewers.
Before the famous photo journal goes much further, they would do well to attend to some old unfinished business. Alfred Eisenstaedt’s photo, V-J Day, 1945, Times Square, continues to remind a nation why they fought a terrible war seventy years ago, and what that victory felt like. The Show-Book of the World still needs to identify the couple that made their most beloved photo possible. They need not spend a whole issue doing so. That photo does not have to adorn the cover of their newly formatted digital publication. The original printing in August 1945 didn’t. The article’s title could read, simply, A Leica’s Notes. They could cut to the chase. A quick read with a big black-and-white picture would suffice. They might write something like this:
On August 14, 1945, a dental assistant left her office at Lexington and 38th Street, heading west toward Times Square. She made the trek to read from the news ticker and learn if what she had heard all morning and early afternoon really happened. Had the Japanese finally surrendered to the United States?
Though she walked quickly, keeping a brisk pace became increasingly difficult as she approached the crowded square. Bumps and other incidental contacts were apologized for or shrugged off. Neither deterred her from the mission. She just had to know. Was the war that had affected her life so personally and hurtfully finally over?
Before entering the square, she passed the 42nd Street subway station where people of every persuasion exited and bustled toward 43rd Street and beyond. Before she had a chance to look up at the news ticker, Greta got caught up with the flow of other eager pedestrians. She scampered into the middle of the square, not heeding those who crossed her path. Just before reaching tracks that made their way down the wide street’s center, and shy of the 44th Street sign, the woman dressed in white stopped, turned, and looked up at the news ticker. She stood motionless, and read the moving type. The running text read, “VJ, VJ, VJ . . .” She thought that what she had heard all day must be true. Gazing at the news, Greta took in the moment fully.
Greta had arrived by herself, but she was not alone. Others in a crowded Times Square took notice of her. One such individual wore a dark, navy-blue uniform. That sailor, outpacing his trailing girlfriend, drew in on the dental assistant, whom he thought was a nurse. That mattered to him. The reasons need not be expounded upon here.
As the sailor swooped in, the dental assistant caught a quick glimpse of his approach. Before she could determine his intentions, the tall sailor overtook her, pinning her tapestry purse between them. Nearby, a photographer glanced in the sailor’s direction. Without processing the moment before him, he turned around swiftly and snapped four pictures with his Leica camera.
Almost as quickly as the moment commenced, it ended. After the two kissers parted, the sailor turned to his girlfriend, who allowed, on this day only, her boyfriend’s indiscretion. The woman in white hurried back to work. The photographer did not have the presence of mind to record the kissers’ names, and went on to witness many more mugging couples that afternoon and evening. By day’s end, no single shot stood out for his attention. Later, others would beg to differ.
The next day one of the photographer’s processed negatives exposed for the ages the moment World War II ended. Owing to happenstance, the photographer’s skill, and perhaps fate, Americans would forever know what it felt like when that horrible war was no more.
While the picture of the uniformed sailor and the dental assistant dressed in white appeared as a full-page visual in LIFE magazine on August, 27, 1945, neither of the picture’s two subjects learned of the photograph for many years. And for decades, no one knew of them. Though the photographer did not consider V-J Day, 1945, Times Square one of his best photographs, nevertheless it became the most reproduced image in LIFE magazine’s illustrious history, and one of the most beloved photos of all time.
Owing in part to the fact that no one took written notes at the time, over the years numerous former sailors and a few nurses attested to their part in the prized picture. For years, they, and others, argued about who kissed whom in Times Square on August 14, 1945.
Thankfully, what the photographer did not do, his Leica camera did. Without the use of written captions, the camera inscribed notes all over its photo. Facial structures, body markings, physical oddities, and height and body compositions lead to a definitive identification. Carl Muscarello, Ken McNeel, Glenn McDuffie, Edith Shain, Barbara Sokol, and many others who claimed a part in one of history’s most endearing photos do not possess the traits required to hold claim to Alfred Eisenstaedt’s kissing couple. Only one man and one woman do. They have an amazing story to tell.
George Mendonsa is the kissing sailor. His large tanned hands, dark patch of hair on the lower right arm, the faint “G” and “M” body marking, and a bump on his left forearm make for an unmistakable identity. Greta Friedman, with her twisted slim waist, tightly coiled hair, and long slender fingers clutched around her small purse, is the woman dressed in white so many people assume to be a nurse. Finally, he and she must be recognized.
Alfred Eisenstaedt, the Father of Photojournalism, may you rest in peace as your V-J Day, 1945, Times Square photograph lives on. George and Greta, may you be celebrated, long overdue, for a contribution that exceeds the capacity of a painter’s brush to emulate.
With the publication of A Leica’s Notes, and matters of the heart and soul at peace with the truth, we at LIFE are now clear to embark on the next phase of our proud history.