Bendell is Determined, Low Key, But Gutsy

At a synagogue luncheon, following a program that featured congregants describing experiences for which they were grateful, the rabbi asked if anyone in attendance had anything remarkable to mention. Florence Bendell raised her hand, and, from her chair, announced in a clear voice (without a microphone), “I have celebrated my 99th birthday, and I’m still working!”

Naturally, everyone turned to see this woman, and cheers of “Mazal Tov!” and “To a hundred and twenty!’ erupted throughout the room.

Interacting with super-agers provides an opportunity for those who are younger to learn. It’s instructive to hear the story of someone who has been resilient through the highs and lows of almost 10 decades of life. Meet Florence Bendell, who spent many years working as a successful photographer, the majority of time running her own studios in New York. Although she was proficient in all areas of photography, she was best known for creating portraits. Her expertise in maximizing light and posing her subjects were her specialties.

“I attribute my working success to my childhood,” Bendell asserts. “Nothing was given to me; I’m a May baby, a Taurus. I’m determined! I’m low key, but I’m gutsy!” Growing up in a settlement house on Manhattan’s Lower East Side (Broome Street and Delancy Street), Bendell loved spending time at the neighborhood youth center with kids of different ethnicities and religions. She excelled at physical sports. At the age of 14, she won a scholarship to a well-known dancing studio, and she performed as a tap dancer. She played the drums in her high school orchestra and even won a table tennis youth championship.

She married in 1945, and she and her husband, Mike, had two daughters. The family’s budget was very limited, yet Bendell’s gutsiness often created opportunities. She was determined to earn enough money to send her daughters to summer camp. Mike worked developing professional photographs in a fashion house darkroom, so he had access to a good camera. Bendell had a bold idea.

From the bungalow colony where the family was staying for the summer, Bendell went to visit a nearby camp, Lake Anne, in Monroe, N.Y. She met with the director and asked to look at his latest camp photographs. She was dismayed to see pictures of squinting campers standing in front of a white building, and their individual shoulders blended into one sea of more white as the sun hit them directly. Bendell intuitively understood that the camp photographer did not consider the effect of direct, glaring sunlight on the campers. She would pose the campers in the shade with a green background.

With no experience and no pictures to show as samples, she offered to take the camp pictures that year. She convinced the director that her camp photos would be better than in previous years, and he agreed to give her a chance. “That’s the moment I became a photographer!” she laughs. Bendell was unfamiliar with Mike’s 4×5 newspaper camera and its sheet film; Mike loaded the camera for her, and they developed the film in a home lab.

Bendell was helping Mike finalize the camp order when the camp director called asking her to photograph the end-of-camp theatrical performance. Her mother answered the phone and accepted the job on the spot without asking her. “After that,” Bendell continues, “the pictures were so successful, I was hired by 12 other nearby camps!” Bendell was now a sought-after professional.

In the early 1960s, while looking in the window of a photography studio she admired, Bendell was invited in, and she met a woman sitting with the owner. Florence and her family were living in Rosedale, Long Island, at the time. Their conversation led her to be invited to a Photographers Association meeting on Long Island that met monthly. Many of the members submitted photographs for monthly judged competitions.

When she became a member of the Professional Photographers Association, Florence entered the monthly competitions, and she was a consistent winner. Her entries at state conventions also garnered first place wins with every entry. This acclaim led to an offer by a non-photographer to open a photography studio in partnership with her. He found an empty store in Woodmere, Long Island, and showed the landlord samples of Bendell’s work. The partnership deal fell through, but once again Bendell’s gutsiness came into play.

It was 1971. Bendell knew she couldn’t afford the rent or equipment by herself, so she nervously approached the owner of the empty store at his home, explaining her situation. He took a wad of bills out of his pocket and handed it to her, saying, “Go on in, and turn on the electricity,” welcoming her to set up a studio. He explained, “I want you in my store; I know that you are good. Pay me back in 20 years!” Bendell was overcome, and as tears ran down her face, her new landlord asked, “By the way, what’s your name?” When Bendell left, she looked in her hand and found $500; she was now able to set up a studio. She kept that first studio for eight years, but by then she needed a larger studio.

The new studio opened in 1979. It had a darkroom, a reception room, and a conference room. She designed the studio herself and — for easy access — she created a clever filing cabinet with drawers for her negatives; one side opened in the conference room and one side opened in the reception room. The rooms were separated by a wall centered by the cabinet. Bendell was in California in February on a big assignment when she got a call that her studio was on fire. Everything was gone, except for the equipment she had with her in California and most of the negatives stored on the conference side because the water from the fire hoses in New York’s frigid February froze that side’s drawers and preserved them. The studio had been open only one year. Miraculously, no one was in the studio at the time of the fire.

In 1981, Florence opened her third studio in Lynbrook, Long Island, on the main stretch of Merrick Road, and the family took an apartment nearby. Her stamina had weakened. While still running her studio, in the early 1990s, she had a powerful “wake-up” experience. She’d been hired to photograph a wedding, but she felt too fatigued to shoot it. She managed to successfully complete the work, but she knew she should seek medical help. Bendell finally closed her studio in 1993.

She weathered several significant medical challenges, yet she loved her work; she decided to re-focus on home portraits. In addition, under the title, Portraits by Florence, she ran seminars for professional photographers.

No doctors could determine what was ailing her, but she knew she was not OK. She recalled listening to a homeopathic doctor years earlier who gave a lecture in a Long Island park. The lecture had piqued her interest and impressed her. Bendell’s accountant told her about a Japanese woman who had expertise in herbal cleansing. The woman performed an unconventional, hands-on, full-body examination and, after finding cysts, she declared, “no meat or dairy — just vegetables; eat only brown rice for two weeks. If very, very hungry, a little fish at night.”

That was the start of Bendell’s journey to good health, and she looked for more guidance and support. This led her to Dr. Christopher Gian-Cursio, the prominent naturopath, researcher, author, and nutritionist. Surprisingly, it turned out that Dr. Gian-Cursio was the lecturer Florence had heard years earlier in the park. For the next 12 years, she visited him once a month and followed the “menus,” which he tweaked every visit as her health improved. Bendell’s stamina and joie de vivre began to return (friends noticed it quickly), and she learned to love healthy foods. She started making her own vegetable juices and blended salads. She read books by the pioneers in the naturopathic movement, and she continues to learn.

So, what’s the secret that endows Florence with sparkling, clear blue eyes (she doesn’t need glasses, except for very small print)? She has ease using a computer, and her quick thinking and amazing memory are fully evident. She does not attribute her spunk and longevity to genes; she attributes these qualities to being an avid juicer. Bendell notes, “I love living with confidence, contentment, and ability to handle stress, all because of the food going into my body.” She adds that consuming juiced food is “like getting a health transfusion.” Her ebullient personality and youthful mien underscore the efficacy of her regimen.

Florence, a great-grandmother, moved to Atlanta six years ago to be close to her daughters, Sherry Hertzberg and Michelle Ashley, and their families. Her husband, Mike, had passed away in 1989. She left her furniture in New York, but of course, she brought favorite photographs, her camera, and the professional-grade juicer and nut grinder with her. Florence now works in Atlanta. Most recently she shot an album of photos for a local family’s three-generation celebration. Bendell welcomes new assignments and has examples of her work to show customers. Call her at (516) 343-4456 and leave a message.