George Tames

George Tames (January 21, 1919 – February 23, 1994) was an American photographer for The New York Times from 1945-1985. As a newspaper photographer, Tames was a regular on Capitol Hill over a span of forty years.

Born in Washington, D.C., Tames was a first generation immigrant of Greek - Albanian descent who couldn't speak English when he went to school. He dropped out of high school in the tenth grade, and took a job as an officeboy in the Washington bureau of Time-Life to help out the family.

His career in photography began in 1940 in Washington D.C. Tames went with the Capitol Hill photographers on assignments and eventually photographed individual members. He photographed meetings of the Truman Committee. He developed access to and captured the likeness of numerous members of the United States Congress, and had his work reproduced in many influential publications. He developed a style contrary to the "herd instinct" of press photographers, demonstrating his artistic eye, sense of place, and special intimacy with his subjects.

Married to Frances Owens (1921–1996). Children: Chris, Pamela, Kathryn, Stephanie, Michael

Tames took countless Washington shots, but (by his own admission) is particularly remembered for one, "The Loneliest Job," a photograph of President John F. Kennedy.

President Kennedy's iconic stance staring down at the table in front of him is all the more fascinating insofar as Kennedy was actually reading a copy of Tames' paper, The New York Times. Tames recalled later that Kennedy was reading a column by editorial columnist Arthur Krock on the table in front of him by the window of the Oval Office.

Tames' daughter, Stephanie, recalls in an August 2010 essay for Salon the story of this enduring and iconic photograph by her father:

"By the way, the morning my father made the picture of JFK at the window, the president was reading the Times. He had gotten to the editorial page. My father said, 'He looked over and he saw me. He hadn't been aware that I took that picture from the back, but he saw me when I moved to the side there. He glanced over at me, and he said: "I wonder where Mr. Krock gets all the crap he puts in this horseshit column of his." Apparently he was much upset about Mr. Krock's column that day.'"

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