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A Previously Unknown Hungarian-Related Photo Collection Discovered in America – Interview with Michael Dobo

24 • 06 • 30György Németh

In our exclusive interview, you will gain insight into an exciting family story that touches significant figures of 20th-century Hungarian and international artistic life. Our interviewee's father, Francis F. Dobo (Ferenc Dobó), encountered many famous artists and photographers during his rich and eventful life. During the conversation, you will learn about the family background, Francis F. Dobo's Hungarian roots and career, as well as his relationships with photographers such as Brassaï, André Kertész, and Ylla. This collection is not only a part of the family heritage but also a rich chronicle of the artistic life of the 20th century. Through our questions, you can gain insight into the deeper layers of these special friendships and artistic connections, and discover the personal stories behind this exceptional life journey.

Gy. N.

Could you kindly provide insights into your family background, particularly concerning your father's Hungarian heritage?

M. D.

My father, Francis F. Dobo, was born in 1908 in Nagykanizsa under the name Ferenc Dobó, in a middle-class Jewish family. His father was a regiment military doctor for the Austro-Hungarian Army who happened to be stationed in Nagykanizsa at that time. The family originally hailed from Eger and moved there and several other locations in the Kingdom of Hungary, such as Debrecen, Trencsény, (today Trenčín, Slovakia), eventually settling in Budapest after the First World War. Ferenc had one older brother, István, who later immigrated to the Soviet Union. My grandmother Aranka’s family came from Balassagyarmat; her brother was Gabriel Wells, who became a well-known antiquarian book dealer in New York City.

After the family arrived in Budapest in 1918, my father attended the 5th District Lycée, where he spent four years. Later, he moved on to The Imre Madách Secondary School, where he completed his studies in 1926. It was during this time that his athletic skills peaked, primarily in the various Track & Field events. In fact, he even won several medals in the broad jump alone and also practiced team rowing on the Danube, as well as competitive fencing. Ferenc formed some enduring friendships at Imre Madách, one of which was with Bertalan Göndör, who later became a renowned artist and illustrator but sadly was killed by the Nazis. He also formed a life-long friendship there with George Feyer, who later became the celebrated pianist, who went-on to play for, among others, President Kennedy, during his long residency at The Carlyle Hotel on Manhattan’s chic Upper East Side. At Madách, my father additionally befriended a young Robert Bak. Although the two boys lost track of one another in the ensuing years, their friendship resumed many decades later in New York City, where Bak had become President of the prestigious New York Psychoanalytic Society & Institute. Another friend from the Budapest years was Frigyes Littman, the talented sculptor who later became quite close to my father, both in his Paris years and in the United States.

After high school, my father enrolled in the University of Vienna School of Medicine in late 1926. He spent just two semesters in Vienna, and in the summer of 1927, he requested a transfer of his studies to the University of Budapest, where he studied an additional two semesters at the university's medical faculty. As the conclusion of 1928 approached, he had an inspirational moment: he ceased his studies and decided to find a different direction in life. His idea was to move to Berlin with friends and find a job related to writing, but somehow this didn't exactly impress his family. They suggested that he could alternatively go to France to learn the language – and he agreed. He moved to Paris in September of 1928, where he promptly signed up for a course at The Sorbonne, but only completed one semester.

He met Paul Winkler through a friend upon arrival and quickly went to work at an entry-level position at the Paris office of Opera Mundi in the Fall of 1928, where he oversaw German and Hungarian publications. It was during this period that he moved to the notorious Hôtel des Terrasses, where he immediately started socializing with the many artists already in residence there. He became fast friends with Lajos Tihanyi, the Hungarian painter and – most significantly– Gyula Halász, who later became a world-famous photographer under the pseudonym of "Brassaï." He also became close with fellow Hôtel des Terrasses tenants Alfred Perlés, the Austrian writer, as well as the German painter Hans Reichel. Another notable figure in this côterie of friends was a struggling photographer named André Kertész. And, perhaps most notably, sometime in 1931, my father encountered a prematurely bald-headed young fellow from Brooklyn, sitting all alone as an all-night party wound-down. My father strode over, and, using his growing facility with English, quickly made fast friends with him. That man was Henry Miller.

After his introduction to the Parisian Art Scene, my father's circle of Hungarian ex-pat friends expanded once more when he subsequently met and became good friends with Ylla, who went on to become one of the world's foremost photographers of animals. In addition, he regularly attended the Saturday soirées at photographer Ergy Landau's studio. Other close Hungarian friends he rapidly made were the composer Tibor Harsányi, pianist Paul Arma, photo agent Charles Rado and Transylvanian-born Saxon painter-and-composer Henri Nouveau. It was also around this time that my father attempted to employ his literary agent skills on behalf of a physician he met by the name of Louis Destouches Céline. Initially, his efforts at collaborating and editing with Céline were successful, resulting in the publication of the first galley of what later became the wildly popular "Voyage au bout de la nuit." Additionally, he became close to the French surrealist author Raymond Queneau and his wife, Janine Khan, as well as the novelist Roger Klein and the abstract painter Jean Hélion.

In June of 1934, Opera Mundi offered to make him their London representative and sent him to London for a year. He then moved to New York City In 1935 where he got a job at his uncle Gabriel Wells' Rare Book shop. In 1938, an opportunity arose as Chief Correspondent for Opera Mundi. As such, he produced dozens of articles on contemporary life in America, which were picked up by various French magazines. During the Second World War, he joined the U. S. Office of War Information and worked as a propaganda analyst on foreign broadcasts. He soon rose to the position of executive producer of all programming beamed to France and Belgium. He subsequently was asked to add Hungarian and German-language broadcasts to his duties as well.

He met my mother, Bita Sulzberger, in 1941. They married in 1942 at City Hall in New York City. After the war, he worked as a freelance literary agent and later for the Arno Press publishing company. My parents' circle of friends by now had grown to a significant international mix of American and European artists and intellectuals. In addition to their long relationship with writer Yvette Szekely Eastman, my father often made time to check in now-and-then with André Kertész, whom he occasionally visited in his Washington Square apartment. Regular dinner parties at my parents' household often included Charles Rado, his brother Sandor, the noted psychoanalyst, and artist/illustrators Laszló Roth and Andre Dugo. Close friends for many decades also included New York City councilman and mayoral candidate Bob Low and his wife Frances. Ylla and her French art dealer boyfriend, Pierre Durand-Ruel, were frequently present, as well as old childhood friend actress Pepa Bak.

My father told me he regularly kept his fencing skills polished with Géza Róheim, the prominent Hungarian anthropologist. He spent the remainder of his life in New York City eventually passing away in June of 1998.

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Photo: Margit Molnár: Dobó family, Budapest, 1918 © Michael Dobo Collection

Gy. N.

What recollections do you have of the Hungarian photographers who were affiliated with your father? Are there any specific memories you would like to share regarding these individuals?

M. D.

My father's connection with the many Hungarian photographers he knew is still under research, but I can remember some of the details of his years in Paris and his interactions with many Hungarian artists. He was most intimately acquainted with Brassaï and André Kertész, however he also became quite close with many other notable photographers such as Ylla, Ergy Landau, Nora Dumas, and Anna Barna. We have some evidence suggesting that he knew both Robert Capa and his brother, Cornell, most likely in New York, although he met with Robert first in Paris.

Ferenc and Kertész first crossed paths in Paris in 1928 through Frigyes Littman. They soon found themselves meeting regularly. As a result, we have several photographs in the collection of my dad and his girlfriend, Dora, taken by Kertész in 1930. According to my father, these photographs were captured as he experimented with one of the latest Leica cameras at the time, taking several images that day of dad and Dora at Restaurant La Mosquée de Paris. They also frequented Café du Dôme and Café Le Select, where many Hungarian ex-pats typically gathered. There is an iconic photo taken by Kertész in front of Café du Dôme, of Lajos Tihanyi sitting with a bunch of people, one of them being Dora.

Brassaï and my father originally became acquainted in the fall of 1928 shortly after his arrival in Paris through Lajos Tihanyi, to whom Pepa Bak's family had provided a letter of introduction. Later, both my dad and Brassaï resided for a while at Hôtel des Terrasses where they secured the only two rooms they could afford. They remained in daily contact, as evidenced by several notes we have from that time, which Brassaï slipped under my dad’s door when he wasn't there. There were also the many long nights when he informally assisted Brassaï, carrying his hefty photographic equipment while he was capturing many of the seminal photos that later appeared in Brassaï's first book, the universally-celebrated “Paris de Nuit.” On occasion, he even served as a stand-in model! Their friendship, mainly in the form of a robust, trans-Atlantic written correspondence, endured until the early 1980s.

During their time together in Paris, Brassaï introduced my father to Ergy Landau, who happened to be working at that time with two other Hungarian photographers, Ylla and Nora Dumas. My dad soon befriended them too. Landau even employed his youthful good looks as a model for a toothpaste advertisement she shot in the early 1930s. They both took pains to maintain their friendship – my father never failed to visit Ergy in Paris whenever he traveled over there.

Ylla also established a close friendship with our family after fortunately escaping occupied Paris in 1940 and settling in New York. She was a regular guest at our parents' dinner parties, and my mother, Bita, also developed a strong relationship with her, which lead to her occasionally helping Ylla photograph some of her four-legged subjects. As a favor, Ylla also shot several rolls of photos of me as a stunningly handsome 2-year-old. After Ylla's unfortunate fatal accident in 1955, my father became the co-executor of her will. In the 1960s, he went on to assist Charles Rado in the re-publication of many of Ylla's books. Rado, who had earlier founded Rapho Guillumette Pictures photo agency in New York after escaping himself from Nazi Paris, also frequently was a guest around our dinner table. I even found occasional Summer employment with him at Rapho, fortuitously just as my own interest in photography began to grow.

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Photo: Unknown photographer: Paul Winkler, his secretary and Francis Dobo in the background, Opera Mundi office, Paris, 1934 © Michael Dobo Collection

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Photo: Unknown: Francis Dobo, André Kertész, Syd Rapoport, Rapoport Printing Company, New York, 1974 © Michael Dobo Collection

Gy. N.

Could you please offer more information on how your father's friendships, especially with Brassaï, and the concurrent relocation of Andre Kertész to the United States, evolved following his move to New York? How did this change in location influence the dynamics of their relationships and interactions?

M. D.

After my father relocated to the United States, his connection with Brassaï was primarily maintained through their enduring correspondence. While, they also had occasional phone conversations, the main mode of communication remained through their extensive letters. In addition, my parents frequently visited France – partly to visit my grandmother Edna, who lived in St Tropez – which was near Èze-Village where Brassaï owned a holiday home. Whenever we went to see my grandmother, it was customary to spend time with the Brassaï family as well. Brassaï was well-known to our entire family since even my uncle István and maternal grandparents had spent several summers with Brassaï and Gilberte in Eze in the 60s. If I recall correctly, my Hungarian grandparents also had an acquaintance with Brassaï. I believe they initially met in Paris during one of their visits to see my father in the 30s. My father's letters and diaries revealed that he and Brassaï spent a significant amount of time in Paris during his many visits. They often dined with old friends and had quite a social life in the City of Lights.

Brassaï made several trips to the United States over the decades. During his visits, he would sometimes stay with my parents. I have vivid memories of one such visit in 1957 when we went to Central Park for a walk, where Brassaï made some photographs of me while I played with other children. In 1968, he again returned for his first major American exhibition at MOMA and once more he again stayed with us. Most interestingly, I landed as the role of translator between the legendary John Szarkowski and Brassaï as he previewed the exhibit.

Kertész and my father resided not all that far from each other in New York City, which made it quite convenient for them to meet regularly. They also had numerous phone conversations over the many years to stay in touch. Although we don't possess an extensive collection of Kertész's correspondence, we do have some beautifully crafted postcards from him to my parents, featuring his own vintage prints. As a young child, I remember first visiting Kertész's apartment on Fifth Avenue. Later-on, in the 1970s, when my interest in photography peaked, my father and I visited “Uncle André,” (as he encouraged me to call him), on several occasions. In fact, I even had the opportunity to take a bunch of photographs of Kertész myself!

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Photo: Michael Dobo: Francis Dobo and André Kertész, Kertész's apartment, New York, 1972 © Michael Dobo Collection

Gy. N.

Your father was renowned for his keen interest in art and his commitment to amassing a collection of artworks during his lifetime. Would you kindly elaborate on the specifics of his art collection? For example, what types of artworks did he collect, were there any particular artists or styles he favored, and do any of these pieces hold special significance or stories that you would like to recount?

M. D.

The collection can be categorized into three main sections.

The non-photographic components of the collection encompass a diverse array of items, including artworks, letters, and books authored by prominent figures who were part of my father's social circle. Among these figures is Erzsébet Kertész, the renowned Hungarian writer, celebrated for her contributions to women's fiction and historical literature. Other notable individuals in this circle comprised Bertalan Göndör, Tibor Harsányi, Paul Arma, Ladislas Dormandi, George Feyer, Tibor de Nagy, Frigyes Littman, Robert Bak, Henri Nouveau, Henry Miller, Alfred Perlés, Jean Hélion, Raymond and Janine Queneau, and Roger Klein.

The second facet of this collection is comprised of personal family photographs that date back to as early as 1880. These photographs predominantly consist of family portraits and images captured by a group of diverse and talented photographers who were part of my parents' social and familial gatherings. This group includes photographers of the stature of Gyula Blattner, Károly Koller, Ede Schmidt, Olga Máté, Angelo, Dezső Rozgonyi, Boris Lipnitzki, Jay Te Winburn, Ara Mesrobian, Dorothy Wilding, Man Ray, Arnold Ghente, in addition to select family photographs taken by luminaries such as Brassaï, Ylla, Ergy Landau, and André Kertész.

The third and most compelling aspect of my father’s collection is the vintage prints, sculptures, paintings, letters, postcards, exhibition invitations, posters, original manuscripts, and books authored by Brassaï, André Kertész, Ylla, and Ergy Landau.

While it's challenging to rank the pieces within the collection by significance, there are certain items that hold a special place in my appreciation. One of which is, in my view, the exquisite sculptures crafted by Brassaï. These pieces are not merely art; they are timeless expressions of creativity and craftsmanship. The way Brassaï infused life into his sculptures…the attention to detail…and the overall aesthetic are truly remarkable. Each piece tells a unique story, drawing viewers into a world of beauty and emotion.

Additionally, the vintage prints by André Kertész date back to the late 1920s and early 1930s and contain a profound personal significance. They provide a window into an era that was instrumental in shaping the world of photography. Kertész's work during this period reflects a remarkable blend of innovation and both technical and artistic mastery. These vintage prints resonate with me on a deeply personal level, as they connect me to both the history of photography and my family's rich heritage.

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Photo: Brassaï: Michael Dobo, Saint Tropez, 1952 © Michael Dobo Collection

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Photo: Brassaï (taken with Michael Dobo’s camera): Michael Dobo, Nice airport, 1969 July © Michael Dobo Collection

Gy. N.

Can you tell me some more about your father correspondence with Brassaï?

M. D.

Well, the lifelong correspondence between my father and Brassaï, which began with their first set of letters in 1934 and concluded with their final exchange in the early 80s, offers a remarkable journey through time. What makes this collection so extraordinary is that it isn't limited to just my father and Brassaï. It even encompasses letters between Brassaï's wife, Gilberte, and my mother, Bita.

But that's not all. Brassaï also sent a multitude of postcards to my family, each one a unique piece of their own history. What's especially fascinating is that some of these postcards were handcrafted by his wife and often were themselves actual Brassaï vintage prints, turning them into valuable miniature works of art and cherished mementos. His letters and postcards weren't limited to mere pleasantries. He additionally sought my father's opinion on a wide range of topics, from book publishing to personal matters, making it clear that their relationship extended far beyond the professional sphere. The correspondence primarily unfolds in French, with the occasional inclusion of Hungarian-language fragments, adding a unique cultural layer to their exchange.

As they corresponded over the decades through letters, postcards and photographs, we witness not only the evolution of their friendship but also their shared passion for photography. Dozens of discussions about techniques, equipment and the evolving artistic trends in the field fill these pages. The correspondence not only sheds light on their professional lives but also on their personal journeys. It captures their joys…their sorrows…their travels and the people they encountered along the way. What's truly captivating is the interplay between the two families, which adds a deeply human dimension to the collection.

As we continue to research and archive these materials, we discover a wealth of insights, connecting these letters and postcards to the broader context of photography's history over the 20th century. The inclusion of letters between Gilberte and my mother, Bita, further enriches the narrative, giving us a more intimate perspective on the lives and relationships of these remarkable individuals. It's a project that holds great personal significance for me.

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Photo: Brassaï: Jacques Klein, Brassaï, Lucy Wishart, Francis Dobo, Janet Fukushima, Paris, 1932 July 14. © Michael Dobo Collection

Gy. N.

As the collection is presently undergoing research and archiving, could you please share your plans for its future?

M. D.

Our utmost priority is to ensure the long-term preservation of the collection. Since 2021, the archiving and research tasks have been carried out by György Németh.This involves employing conservation techniques, climate-controlled storage, and the use of archival materials to protect the items in the collection. Additionally, we will continue to digitize and catalog materials to mitigate physical wear and tear. As our research nowhere near complete, we are actively seeking additional materials related to my father and the photographers associated with his collection. This involves outreach to individuals and organizations with potential contributions, as well as exploring archives and private collections that could shed more light on their existing work in, and contributions to, the collection. As the research and archiving efforts progress, we are keeping the option of organizing an exhibition in mind. Such an exhibition could serve as a valuable way to showcase the collection's significance, highlight the cultural and historical value of the work of the photographers, all while hopefully exposing to a wider audience my father’s own unique cultural heritage.

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Photo: Brassaï: Gilberte Boyer, Brassaï, Bita Sulzberger, Francis Dobo, Brassaï’s studio, Paris, 1947 © Michael Dobo Collection