San Francisco woman gets photographer’s old number. It changes both their lives

Sometimes, even a wrong number can make the right connection.

That was the case for Lauren Stevens, whose newly assigned work phone came with an unexpected problem: it kept receiving calls and texts for someone named “Verndawg.” At first, the messages were confusing. Over time, they became life-changing, for both Stevens and the man behind the nickname, renowned San Francisco photographer Wernher Krutein.

Shortly after getting the phone, Stevens began receiving repeated messages clearly meant for someone else. Curious, she and a group of friends did some online sleuthing to track down the intended recipient.

It didn’t take long.

“One of my friends texted me and said, ‘This guy, Wernher Krutein, he’s iconic,’” Stevens said.

Krutein, 72, has spent more than six decades traveling the world with a camera, documenting everything from people and architecture to insects and everyday objects. While his work spans continents, some of his most famous photographs were taken closer to home in San Francisco.

One image immediately stood out to Stevens: Krutein’s striking photograph from the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, showing a car dangling from the collapsed Bay Bridge.

“I grew up seeing that photo in textbooks and documentaries,” she said. “And this was the photo.”

A longtime film photography enthusiast herself, Stevens found Krutein’s old website, Photovault.com, an archive of nearly half a million images, and decided to email him. What began as a practical exchange about forwarding messages soon became something deeper.

“You could tell he didn’t really care about the messages,” Stevens said. “What mattered to him was that someone cared about his work.”

Emails turned into phone calls, then in-person visits to Krutein’s home in Sonoma County. As their friendship grew, Stevens began to understand the challenges the celebrated photographer was quietly facing.

Starting his website in the late 1990s, Krutein was once ahead of the technological curve, but in an increasingly digital world, he found himself struggling financially.

“I’ve been barely making a living for years,” Krutein said. “I’ve pared down everything. I don’t even have heat in the house.”

He told Stevens his savings could last anywhere from six months to two years. After that, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

Wanting to help, Stevens launched a GoFundMe campaign to assist with Krutein’s living expenses. It has since raised more than $15,000. But financial relief was only part of her goal.

Krutein was deeply worried about the future of his archive, his life’s work, and, as he describes it, his purpose.

“I love connecting with everything I photograph,” he said. “Bugs, cars, people, furniture, all of it fascinates me.”

Using her understanding of social media, Stevens created TikTok and Instagram accounts called @Verndawgtales, documenting their friendship and sharing Krutein’s photographs and stories. Thousands of followers now track their journey as Stevens works to preserve Krutein’s legacy and bring renewed attention to his work.

“The world needs to see his work,” Stevens said. “It is crazy, diabolically amazing, and I feel so lucky to be the vessel to share his story.”

For Krutein, the impact has gone beyond recognition or financial support.

“She’s brought me out of the darkness,” he said. “That’s a gift beyond words.”