Imet Ti­mothy White about eight years ago on a char­ity mo­tor­cy­cle ride, and we hit it off im­me­di­ately. “You should let me shoot you,” he said, some­where along the ride. I started to laugh a lit­tle and turned away. “What?!” Ti­mothy came back, press­ing me. I ex­plained I’d been shot at enough in my life­time in the Marines, and I just had to gig­gle when he of­fered to shoot me— for free none­the­less! We both laughed for a few and then he straight­ened up and said, “No, man, I’m se­ri­ous though. Let me shoot you!” I gave a quick smirk and we burst out in laugh­ter again. Hell, I’m smil­ing as I write about it.

Lit­tle did I know at the time that not only can this guy shoot, but he’s the shooter. Ti­mothy has pho­tographed just about ev­ery­one. From as­tro­nauts and ac­tors, ass­holes and co­me­di­ans, tophat-wear­ing gui­tarists and sax­o­phone play­ers, to mod­els, politi­cians, Blues Broth­ers, and Su­per­man, Ti­mothy re­ally has pho­tographed our life­time. His archives are in­con­ceiv­able and go on, and on, and on. The likes of the Smith­so­nian, The Acad­emy of Mo­tion Pic­ture Arts & Sci­ence, and a litany of gal­leries through­out the world seek out his work be­cause of his pedi­gree.

The list is over­whelm­ing, but here are just a few: Dennis Hop­per, Den­zel Wash­ing­ton, In­dian Larry, Har­ri­son Ford, Dr. Dre, Eric Clap­ton, Guns N’ Roses, Howard Stern, Ge­orge Clooney, James Brown, Donald Trump, James Gan­dolfini, Jay-z, Jerry Lee Lewis, Me­tal­lica, Michael Jack­son, Mick Jag­ger, Neil Si­mon, NWA, Oliver Stone, Oprah Win­frey, Pee-wee Herman, Phil Collins, River Phoenix, Robin Wil­liams, Roy Or­bi­son, Reese Wither­spoon, Cindy Craw­ford, Spike Lee, Sylvester Stal­lone, Tiger Woods, The Rock, Tom Cruise, Tom Hanks, Tom Jones, Tom Berenger—hell, he’s shot all the Toms. I’m telling you this list is end­less.

I re­ceived a phone call a few years back from Ti­mothy, and as soon as I picked up he said, “V-rod, what do you know about them?” I’d ridden them a few times but I’m a lit­tle awk­ward on them be­cause I’m 6-foot-2, but I can tell you the Screamin’ Ea­gle V-rod I sad­dled up on was a light­en­ing bolt. Be­fore I could fin­ish an­swer­ing his query, he busted in with, “I just bought one from Har­ri­son Ford and it has like 300 miles on it. It’s so fast. I love it.” Now I just needed to get him out from wear­ing the skid lid he con­stantly put on. He was in Socal now, where all the drivers are ei­ther smok­ing a J or tex­ting on their phones. I’ve tried talk­ing him into a 3/4 open-faced hel­met or even a Simp­son, and he just scoffs at the idea. Skid lid, full-face, or no hel­met, what I’m driv­ing at is Ti­mothy can ride like the best of them.

Early on in his ca­reer Ti­mothy worked for Rolling Stone mag­a­zine where he be­gan shoot­ing his im­pres­sive ros­ter of mu­si­cians. That con­tin­ued on into not only ac­tors and celebri­ties but also some of the most rec­og­niz­able movie posters of this gen­er­a­tion. For more than 30 years Ti­mothy has had his fin­ger on the pulse of what and who is hip in our cul­ture, and be­cause of that he is one of the most sought-after celebrity pho­tog­ra­phers.

If you are look­ing for Ti­mothy’s work, you don’t have to go far. It can be seen 24/7 at the Mor­ri­son Ho­tel Gallery at the Sun­set Mar­quis in Los An­ge­les, or you can check out his web­site at tim­o­th­y­white.com. If you are look­ing for Ti­mothy in per­son, more than likely he’s split­ting lanes on Sun­set Boule­vard on Han Solo’s Vrod or on his chop­per af­fec­tion­ately known as “The Rolex,” built by In­dian Larry of course. Just look for them New York plates, baby. HB

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