There’s Nothing Interesting About a Photojournalist
By: Shane Byler / Oct. 12, 2016
Nate Billings is the opposite of Sinatra.
His voice remains neutral, his demeanor accountable. He wears blue jeans, hiking shoes and a collared shirt to work — and “he’s got an excellent head of hair,” according to one former coworker.
He began dating his wife, Jen, in college. And he began his career at The Oklahoman in the summer of 2000 with a college internship.
Thursday, October 6:
Carrying two large DSLR cameras and three lenses — including a telephoto lense mounted on a monopod — Billings easily walks 600 yards to cover the first half of a high school football game in Moore.
As soon as Billings realizes the home team is about to take the field, he rushes over to crouch in front of the inflatable tunnel.
Several touchdowns are made in quick succession, which means frequent shots at either side of the field.
The 40-year-old man is a Disney-wrist-watch-wearing son of a photographer, who maintains a constant effort to dig an angle ahead of the play.
All the while, with a committed, analytical disposition, he peers through his eyeglasses, through the viewfinder, and might capture a dozen photographs at a time, depending on the duration of an event.
After a play, with a free moment, Billings scrolls through the last burst of shots and tags the best photographs. At times, the occasional yogi — just under 6 feet 1 inch with an average build — leans forward and speaks directly into the back of his camera, recording a voice memo about a play or event that took place when a specific photo was captured.
It’s a meticulous groove, maintained with constancy.
“He’s not just a great photographer,” Doug Hoke, director of photography for The Oklahoman, says, “but he’s a great journalist. He’s always thinking about the storyline, not just what great photos there are.”
Billings, who follows the news and communicates regularly with reporters to clarify story ideas, has done the research and knows the significance of most plays he photographs.
And it’s not uncommon that he will share his own ideas — discussing with writers and editors which photographs work best, or how they could be used to further a story’s telling. Mike Sherman, former sports editor for The Oklahoman, recalls that it was, indeed, common for himself and Billings to move about the newsroom and lean over each other’s desks for a conversation.
How was it working with Nate Billings?
“Challenging — and I mean that in the best possible way,” Sherman says. “He taught me a lot about visual story telling and challenged some of my views about default settings — what the best way to tell a story is.”
Hoke, the photographers’ direct supervisor, is regularly spared from extra responsibility when Billings confers with reporters. He often will hold 5- to 15-minute conversations with sports writers Jenni Carlson and Berry Tramel, both of whom consider the man a colleague and a friend.
“He’s fired up about the craft,” Tramel says. “He generally is diplomatic, but in a fairly biting way. Because he’s got such good language skills, he’s able to zip somebody pretty good but in a charming way.”
[Billings earned his master’s degree in English literature.]
In the middle of the second quarter, Billings ignores the game for a few moments to search for the second of two Danish foreign exchange students he’s supposed to photograph. They play on opposing teams; and since Westmoore High School’s Magnus Vilstad hasn’t spent much time on the field, Billings tries to get a shot of him on the sideline. He calmly surveys the line of players.
Shortly afterward, Billings has poised himself well ahead of the play, and there’s a little down time. He answers a question about pushing boundaries to take a photograph.
After the ensuing discussion, Billings admits that he enjoys thinking about ethics. He spoke of covering the aftermath of the infamous tornado that flattened Moore three years ago; he briefly illustrated where and under what circumstances he might consider trespassing. For instance, when a town’s infrastructure is destroyed, “all bets are off.” (Though, the National Guard was quick to begin policing the area, restricting access to passers-by.)
Whether shooting a Thunder playoff game or a twister-addled wasteland of a town, a photojournalist must deflect emotion to focus on the environment and events happening. On this count, Billings is an expert — his nonchalance is noticeable, and is easy to pick up on in one interview he gave about his coverage of the disaster.
A CBS This Morning co-host visited Moore on May 21, 2013, a day after the tornado, and interviewed Billings, who had begun photographing the scene soon after the storm dissipated.
The interviewer, Nora O’Donnell, attempted to evoke emotion in a sympathetic tone, “…their playgrounds completely destroyed, ripped to shreds…”
“Yes,” Billings replied. “It’s amazing to see the power of what mother nature can do.”
He appears eager, enthused even, to discuss and document the stories, broad or minute; not so much to conspire with O’Donnell in an emotionally charged discussion about the overall damage. The long-time photographer wanted to go do first-hand journalism — no replay or second-hand reporting can suffice for a photojournalist.
The instant is always at stake.
He recalls encountering a man helping wounded horses in a trashed pasture (referred to in the CBS interview) who was leery of Billings, until he explained himself.
“It’s amazing what people will tell you or let you photograph if you treat them like humans,” Billings says, with a contemplative grin.
Such wisdom alludes to a quality that many will vouch for — a consistently courteous attitude, wielded by a man of unyielding conviction.
Walking into the Moore game, a gate attendant by the field had asked Billings who he works for, and then told the name of a relative who works for The Oklahoman.
Billings asks the attendant’s name. “I’ll remember that,” he says.
Whether he did is irrelevant: the point is that he listens to what people have to say. Likewise, he captures attention when he has something to say. Moreover, if Billings doesn’t like what someone is saying, he will be sure clarify that as well.
A recent misunderstanding arose between himself and Hoke, who had used the phrase “just another photo.” According to Hoke, Billings “finally just stopped and said, ‘You know, you’re sort of pissing me off.’”
An understanding was ultimately reached. Hoke wasn’t suggesting that a touchdown photo could be replaced by any other photo. More likely, he was feeling pressure from recently constricted deadlines and was implying that to pick one of a dozen photos Billings took during a significant play is a common occurrence. Nevertheless, this instance underlines one of the stronger convictions Billings holds.
“Nate does not like to belittle anything that this department does,” Hoke says, “which is great. He never wants us to do anything less than the best we can.”
So perhaps Billings is a little similar to Sinatra. He maintains an “even keel” — as Ian Maule, staff photographer for the Tulsa World, puts it. That is, until the sails catch a bad wind. If a gust blows port-side and the jig is starboard, Billings is quick to correct the wind. And if a bad norther blows, his wherewithal to stand ground has left men respecting him more once it’s said and done. If Frank Sinatra is inhibited and becomes moody due to a common cold, Nate Billings is hampered by and impatient of good enough-ers and general insolence. Indeed, both men will speak up if something is disagreeable.
Friday, October 7:
Two games and a portrait of the Oklahoma City Public Schools athletic director have been assigned.
Billings, in the parking lot near the front gate, opens the trunk of his blue Ford Focus and retrieves two cameras, two hip packs and three lenses, one of which is attached to its monopod.
As he removes all the lens caps, which are “just one more thing to lose,” Billings’ Mickey Mouse watch gleams with early rays of the setting sun. It was a gift from a friend, to replace a similar broken watch. Billings still owns the broken watch, though, and means to get it fixed — it holds sentimental value. And it’s nice, made by Swiss Army.
Billings can’t say at exactly what age, although it was under 10, when he first went to Disneyland. He has continued to go, since then, about once a year. He is now 40 and will take his 3-year-old daughter, Hadley, there for the first time next year. Perhaps she’ll meet some of Billings’ family in California, including three brothers and several extended-family members — his mother grew up in Santa Barbara.
At tonight’s Oklahoma City high school football game, he approaches a woman manning a booth just inside the main gate to encourage voter registration.
“Getting people out to vote?” Billings asked. “Good deal. Are game fliers being sold somewhere?”
Fifteen minutes after picking up a brochure in the announcer’s booth, Billings is relaxing at the top of the bleachers, waiting on a text message from the subject of the portrait assignment. Although he knows carrying so much equipment all the time can cause back problems, only on rare occasion will he set down the enormous lens with a camera attached to it.
A few minutes later on the northwest corner of the field, it’s hard to tell if the athletic director feels proud or embarrassed as Billings captures well over a dozen photographs — from various angles, with slightly adjusted exposure settings and different positions of the hand-held flash.
Neither man says much before shaking hands and parting ways.
Billings seems pleased. He walks toward the sideline and commences photographing with a serene expression.
In this age of continuous turmoil, one is tempted to ask, “What conflicts Nate Billings?”
Although he certainly has opinions regarding journalistic ambition and strategy, when it comes to actually doing journalism, Billings claims neutrality — even over-selling it at times, according to Tramel. (Except for one team, that is, which most people who know Billings personally can name without hesitation.)
“I like watching football,” he says. “I like the strategy involved but I’m not emotionally affected, if that makes sense. The only team I really, really, root for is the Dodgers because there’s no conflict of interest.”
In retrospect, Nate Billings may be the converse of Sinatra only in appearance. No toupee on Nate’s head. That, and perhaps the fact that he has a steady family life.
He and his wife will soon be 41 and 40.
Nate Billings holds the same job he started while studying English as an undergrad at OSU. Jen recently became executive producer of digital content and social media at KWTV in Oklahoma City, which has provided her with a fairly regular nine to five schedule.
Following an early work day, Billings goes home to eat dinner with Jen and Hadley. Afterward, he might let Hadley sit on his knee and pluck the strings on his fretless electric bass, and then read to her in bed. Or if he get’s a late assignment like tonight’s high school ball game, he’ll spend 20 to 40 minutes, depending on deadline constraints, sitting in his car choosing which 15 photos to send to the editors. Then he will go home and read or watch something on TV till after midnight — preferably a Dodgers game if they’re still playing.
His irregular work schedule provides frequent opportunities to sleep in… Or transport dogs, dog food and groceries.
