Driving limousines in New York taught Kathy Shorr a lot about human nature. “Working-class guys were the best tippers,” she recalls. “They understood that the tip was going to make the driver’s day or evening. The worst were the people who had money: the more money it seemed that somebody had, the cheaper they were.” One particular man hired the limousine for the afternoon to propose to his girlfriend: Shorr bought flowers and drinks for the couple, and it took military precision, timing and coordination to get them from their upmarket brownstone building to Times Square for the exact moment a sign would appear on the billboard with her name on it, asking her to marry him. It all went off without a hitch: they got there at the right time, saw the message, she said yes. But at the end of the trip, nothing. The next day the man complained, saying the limousine was too cold.
Even more galling, because of all the strategising involved, she didn’t even get a picture of them. In 1989, as a recent graduate of New York’s School of Visual Arts, Shorr had decided to take a job as a limousine driver in her native Brooklyn to photograph the people she drove around. At first she had considered driving taxis, but the customers would have been in and out too quickly, constantly in a hurry, while driving a limo gave her several hours with her passengers. So, for nine months in 1989 and 1990, she worked weekends for a downtown limo company. “I would describe them as being on the low end of the limousine hierarchy,” she says. “Drivers had to provide liquor and mixers for their clients, and everything was a bit shabby and cheap.”
Shorr would wait until half an hour or so into the ride – assignments could last from a couple of hours to the whole day – and ask if she could take a few pictures. To her surprise, with the exception of one client, everyone said yes. When she revealed herself as a photographer, the dynamic inside the car would change. At first, they would treat her like an employee, giving her orders. “But then when I made that proclamation that I was a photographer doing a project, suddenly the guests in the car were working for me: everybody was like ‘Oh Kathy’, very friendly, and we were on the same level. You’d feel like you were no longer somebody that was going to be told what to do, you were going to be asked.”
Most journeys were festive, joyous occasions: apart from one funeral, Shorr worked on weddings, proms, sweet-16 parties. “People were in a good mood and when you’re in that kind of mood there are very few things that will fluster you. There was a lot of laughing and drinking and extending the festivities of the day into the car.” At the time, limousines were not an unusual way of getting to and from special events: for a couple of hundred dollars, anyone could feel like a celebrity for a few hours. “If you were a working-class person you knew that if you saved, you could afford a limousine if you had an event.”
Still, there was something about the limousine that fascinated onlookers. “Seeing that big white car, it was always like: ‘Oh, who’s in the car? I hope it stops, I want to see them get out’,” says Shorr, remembering the crowds that would form. “It had a cachet to it – usually when there’s a group of people that are dressed up, anybody in the vicinity is going to stop and watch, because it is kind of a spectacle.”
There were also less thrilling sides to the job. Events could last five or six hours, which meant a lot of alone time for the waiting driver. Once, with her guests deposited at a party, Shorr parked the limousine and went to the cinema on her own; at other times she watched the TV in the back of the car. On another occasion, a young couple vaguely asked her to drive through Central Park. “So I drove through the park and I remember I had The Magic Flute on and I had the sun roof open and it was a nice night and all of a sudden the car started rocking back and forth.” She laughs. “So I had an inkling what was going on in the back seat.”
Almost 30 years on, Shorr – now a freelance photographer and teacher of documentary photography at New York’s School of Visual Arts – looks back on her limo-driving days fondly. Limousines have become less fashionable, partly due to increased transport options such as Uber, partly due to the changing nature of fame. “Most celebrities drive in black 4x4 cars now,” says Shorr. “That says ‘Stay away, I don’t want to be looked at’, where with the limousine it was very much about ‘Look at me, I’m having a good time.’ I can’t even remember the last time I saw a limousine in New York.”
The photos are a document of their time: people were smoking, smartphones didn’t exist, no one was taking selfies. “Nobody was interested in giving you a sanitised version of what they were,” says Shorr. “This was a collaboration between photographer and subject.” Most of all, the photos are documents of people: the types of people Shorr grew up with, who lived in Brooklyn before it was an aspirational place to live. “I think all the people I drove had jobs that they worked hard at. They weren’t jobs that required an education per se, but these were people that did what they had to do, and they also played hard. They liked to enjoy themselves, they lived life. They knew how to have a good time.”
