By James Russell
The office is sparsely decorated, the space of a woman who is still in the process of moving in. Ghosts of the office’s last tenant still linger in the two rooms that comprise it: jerry-rigged lighting assemblies; a large, faded photograph of men shoveling snow; bits-and-bobs that hide in the shadowed recesses of the studio portion of the office.
This is a place pleasantly haunted by Bret Gustafson, who chronicled the history of the college for 31 years. But the chronicling of its future rests in the hands of the woman sitting behind the desk of LIB 142.
At the age of 15, Susan McSpadden, the college’s new administrative photographer, needed an elective for high school.
“I chose Photography, and haven’t put a camera down since,” she said. “I was a shy, introverted kid and photography was a way for me to express myself differently and to put myself into situations that I wasn’t confident enough to get into on my own.”
Born the daughter of a career Army man in Ft. Knox, Ky., McSpadden life was one characterized by change. Moving every two to three years until she graduated high school, it was not easy to consider anyplace home.
In 1988 she entered the University of Kansas to pursue her degree in photojournalism, and graduated in 1994 with many of her core classes taken here at the college. So where does she consider home?
“I claim Kansas City,” she said. “I’ve been here since ’94.”
After graduation McSpadden entered the professional world as a photographer and photo editor for The Kansas City Star, a job that would span eight years and play a large part in molding a young, timid girl into a woman confident in herself and her abilities.
But feeling the change in her confidence and skills wasn’t enough for McSpadden: she wanted to see it in action. She left The Star to pursue a freelance career, to test what she thought she was capable of.
The move to being self-sufficient was a big leap for her, and a scary one. It was after a year of flying solo that the realization, “This is working. I can do this,” entered her mind and it was then that McSpadden knew she would make it.
Fast-forward ten years to the office situated in a back hallway of the college’s library. It is now Susan McSpadden’s. The personal touches that will come to characterize the area are thus far minimal: beside the desk is a grouping of personal family photographs taped to the wall. The shelves which stand nearby are crowned with antique cameras salvaged from what was left by the room’s predecessor. In front of the desk which dominates the room are not the usual separate chairs reserved for visitors, but instead two movie theatre style seats bolted to a carpeted piece of what is presumably wood. This is a place that resonates with a personality yet to be fully realized.
But it is the woman behind that desk that is the room’s most distinctive feature.
“One of the coolest things about photography, when I started out and even now, is just the ability to capture the essence of a person and capture their personality through an image,” McSpadden said. “The passion and the challenge is still there to capture people at their best and to really show off emotion… capturing that peak moment that really tells the story of the event.”
McSpadden is still a quiet, reserved person. The remnants of the shy girl she once was still exist, tempered now with experience, confidence, and maturity. She speaks softly and thoughtfully, exuding the aura of a woman who knows just who she is.
Administrative photographer is a job that demands not only time and dedication, but also passion. Julie Haas, assistant vice president, Marketing Communications, said McSpadden possesses the traits necessary for the position.
“Susan’s skills are exemplary,” Haas said. “We think she is a wonderful addition to the marketing communications staff.”
Taking over for someone that has been such a huge part of this institution’s history are shoes seemingly hard to fill – Gustafson wore those shoes for over 30 years – but as will always be the case with the passing of time, things must change and batons must be passed. This particular baton seems to be in good hands.
“At the end of my career, at the end of my life, I hope that people who knew me and worked with me will say, ‘She always did it well,’” she said.
Contact James Russell, reporting correspondent, at jrusse24@jccc.edu.