One evening around 1960 I was headed for New York City, I don’t remember why, and as I walked through Newark Penn Station I heard “Paulie! Hey, Paulie!”. I looked around and saw my brilliant, crazy, crooked friend Pete, from Kingsway supermarket days.
His head and shoulders were visible over the top of one of those 4-poses-for-a-quarter photo booths. He was standing on its adjustable stool and the half-curtain was closed. I walked over, and, not wanting to pry, simply said “Pete! How ya doing?”
I don’t normally ask people questions about why they’re doing what they’re doing, but he explained anyway. He was going away on vacation with his parents, and was taking a picture of his penis so his girlfriend wouldn’t forget him.
Today, every cell phone is also a camera, and taking such photos is easy. But I like to believe my friend Pete was the first.