Time and Again

In 1984, Peter Feldstein set out to photograph every last person in Oxford, Iowa. Two decades later, he's doing it again, creating a unique portrait of heartland America

  • By Stephen G. Bloom
  • Photographs by Peter Feldstein
  • Smithsonian magazine, June 2006, Subscribe
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Amber Barker Carroll -- In 1984 on the left and a hairdresser in 2005.
Amber Barker Carroll -- In 1984 on the left and a hairdresser in 2005. (Photographs by Peter Feldstein)

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Amber Barker Carroll -- In 1984 on the left and a hairdresser in 2005.

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One sweltering summer day in 1984 my friend Peter Feldstein walked up and down the streets of Oxford, Iowa, posting fliers announcing he would take anyone's picture, free. At the time, 676 people lived in Oxford, and he wanted to make a photograph of every single one of them.

He set up a makeshift studio in an empty storefront across the street from where he lived. The first day, nobody showed up. Then some elementary-school students came by, then a retired couple, then a few more folks. After Peter photographed Al Sheets, a member of the local American Legion chapter, Sheets returned with 75 legionnaires and their families, and Peter's project took off.

He asked people to dress as they would on a typical Saturday afternoon. Clarence Schropp wore his wife's wig, and Calvin Colony brought his 300-pound pet lion, but mostly people were, well, themselves. Over three months, Peter photographed 670 people—a unique portrait of an American town, as comprehensive as any ever attempted.

Peter exhibited the pictures at the Legion hall in Oxford, and that was that. He filed the negatives away in a metal cabinet and went on teaching photography at the University of Iowa.

Last year, I suggested to Peter that he photograph the same people. Of course, many had died and some had moved away in the intervening 21 years. But most still live in Oxford. At last count, he had photographed more than 100 of them.

Peter didn’t pose them or even show them their original pictures. Yet Mary Ann Carter still tilted her head to the left, her hands cupped neatly at her side. Jim Jiras still wore his seed cap angled to the right. Pat Henkelman still leaned slightly to the left. Tim and Mike Hennes clasped their hands just the way they did before.

Many of the Oxfordians today are shorter or heavier or both. Some are stooped. Several cannot walk or breathe unassisted. Teeth are missing. At least three farmers have lost fingers. Electric smiles have dimmed. But there are also men and women in the radiance of life, exuberant, just coming into their prime.

Peter invited me to work with him. "Ask Oxford people to share their stories with you," he said. By now I’ve conducted dozens of interviews. Some people talk about religion, others about relationships gone bad. Some break down in tears, recalling incidents they had not, or rarely, acknowledged before. There is a great deal of courage in what people say. The language of not just a few is pure poetry.


One sweltering summer day in 1984 my friend Peter Feldstein walked up and down the streets of Oxford, Iowa, posting fliers announcing he would take anyone's picture, free. At the time, 676 people lived in Oxford, and he wanted to make a photograph of every single one of them.

He set up a makeshift studio in an empty storefront across the street from where he lived. The first day, nobody showed up. Then some elementary-school students came by, then a retired couple, then a few more folks. After Peter photographed Al Sheets, a member of the local American Legion chapter, Sheets returned with 75 legionnaires and their families, and Peter's project took off.

He asked people to dress as they would on a typical Saturday afternoon. Clarence Schropp wore his wife's wig, and Calvin Colony brought his 300-pound pet lion, but mostly people were, well, themselves. Over three months, Peter photographed 670 people—a unique portrait of an American town, as comprehensive as any ever attempted.

Peter exhibited the pictures at the Legion hall in Oxford, and that was that. He filed the negatives away in a metal cabinet and went on teaching photography at the University of Iowa.

Last year, I suggested to Peter that he photograph the same people. Of course, many had died and some had moved away in the intervening 21 years. But most still live in Oxford. At last count, he had photographed more than 100 of them.

Peter didn’t pose them or even show them their original pictures. Yet Mary Ann Carter still tilted her head to the left, her hands cupped neatly at her side. Jim Jiras still wore his seed cap angled to the right. Pat Henkelman still leaned slightly to the left. Tim and Mike Hennes clasped their hands just the way they did before.

Many of the Oxfordians today are shorter or heavier or both. Some are stooped. Several cannot walk or breathe unassisted. Teeth are missing. At least three farmers have lost fingers. Electric smiles have dimmed. But there are also men and women in the radiance of life, exuberant, just coming into their prime.

Peter invited me to work with him. "Ask Oxford people to share their stories with you," he said. By now I’ve conducted dozens of interviews. Some people talk about religion, others about relationships gone bad. Some break down in tears, recalling incidents they had not, or rarely, acknowledged before. There is a great deal of courage in what people say. The language of not just a few is pure poetry.

"My father said I was the most beautiful baby in the most beautiful state, so he named me Iowa," said Iowa Honn, who was born in Oxford in 1910. "I met my husband in kindergarten."

"I'm the last living of the first four American soldiers who liberated Buchenwald concentration camp," Jim Hoyt said. "Seeing these things, it changes you. I was a kid. Des Moines had been the farthest I'd ever been from home."

"I'd love to travel Route 66, see New York City, Vegas, maybe Alaska," said Tim Hennes, recalling an abandoned plan to attend college in Hawaii. "Sometimes I feel like George Bailey, the Jimmy Stewart character in It's a Wonderful Life. That trip to Hawaii was my ticket out."

"I hope Oxford is my home forever," Mindy Portwood says. "My family is my world. My brothers, my sister, my parents are my best friends."

Oxford is only 16 miles from Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa and some 62,000 people, but it might as well be 1,000 miles. Founded in 1868, Oxford was originally a mail stop for stagecoaches and, later, trains. The name, suggested by a transplant from Oxford Township, New York, was pulled out of a hat. By 1880, Oxford boasted 891 residents, five general stores, one grocery store, three hardware stores, two drugstores, three hat stores, three hotels, three churches, two newspapers, two undertakers, three physicians, one dentist, four blacksmiths, three shoemakers and six saloons. Oxford even had an opera house. On September 18, 1948, a train carrying President Harry Truman pulled into town and he gave a five-minute speech—part of his whistle-stop campaign to defeat Republican challenger Thomas E. Dewey.

Oxford's mayor, Don Saxton, says the town’s glory days are pretty much gone. There's a Ford dealership, a bank, two beauty shops, a veterinarian, three saloons (if you count the American Legion hall) and one restaurant, which opens just for dinner. Oxford's population is now 705, an increase of 29 in the years since Peter began documenting the town. Two decades is a long time. Or is it? People change. Or do they? Peter's time-lapse photographs pose those questions, and they remind us of who we dreamed we would become and who we turned out to be.


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Comments (4)

My cousin Mary Floerchinger Pourroy and I met s distant cousin Janet Lyons in Oxford on a Sunday am. We attended the Catholic chuch , with the help of the Priest looked up baptism records of our G Gramdparents Then off to find Iowa Hann who had a Floerchinger Mother. We were not able to find her. What a delight to see her here. Oxford has a special place in my heart !! Shirlee Floerchinger Meyers

Posted by Shirlee Floerchinger Meyers on August 19,2010 | 07:06 PM

I actually stumbled upone this article on accident. My family has been in Oxford for at least three generations, and I could not imagine growing up anywhere else! In fact the other day my grandma was just talking about the gentleman who took all those photos and how he had asked my aunt who was young at the time if he could take her picture and how she ran home because she knew not to talk to strangers. While Oxford may have seen better days it is still a small town full of family and friends where kids can play with their friends without having to be carefull like you do in bigger towns. I would like to thank you gentlemen for this project with pictures of people I've grown to know.
Thanks,
Breanne Potter

Posted by Breanne Potter on August 4,2010 | 03:46 AM

I discovered Oxford, Iowa, last week driving to Iowa City from Cedar Rapids. There was the large, bold arrow pointing away from the main highway. It said "Oxford."

Curious, because I live in an Oxford too, this one in south-eastern Pennsylvania, I turned into the side road and drove into town.

I discovered that Oxford, Iowa, had indeed seen better days. Like all too many small towns in America it looked weary; the people, mostly older, but nearly all, young or old, slowed and dispirited.

In a minute or so the main street turned right, climbing up a low rise, past a culvert on a small stream. As I u-turned and headed back to the highway, I noticed a small sign. It named the stream. "Rhine."

There in this bleak winter landscape in a town long past its prime was a beautiful metaphor, a river in Germany streaming through a fabled English town, not far from the geographic middle of the United States.

The miracle of E Pluribus Unum. Economies become moribund but a powerful, humane idea never dies.

Siddhartha Banerjee
Oxford, Pa

Posted by Siddhartha Banerjee on December 25,2009 | 09:49 PM

I lived in Oxford from 1978 through 1983. At that time there was a cafe that seemed to be open only occasionally, a small grocery & a couple of bars... My neighbors were friendly, a walk in the country was possible day or night, the air smelled great except when the wind blew in from the Quaker Oats plant, but the best happening in town was the sale barn. The lunches served there were pure Iowa Heaven! Did I mention that I gain thirty pounds in those five years? It's great to hear that Oxford is thriving, and retaining it's small town identity rather than turning into a suburb of Iowa City.

Posted by louise champlin on September 23,2008 | 03:43 PM

My husband Ben and I moved to Oxford 10/01/2007 via Chicago via New Orleans due to Hurricane Katrina .Our Friend's the Attias family moved here after katrina as well and introduced us to the town of Oxford .We are all opening a restaurant that will be open lunch dinner and brunch on Saturday and Sunday .It will be the only full service restaurant in town called ,Augusta.This is our dream and thank you to nice people of Oxford who have been very welcoming it will come true .We want this town to live on .We plan on our future here and are very happy to be here.Thank you Peter for your project.We are ready to have our picture taken .

Posted by Jeri Satinsky/Halperin on December 3,2007 | 03:37 PM



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