Story and Photos by Nick Bredimus
He drove his new Cadillac convertible from Darien CT to our suburban home in Oakland, New Jersey. “Cameron” (my father always called him by his last name which is another story) had customized this big-fin boat of a car by removing the fins for a smooth tapered rearend. What young boy wouldn’t be impressed by a man who had both money and style? Cameron had visited our home before, but this trip made a lasting impression. He was a published author and a professional photographer. This guy had class! While our father and Cameron drank French wine and reminisced, I dreamed of my life as a grown-up and being just like Bob Cameron. It would be many years later before I would see him again. It was in 2002 that I would visit Cameron in his Penthouse apartment in San Francisco.
I mentioned that Bob Cameron was always referred to as just “Cameron” in our household; the reason being our father’s boyhood friends from Des Moines, Iowa. Three of them were named “Bob”. In the Black and White photo below, Bob Cameron is on the right. Bob Wormhoudt is on the left smoking a pipe. Our father, Bob Bredimus, is the second from the left. So, those are the three “Bobs”. Owen Kinnard is next to Cameron and his parents had the good sense to not name him Bob.
As an adult, my Dad, Robert Bredimus, often corresponded with his old friends. Kinnard lived in Manhattan which was an easy drive from Oakland. Dad also traveled to California to visit Cameron in San Francisco, and Wormhoudt in Fullerton. My travel benefits from airline employment allowed Dad to travel free or at a reduced fare. His buddies thought that was pretty damn cool. By the time I reached out to Bob Cameron, he was 91 years old. Our father had passed away, as had Kinnard and Wormhoudt. My visit with him was all that I had hoped for. Here was my role model, alive and well at the ripe old age of 91, and even more prosperous. I told him how much I admired him and how he had influenced my own dreams for success. “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” said Theroux. In a smoking jacket, what an impression he made. Offering wine and displaying old photos, he spoke to me for hours. My nine-year-old self nodded in approval as he mentioned his memories of growing up in Iowa. His tales of travel to Paris with Dad at age twenty echoed my own travel adventures at that age.
Cameron (Cam), Kinnard, and our father (Bred) sailed to France in 1930. Cameron filled me in most accurately about that trip. Bob Wormhoudt gave the three world travelers what money he had when seeing them off in Des Moines. I believe RLB, RWC, and OYK made the crossing from New York to Le Harve on board the M.S. Lafayette of the French Line (Compagnie Générale Transatlantique). I believe that they returned on board the S.S. De Grasse, also of the French Line. The cuisine devoured on those two voyages would probably have made Francophiles out of most Americans of their era, let alone the 6 months adventure they shared in touring France.
The sailing was during prohibition, and the boys were drunk and seasick in a winter crossing. Cam recalls his seasickness with Dad’s camera swinging on a hook. Cameron continued: “Orange juice tastes the same going down and back up. We went to France to study Sociology (Lab work)”. It was 250 Francs to the dollar in 1930 so they drank every day, all day.
Dad spoke and understood French. They saw Pablo Picasso at the next table in Paris cafe Deux Maggot. A Communist came in looking for a handout. Picasso sketched his ‘peace dove’ on a napkin and said “here’s some money”.
They took the train to a Casino in Cap Entebbe; Lost all their money. Dad was 21 and had the only passport for entry. He went in and passed his passport back to Kinnard who passed it to Camerson. They had a system to break the bank but lost it all. Cams father (A dentist in Des Moines) sent him money to come home and Cameron lost that, too.
He recalled that Dad stayed the longest in France. Poppy (our grandfather) was so mad he couldn’t see straight so Cam had to borrow money to send to Dad.
My brother, Mike Bredimus, also spoke with Cameron. I’ve used Mike’s notes and mine to research the Bredimus family in Des Moines. Dad filled our young brains with visions of Paris and it was wonderful to revisit those memories with Bob Cameron. Cam was a remarkable man and I was blessed to know him.