Joe Lyer would photograph kids in the studio, at their homes or schools, or outside — wherever he could capture the best shot. I believe this is the Crystal Shrine Grotto in Memphis Memorial Park.
Dear Vance: When I was a baby, I had my photo taken at Tiny Tot Studio. Was this a national chain, or a local outfit? — H.B., Memphis.
A Tiny Tot Studio portrait of H.B. when he was a tiny tot.
Dear H.B.: Now that’s a cute baby! I’m glad you saved such a sweet photograph. Of course, the Lauderdales have maintained a treasure trove of family daguerreotypes, and when I was younger (and better looking) I vaguely recall sitting for European sculptors and painters — a long and tiresome process, let me tell you. As it turns out, you could also have a painting made at Tiny Tot Studio instead of a photograph, but — well, I’ll tell you the whole story.
The children’s portrait business operated by Joseph and Mabel Lyer (pronounced “leer”) wasn’t part of a chain, but a company they started themselves, working at first out of their own home. Joseph’s family was originally from the Czech Republic, but sometime in the early 1900s, when the boy was only 3, they came to America and ended up in Nebraska, where they established a successful farm.
“My grandfather wanted a new life here,” says Patti Cashion, one of Joseph and Mabel’s two daughters, “but my grandmother disliked America so much that she refused to learn — or even speak — English.” One of her prized possessions is a fragile family Bible, written entirely in Slavic.
photograph courtesy of the Lyer family
Joe and Mabel, probably taken when they were living in New Orleans.
Born in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1920, Joseph originally spelled his name “Josef” but Americanized it when he was still young. Most people just called him Joe. For that matter, Patti says the family name was originally spelled “Ljer” or even “Lher” before they came to America, but “somehow it got changed to Lyer during the immigration process.” At some point, the family moved to Council Bluffs, Iowa, where they continued to farm and even produced their own wine from grapes grown on their property. When the Second World War started, Joe joined the Navy — an interesting choice for someone from the Midwest, rather far from the sea. While stationed at the base in Pensacola, Florida, doctors confirmed he was color-blind, a problem at a time when ships still used color-coded flags to signal each other, so spent the war years in the ship-building division.
While stationed at Pensacola, he met his future wife. Mabel Irene Smith was born on a farm in Pelham, Alabama, in 1925, one of nine children. Her parents, Charles and Lillian, moved to Seville, Florida, sometime in the late 1930s. A few years later, they moved to Panama City, at that time a sleepy Gulf Coast community. In ways that no one seems to remember, she encountered Joe and they quickly fell in love. They married in Panama City in 1943, and when the war came to an end, moved to New Orleans.
photograph courtesy of the Lyer family
Joe and Mabel Lyer.
In the Crescent City they met someone who taught his new friends two valuable skills: photography (as you might expect) and magic. “I don’t know his full name,” says Patti. “My parents always referred to him as Red.” At any rate, the Lyers would blend those talents together when they moved to Memphis in the early 1950s. The decision to move here was made for purely practical reasons. The Lyers had no previous connection with Memphis, but Patti explains, “My father still had family in Iowa, and my mother had her family in Florida, so they looked on a map and decided Memphis was halfway between both places. They would visit her family one year for the holidays, and his family the next year.”
Once they settled in Memphis, they quickly made use of the skills they had picked up in New Orleans. “My father just adored children,” says Patti, “so he constructed a portrait studio in the backyard of our home, using the ship-building skills he had learned in the Navy.” The Lyers lived at 2166 Piedmont, in the Jackson/Vollintine area north of Rhodes College. At first, so the family story goes, Joe and Mabel — known to friends and family as “Honey” — would keep the toddlers entertained with magic tricks. They would make objects seem to disappear, or pull a live rabbit out of a hat, while Joe snapped the shutter. Later, he became so proficient with working with kids — taking pictures at schools, kindergartens, daycare centers — that they put aside the magic act.
Most photos were taken at the studio, but sometimes Joe would travel to the kids’ homes, or even take portraits outside, as you can see here — whatever the clients (or their parents) wanted. Mabel concentrated on the business side of Tiny Tot Studios, taking care of the accounting and marketing, and she also began to incorporate her artistic skills.
photograph courtesy of the Lyer family
Joe and Mabel Lyer at a costume party, probably hosted by the Tennessee Press Photographers Association. They made many friends after moving to Memphis.
Joe always photographed the children in black-and-white, his preferred medium (perhaps as a result of being color-blind). In the early days, Mabel would develop the negatives and touch up the prints. But if a family wanted a color portrait, she would hand-color the original image. What’s more, if anybody preferred an actual oil painting, she wouldn’t ask a restless child to sit, motionless and bored, for hours and hours. Instead, working with photographs taken by her husband, she would produce an oil painting of the subject. Her specialty was what Patti calls the “Madonna pose,” with a mother holding the child in her arms.
Tiny Tot Studio became so successful that sometime around 1965, the Lyers opened a complete studio at 744 South Highland, a former red-brick residence along the Highland Strip. That was a busy location. Neighbors on that same block included an optometrist, a chiropractor, a hamburger joint called Sandy’s, Walton’s Esso, Kessler’s Texaco, and two Memphis State fraternity houses. Telephone directories show Tiny Tot Studio also maintained its original location on Piedmont during this period, staying there until the late 1960s, when the Lyers moved to a more spacious home on West Crestwood, in the Yorkshire Forest neighborhood of East Memphis.
Judging from Patti and sister Pam Jordan’s stories about their parents, and newspaper articles retrieved online, the Lyers remained very active in Memphis society from the 1970s through the 1990s. When Commercial Appeal columnist Mary George Beggs wrote about cocktail parties, Mardi Gras galas, the Liberty Bowl Black Tie Dinner, or events organized by the Good Times Social Club, Joe and Mabel Lyer were often included “among those attending.” Both were members of the Cotton Carnival krewe Sphinx, and one year members crowned Joe king. They also became friends with fellow photographers in town and joined the Tennessee Professional Photographers Association. Joe, in fact, served as the treasurer and later president of that organization and was also elected portrait vice president of the Memphis Photographers Association.
photograph courtesy of the Lyer family
Joe and Mabel in the 1990s.
Sometime around 2000, they closed the photography business, but for the rest of their lives, they took part in Variety Club parties, the Ava Maria Guild, St. Joseph Circle, and activities centered around the Church of the Holy Spirit. Joe passed away in 2013, at the age of 92. Mabel died in 2016, at age 90. Both were laid to rest in Memorial Park.
Their children remained in Memphis and did well. Both attended Holy Rosary and graduated from Immaculate Conception, two years apart. Afterwards, the oldest, Patti, served as director of compensation for Smith and Nephew, the medical device firm. Sister Pam is a nurse practitioner at Regional One.
I think that’s all I can tell you about Tiny Tot Studio, H.B., but I believe I answered your question. Now, I’m taking a summer break to head to New Orleans. I want to look into the intriguing photographer/magician the family knew only as “Red.” After all, if it weren’t for him, Tiny Tot Studio might never have existed.
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Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis Magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
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