New York City in the late 1960s and 1970s was a period of profound instability. Jean-Pierre Laffont, who arrived from France in 1965 to build a career, found himself navigating the city as an independent observer. By 1969, he had become the first foreign correspondent for the Paris-based Gamma Agency, yet he maintained a focus on self-directed documentary projects rather than following standard assignments. But soon found myself working alone, i’d moved there from France in 1965 with a reporter friend and a plan to start a little agency.
In 1972, reports in the New York Times concerning brutal gang activity in the Bronx caught his attention. Newspaper stories detailed how local gangs were executing drug dealers who targeted neighborhood youth, often leaving bodies on the pavement beneath five-story walk-up apartments. Among the groups involved, including the Dirty Dozen and the Savage Nomads, the Savage Skulls were considered the most formidable and dangerous. Reading the New York Times in 1972, I would see stories about gangs in the Bronx that were killing drug-pushers who targeted young people in the area. The police would find their bodies on the kerb at the bottom of five-storey buildings they’d been thrown off.
Seeking to document their reality, Laffont enlisted a French cameraman for safety and drove to Fox Street in the Hunts Point area. Upon encountering the gang, the photographers established that they were not interested in conducting interviews but merely observing. The members, surprisingly receptive, welcomed them, famously stating, “If you want just to look at our life, you’re welcome.” Laffont returned alone the following day to continue his documentation. We stopped and wound down the window and they immediately came over wanting to know who we were, as soon as we spotted members of the gang on the sidewalk.
The Savage Skulls lived in a structured environment defined by their basement club, where they stored weapons and played music. Much of their social life unfolded on local basketball courts, though they rarely played the sport, preferring to engage in spirited, feline-like mock fighting. During a moment of spontaneity, Laffont asked to photograph them; the members gathered near a fence, showcasing their signature sleeveless denim vests adorned with painted skull-and-crossbones motifs. The youngest members were barely 13, with the oldest reaching around 20. Especially at night, but I enjoyed taking pictures of everyday life around me, it could be a dangerous city. They also spent a lot of time on a nearby basketball court.
Despite the gang’s reputation, Laffont maintained an easy rapport with them, noting that they often spoke Spanish, which allowed him to communicate in limited English as a fellow outsider. Police officials had warned him against expecting protection, yet on one occasion, the gang engaged in a friendly interaction with officers from a passing patrol car, an encounter Laffont captured on film. He did not meet the gang’s leader during this period, as the chief was hospitalized after sustaining a gunshot wound to the abdomen.
The legacy of these images resurfaced decades later when a woman contacted Laffont to identify a family member in one of his photographs. Upon learning that the woman in the image—a mother—had recently passed away, Laffont provided prints for her funeral. This interaction served as a poignant reminder to the photographer that these individuals were no longer the children he had captured on film in 1972.
Jean-Pierre Laffont, born in French Algeria in 1935, was awarded the title of Knight of the Order of the Legion of Honour in 2023 for his six decades of dedication to photojournalism. His work, including “Jean-Pierre Laffont: Rebels with a Cause” published by Damiani, reflects a career defined by intense observation and curiosity. He encourages modern photographers to study the masters, maintain humility, and recognize the enduring importance of the craft in a constantly evolving media landscape.
