The Cahiers are not clients of WSmad, this is simply a personal note. As some of you know, in a former life I was a motorsport photographer. I did a lot of work for Vintage Motorsport and I apprenticed with one of the truly greats, Rainer Schlegelmilch in 2001. It was a great experience.
I also got to meet Paul-Henri Cahier, another of the truly greats, and at some point at Goodwood, I saw his father, Bernard. He was simply a great man.
One of my most coveted Christmas presents last year was “F-Stops, Pit Stops, Laughter & Tears”. What a phenomenal story – what a phenomenal life! As I was writing Paul-Henri to express my condolences, it occurred to me that I was sad. It’s silly, in a way – the man was able to live a full, fantastic life, and even more, he was able to share many of the best parts with us – what a great thing to be able to do! With his charm, wit, and superior photographic skill, he chronicled his great life as he saw fit… and it IS GREATLY appreciated. So why should I be sad? So strange how we humans handle death.
Now, look. I’m not trying to sell books for anyone (except Carroll Smith, a client and another man who was truly great), BUT, I do want you to have the opportunity to enjoy this book as I did. If you’re a motorsport geek like myself, you’ll love it, but even if you’re not, you’ll appreciate the great story telling and certainly the phenomenal photography (it’s great on its own – and then you realize the equipment he was using to capture these moments and it’s further astounding!). So if you want, a couple of my friends have the book available, Paul Zimmerman and Dave Lipsky. Both good guys, both great shops.
I encourage you to read this book. Maybe then you’ll understand the sadness that struck me for a moment. Selfishness that translated to morose when I realized that I won’t be able to get any more from the Man. Which is ridiculous considering all he’s already given.
Thank you, Bernard Cahier. I reflect humbly in the omnipresence of your enduring spirit.