EXT. A GATE OUTSIDE A LUSH CITY GARDEN—SUNDOWN

Birds sing, butterflies flit past WISTERIA in full bloom; An old couple
laughs as they walk past with BINOCULARS and CAMERAS. CHILDREN skip and scream.

A GUARD jokes with some passerby. He stands outside a TICKET KIOSK. Inside the kiosk, a TICKET TAKER takes money.

THE CAMERA MOVES FORWARD—

A MAN, 40ish, waits outside the gate. His name is MATT. He is dressed in shorts, a t-shirt and a baseball hat. A lone CAMERA dangles from his shoulder. He has no camera bag.

MATT glances at his watch. He is obviously waiting for someone. A couple, sharply dressed, approaches. LEIGH is wearing a red dress. CHRIS wears a blazer. The three greet each other and approach the ticket kiosk.

            MATT
Have you guys been waiting inside? That’s so funny. I’ve been
sitting here without knowing you’d already gotten tickets.

            CHRIS
No problem. Let’s go in. It looks beautiful!

            MATT
Yeah, it is. I’ve shot so many portraits here over the years.
It’s one of my favorite places to do shoot pictures.

EXT. INSIDE THE GATE.

The three take their tickets and begin to walk up to the mansion and gardens. As they walk up
the path they hear a voice from the kiosk they just left.

            TICKET TAKER
No commercial photography!

The three look around until they realize the woman in the booth is talking to them.

            MATT
Excuse me? Oh, no ma’am, we’re not
doing any commercial pictures.

Matt points to his shorts and t-shirt, as if to appease the ticket taker. She appears to be mollified. He carries no bag, after all, and has only one camera. He has purposefully dressed down. The pair continue up the lush garden path, past the mansion and into the back garden. Purple wisteria beckons.

              MATT
I don’t think I’ve ever seen the wisteria so beautiful.
This is going to be a  beautiful picture!
           

           LEIGH
Wow! We’ve never been here before. It’s really gorgeous.

Matt takes the camera from around his shoulder and prepares to take his first frame. The shutter never trips.

From behind a shrub a GROUNDSKEEPER approaches. He is a stern man with no sense of humor. The "whistling" theme from Clint Eastwood’s The Good, The Bad and The Ugly can be heard. The ticket taker has obviously walkie-talkie’d ahead for backup. He appears like a silhouette in the bright sun.

            GROUNDSKEEPER  (twirling his trowel like a gunslinger)
Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

            MATT
Excuse me? What’s wrong?

Matt fingers the shutter of his camera, his trigger finger itching. If he could just get one frame off.

         GROUNDSKEEPER
We don’t allow commercial photography here.

            MATT
Oh, there’s nothing commercial here. We’re just taking some pictures like everyone else.

           GROUNDSKEEPER
We don’t allow commercial photography. You’re going to have to leave.

               MATT
But I said we weren’t doing anything commercial, sir. Just taking the same  pictures as everyone else. Why are you singling us out? Are you saying that having a nice camera disqualifies someone from entering here??
    
More Clint Eastwood whistling is heard. Tumbleweed blows into the frame. The Saloon doors bang together as townsfolk run for cover.
    
         GROUNDSKEEPER
I don’t need to explain myself. You’re going to have to leave.

         

          MATT
We’re being evicted from an English Garden? You can’t be serious.
We paid the same seven dollars as everyone else!

The groundskeeper is unmoved. He says little as he escorts the photographer and the soon-to-be-married couple unceremoniously to the street. As he leads the trio on their walk of shame, other photographers, young and old, continue to take pictures and laugh.

EXIT. FADE TO BLACK.

Well, it finally happened. After years and years of secretly shooting pictures, yours truly finally got himself kicked out of Dumbarton Oaks, one of Washington’s most beautiful estates open to the public. Located in Georgetown, just a two blocks from my old apartment, Dumbarton Oaks is a welcoming place to everyone but photographers. Professional photographers, that is. Don’t ask why, but the folks there are convinced that there is some huge photographic conspiracy to take commercial pictures on their grounds.

It’s the same dopey school of thought that the National Park Service uses to shoo professional photographers away from the monuments and Tidal Basin. The rule is basically this: anybody from Iowa wearing Bermuda shorts and carrying a camera can take all the pictures in the world, but a professional photographer shooting pictures for the non-commercial, private use of a couple who actually hail from D.C--and pay taxes--is considered persona non grata.

And why, you ask, is that dopey? Well, it’s dopey because the folks who are making these calls are simply blindly following some directive without really thinking things through. When a groundskeeper says “no commercial photography,” has he really thought about the difference between commercial usage (as in, I’m going to sell an image of Dumbarton Oaks to a postcard company or an ad) and private, non-commercial usage (as in, this photo will sit in a frame on someone's mantle)?

Treating an engagement portrait of two people (and no equipment other than a single small camera) as if it were the filming of an episode of The Sopranos is just plain silly. The end product of an engagement session is a photograph that has no commercial value whatsoever. In fact, it’s about as personal a keepsake as one could imagine. It’s like saying a school trip to visit the Supreme Court is a commercial venture because the bus driver or tour guide is a paid professional.

Like all photographers, I’m pretty good about getting in and getting out. The photographer’s credo has always been this: It’s easier to say I’m sorry than to ask permission. But this groundskeeper was good. Real good. I had finally met my match. Even though I’d followed all my rules—wear shorts, no camera bag, baseball hat—I made one huge tactical error: I allowed the ticket taker to see my 70-200mm lens. D'oh!

Usually I hide the lens inside my sweatshirt but on this day I was feeling bold. I figured the shorts and Chuck Taylors would do the trick. It was like that scene at the end of The Great Escape where the Nazi says something like “Have a good day” and the British escapee says “thank you” in English. The oldest trick in the book!

The funny part, of course, is that I’ve shot at least 150 jobs inside Dumbarton Oaks in the last decade. Kid portraits, engagement portraits, you name it. There was even that time we snuck in a wedding dress through the back gate and did a bridal portrait. Nah, I’m just kidding about that last one. Or am I? (Relax, Dumbarton folks! I’m just kidding. I think.)

After our perp walk, I took Chris and Leigh a few steps away, to neighboring Montrose Park, where the foliage is free, and got some beautiful pictures. We laughed the whole time, thinking of how we had been reduced to criminals by our constant gardener friend.

To his credit, the unsmiling groundskeeper at Dumbarton Oaks was just doing his job and we were desperately trying to fib. He wasn’t rude at all, unlike certain church ladies at nearby Christ Church, the unhappiest place in Washington to get married, visually speaking.

Anyway, I’m sure our photographs now hang on the wall of the ticket kiosk at Dumbarton Oaks, like some “Wanted!!” poster from the Old West. Maybe someday they’ll reconsider their silly policy. I mean, 150 times seven dollars (the number of times I’ve paid the entrance fee over the years) equals $1,050, which is probably $1,043 more than most people have ever spent at Dumbarton Oaks. And as Alexandra, the hospitality director at nearby Evermay will tell you, I can be a pretty darn good ambassador for all things Georgetown. Don’t treat the very people who can make your venue look absolutely beautiful like the enemy.

If the powers that be actually thought things through, instead of sticking with their silly rule, they could actually make even more money. Charge professional photographers a seasonal fee and let people enjoy the gardens. And if they're afraid of too much commotion, there’s no reason why they wouldn’t be able to limit any kind of shoot to no more than two people, as well as no additional lights or equipment. I love Dumbarton Oaks and would never want to see it desecrated in any way. Just one camera, like everyone else. (I'm not even suggesting they should even open things up to a bride in a dress. I can see how that could be distracting to other nature lovers. But an engagement portrait? Come on!)

Well, I have to go the costume shop right now to get fitted for my glasses and nose disguise. After that I have to meet my parole officer. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy some of the photos I’ve taken at Dumbarton Oaks over the years. Just don't tell anyone.

Matt