My Final Chance?: Tracking Down North America’s Last Color Photobooth in Upstate New York
Another 5am start to drive across the border, another one in New York State.
Carellos arcade in Sylvan Beach, NY, is home to the last public colour photobooth in North America. I’d heard rumours of it, but with paper and chemical stockpiles dwindling, I had assumed it has stopped some time ago. Thankfully I was wrong, and David replied to my emails in July letting me know the chemicals and paper he had would last til the end of this season, and hopefully next.
We emailed back and forth for a few days, throughout which he sent plenty of test shots and tidbits about the booth, and we decided on a day I could visit.
So that was it. There was no way I was waiting until next year (I mean, how could I, really) so I broke the news to my husband that when we got back from Zurich I’d be driving to Syracuse and he’d be taking the kids.
I joke here, because I’ve married the most supportive and equal partner I could imagine, and after 8 years he’s just not phased by my impulsiveness.
We arrived back to Canada, took a few days to unpack, breathe, (and of course visit the bank to get a health stack of dollar bills) and realized that I didn’t magically cure my grief with Switzerland - so made my plans for this next booth trip.
The Saturday rolled around I made sure the baby was fed and handed over to my husband, this trip was going to be a much longer day than the last one so along comes the breast pump and a red solo cup for my makeshift pumping on the go setup. It was 26° outside while still pitch black, today was going to be a hot one and all I could think about was the test strip David Carello had sent me a few days before with his t-shirt wrapped around his head! I was in for nothing short of a sauna experience in these booths. Pray for me.
I was treated to the most glorious of sunrises on the highway as I approached Niagara, which I chose to read as a good omen for the day, and arrived at the border crossing earlier than planned.
Again, the border agents seemed friendlier than usual- another good sign.
Now, the next part of this journal entry gets frustrating for the reader - my first stop of the day is in a small town upstate, but I can’t talk about it yet! So let’s put a pin in the first half of this and circle back later? Ok, great.
I finish up at the first stop much later than planned, coupled with the fact I’d definitely taken more of a scenic route to avoid tolls and highway traffic. I was a little flustered, and it was getting warmer. The drive was broken up by rest stops and having to pour out the milk I was pumping in the car (TMI? apologies)
I had told David I’d be there right as the arcade opened, not only so I had plenty of time in the booth before I had to face the long drive home, but also that I had plenty of time to talk to him in person.
As it neared 2pm, I finally pulled up in the shoreside parking lot behind the arcade. The beach was packed, it is the height of summer after all, and I was lucky to find a spot.
I headed straight for Carello’s and I’m not going to lie, my eyes definitely started to water as I laid eyes on the double booth combo at the side of the carousel.
My white whale, el diablo, Shangri La, holy grail of a booth. After losing my one true love at Fred Aldous, (sorry Rick) I genuinely thought my days of colour booths were over and had mourned them appropriately.
But here I was on a sweaty Saturday in Sylvan beach - gear in hand, ready to get some colour strips. Heaven.
Purchased in 1991 by David’s father, Larry, this booth has been in the same place ever since. Larry had struggled to secure financing as a small business to buy this booth directly from Auto Photo Systems in New York, so his daughter Patti agreed to Co-sign the agreement.
$8000, including delivery - we could only dream of a deal that good now. David was beaming as he talked about his father converting it from its original 53mm format, or the time he paid for a technician to fly out from Texas to teach him how to handle the mechanics (the pictures of whom are still proudly on the display signs on the booths).
When Larry passed away in 1996, David was thrown into the deep end and learned how to run them, and has been taking care of the two remaining booths at the arcade ever since .
Of course I was predominantly here for the colour Model 21E, but that’s not to say I wasn’t also just as excited to use the arcade’s black and white booth too, a classic Model 21 with iconic signage. (They previously owned a Model 12, but felt two black and white booths was excessive and sold it soon after they purchased the second model 21 in 1998, citing keeping the one with the “cooler” sign )
David will recount the people that have previously made a pilgrimage for just the black and white booth, and he has been told several times that it takes the best black and white photos of any booth - and he’s definitely not wrong.
I made a start with the black and white booth, with its classic blue curtain, and tried not to melt in the heat - it was at about this point I remembered I had brought the portable fan we use for Vinnie’s stroller and was impressed with the 5am version of myself that packed the car.
It was also at this time I’d had an email from David asking where I was, so I popped my head out and waived! We chatted briefly before I carried on with my poses and made my way over to the more colourful twin to the right.
I came prepared. I wasn’t going to let what could quite possibly be my last time in a colour booth be wasted, so I’d spent a small fortune on fabrics to bring with me for backgrounds to make the most of it.
I had rainbow tie dye, some 70s retro wallpaper, and what can only be described as swimming pool? This was it. I cycled through them and practiced my poses, it was just pure joy.
As usual, I interrupted my routine to make sure I let other people use the booth as they appeared - which lead to the most lovely encounter.
One mom and her teenage daughter were waiting, so I offered to leave up my swimming pool background. The younger sister, who was about the same age as my son, seemed disappointed she didn’t get a turn. So, I asked their mom if it’d be okay if I paid for her strip. I explained that the booth might not be around for much longer, and this might be her only chance to get a color photostrip. Mom agreed, and I was thrilled.
I love the idea that in 20 years she might be looking back at that strip, with my silly little background, when colour booths have ceased to exist.
By this point I had finished with my backgrounds, suitably overheated, and was starting to be conscious of the time (although let’s be honest I could quite happily stay here all day, despite the heat) so I wrapped it up and packed away my supplies.
Once again I’d really failed to take any videos of myself, or pictures of me sat in the booth, because I let the shyness of being in a public setting get the best of me. I need to work on that.
I went over to talk to David and his lovely wife Lisa - who’s pictures fully adorn the outsides of both booths at various stages in their relationship (including a few of David as a small child from other booths in the state).
I convince him to jump in the black and white booth for a strip - after all I already had a small collection of his test strips in colour.
When we were done he leads me through the arcade to a back storage room to show me a plethora of keepsakes he has collected over the years. The original bill of sale signed by his sister and Larry, old manuals for the original Model 12, and some colour test cards for the colour booth.
He hands me a sliver of cardboard from the packaging of the last ever colour roll of paper he has for the booth as a souvenir - he figured I’d appreciate it and he was absolutely right. We talked about my mum, and how I came to start this project, and what my aspirations were for it in the future. He showed me old signs that he’d previously put up for the booths, his boxes of spare parts for the cameras, and photographs of when Carello’s was originally a hot dog stand in the 1890s, and I was just blown away both with his kindness and generosity.
I told him I’d be back next season (this time with my family in tow) and he sent me on my way with a Carello’s staff T-Shirt and baseball cap - part of the team.
I cried most of the way home.
