Trove of stolen photos reveals 1970s Oakland street life

In July 2021, Torford was driving home through Oakland’s Clinton neighborhood when he found dozens of binders strewn next to a trash can. Intrigued, he stopped his car. When he opened one of his books, he was in awe of what was inside. Each book contained hundreds of Kodachrome slides of his. This is a small photocopy used by analogue photographers to analyze an image before printing it at full size.

Torford took a few small slides out of his binder and held them up to the sky, trying to decipher the microscopic image. Was it a tiger on the run?—He knew the photo must be of value to someone. So he decided to take them home and take a closer look.

The collection included an incredibly wide range of subjects, from Governor Jerry Brown with a full head of hair to a San Francisco Bay sunset. There were also some quaint nudes. The frequent appearances of bell-bottoms, afros, butterfly collars, shaggy carpets, and shaggy sideburns suggested that these photos were taken of him in the late 1970s. It’s a big challenge, if not completely impossible. However, two photos contained hints of their origin. Someone wrote “Raymond Cooper” on one of his self-portraits and the name “Aja” on a baby photo.

Trolford, who suspected the binder had been abandoned by thieves, tried to reach out to Raymond Cooper and Aja Cooper on Facebook and Instagram, but got no immediate response. He was in the process of downsizing when he moved to his new apartment, so he made the tough decision to keep a few hundred of his favorite slides and throw the rest away. Once settled in after moving, he refocused himself on finding the rightful owners of the photos.

That’s when he contacted me and hoped I could help him track down the Cooper family. I host the East Bay Yesterday podcast, which focuses on local history. Torford is not the first to make such a request. In fact, they often contact me to help solve mysteries regarding urban legends, dusty old maps, and mysterious artifacts found in Grandma’s attic. I even got an offer to donate an old high school yearbook (sorry folks, my bookshelf is full!).

I was happy to help, but before I had the chance, I got a winning email from Truford. One of the Aja Coopers on Instagram (who turned out to be Raymond’s daughter) replied and happily reunited with the rest of the collection.

I reached out to Aja, who I pronounce “Asia,” to talk about her dad’s eclectic photography. She told me they reflected his multifaceted life. He was a US Navy sailor, an artist, a businessman, and a Black Panther. ‘s true passion has always been photography. His camera became his constant companion when he learned to develop film in the 1970s. He even built his own darkroom to practice his art. In the early 1980s, he turned his hobby into a career and opened Sundance, a camera and photographic supplies store on Webster Street in downtown Oakland.

It was right around the time that Aja was born. As she walks through Oakland, she sees buildings from her father’s photographs, like the cathedral building seen in shots of then-mayor Lionel Wilson riding down Broadway and talking to black cowboys on horseback. “Every time I walk by that building, I am reminded of the photos my father took,” she told me.

In the early 1990’s the family moved to Sacramento. A few years later, tragedy struck. Ray returns from his job to see firefighters hosing up the wreckage of a charred house. When he saw a tarp laid over some chunks of the driveway, his stomach sank and he feared that the remains of his family lay beneath it. . Peeling away the sooty plastic, he was overjoyed to find no bodies. His family all escaped safely. His relief, however, was tempered by the sight of much of his life’s work—a vast collection of photographs, slides, and cameras—sitting in a puddle of ash.

Ray began rebuilding the collection, but his progress was tragically interrupted when he died on May 7, 2000 at the age of 58. He left the rest of the archive to his Aja.

Aja loved having easy access to her dad’s photo binders, but in early 2021 she was preparing her apartment for the birth of her first child, so she needed to clear some space. So she boxed up the slides and moved them to a storage unit in the basement of her building in Auckland’s Ivy Hill neighborhood.Two months later, thieves stole everything she left there.

Aja told me she cried for three days, devastated by the loss of one of the few connections she had with her father. A few weeks later, she noticed an Instagram direct message request from an unfamiliar name. Her letter from Torford was “the best gift ever,” she told me. When the two met to take over, Truford turned down her reward money.

“Just being able to see such a cool snapshot of an Auckland era that I never got to experience is enough,” he told me.

For Aja, having lost most of her photos makes them even more important. “They survived the fire, and this robbery,” she told me. “My collection dwindles with trauma, so what I still have means a lot to me.”

A few weeks ago Aja let me borrow her slides to scan for this article. As she was driving home from her apartment with a binder, she received an email from her. “It made me sad to think that I was the only one who really cared about them before the little tragedy surrounding the photos happened. and I’m not the only one who appreciates his art,” she wrote.

I’m sure at least one person will appreciate them. It is Aja’s son who has just started walking. Years from now, it’s easy to flip through photos of Ray and imagine him sporting a wistful smile that looks a bit like his grandfather.

Editor’s Note: Most of Ray Cooper’s photographs were found without a date or identifying details attached. We’ve done a bit of detective work on them, but many of the people and events remain a mystery. . Instagram Also twitter, or email him Eastbayyesterday@gmail.com.