TRIBUTE by JOE RINAUDO:
I was greatly saddened by the news of the death of my friend David Shepard. It is a loss for his family, friends, film preservation and to all people, young and old alike, who love the art of film. His loss to the film community will be felt for generations yet to come.
David was not only a good friend but my mentor, adviser, and fellow film collector whose passion can only be described as a “calling.” It is unimaginable to think of a world without a person such as David. I first met David when I bought a 16mm Blackhawk print from him at a film convention in the early 1970’s. A few years later David had heard that I had a Photoplayer and asked if he might use it for musical accompaniment for one of his video releases. I jumped at the chance to work with David and to be involved in film preservation—it was a dream come true!
David Shepard is the unsung hero who always would lend a print or do a show for free if it meant entertaining and educating the audience at the same time. He would drive great distances and bring his 16mm projectors to do these shows, not asking for anything in return other than the great joy these shows would give his audiences. It was this kindness and the want to share the film experience with younger audiences that gave me the inspiration to do, what I call, 16mm “kiddie” shows at local primary schools. To hear the young children laugh at the films, of long forgotten and unknown comedians to them, is a unique experience I shall never soon forget.
In 2000 I went to a friend’s house that had a 35mm hand crank projector. I was so fascinated by the mechanics and the beauty of the 35mm image that I asked if I might crank a reel or two. At 2:00 a.m. , after I had cranked 20,000 feet of film, they had to pull me away from the projector! I was hooked! I purchased a projector which I had to do a complete restoration on and found some old 35mm sound film and began doing 35mm hand crank demonstrations in my driveway.
In October of 2002 David asked me if I could do him a favor. Would I hand crank two shows at the Silent Movie Theater with Bob Mitchell playing the music for the film. This would be for the 100th anniversary of George Melies’ Trip To The Moon! So there I was with my assistant Gary Gibson dressed in full costume as itinerant projectionists cranking out two silent film shows for David as he read the copy aloud for “Moon.” After the last show David said: “Keep the print of Trip To The Moon as a gift for the help you gave me.” Hell, I would have paid him for the opportunity! It was these two shows that gave me the inspiration to recreate itinerant projection motion picture shows. David and his business partner Serge Bromberg (of Lobster Films) have always let me borrow and helped me find and/or purchase 35mm silent films to be used in my shows for the education of new audiences.
We have done some two hundred 35mm hand crank shows since that first one at the Silent Movie Theater. We have appeared at museums, colleges, schools, churches and regularly at the Nethercutt Museum spreading the art of the silent film, all thanks to David Shepard.
Serge Bromberg has the spark and passion to carry on David’s work. Serge is a true lover of film. Serge and David have saved so much film and then have made it accessible to the public through their videos that it is a great honor to have been able to work with them when they have asked me.
How do you sum up a man’s life and work in a few paragraphs? I don’t think that it is possible with David Shepard’s life. What I do think is possible is to carry on his passion for the art of film and to share it as much as possible as he did so well, so it may never be forgotten.
David, I will never forget you. I will know that when I hear young audiences laugh, cheer or scream with joy at a film that is being shown because of you, my heart will swell with pride for knowing you. May GOD forever bless you.
Sincerely,
Joe Rinaudo
Below, film archivists and historians Serge Bromberg, Leonard Maltin and Kevin Brownlow on DAVID SHEPARD: AMERICAN FILM PRESERVATIONIST, a film tribute to Shepard on Monday, November 7, 2016 at at Loew Auditorium, Dartmouth College:
This tribute appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.
Dave and I were friends in the 1960s in Philadelphia when we were both at Penn. He was at the Annenberg School and he made such a charming little documentary film about childrens’ games as his student project. I wonder if he ever showed it to anyone later on. He and I would chat for hours. He had few friends then and we would talk on and on about our shared passion for silent films. We both knew some of the Old-Timers. For instance, I knew Anita Loos and one of my great pals (despite decades of age difference between us of course) was Homer Croy, who wrote that book about D. W. Griffith which was full of errors (oops!), who wrote THEY HAD TO SEE PARIS, and various Will Rogers films. Prior to meeting Dave I had befriended that elderly actor whose name I am trying to recall, who was Dave’s mentor and who left him his huge collection of silent films in his will when he died. He got Dave started and encouraged him, and I do believe that without that early encouragement from boyhood on, Dave might never have become such a HUGE CULTURE HERO and have done all the MAGNIFICENT things he did. I am writing this on December 15, 2018, because it was only today that I discovered that Dave had died in 2017 of cancer. (I read about it in a Penn alumnus magazine obituary column.) I have lived abroad since the 1960s and am totally out of touch with the USA scene, though my passion for the cinema continues unabated and I am what IMDb calls a ‘top reviewer’, though I have stopped since they were bought by Amazon. I am very, very sad about this news. Dave was such a good pal, a sweet sweet person, a good solid idealist, and I really mean it when I say that he was a hero. A CULTURE HERO of our time. Dear Dave, I hope you are still watching movies on the Other Side. Your friend always, Robert
Joe, Wonderful event tonight at The Academy. Your cueing at the style 41 was great! I have been around theatre organs all my life. I had no idea how versatile the Fotoplayer was, not some quaint contraption. As I mentioned, I have a Wurlitzer version which, when installed in my Fresno house, was used frequently for silent films. That unit is a restored pile of parts in my garage looking for the right home, my home, to again romp in and do its job.
Well written Joe! David’s passion for silent film continues, as you have been inspired and continue to inform and entertain people of different generations. That love for silent cinema has touched the lives of many people and will continue to be discovered thanks to David’s work, your work and others.
Thank you so much for your very kind words. I hope to see you at one of my shows. Please feel free to share my website. Thanks again, Dennis.
David H. Shepard, 76, has passed. Inoperable cancer. I remember his chilling words a decade ago when he said the cancer would probably reoccur. So it did. There isn’t enough paper to document all the stories, all the film preservation, all the lives he changed, including mine. It is too hard to write even these few random thoughts, so I wouldn’t try to explain who he was, what he did, what he meant to so many for so long. In my case, half a century. All the places he’s lived, all across the country — I’ve been to most of them. The last being Hat Creek, CA: “My charming log house among fast-flowing waters,” he’d say. The place was isolated from civilization. He liked that. In 1973, in Davenport, IA, he bought a remote farm that reminded me of the crop-dusting scenes in NORTH BY NORTHWEST. That made David an easy target for thieves who famously carted off 800 treasured films when he was away. They took a keepsake that meant a lot, the camera Karl Brown gave him, the one Brown used when he filmed THE BIRTH OF THE NATION. Arrests were made months later. Then David sold the farm and moved into town. Driving his Jeep. His whole life he loved driving Jeeps. During our Blackhawk Films, Inc. days, we would always go to lunch at Kent Eastin’s favorite place, Bishop’s. I think David respected the founder of Blackhawk more than any other person. I can never forget the one day at lunch when Mr. Eastin argued that THE BIRTH OF THE NATION was racist. David countered with all his passion to the contrary, and was really hurt when Eastin was not persuaded. The Blackhawk building had been constructed as a brewery in 1857. There were tunnels underneath it to store beer kegs. The tunnels proved to be ideal for storing film. Mr. Eastin was the world’s pre-eminent railroad buff. Trains rumbled by the building just ten feet away, vibrating windows, all day long. He loved it. We’d be in a production meeting, and all business — concerning the latest Fox Movietone release, or the next half-price sale — would be suspended until the train passed. David and I would look at one another and smile every time. What fun we had there. Before the Civil War, slaves fleeing to the North would disembark from the trains and hide in those tunnels….I think I can name a dozen of the dogs David so loved through the years — beginning with Baruschka in the late 1960s. In recent years, he had focused on rescues or dogs with medical issues, like Bailey, his Shih-Tsu. “Most of the canines I care for are seniors,” he’d say, “since I probably don’t have a puppy’s lifetime left in me.”…Those early Cinecons were so great, and he was always there. This is an enormous loss to me, and to so many in the film community. We worked together for three golden years at Blackhawk Films. Then there was all the good times we had in New York when he’d visit in his job with the Director’s Guild. Much later here in LA he wanted me to be one of the “associates” when he formed Film Preservation Associates, along with his ex-wife, Kim. But I was working for the Hal Roach Studios copyright proprietor in the Eastern Hemisphere, and they said I couldn’t serve in both capacities. Later still, at a Cinecon in the early 1990’s, passing through the dealers room, I introduced David to Hugh Hefner. Then as I did so, I realized and said I was introducing the man (Hef) who bought Blackhawk Films, Inc. (the shares) to the man (David H. Shepard) who purchased most of the company’s assets, at least the key assets. Neither knew the connection. Anyway, I can’t get started telling stories. David was complicated, a man of contradictions, and the smartest person I ever knew, or knew of. It was no surprise to learn when I met his younger brother that he’d earned I don’t know how many PhDs from places like MIT. David kidded about his own ABD, his All But Dissertation on History of Art. His undergrad degree was in Philosophy and Religion, which ought to surprise some! David was never a denizen of Facebook. “One of the wonders of the internet is that it’s a totally open forum,” he said. “The world’s greatest expert — or greatest idiot — is free to post. I wouldn’t dream of being put on the defensive by anyone’s rant. Besides, I’m too busy turning more souffles into bricks.”…Can’t say any more. Too painful. …RIP ~ DHS
Thank you, Richard. David had quite a special wit. He will be truly missed.
Thank you Joe for a very moving tribute.
Thank you, Mark.
Joe, I’m sorry to hear you’ve lost a long-time friend and mentor. But you know, you have been stepping up to that position yourself, taking people under your wing and giving live demonstrations and speeches. You are now, as your upcoming documentary title states, The Mentor.
Thank you, Chaz. Your loyalty and friendship through all the years has been a great inspiration. Your help with the title restorations is second to none.