southbeach

Looking at the largest image of the photo, one can barely make out the story headline on the front page of the Miami Herald that reads "14 Killed In Crash [of] Soviet [SST]" (bracketed terms are ones I am assuming). The story must refer to the crash of the Tupolev Tu-144 at the 1973 Paris Air Show on June 3, 1973. All six of the crew on-board the Tu-144 were killed in the crash, as were eight people on the ground in a nearby Paris neighborhood where the wreckage came down. This would date the photo to June 4, 1973, or soon thereafter.

Hi TVL1970, Thanks for your dedicated detective work on this photo! We've changed the date on this photo to reflect your finding. Keep up the good work! Mary (U.S. National Archives)

Some more potential information on the person in the photo. If the person captured in the photo is indeed the "shopkeeper," then this very well may be Fannie Reich, interviewed in the New York Times story cited below. www.nytimes.com/1972/07/09/archives/report-from-conventio... Report From Convention City— ‘The Democrats are better drinkers, but neither of them conventions are any good to me,’ says Zorita, who runs the Go‐Go Girlie Revue by J. Anthony Lukas New York Times July 9, 1972 EXCERPT: “My kids are entertainers,” says Fannie Reich gott. “My son is a musician. My daughter used to dance.” And that, she explains, is how she got into the used book business. “My son, Joey, was playing bass with the Charlie Spivak band in St. Louis. It was miserable weather and all they had to do was read paperbacks. When they moved on, my son said it was a shame to throw all those books away, so they packed them all up and sent them down to me marked ‘From the boys in the Charlie Spivak Band.’ ” Ever since, Fannie has run a store called Granny's Sundries, selling second‐hand books, used magazines, potato chips and sun glasses. And, on the side, she writes letters. “Lots of these old people around here don't speak English so well and they can't write it at all. So they tell me what they want to write in Yiddish and I translate it for them. Mostly to their kids. And the kids don't write Yiddish, so I translate their letters back the other way. “Oy, the things I read! A lot of these kids are pretty miserable to their parents. They send the old people down here to get rid of them and from then on they don't want to know from nothing. There they are, living up in Westchester County or Connecticut, rich doctors or corporation men, and their parents are down here living on Social Security or worse. “Don't think these old people are fooled. A lot of them hate their kids. But they can't stop boasting. I wrote letters for this one old man on welfare. He kept going around saying, ‘my daughter's a teacher, my son‐in‐law's a doctor.’ I told him to shut up, but he bragged to his welfare worker and they cut him off. Said if his kids had so much why was he on welfare?”

A close-up:

Another view: