Way down yonder in…

As I made my way to New Orleans for the first time, back in 1973, I imagined what the French Quarter would be like: dirt streets, horse drawn buggies tied to hitching rails, men in high-button collars and ladies in long dresses and high button boots. Ridiculous, right? So, you can imagine my surprise when I arrived in the French Quarter and it was exactly how I’d imagined it.

The French Quarter

The French Quarter

And check out the guy with the old plate camera in the middle of the street.

So was I still asleep and dreaming, lulled into slumber by the gentle rocking motion and monotonous drone of the Greyhound bus I had boarded in San Antonio? No. It was all real. Well sort of. But something wasn’t right.


Something had the townsfolk all riled up. Some where running towards the main street. Some were running away from it. And others were just standing there, as if transfixed by what was going on.


I made my way to the corner to see what it was and then, mysteriously, the panic of a few moments ago dissipated and all these people were just walking around normally. But it wasn’t normal…because they were dressed differently. Well, almost all of them were.


Then suddenly, I saw him, striding along the sidewalk with a look of determination on his face; and everyone started running again, afraid of what was about to go down.


The man on a mission looked strangely familiar; but I didn’t know anyone in New Orleans; and I certainly didn’t know anyone who dressed like this guy. And yet, I knew him, or at least I recognized him from somewhere. Maybe I’d seen him in the bus depot. Or somewhere on my travels. Then, just when he reached the corner, he turned and…lookout! He’s got a gun.


And in that instant, I realized who he was. He was nobody. A man called Nobody. Then a shot rang out…


…and Nobody was no more.

He twisted and fell to the ground, laying there for a second. And then the director called: “CUT!”

They were making a movie called My Name is Nobody.


And that was what happened the day I saw Henry Fonda gunned down on a street in New Orleans.

One more photograph, for Lucas

One more, for Lucas

On set, with Terence Hill

And a few more for Marc

Tonino Valerii (Director)

Stefano Rolla (Assistant Director)


Unknown cast member


Maurice Kowalewski
from one photographer to another