Navarro in the Lava Field

In February 1943, a photographer enigmatically known only as ‘Navarro’ documented Parícutin’s volcanic destruction of a Michoacán village and church, creating powerful postcards that circulated worldwide at the time and are highly collectible now. Then, Navarro vanished from history.

Parícutin erupted from Dionisio Pulido’s cornfield on February 20, 1943, becoming the first comprehensively documented volcanic birth in human history.

The response was immediate and international. Despite World War II, the Parícutin volcanic plumes commanded global coverage. The geological disruptions of fire and lava inspired scientific awe. Life Magazine dispatched photographers. Newsreels carried footage worldwide. Airlines altered flight paths for passenger viewing. By 1947, Hollywood used the still-active volcano as backdrop for the movie Captain from Castile, employing thousands of locals as extras.

In the extensive archives documenting Parícutin volcano’s nine-year life cycle, one name appears and vanishes: Navarro. His postcard images capture the most significant moment in the volcano’s terrifying story—when lava reached the 400-year-old church of San Juan Parangaricutiro. Despite meticulous record-keeping around this geological event, Navarro himself remains a mystery.

His photographs have more than survived. When story of the events at Parícutin are retold, one always finds a Navarro image. The photographer does appear in one other place: Folder 7 in Box 9 of the William F. Foshag archives.

The Day Lava Reached the Church

Navarro’s postcards document a sequence unfolding over a few crucial days in early 1943. For the year prior, the Purépecha community of San Juan Parangaricutiro had watched lava flows advance on their small village while praying their homes, farms, and colonial church would be spared.

Despite their pleas and processions, the lava flow had accelerated beyond divine intervention. President Lázaro Cárdenas and local priests convinced most residents to evacuate, carrying sacred objects and any moveable materials to the nearby town of Uruapan. One rare slice of film shows men removing clay tiles from a building roof.

When the lava reached the church, Navarro was there to document the destruction. Black lava creeping around the church’s perimeter. Intense heat causing wooden elements to combust. Steady accumulation of cooled volcanic rock against the baroque stone façade, contrasting human craftsmanship with geological force.

Two striking images captures the church’s wooden elements on fire—ornate arched stonework and columns holding the structure up while everything else is consumed. Extending the mystery further, these two images bear exactly the same mark and style of the others, but a different name is entirely obscured. Perhaps it makes sense, Navarro and another photographer would go together. Better than alone.

Foshag and the Official Record

William Frederick Foshag of the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum led Parícutin’s scientific research and systematic documentation. A respected mineralogist and curator, Foshag had already spent his career studying volcanic minerals and processes. When Parícutin erupted, he was uniquely positioned to lead the most comprehensive study of a volcano’s complete life cycle.

Foshag arrived within weeks of the initial eruption and remained involved until the volcano’s dormancy in 1952. Working with Mexican geologist Dr. Jenaro González Reyna, he established a research station documenting every phase of development. Their collaboration produced detailed maps, temperature measurements, chemical analyses, and thousands of photographs fundamental to volcanic research today.

Navarro’s church sequence suggests either remarkable intuition, access to local knowledge, or information coming from scientific observers. The Purépecha community, drawing on generations of volcanic experience, provided crucial insights about timing and the landscape. Navarro’s ability to be there for the church’s final moments indicates he was plugged in.

Foshag’s archives reveal an extensive network of colleagues contributing to this documentation. Box 9, Folder 7 bears Navarro’s name alongside numerous other photographers, artists, and local and international contacts. It seems Foshag recognized the value of different perspectives in creating a complete record.

The official scientific documentation benefited from all the independent photography produced at the time. Their paths very likely crossed with many others at work during critical days when the lava and ash threatened San Juan Parangaricutiro.

Kodak in Mexico

The real photo postcard industry supporting photographers like Navarro was sophisticated. Entrepreneurs traveled with complete darkroom setups in automobiles, developing film and producing finished postcards within hours. They sold to tourists, sent copies to newspapers, and maintained distribution networks across Mexico and the United States.

By 1943, Kodak had established a robust business providing both cameras and materials throughout Mexico. Navarro’s postcards bear the EKC (Eastman Kodak Company) indicia and are marked Kodak Mexicana, LTD. Navarro had access to standardized, high-quality photographic paper specifically designed for postcard production. This infrastructure allowed photographers to work with consistent materials as they traveled to remote locations.

This commercial system created a parallel archive to official scientific record, prioritizing dramatic visual impact and human interest. While Foshag documented systematic geological processes, Navarro captured moments resonating with public imagination: the church under siege, displaced communities, civilization meeting unstoppable natural forces.

The quality and consistency in images suggests professional training and equipment. His compositions demonstrate understanding of the landscape and evoke pathos. Combined with his access to Kodak’s professional-grade materials, we may assume Navarro was more than a concerned observer.

History’s Mysteries

Navarro’s fade from historical records reflects broader patterns in how scientific events get remembered. Official histories preserve institutional participants while quietly forgetting the names and stories of independent contributors. This is notable with Parícutin, where local Purépecha knowledge proved crucial to understanding volcanic behavior, yet indigenous voices were largely excluded from formal documentation.

Still, Navarro gives us another chance to go there ourselves for a glimpse of those extraordinary hours. His postcards circulated broadly through the popular means of the era—family correspondence, tourist collections, commercial distributors—and are highly collectible today.

As researchers study Foshag’s extensive archives, Navarro’s name remains a tantalizing fragment—present enough to suggest significance, absent enough to resist interpretation. His postcards survive in collections across North America, carrying their maker’s vision but not his story.

This persistence of mystery tells us something about how we remember extraordinary events. While institutions preserve official records with careful attribution, the broader network of individual contributors often dissolves into anonymity. Navarro represents countless others who showed up when history was being made, pointed cameras at crucial moments, contributed to our understanding of the world, and then vanished back into the crowd.

The photographs of the church’s destruction remain powerful because they capture something beyond ecological process—the moment when human scale met geological time and a community’s sacred center became a monument to forces beyond human control. Navarro was there to see it, and that’s a chance for us to remember the event and to admire him.

This essay was inspired by Elena, Maria, and Sandy – with gratitude.

To Read More

Paricutín | Volcano, Mexico, & Eruption | Britannica
https://www.britannica.com/place/Paricutin

Paricutin – Lake Patzcuaro website
http://www.lakepatzcuaro.org/Paricutin-Volcano.html

How Volcanoes Work – the eruption of Paricutin, Mexico
https://volcanoes.sdsu.edu/Paricutin.html

The eruption of Parícutin volcano on a farmer’s cornfield, 1943 – Rare Historical Photos
https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/paricutin-volcano-eruption-photographs/

Paricutín, the volcano that fascinated the world, still captures imaginations
https://mexiconewsdaily.com/mexico-living/paricutin-still-captures-imaginations/

Parícutin: The Birth of a Volcano | Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History
https://naturalhistory.si.edu/education/teaching-resources/earth-science/paricutin-birth-volcano

What It Was Like To See A Volcano Being Born – Atlas Obscura
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/what-it-was-like-to-see-a-volcano-being-born

Garcia, Rafael, Photographs of Paricutin Volcano, 1943-1944 | Smithsonian Institution Archives
https://siarchives.si.edu/collections/fbr_item_modsi666

Michoacán: From kingdom to Colony to Sovereign State (1324-2015) — Indigenous Mexico
https://www.indigenousmexico.org/articles/michoacan-from-kingdom-to-colony-to-sovereign-state-1324-2015

Postcards, Presidents, and Perspectives

Gift shop postcards reveal how Americans get to know our presidents. Explore how pocket-sized portraits shape our understanding of leadership.

In the spring of 1865, Alexander Gardner made a series of photographs of Abraham Lincoln in a studio in Washington DC. Originally, the images were meant as source material for a later unremarkable oil portrait. Instead, one image would become a widely circulated presidential carte de visite (CDV, predecessor to the postcard) showing a contemplative Lincoln, his face bearing the weight of war.

This same series produced dozens of CDV variations, each emphasizing different aspects of Lincoln’s character – his determination, wisdom, and his ordinary humanity. These interpretations of presidential imagery etched his memory in time just after the assassination, have been reproduced in every decade since, and still shape our national memory today.

Consider how presidential postcards – those humble, democratic pieces of correspondence – have both reflected and shaped our understanding of presidential perspective and leadership. Looking at postcard collections from presidential libraries, let’s explore how these portable portraits reveal how certain leaders viewed the world and made decisions.

Memory Making in Presidential Libraries

The modern presidential library system began in 1939 when Franklin Roosevelt donated his papers to the federal government, establishing a revolutionary model for preserving presidential legacy. Before this, presidential papers were considered private property, often scattered, sold, or lost to history. Roosevelt’s innovation created a systematic approach to presidential preservation that transformed how Americans access their presidential past.

Today, fifteen presidential libraries, administered by the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), serve multiple functions: archive, museum, research center, and public education facility. Each library manages large collections of documents, photographs, and artifacts, while their museums and visitor centers help interpret presidential legacies for millions annually.

These institutions also play a crucial role in postcard production and distribution. Their gift shops serve as primary retail outlets, while their archivists and curators help ensure historical accuracy in commemorative imagery. Tensions between history, educational mission, and commercial viability shape how presidential memory is packaged and sold.

Business of Memory

The story of presidential postcards is also the story of how American trades shape historical memory. In the late 19th century, innovations in printing technology coincided with the rise of mass tourism and the establishment of the postal service’s penny postcard rate. Companies like Curt Teich & Co. and the Detroit Publishing Company recognized an opportunity, creating catalogs of presidential imagery that would help standardize how Americans remember their leaders.

The economics were compelling: postcards could be produced for less than a cent, sold for 3-5 cents, and resold by retailers for 5-10 cents. This accessibility meant that average Americans could own and share pieces of presidential history. Later, the Presidential Libraries, the Smithsonian, and the National Park Service would become major distribution points, creating a government-private partnership in historical memory that continues today.

Postcard Power

Before diving into specific presidents, let’s remember why postcards matter. Unlike formal portraits or imposing statuary, postcards serve as intimate, portable connections to our leaders. Their very format – combining image with personal message, sold inexpensively and shared widely – makes them unique vehicles for democratic memory-making.

Consider the contrast: The Lincoln Memorial presents the 16th president as a marble deity, remote and perfect. But, period CDVs showed him in numerous human moments: reviewing troops, visiting battlefields, and playing with his sons. These cards, sold for pennies and passed hand to hand, helped Americans see their wartime leader as both extraordinary and approachable.

Lincoln: The Moral Realist

The Gardner series of photographs reveals Lincoln’s moral realist perspective in subtle ways. In one popular version, Lincoln’s gaze is directed slightly upward, suggesting moral vision, while his worn face acknowledges harsh realities. This duality perfectly captured Lincoln’s ability to hold fast to moral principles while grappling with very real human suffering.

Another influential series showed Lincoln visiting the Antietam battlefield. These cards, first published during the war and reprinted for decades after, highlighted his hands-on leadership style. One image shows him speaking with wounded soldiers from both sides – a visual representation of his “malice toward none” philosophy.

Theodore Roosevelt: The Progressive Naturalist

The postcards of Teddy Roosevelt present a striking contrast. The Detroit Publishing Company’s Yosemite series showed him with naturalist John Muir in various outdoor settings, emphasizing his connection to nature and physical vigor. These images perfectly aligned with his naturalistic-progressive worldview, which saw human advancement as part of natural evolution.

Perhaps most revealing were the Rough Rider postcards, mass-produced during and after his presidency. These action-oriented images showed Roosevelt leading charges, planning strategy, and bonding with his men. They captured his belief in the power of human will to shape both nature and society – a core tenet of his progressive philosophy.

Franklin Roosevelt: The Pragmatic Experimenter

FDR’s postcard imagery evolved significantly during his presidency, reflecting both personal and national transformation. Early cards showed him standing at podiums, emphasizing traditional presidential authority. But as the Depression deepened, a new style emerged.

Fireside Chat postcards, first released in 1933, showed Roosevelt in intimate settings, explaining complex policies to average Americans. These images matched the pragmatic instrumentalism they heard on the radio – his belief that truth and reality were tied to practical situations more than abstract principles.

The photographs from Warm Springs deserve special mention. While official imagery generally hid Roosevelt’s disability, these postcards showed him in the therapeutic pools, working to strengthen his legs. They humanized him while demonstrating his experimental, solution-oriented approach to problems, both personal and political.

Kennedy: The Dynamic Optimist

The Kennedy era revolutionized presidential imagery. Color photos from Hyannis Port show the president sailing or playing with his children, emphasizing youth and vitality. But more telling were the Space Race postcards, which showed Kennedy studying rocket models or meeting with astronauts. These captured his perspective of historical dynamism – his belief that reality itself was expandable through human initiative and technological advancement.

LBJ: Larger than Life

The LBJ Library’s postcard collection reveals another perspective entirely, showing Johnson’s complex relationship with power and persuasion. The collection captures Johnson in intimate conversations with civil rights leaders and in passionate speeches about poverty, reflecting his hands-on, domineering approach to domestic reform.

Carter: The Moral Engineer

Jimmy Carter’s postcard imagery often puzzled publishers. How to capture a president who combined technical expertise with moral conviction? The “Carter and Farmers” card showed him inspecting crops, and another shows him in front of solar panels on the White House roof. These images captured his unique moral-engineering perspective – his belief that problems required both technical solutions and ethical frameworks.

Reagan: The Moral Dualist

The Reagan Library’s postcard collections reflect his clear moral dualist worldview. The famous Brandenburg Gate series shows Reagan from multiple angles as he challenges Gorbachev to “tear down this wall.” These images emphasize his belief in clear moral absolutes – freedom versus tyranny, good versus evil.

Reagan’s unique gift for communication amplified the impact of these postcards. His ability to speak in accessible language while conveying profound ideas meant that the images resonated deeply with the public. When he spoke of America as a “shining city on a hill” or called the Soviet Union an “evil empire,” these phrases became powerful captions for postcard imagery, blending visual and verbal memory in the public mind.

George H. W. Bush – Institutional Security

The George H.W. Bush Library’s postcards emphasize his diplomatic achievements, particularly during the Gulf War. These images often show Bush in military context and related to large institutions. The contrast with Reagan’s more populist imagery is striking – where Reagan is clearly a personality, Bush’s postcards frequently make the man matter less than the magnitude of his role.

Clinton’s Casual Comport

The Clinton Library’s postcard collection breaks new ground in presidential imagery, showing Clinton with his daughter Chelsea, playing with Socks the cat, and capturing his forward-looking optimism in the post-Soviet era. These images demonstrate Clinton’s ability to relate to his constituents in casual terms, mirroring what Reagan had done with conservative principles.

The Persistence of Perspective

What emerges from this look at presidential postcards is the remarkable consistency with which each President projects his image in keeping with his worldview. Whether facing economic crisis, cold war, or civil war, these presidents tended to approach problems through a lens shaped by life circumstances as much as political philosophy. Lincoln’s moral realism helped him navigate both slavery and secession. FDR’s pragmatic experimentalism served him in depression and disability. Reagan’s moral dualism shaped his approach to both domestic policy and Soviet relations.

Yet the postcards reveal the human dimension of leadership, too. Through these small, shared images, Americans see their leaders as both exceptional and relatable. The very format of postcards – democratic, portable, personal – helps bridge the gap between presidential perspective and public understanding.

Presidential Perspective and Democratic Memory

Understanding presidential perspective remains crucial today. How leaders view reality shapes how they define problems, evaluate solutions, and make decisions. The enduring power of postcards lies in their ability to capture and communicate these perspectives in accessible ways.

Presidential postcards serve as more than souvenirs. They are vehicles of democratic memory, helping each generation understand not just what their leaders did, but who they were and how they thought. As we face contemporary challenges, these historical perspectives – preserved and transmitted through humble postcards – offer valuable insights into the relationship between worldview and leadership.

Look closer the next time you are in a museum shop or visitors center. In those mass-produced images lie clues to how our leaders view the world – and how they helped Americans see it too. Perspective is about how we view problems, and also how we view ourselves as a nation and a people.