April 26, 1967 Aristoteles Sarrikostas, the iconic Greek photojournalist for the Associated Press, had already received a phone call from Chief Hurmouzis of King Constantine’s press office the day before. He was informed that he was to cover the inauguration of the “national government” of the conspirators on 21 April.

Approaching the side entrance to the palaces of Herod Atticus, two armed soldiers stop him at the door. “Where are you going;” they ask him. “I’m an Associated Press photographer and I was given permission to photograph the king,” he replies. “Which king? Now we are in command,” the captain objects.

With confirmation “from within” – and suspicion – and after his persistence, he is allowed into the palaces for the famous photo with “sullen and sullen Constantine”, as the late former king liked to say, trying to show his displeasure at the inauguration of this government under the Greek crown. “This is not my government,” Konstantin said when the Americans pressured him on a 1967 trip to the US to talk about the dictatorial government installed in Greece.

“After entering the famous staircase of the palace, the military and politicians of the dictatorship already began to gather,” recalls Aristotle Sarricostas in a conversation with K. “Immediately after that Konstantin arrived. He seemed very surly to me, and I was impressed by his grumpy style,” says the legendary photojournalist.

When the photo shoot was over, they signaled “we’re done” and everyone quietly left.

“I didn’t know any of those who lived under the dictatorship,” he continues the story. “However, since I had to send a headline to the Associated Press – there was no other choice – I contacted the press office that the junta set up on Zalocost Street, which also had a pre-dictatorial press ministry. I show them a photo and ask them to tell me who is who. And what did they do? They filled in the photo with numbers written in marker, and below them they wrote everyone’s names. I sent two photos to the Associated Press, one blurred and one clean,” recalls Aristotelis Sarrikostas, who mentions he was responsible for each photo: “I took them, showed them, edited them, wrote the captions, sent them. they are all me.”

Following the Greek royal family

The photojournalist has maintained a good, professional relationship with the palace for 40 years in a row, as for the royal family, foreign agencies were a means of international relations. Aristotle Sarricostas accompanied the Greek kings on most of their tours of the territory.

“We are somewhere between 1965-66. Constantine tours Northern Greece and inspects the troops. In parallel, military exercises were held. When it was time to go to bed, they informed the king, who was in the tent during the excursion, that he would sleep here – on a cot. I don’t need to tell you about his excitement about sleeping backstage,” says Aristotelis Sarrikostas.

“During another tour, in Rhodes, somewhere in 1966, among other things, Konstantinos was supposed to perform in the central square. The fact is that the people did not gather, and this photographically embarrassed the king. We were not to show, at the suggestion of his people, that he was alone. And yet, a colleague took a photo that was widely distributed in the Greek press. All the photojournalists who accompanied the tsar on the trip underwent a “sacred interrogation” of Constantine’s associates in order to testify to the photographer. None of us spoke,” he recalls.

One of the most vivid memories of Aristotle Sarrikostas is connected with how he accompanied Konstantinos and Anna-Maria to Corfu in 1965, on the eve of the birth of Alexia. He brought all the equipment with him from Athens and, having arrived in Corfu, settled in an underground workshop to do his work. “We were gone for a week until the queen gave birth. One week turned into two, and then into three, since Anna-Maria did not say to give birth. Until Konstantinos put her in an open Mercedes and drove her to… shake her up and speed up the delivery!” recalls the great photojournalist. “Despite all that, we had a great time in Corfu,” he adds.

In fact, until the Greeks and foreign correspondents organized a football match in uniforms and shoes borrowed from the local team. “Suddenly Konstantinos appears and says: “I will also play, one half with those and the other with others”, and sends someone to find him a pair of shoes and suitable clothes. In fact, we did everything we could to make him score. Of course, most of the time, instead of looking at the ball, we had cameras in our hands to capture the moments,” Aristotelis Sarrikostas tells us, who managed to persuade Konstantinos himself to take a walk in Aiolou. “He was influenced, I think, by the liberal spirit of the Danish Anna Maria,” he adds.

“He was awfully kind to us. When we were waiting for a photo, he came himself or sent someone and asked if we wanted a sandwich, water or juice. In fact, no one from the royal family usually told us how and what to photograph. Fredericky, however, every photograph in which she was, requested on behalf of her, Mrs. Voorloomis, that I send it to her.

Deal with dictatorship

Under the dictatorship, Aristotelis Sarrikostas had a relatively volatile collaboration due to the Associated Press, as the colonels were unlikely to get along with the American agency.

He also remembers his first special meeting with George Papadopoulos shortly after the inauguration of the junta government at the press ministry. “No one entered Papadopoulos’ office, except for his colleague Leonidas Floros. At that time, the director of the dictator’s press office was Vradini journalist Ilias Malatos. In the first days of the coup, an American admiral was supposed to visit the country, who asked for a meeting with Papadopoulos – neither the prime minister nor the leader of GEETHA. But they wanted to send photos from the meeting abroad, and Leonidas Floros did not have the opportunity to do this, so he invited Malatos to help them. While we were waiting for them in the lobby, Papadopoulos appears, and for the first time I see him without a uniform – after all, he still has a portrait of Constantine and Anna Maria hanging on the wall. He was chatty with me – and, perhaps, cheerful. When the admiral shows up, I give them instructions and tell them how to set it up. When we’re done, I start to leave, but Malatos stops me. “When you show me, come, I will choose the best one,” he tells me. I react and take out the film, give it to him and tell him “take what you want yourself.” “I offended you;” asks me. “Well, a little,” I answer him. He returns it to me, telling me to send anyone to the Associated Press, and since then, with the exception of Floros, I have also been the one who could enter Papadopoulos’ office.

On one occasion, however, Bouboulinas threatened him with a “trip” for sending the photographs to the agency without being seen by the censors appointed by George Papadopoulos as Minister of the Press – before, of course, he was also treated to coffee. As you know, everything that was to be published – inside the country and abroad – had to have the seal of censorship. He was indeed arrested twice, but was immediately released according to his status.

“40 wonderful years have passed – I say I didn’t retire, but took a vacation,” says Aristotelis Sarrikostas, who has given us some of the most iconic photographs from Greece over the years of his service – who can forget the legendary photo of a tank at the entrance to the Polytechnic university — but also the fighting in the Middle East, especially in Lebanon. “I did Athens-Beirut… Pagrati-Kolyatsa,” he recalls shortly before we ended our conversation.