Start 35 K-II Camera

My Start 35 K-II camera with hood and complete box

I can remember when I purchased the Start 35 K-II camera because it was part of a fairly modest camera lot. There were several miniature and subminiature cameras in the group. All of the cameras came with fitted cases, and some even included their original boxes, which I think adds to a camera’s collectability.

 There were other examples of the Start series at camera shows, online, and in books, and I have always enjoyed the chrome and black Bakelite construction of the camera. To me, it has a modernist, almost space-age look. I suppose that was the style they were aiming for, especially for a camera built in the early 1950s.

 When I unpacked the camera lot, I found a few extra items in the box that I wasn’t expecting. While the Start 35 K-II camera itself does not have a fitted case, it did include the “Start” plastic lens hood, along with an aluminum item that appears to be some sort of stand or screw-in accessory used to hold a case onto a camera. The aluminum “stand” is much larger than a typical case-holding screw, so my guess is that it was probably used as a display stand in someone’s collection, since it seems too large to be anything else.

Start 35 K-II camera on stand. I still chuckle at “with Food” on the box.

 Another interesting detail about this camera still makes me smile whenever I see it: the box. The box itself is in wonderful condition, but just below the attractive graphics and the camera’s name, it says “with Food.” I have no idea what that means, or why it would appear on the box of a camera.

 The only explanation I can think of is that it was lost in translation. Perhaps the camera came with rolls of film, or a single roll of film, and the wording “with Food” was meant to indicate that the camera came with something it would consume. Other than that, I really do not know why that phrase appears on the box.

 The Start 35 K-II uses Bolta film, which during this period was a paper-backed 35mm film sold in short rolls and generally less expensive than standard 35mm film. Some cameras used special cassettes for Bolta film, but many Japanese cameras that used Bolta film relied on a special spool with a larger receptacle that fit into the camera, similar in concept to other roll-film systems such as 127 and 828.

History

Ikko Sha Co. Ltd. was a small Japanese camera maker active in the early postwar years, best remembered today for its Start 35 family of compact viewfinder cameras. While it never became a major household name like Canon or Nikon, the company is a good example of the many modest Japanese firms that helped shape the country’s camera boom after World War II.

 The Start 35 line appears to have begun around 1950, when Ikko Sha introduced a Bakelite 35mm camera designed for 24x24mm exposures on Bolta film rolls. That was followed by the Start 35 K in 1952, which added a hinged back door, and later by the Start 35 K-II around 1958, which brought flash synchronization, a metal top plate, a 24x36mm exposure area, and lens-surround caps. These incremental changes suggest a company refining a simple, practical product rather than chasing a wide model range.

Front view of Start 35 K-II camera with embossed lens cap

 Ikko Sha’s place in camera history comes as much from context as from production volume. Postwar Japan produced dozens of small camera firms, many of them serving the growing demand for inexpensive 35mm cameras at home and abroad. Ikko Sha belonged to that energetic ecosystem, where innovation often came through compact designs, clever packaging, and steady model revisions rather than large-scale manufacturing power.

 For collectors, Ikko Sha cameras are appealing because they are uncommon and clearly rooted in a transitional moment in photographic history. The Start 35 series shows how Japanese manufacturers experimented with materials, formats, and user features before the industry consolidated around stronger global brands. A camera like the Start 35 K-II may be modest, but it captures the ingenuity of an era when even small firms could leave a lasting mark on the collecting world.

 Today, surviving Ikko Sha cameras are mostly encountered in collections, auctions, and enthusiast write-ups rather than in mainstream histories. That scarcity only adds to their charm, especially for collectors who enjoy tracing the overlooked branches of Japanese camera development.

My Camera

My Start 35 K-II camera measures 4 inches wide by 2.25 inches tall and 2.5 inches deep, not including the attached lens hood. The camera weighs 6.6 ounces without film loaded. It is made of black Bakelite with an aluminum top covering the viewfinder, and the metal also wraps around the lens with five slots on either side, giving the camera a modernist look.

On the left side of the camera is a nylon wrist strap attached next to the film winding knob. Also attached to the strap is a metal chain with a metal lens cap embossed with a stylized “START” logo. On the bottom of the camera is a tripod socket, along with “Made in Japan” embossed into the Bakelite.

 The camera is very basic when it comes to controls. The shutter release is on the top right of the camera, located on the extending lens portion, and on the opposite side is the shutter control switch. You have the option of either “I” for instant or “B” for timed exposures.

The lens is fixed and cannot be focused. Under the lens, on the left side, are two aperture settings, “W” and “S.” “W” is wider open, and switching to the “S” setting selects a smaller aperture. On the left side of the camera is a PC socket for flash. Since there is no accessory shoe, you need to use a bracket if you want to use flash with the Start 35 K-II.

 To open the camera for loading film, there is a simple latch on the left side that opens the back and exposes the film chamber. On the right side, you place a fresh roll of Bolta film, bring the leader across to the left, and thread it into the take-up spool. Start winding to make sure the film is seated properly, then close the back and advance the film until you see the number 1 in the window on the back of the camera.

 My Results

Since I do not have Bolta film, I used some bulk 35mm film and leftover paper backing from 127 film, which I cut down to fit the Bolta reels I have.

 Taping a short roll of 35mm film onto the paper backing in total darkness was not the easiest task, but it was manageable if most of the prep work was done ahead of time and the process was carefully thought through before turning off the light.

 I also loaded the film into the camera in the dark to make sure I had not made any mistakes when attaching the paper backing to the 35mm film. I knew the numbers on the backing paper would not line up exactly, so I simply guessed how many turns to advance the film.

 With film in the camera, I took it to a local waterfall and walked through the neighborhood to make a few photographs.

 Here are the results from the Start 35 K-II camera:

Conclusion:

While the images from the Start 35 K-II were sharper than I expected, something must have gone wrong in processing, or perhaps light leaked through the paper backing, because there are some strange light streaks on many of the images. My guess is that it was operator error, most likely related to the paper-backing process.

 The next time I review a Bolta film camera, I will try to do a better job with the paper-backing method. Overall, though, the camera is pretty nice, easy to use, and produces some nice images for a camera that is close to 70 years old.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this unusual Bolta film camera made in the late 1950s.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

 Check out my YouTube channel, where I am putting together video overviews of the cameras I write about. Be sure to subscribe and like the channel, too.

 Cuny’s Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Mamiya Mammy camera

My Mamiya Mammy camera

It was on my first trip to Kitamura Camera's massive seven-story flagship store in Tokyo that I came across the camera for this week's camera-collecting blog: the Mamiya Mammy. It was on the third floor "bargain" area, tucked away in one of the corner showcases, where I spotted the camera.

 Asking the salesperson to take the camera from the showcase, he placed it on one of the lower, central showcases for me to look it over, along with other cameras I was considering purchasing.

 Having read the massive, latest version of McKeown's Camera from 2005-2006 several times over, I remember seeing and reading about the Mamiya Mammy camera and was intrigued by its shape.

 It wasn't until I physically saw the Mamiya Mammy camera in the showcase that I realized the one thing that drew me to it was simply the text on the top. The extended leg on one of the M's matches the length of the "Y," and the rounded double "m's" in the center are a classic design.

 At this time, I was actually holding a camera I had only seen in books. Not only did the camera's odd shape, classic text on top, and compactness give me joy, but I could also feel the excitement of holding one of these gems in my hands, operating the shutter, and looking through the camera's viewfinder. The tactile enjoyment of finding where the specific controls are located on the camera and adjusting the shutter speeds.

Top view of Mamiya Mammy camera

 This may sound odd to some, but for me having an unknown, but sought after camera in my hands, getting familiar with the controls and hearing the distinct "click" sound of the shutter are enjoyment to me.

 While the camera appeared to be in tiptop shape, upon further inspection the shutter didn't always open and close as it should. Opening the back of the camera, there were no cassettes or empty film reels left behind, so it took me a minute to realize the camera was a Bolta film camera due to the odd shaped take up connector. It was considerably thicker than a normal film spool. But the price of the camera was extremely low, so I decided to snatch it up and take it home with me along with several other cameras from the shop.

 I've always been intrigued but the Bolta style of cameras like the Mamiya Mammy camera,  due to the compactness and smaller size they range in. I have a few other Bolta cameras in my collection, the very rare Inoca Stereo camera, the Photovit from Germany and,  Start camera from Japan. The last two I still need to review soon.

History:

 Mamiya Camera Company began in 1940 as Mamiya Koki Seisakusho, founded by businessman Tsunejiro Sugawara and engineer Seiichi Mamiya. Its early identity was shaped by a blend of business ambition and technical ingenuity, and the company’s first camera, the Mamiya Six, established the medium-format direction that would define much of Mamiya’s reputation.

 The Mamiya Six was a folding 6x6 camera introduced as the company’s first product, and it stood out for an unusual focusing system in which the film plane moved rather than the lens. That design reflected the inventive approach that became a hallmark of the brand. The camera was successful enough to lay the groundwork for Mamiya’s later expansion into other formats.

From: The Collectors Guide to Japanese Cameras

 World War II disrupted the company’s early growth. Mamiya’s Tokyo facilities were destroyed during the war, forcing a major rebuild afterward. In the immediate postwar period, production resumed under difficult conditions, and sales were initially limited to Allied personnel rather than the Japanese public.

 In the late 1940s, Mamiya began broadening its lineup. It built Japan’s first flash-synchronized twin-lens reflex camera, the Mamiyaflex, in 1948, and followed with its first 35mm camera, the Mamiya 35-I, in 1949. Around this time, the company also started producing more of its own components, including shutters and lenses, which helped it reduce dependence on suppliers and strengthen its manufacturing base.

 By 1950, the company had incorporated as Mamiya Camera Company, Ltd., and by 1951 it was listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange. These milestones show how quickly Mamiya moved from a small postwar camera maker into a recognized industrial company. Its early history is especially important because it set up the medium-format specialization and engineering reputation that later made Mamiya a major name among serious photographers.

 In short, Mamiya’s early story is one of innovation, wartime disruption, and steady recovery. From the Mamiya Six to the Mamiyaflex and the Mamiya 35-I, the company built its identity through practical design and technical originality.

My Camera:

 My Mamiya Mammy camera is a small, compact camera made of Bakelite, with chrome accents along the top of the lens area, around the front viewfinder, the winding knob, shutter release, and lens. The camera was built in early 1953, soon after the end of World War II, during Japan's rebuilding. It was the only Bolta film camera produced by Mamiya.

 The Mammy camera is 4.5" wide by 2.5" deep and 2.5" tall, weighing only 6.6 ounces without film loaded in the camera. The camera houses a Mamiya Camera Company LTD. Cute Anastigmat 45mm f/3.5 lens, which is focusable by turning the lens until you approximate the distance to your subject, and with a minimum focus distance of 2 meters to infinity.

The camera offers three shutter speeds, of 1/100, 1/50, and 1/25, along with "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed selector is on top of the lens housing on the left side of the camera and is selected by turning a lever to the desired speed.

 The Mammy camera has an aperture range from F/3.5 to F/22. Under the lens is the aperture selector. Slide the small arrow to the desired aperture settings. It wasn't until I started taking photos of the aperture settings that I noticed one of the screws holding the aperture plate on the camera was missing. The shutter release is located on the  right side of the lens housing, opposite side of the shutter speed selector.

The Mamiya Mammy camera uses paperbacked Bolta film which was invented by Bolta-Werks in Germany in 1936 for their Boltavit model camera. Bolta film was paperbacked unperforated 35mm film which used a red window system on their camera to count the frame numbers. This was less expensive than using perforated film of the time. 

 Bolta film also became popular in Japan when a Japanese company produced a camera named Boltax in the late 1930s. Bolta sized cameras became very popular during the 1940s and into the 1950s due to the cost difference in films at the time. Bolta film was similar to any roll film camera like 127 or 828 film and was sold in paper backed rolls

 My Mamiya Mammy camera doesn't have an empty spool or cassette used in Bolta cameras from the time. I do however have a Photovit camera which uses special Bolta cassettes to house the film. Inside these cassettes is a spool that would fit into the Mamiya Mammy camera which has a much larger end on the spool to fit into the camera.

Most Bolta camera have a similar film format to 35mm, 24x36mm. Some Japanese Bolta cameras such as the Rich-Ray cameras who made Bolta cameras have a film format 24x24mm, but the Mamiya Mammy camera has a film format of 24x28mm.

 I find that odd because Mamiya Mammy camera does have a red window on the back of the camera, but the film advance knob on the camera, which also cocks the shutter on the camera, stops after cocking the shutter. So unless you have the numbers set exactly in the red window, the red window frame counting system is no needed. Also, there a frame counter along the outside of the film advance knob which advances when you wind the film to the next frame.

 To open the camera to load film, there is a spring clip on the left side of the camera which holds the front and rear together. Just pulling the back away from the camera body opens the back door, exposing the film chamber of the Mamiya Mammy camera.

Unfortunately, the shutter on my Mamiya Mammy is extremely sluggish, so even if I were to make some paper-backed 35mm film to load into the camera, I'm afraid the images wouldn't turn out because of the faulty shutter.

 Possibly in the future, if I can get the shutter working as it should, I do have some paper backing from some 828 film, and I'll load some 35mm film onto one of the Photvit spools and see if I can get the camera to make some images. But for this article, I'm sorry I won't be able to shoot with it.

 

Conclusion:

 The Mamiya Mammy is a camera I'm very happy to have in my collection. Having worked for Mamiya America Corp for many years, I hold almost any Mamiya camera dear to my heart. I do have to say, with all honesty, there are a few Mamiya cameras I doubt I'll own just due to my time working in camera shops. Cameras like the 1000DTL or 500DTL were ones I'd see almost daily. The sheer amount of them I saw over those almost twenty years, I seriously doubt I'd purchase.

Then there are some Mamiya cameras that I love owning. Any of the Mamiya RB, or RZ system cameras, some of the later 645 cameras, and of course, my all-time favorite medium format camera, and one that's eluded me, is the Mamiya 7II. WOW, what a beautiful camera.

 Thank you for taking Time from your day to read about this Bolta-style camera made in the early 1950s by one of the major camera companies to come out of Japan.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you can find some of the previously reviewed cameras for sale, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated over the past 50 years of collecting.

 I'll be taking next week off due to a holiday my wife and I will be taking to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Dual Reflex Camera

My Dual Reflex camera.

This week's camera is very low-tech and a follow-up to a series of cameras I discussed in a past article on the Lark and Kandor "Sardine Can" cameras two years ago. 

 I found this camera in a display, hidden behind other cameras, at a local camera store many months ago. I recognized the camera from a previous article, and it was a different style of camera from before. This was a "twin lens" style camera, but made by the same company, Irwin Corp of New York. 

 As I was discussing the camera with a store staff member, they said it was for "display only" and not for sale because it wasn't working. I told the salesperson that I had written an article on this camera style and wasn't worried about whether it worked, but just wanted it for my collection.

 I enquired further about the camera, the salesperson said they needed to ask the owner whether he would sell it. I encouraged the salesperson to inquire. Upon their return, they said the owner would indeed sell the camera and gave me a reasonable price to purchase it,  especially since the camera was in rough condition and I was told the shutter was not working. The shutter wasn't dead. It did open and close, but it was extremely sluggish.

 All of the leather was also on the camera, though it was coming up at the edges due to shrinkage and having been dried out for many years. The fact that the leather was still there was another good reason to purchase the camera, as I could recondition the leather and tack it back into place, giving the camera the care it deserved.

 As I paid for the Dual Reflex camera along with some discounted, recently discontinued film, I left the store with a new acquisition, knowing I'd fix it up and write an article about it at some point.

 Looking over the shelf to do this week's article, I saw the Dual Flex, and figured since I did an article on the Konica Pearl last week, which has an integrated rangefinder in a folding 645 format. Let's lean the other way this week and do a lower-end, Lomography-type camera from the early 1950s.

 One thing I needed to do before writing about the Dual Flex was to fix the shutter and clean the camera as best as I could. The repair was extremely simple, as the entire shutter assembly was held to the camera by two screws, one on top and one on the bottom. Then, to get to the shutter itself, two other screws on either side of the lens held the cover on. 

 Once the cover was off, the entire assembly consisted of a simple spring-loaded box-camera-style shutter that needed general cleaning and lubrication. There is also a lever that changes the aperture setting, which already moved smoothly, so I didn't do anything with that. 

 While the shutter was out, I cleaned the inside of the lens and reassembled it, making sure it was functioning as it should. With a "snappy" shutter in working condition, I screwed the cover back into place and mounted the shutter back onto the camera. Double-checking that the shutter seemed to be working after reassembly, I was now ready to write the article.

History:

 Irwin Corporation of New York occupies a curious and appealing corner of toy and camera history. Best remembered by collectors for its inexpensive metal cameras and low-cost toys, the company seems to have specialized in simple, playful, and affordable products. One surviving description notes that Irwin began by manufacturing 127 roll-film metal cameras resembling sardine tins, priced at just $2.98, which immediately places the firm in the world of budget photography novelties rather than serious camera manufacturing.

1948 advertising for Irwin Corp.

 That detail helps explain why Irwin still draws attention from vintage camera collectors today. These were not precision instruments meant to compete with the major camera brands. Instead, they were novelty cameras designed to be accessible, fun, and inexpensive enough to appeal to casual buyers. In that sense, Irwin's cameras belonged to the same broader culture as dime-store toys and impulse purchases: small objects that offered a quick thrill and a modest introduction to photography.

 Irwin also appears to have expanded its production to include toys, especially metal toys and, later, plastic items. Collector references suggest that the company produced cars, trucks, and other small playthings and continued to produce toys well into the 1950s and 1960s. By the mid-1950s, the company was said to have plants in Fitchburg and Leominster, Massachusetts, and Nashua, New Hampshire, indicating that it had expanded beyond a single New York address.

 The surviving record also suggests a company that adapted with the times. A 1964 dealer catalog reportedly included toy cars for Ken and Barbie, along with plastic GI Joe vehicles, which shows how Irwin followed the changing market for licensed and character-based toys. That flexibility likely helped the firm remain relevant in a crowded and fast-changing industry.

 Today, Irwin Corporation is remembered less as a major manufacturer than as a fascinating specialty producer whose history bridges toy collecting and camera collecting. Its sardine-tin cameras and inexpensive metal toys make it a small but memorable part of American mid-century design.

My Camera:

 My Dual Reflex camera is 3" wide by 3" deep and 5.25" tall when the viewfinder is closed, and 6.5" tall when the viewfinder is extended and opened for viewing. The camera weighs 14.8 ounces without a roll of 127 film loaded.

As previously mentioned, the camera has a very simple, spring-loaded shutter with only one speed, which I'm guessing is around 1/100. That may be too generous and could be even slower; that's my guess. The shutter control has only two options—either Instant for standard snapshots or Time for longer exposures. A switch on the side of the camera controls this. Since the shutter is so simple, the "time" setting blocks the shutter from moving into the "open" position until you release the lever; then the shutter closes.

 The shutter release is located at the 11:00 position on the lens cover and is nothing more than a lever that activates the shutter's spring mechanism.

 As you look at the camera from the front, the aperture controls are just to the left of the lens. They are controlled by a lever that moves a group of openings on a metal sheet back and forth across the lens opening. The aperture settings are F/7.7 (maximum), F/11, F/16, and F/22. There is no focus control on the lens, as it's set to the standard 8 to 10 feet, and the camera's aperture controls the sharpness.

o pop up the viewfinder, lift the rear of the finder, and the viewfinder or light chimney pops open, exposing the ground glass. Since there is no focus control on this camera, the viewfinder is used only to compose the image.

 An interesting option on the Dual Reflex camera is the ability to use a pseudo-eye-level finder for composing photos. On the back of the light chimney is an optical finder that, when viewed through, looks into another optical opening on the front of the chimney, allowing the photographer to use it as an eye-level finder rather than a waist-level one. For an inexpensive camera, this is a nice feature and actually works well.

To close the viewfinder, close the back compartment first since it has the optical glass, then the sides, and the front last. If you try to do it the conventional way and do the sides first, the front won't close because the glass is pressing up against the side wall, leaving the front no room to close.

 To take the back off to load film into the camera. On the back, the top is a large knob that must be unscrewed to remove the back. Once removed, you'll load the 127-size film, similar to any other roll-film camera. Put the fresh, unexposed film in the bottom area and the take-up spool on the top, right-hand side of the camera, where the winding lever is located. Bring the leader to the take-up spool, thread it into the slot, and wind until you see "start" on the paper backing. Close the back of the camera and screw it on tightly. 

 Since this is a 3x4cm format frame and the camera has two red windows, you'll wind until you see the number 1 in the first window. Take your photo, then wind until you see the number 1 in the second window, and take your photo. Follow this process through the number 8, meaning you've taken 16 images on the roll of film. Take the film out and process it.

The only 127 film I currently have is a few rolls of Jessop black-and-white film I purchased at the Tokyo City Flea Market a few months ago. The expiration date on the film is 11/1999. I hope it's still usable. 

 Now that I have the shutter fixed, lenses cleaned, and film loaded in the camera. It's Time to walk the neighborhood, taking photos to see how the Dual Reflex will perform.

 My Results:

 As I walked through the neighborhood, I tried using both the eye-level and waist-level finders to see which I preferred. They both were easy to use, so here are the results from my walk.

Conclusion:

 Well, some of the images turned out better than expected, and others didn't turn out the way I expected. There is a lot of debris on the negatives, which I'm guessing is due to the film's age.

 The film is rated at 200 ISO, and with its age, I wasn't really sure about the exposure, so I tried to take a couple of shots of the same subject at different aperture settings. I'm not sure why it happened, but there is tremendous bleed-through from the paper backing onto the film, creating issues with the images.

 After I processed the film, I took a closer look at the red windows on the back of the camera, which I believe caused the bleed-through from the paper backing. Yes, one of the red windows appeared to be OK, but upon closer inspection, it was pushed in, letting white light in. I found the culprit behind the bleed-through issues with the film.

 The camera handled well, the viewfinder was somewhat bright, and I enjoyed using the eye-level finder for composing the photo. The image sharpness is what I expected, especially for a very low-cost camera made around 75 years ago. 

 Thank you for taking Time from your day to read about this Lo-Fi camera made in the early 1950s by a company that not only made metal toys but also a line of cameras, mainly known for the "Sardine Can" cameras.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you can find some of the previously reviewed cameras for sale, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated over the past 50 years of collecting.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Ebner camera

My Ebner 6x4.5cm camera

During my trip to Tokyo, Japan, a couple of weeks ago, I was in Kitamura's flagship store, looking at their "bargain" cameras, which in itself is a treasure trove of used cameras, when I spotted a brown Bakelite camera sitting on one of their shelves. The camera was a "folding" style camera. Still, I had never seen a camera like it, so immediately I wanted to see it, and with any luck, take it home with me, provided the price wasn't outrageous. I scanned the camera price and converted it from Yen to US dollars; it wasn't outrageous, so I wanted to see it and learn more.

 The things that caught my eye at first was the beautiful, rich brown color, the wonderful pebbled texture of the body, and the very sleek design. To me, the camera just sang to me in its design. Since my eyes almost always go to anything "colored" when I look at cameras, it reminded me of the Coronet Vogue. Then, scanning the shelf below, they also found the Coronet Vogue. which I had seen in a few different flea markets in both Paris and London, but the asking price was always too high (in my opinion) for the camera, so I passed them up.

Back side with beautiful pebble finish on the Ebner camera

 At this point in my camera search, there were 3-4 cameras I wanted to look at, so I went up to one of the salespeople on the floor and showed them the items I was interested in. Very patiently, he pulled the 4 items from the shelves and placed them on a camera mat on one of the glass display cases in the shop.

 Opening the Ebner camera first, I hadn't seen it before and don't recall it in McKeown's Camera Guide. I don't have the few hundred thousand cameras memorized. It wasn't until I opened the back of the camera and noticed the name "Ebner" that I realized the camera's brand. It still hadn't jogged my memory or sounded familiar.

Similarities of the Ebner and Coronet Vogue cameras.

 As I looked over the camera, the shutter worked, the aperture slid around the lens and changed size, and the lens was fairly clean. It didn't have mold, mildew, or fungus as I shone a penlight through the lens, and I didn't see pinholes in the bellows, so all in all, the camera was a "keeper" to me.

 The Coronet Vogue camera had some issues. It had a replacement black bellows rather than the original brown matching bellows, and the side struts of the camera didn't work properly. But the camera was inexpensive, and the shutter worked, so I believe at some point later this year I will write about it. To me, the similarity in the design and style of both the Ebner and Coronet Vogue cameras is striking.

 The similarities make sense to me, especially since Ebner stopped producing cameras in 1935. Still, other camera companies, like Pontiac and Gallus, produced very similar cameras with the same sleek design. I'm confident that since the Coronet Vogue was introduced in 1936, they recognized that this sleek, Bakelite camera design would benefit their sales, and they produced it.

History:

 Albert Ebner & Co. was a small but interesting German manufacturer that moved from audio and electrical products into cameras during the early 1930s. Albert Ebner, born in 1891 in Bad Cannstatt, had already founded earlier companies before his name became associated with the camera firm that collectors remember today.

Portrait of Albert Ebner

 The company's background was in turntable motors, gramophone parts, and related household electrical goods. After earlier business setbacks and reorganizations, Ebner returned to Bad Cannstatt and formed a new Albert Ebner & Co., often abbreviated AECO, which broadened into vacuum cleaners, fans, and other electrical products before experimenting with cameras.

 Ebner's camera output was very limited. The firm produced only two folding models: a 6x9 cm camera on 120 film and a smaller 4.5x6 cm model on Kodak 620 film, both made around 1933 to 1935. These cameras had no special model names beyond their image size, which makes them especially plain in naming but distinctive in construction.

 What set them apart was their design. Both cameras used a marbled brown Bakelite body, a material associated with the radio and record-player industries, and they paired that shell with a Compur leaf shutter and lenses from makers such as Meyer-Gorlitz. That gives the Ebner cameras a streamlined Art Deco look that feels more industrially designed than mass-market consumer.

German advertising.

 The larger 6x9 version used standard 120 film, while the 4.5x6 version used 620 film, an unusual choice for a German maker of the time. Collectors also note that the cameras were sold mostly in Germany and that production was brief, with the company apparently ending camera manufacture by 1935. Because so few were made, surviving examples are relatively scarce today.

 Ebner's camera venture did not last long. Still, it fits a broader pattern of early 20th-century firms adapting existing expertise in Bakelite and mechanical assembly to camera production. After the camera period ended, Albert Ebner's business life continued in audio through the later Perpetuum-Ebner merger. In contrast, the cameras remained a short-lived sideline that now attracts collectors and historians.

My Camera:

 My Ebner 6x4.5cm camera is 4.25" tall with the retractable viewfinder down, and 5" tall with the viewfinder in the upright, viewing position. It's also 5.5 wide and 1.25" deep with the lens retracted, and 4" with the lens extended and in the normal taking position. The camera weighs 1 pound 0.7 ounces without film loaded inside. 

To open the Ebner camera, on the top of the camera is a button between the retractable front viewfinder, which pulls up from the camera body to produce a vertical rectangle. and a small pbar with a ball on the end used as the rear portion of the viewfinder. This bar is also retracted into the camera body. Once the button is pressed, the front door housing the lens, bellows, and shutter springs from the camera body.

The Ebner I own has a Meyer-Goerlitz 7.5cm F/4.5 lens (SN 625604), with a Compur shutter, ranging from 1/300 to 1 second, plus "T" and "B". There were several different lens and shutter combinations for the camera. The aperture range is from F/4.5 to 22. 

 Setting the shutter speed is done by turning a ring on the outer portion of the lens, and the aperture is set by sliding a lever with a pointing end to the desired aperture setting under the lens. Also, the shutter is cocked by one lever at the top of the shutter and released by another lever on the side of the shutter. Focusing the lens is done by rotating the lens itself to the desired focus distance in meters, as seen on the top of the lens.

To close the camera for transport, there is a bar at the bottom of the lens bed, just in front of the "Ebner" plate. Press these bars towards the camera body; the lens board releases, allowing you to tilt the board back up and into the camera body. It will click when the lens board is locked into position.

Opening the film back to load film is done by sliding the locking lever, which is located under the camera's strap. Once unlocked, you can slide the door open to reveal the camera's film chamber. Once opened, you'll see the vertical format 6x4.5 film area. The new film goes on the right side of the camera, and you'll transfer the empty spool from the right side to the left, where the film's winding wheel is located. My camera didn't have an empty spool, so I needed to supply the camera with one.

  Looking at the film holders' pins, the camera takes 620 film, but I accidentally loaded the camera's take-up chamber with 120 film, and it fit. Generally, when I try to put 120 in a 620 camera, the spools don't fit, or they don't turn because the pins are too small to grab the 120 spool. Let's see if I can load a roll of 120 film in the camera. Interestingly, this camera: the 120 film fits a bit snug, but the film advance engaged with the spool, and the film wound smoothly.

Since the camera is 6x4.5cm, with two red windows on the back, this symbolizes that you start with the number one in the first window, take your photo, and then wind the film until the number one shows up in the second window. You do this with the whole roll, which ends with the number eight showing in the second window, giving you sixteen images per roll of film.

 Once the film was loaded in the camera and the "start" arrows were showing, I closed the back of the camera, and my daughter, her dog, Bean. I went for a walk along the Columbia River and took photos with the camera. The camera is very "pocketable" and travels extremely well.

 Let's see how the images turned out.

 

The Results:

 The results aren't bad, but not the sharpest images either, especially compared to the Kolar Kola camera. I may have missed the focus distance, but most of the photos are sharp enough for an 8x10. Here are some of the images I took while walking the Columbia River with my daughter and Bean, her dog. 

Conclusion:

 There are several things I really like about the camera. Still, the thing I enjoyed most about this camera is its thinness when traveling. It's so thin compared to other medium-format cameras; for me, it makes it fun to use. Not being bulky or clumsy and being fairly lightweight make this camera a real pleasure to carry around.

 The brown pebble finish is also a bonus in my opinion, adding more to the camera than leather and chrome alone. It has a very appealing feel and firmness that make the camera fun to hold.

Designers in the 1930s were still in the Art Deco period. They had a real sense of classical design, which they implemented in their products. It makes me even more want to buy a 3D printer to experiment with designs and textures, which I feel are lacking in today's designs.  

 Thank you for taking the time to learn a bit about this very classic and rare camera made in Stuttgart, Germany, in the early to mid-1930s.

 I'd love to hear from you, so if you have a comment or one of your own, please share it with us here.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you might find one (or many) of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera and photo items I've picked up or hoarded over the many years in the business.

 Until next week, please be safe.