LeRoy W. Henderson, Jr., born in Richmond, Virginia, in 1936, is a celebrated American photographer renowned for his documentation of social and political movements from the Civil Rights era to the present. Growing up in the Washington Park neighborhood, he was influenced by his experiences working odd jobs for local artists, including Adele Clark, a prominent painter and suffragist, whose studio inspired his creative pursuits. At the age of twelve, he purchased a Brownie Hawkeye camera, which he used to photograph model airplanes he had built. After graduating from Maggie Walker High School, he continued his studies at Virginia State University, where he received a bachelor's degree, and continued his studies at the Pratt Institute, where he earned a master’s degree. He also attended the School of Visual Arts to study photography and film.
In the 1960s, Following military service in Germany, where he worked as a cryptographer, Henderson returned to the U.S. and dedicated himself to photojournalism. Influenced by photographers like Gordon Parks and Walker Evans, he sought to produce work that not only represented events but also told the stories of the individuals involved. Throughout his career, Henderson captured key moments in Black history, such as the Poor People’s March on Washington and antiwar protests in New York City, and photographed influential figures such as Stokely Carmichael and Muhammad Ali. With these and other images, Henderson often provides a unique perspective that highlights the human experience.
Henderson’s work gained wider attention when he contributed work to The Black Photographers Annual in the 1970s. Since then, his work has been widely published in magazines such as Black Enterprise, Essence, Jet, Newsweek, and New York magazine. Henderson’s work has been shown in many one-person and group exhibitions, including the landmark exhibition Road to Freedom: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement, 1956-1968, organized by the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. His photographs are held in several prestigious collections, including the Art Institute of Chicago, the Brooklyn Museum, the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, and the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.
Henderson’s career spans over five decades, and his work continues to offer a nuanced reflection of American society’s struggles, hopes, and resilience. His images reflect his dedication to visual storytelling, embodying the spirit of the era and the stories of those often overlooked. As he has said, “Most of us, we’re not looking for photographs as we walk around. But my motivation as a photographer and an artist is to be able to see the things that other people don’t see.”
TEXT BY LEROY HENDERSON BELOW
LeRoy Henderson, Self-Portrait, c. 1965
The following text by LeRoy Henderson is drawn from a conversation between Henderson and Michal Raz-Russo (programs director at The Gordon Parks Foundation) that took place on April 2, 2025. The transcript has been edited for length and clarity.
I didn’t start as a photographer; I didn't even know what photography was when I was a kid. I was a young boy, in grade school, and I was drawing. That was my thing. But then I discovered something that at the time I didn't even realize was related to photography: A magnifying glass. In the hallway of the house where I grew up, we had a glass window in the front door. One day, I just happened to hold a magnifying glass up to the wall, and by manipulating it at a certain distance—tilting it back and forth—I discovered I could project an image of the front door on the wall.
In my hometown, we had a newspaper that periodically ran beautiful photographs just as a way of showcasing photography. I used to look at those and admire them. My interest in photography evolved to the point when I was about 13, I decided I wanted to get a camera take my own pictures. I had some odd jobs, saved a little money, and I bought myself a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye camera. I played around with that camera, taking pictures of family and just familiar things. By the time I was a teenager, I developed into my interest in photography enough to with to a more complex camera, one that had bellows. I was so fascinated by that camera I would open it up, put it up on top of the piano in my living room, and just look at it.
One of my other hobbies was making model airplanes, and that led me to a photography project: I made a model of a P-51 Mustang, a World War II era airplane. And I had a big piece of plywood in my backyard, and I put the airplane on it to make it look like it's on a runway. I then put my Brownie camera down on the plywood next to the model, to make it look like I took a picture of a real airplane. And that was just the start of it— I wasn't really pursuing photography much, just playing around with on that level. At that early stage, I wanted to study art.
LeRoy Henderson, Spanish Harlem, New York, 1965
I got into a Junior High School that had an art class, but it was not in my curriculum. Fortunately, I found out who the art teacher was, called her at her home number because she was listed, and told her that I wanted take her class. And she told me that if the principal would allow me to change, I would be welcomed in her class. So fortunately, the principal of the junior high school was a good friend of my father. After I made it known that I wanted to get into the art class, the principal came up to my classroom one afternoon and escorted me out of the class I was in to the art class. The teacher of that class I was taken out of protested because it was a course that I had to take. And he told her, don't worry about it, it'll be taken care of. I got into the art class and I loved it. I continued studying art through high school, drawing and painting landscapes and still lifes—I would try and replicate other work that I had seen. I also did art for the school newspaper and yearbook. I adored my art teacher in high school, Mrs. Coleman. When I finished high school, I enrolled in Virginia State University in Petersburg and majored in fine arts education in college—I wanted to be an art teacher.
After I finished my undergraduate studies, I wrote the draft board and told them I'd be interested in upping my draft call time. I spent my summer in D.C., and that fall I joined the army. During basic training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, I was assigned to be a squad leader, which afforded me certain freedoms that I enjoyed. I passed all my tests with flying colors, and was picked to do advance training in cryptography. In 1960s, I was assigned to go to Stuttgart, Germany and work as a cryptographer in military intelligence. I was with a small team housed at an old German military camp; I could see the Mercedes-Benz plant from the window in my room.
I spent considerable time learning German while I was there. I also had a camera, and occasionally I would take photographs of the local town. I began to observe the locals, and I would photograph them—people hanging out around the fountain, children playing, and so on. When I had the chance to travel, I would photograph and even sketch all the places I saw—the countryside, an orphanage outside of town, the river running through Amsterdam. I also learned how to process and develop film at the local Service Club, which was a club that had all kinds of recreational activities.
LeRoy Henderson, Anti-War Rally, New York, 1967
I came back to the U.S. in 1961, just as the civil rights movement and anti-war movement was picking up steam. I was offered a teaching job back in Richmond, but I decided to go back to graduate school at Pratt Institute in New York. I earned my masters, got a teaching license, and started teaching fine art at two junior high schools and one high school in Brooklyn. But my heart wasn’t there. I had to get out of the classroom, and I decided to pursue photography. Around 1963, I enrolled at the School of Visual Arts, and majored in photography. I’ll never forget when I went in for an interview to be admitted into a class, the professor, Ken Heyman, looked at my portfolio and said, “you could probably make good advertising images, but I don’t think you’ll make a good photojournalist,” but I decided to take the course anyway. Whenever we’d bring our work in for a critique, we would lay the prints out on a table and he would walk around. And every time he got to my photographs, he turned them face down. But that didn’t stop me. I also took courses with individuals including Norman Rothschild and David Vestal. They were all inspiring.
By the mid 1960s, I began to think about how I may get some work out of my photography, and so I put together a portfolio, went to different places, and met people who gave me a range of jobs. One of those people was of the things that helped me too was I made a good connection with Gloria Steinem. Gloria introduced me to the president of the Bedford Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation, a community development organization that helped businesses grow in Brooklyn and was very much involved in housing preservation and renovations. They hired me as the company’s photographer, that really got me moving. I would photograph all kinds of community activities, building construction, and so on. One of the guys who worked there, left at some point to go work at Brooklyn Union Gas (now National Grid), and he got me a job there as a freelancer, covering events.
As I was getting these jobs, I became very aware of the fact that I had to photograph events that are happening in my time. I found all of the events surrounding the anti-war movement and civil rights movement exciting, and I wanted to capture them. That’s how I wound up at events like the first anti-war march in New York City. And as I photographed these events I was very aware of my art background in terms of choice of composition and so on; I owe a great deal to my early art training. I also became aware of photographers such as Robert Frank, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Gordon Parks. I met Gordon in 1969 at a screening of the movie Z at Lincoln Center. Gloria Steinem was there, and she introduced me to Gordon.
LeRoy Henderson, Coretta Scott King and her Children, Yolanda, Nartin III, Bernice, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Solidarity Day, Poor People's Campaign, Washington, D.C., 1968
After Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, in the spring of 1968, the Poor People’s Campaign organized protests in Washington, D.C. One of the big rallies they held was called Solidarity Day. I had connected with Cornelius “Cornbread” Givens, who at the time was the head of the New York chapter of the Poor People’s Campaign, and he gave me a press pass.
On Solidarity Day, I photographed the rally on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on Solidarity. That's how I got that photograph of Mrs. King and their children, and so many other important figures that were there that day: Andrew Young and his family, Vice President Hubert Humphrey, Senator Jacob Javits, and others. I also photographed Resurrection City, which was an encampment built by the Poor People’s Campaign on the Washington Mall. I just had to get those photographs. None of those photographs were published at the time. I knew that this was something important. I had to be there, I got there, and I was there.
Around that time, I started getting various photography jobs: I was still photographing for Brooklyn Union Gas; but I also took photographs of events at the Brooklyn Museum; I did personnel portraits and photographs of events for the State of New York Mortgage Agency; and I took portraits for an organization called A Better Chance, which helped kids from poor neighborhoods get into the top prep schools in the country. I remember going down to Virginia for a local film production company, to shoot various pictures of Black domestic workers. One lucky shot I got was while I was on the Amtrak train on my way south. I just happened to be in the dining room with my camera, and I grabbed a shot of a Black man waiting on a group of white individuals. It was just a lucky shot.
LeRoy Henderson, Rosa Parks at the Black Political Convention, Gary, Indiana, 1972
One thing after another started happening, and most of the time it was through simple personal connections. I began to meet other photographers who were shooting like me, including Anthony Barboza and Adger Cowans. But more than anything, I wanted to capture things that were happening in my times, and I used to carry my camera with me at all times. I was constantly looking for something, and ready to shoot when I found it. And so photographing became routine, it became a part of me.
One of my favorite photographs from that period is of Rosa Parks looking at a poster of Malcolm X at the Black Political Convention in Gary, Indiana in 1972. Richard Hatcher was the mayor of Gary at the time, the first Black mayor. That picture was taken at a school in Gary, where they had a big area for vendors, and one of them had a table with posters. Ms. Parks just happened to be there—she was walking around and not a lot of people recognized her, but I did, and I just had to take that photograph.
Shirley Chisholm was another favorite. I took a picture of her in her storefront office when she first ran for Congress in 1968—She’s sitting there with the phone up to her ear, waiting to get news about how the election was going. And then I have another photo from when she announced running for president in 1972. That year I also photographed Angela Davis at Madison Square Garden, at a rally held in her honor after she was released from jail. She gave her speech behind an improvised bulletproof shield. I remember there were protestors outside the Garden that day.
LeRoy Henderson, Protest against Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., Abyssinian Baptist Church, New York, 1970
One of the most difficult photographs I took was of a woman at a protest rally against Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. at Abyssinian Baptist Church in New York. She had a handwritten sign that read “Down with Adam,” and some guy came by and punched her. I caught a picture of her crying afterwards. You can tell her pain in that photograph.
When I think back, one of the most influential things that made an impression on me early on was that my grandmother had a stereoscopic viewer. And she had historic images you could view with it—war scenes from World War I, images of strife and turmoil. I have no idea how she acquired them. She was a domestic worker, and one of the families she worked for may have given it to her. But seeing those stereoscopic images and remembering them later in life inspired me to take the photographs I took, to report on the events I was witnessing.
Gordon Parks’s American Gothic (1942) also inspired me later in my career. In the 1990s, I took a picture of a country preacher, Reverend Macintosh, and his wife in front of Bethel Baptist Church, down near Fredericksburg, Virginia. The way I posed them, I thought about Parks’s Ella Watson’s pose in American Gothic. I also have a picture of my maternal grandparents standing in front of their house. They’re standing close together, and my grandmother has a bouquet of flowers, and my grandfather is standing there with his cane looking right into the camera. With both of these photographs, I think what drew me was that these simple individuals agreed to capture a moment in their lives that was important enough to capture. And it was like every man.
Throughout my career, I was pleased with what I was shooting and grateful for the kind of things I have photographed and the situations I've been next to. Whenever I was shooting, I had complete faith and I love what I’ve captured. I always knew that all I had to do is keep doing what I'm doing.
