Rocca Super Reflex camera

My Rocca Super Reflex camera, made by Montanus Kamerafabrik

I truly don't know what drew me to this camera, other than its look. The enlarged, angular area around the two lenses, along with the thin viewfinder area, gives the camera a different look from other twin-lens cameras.

We're so used to the "standard" twin-lens camera, with the nameplate over the top viewing lens, which also houses the light chimney that pops up, allowing the photographer to frame and focus on his subject.

Looking through McKeown's camera guide, I have seen photos of this and similar Montanus and Rocca cameras in the past, and I've always considered them classy, high-priced cameras.

While looking at a somewhat recent online auction, I came across the Rocca Super Reflex camera. It wasn't described by name, other than as a vintage camera. I was immediately drawn to it and figured I'd put in a modest bid. With my fingers crossed, I just so happened to win the camera.

Without doing much research before bidding, I let my somewhat modest knowledge of odd and irregular cameras do the bidding for me and hoped it was in good working order.

I guess what I'm saying is that the camera's look and my assumption that it was expensive overcame my pre-bidding research, but I liked the camera's look. I also know it's not as popular as the Rolleiflex, Yashica Mat, or other better-known twin-lens cameras.

Front view of the Rocca Super Reflex camera

When I received the camera, I knew very little about how it worked. Like many cameras I'm unfamiliar with, I do my normal routine: twisting knobs, pressing buttons, cocking what may or may not be the shutter system, and opening and closing light chimneys or camera backs to get a general feel for the camera.

Opening up the back of the camera and looking at the loading area, everything seemed pretty normal. The one thing I did notice was a knob with a handle in the take-up spool area that let you wind the film to the start area before closing the back. I'd never seen that on a twin-lens camera before.

The camera felt good and pretty solid, so I figured I'd put a roll of film in and take a walk through the neighborhood. As I walked through the neighborhood taking photos, I realized I was shooting all the images on one frame, because the little knob I used to load the film into the camera wasn't turning as I expected as the film advanced. I felt like a real dope for not noticing this sooner.

Rocca name on mirrored viewfinder

At this point, and not wanting to waste another roll of film, I figured I should probably read the manual. I did look on Mike Butkus's website for a manual. Unfortunately, the only manual he had was in German, and it's for a slightly different camera. Still, I'm pretty confident the loading is the same.

I took out my phone and, using Google Translate as I was looking at the manual on my computer, I figured out the proper way of loading the camera. It was a bit trickier than most cameras, and I'll go over the procedure below when I describe the camera's functions.

Once the film was loaded and I saw it moving in the camera, I realized it's a really fun camera to use. For one specific item, the focus mechanism is FANTASTIC.

The History of Montanus Cameras

Montanus is one of those camera names you don't hear much. A small German company that made cameras for only about ten years — and it came at the whole thing from an angle nobody else did: plastic.

Founded in the 1920s in Solingen, Germany, the company made horn products before moving into resins and plastics. In the early 1950s, Herbert Potthoff applied those plastics techniques to camera production as Montanus Kamerafabrik, Potthoff & Co. in Solingen-Ohligs.

Montanus molded the bodies themselves from plastic and bought in the lenses and shutters—Rodenstock, Enna, Staeble, and Steiner lenses; Gauthier and Prontor shutters. Most cameras then were metal, and metal was heavy. A molded plastic body was light and cheap to make.

Their best-known camera was the 1952 Plascaflex, a twin-lens reflex — plastic Rolleiflex, more or less. It was a 6x6 camera on 120 film, sold in a few versions, including one in the UK under the Amplion name.

Advertisment for Rocca Automatic camera in 1954.

Montanus really tried to move up with the Rocca name. The Rocca Automatic came out in 1954, and the Rocca Super Reflex followed in 1955; both were proper, modern-looking twin-lens reflexes. They had a film-advance crank, automatic shutter cocking, a removable viewing hood, and fast f/2.8 lenses— the Rodenstock Trinar 80mm f/2.8 on the Super Reflex.

It was a poor man's Rolleiflex, and I mean that as a compliment. It didn't have the build quality of a Rolleiflex, and the taking lens was a triplet, not a Planar or a Xenotar, but it did a lot of the same tricks. In the USA it sold in 1956 for $100 — rebranded as the Edixa 6x6 by Wirgin — about a quarter of what a Rolleiflex cost, and still cheaper than a Rolleicord. It didn't sell very well, probably because nobody had heard of Montanus, and Rocca TLRs are rare to find today.

Later in the 1950s, the Rocca name moved to 35mm. The Rocca 35 came out in 1958, a neat little viewfinder camera with a fixed Enna 45mm f/2.8 lens and a Prontor shutter. Here's the part I like: some Rocca 35s look like they have a light meter on top, but what you're looking at is really just a Sunny 16 exposure calculator built into the top plate. A real meter — a Bewi Automat — could be fitted later as an upgrade. Still, in 1959 it added 40% to the camera's price, so you can see why they sold the basic version. The Rocca LK came with the meter fitted, the Rocca L without it, and the Familia and Rocca-matic followed in 1959.

They hired technicians from Dresden, over in East Germany. But it wasn't enough. By the early 1960s, the Japanese cameras were coming in fast, and a small company in Solingen couldn't keep up. Montanus stopped producing cameras around 1960. The company itself kept going until 1978, but the cameras were done.

That's what I like about Montanus. A small company with a clever idea, and for a few years it worked.

My Camera.

There are many unique and interesting things about this camera that I'd like to share. To start, my Rocca Super Reflex is 5.5" tall with the light chimney closed, 7.25" with it open, 4.25" wide including the winding lever, and 4.25" deep.

The camera weighs 2 pounds 3.6 ounces without film. My camera has a Steinheil Munchen Cassar 80mm f/2.8 lens for both the viewing and taking lenses, with a Prontor SVS shutter offering shutter speeds from 1/300 to 1 sec., including "B". The shutter speeds are set via a sliding lever under and on the left side of the taking lens.

Aperture settings range from f/2.8 to f/22 and are set via a sliding lever under and to the right of the taking lens. Between the shutter speed and aperture-selecting levers are the flash sync and self-timer settings.

The light chimney is opened by pulling up the rear of the chimney, exposing a bright focus screen. The magnifying glass is flipped over the rear of the light chimney and over the focus screen. One unique feature of the Rocca Super Reflex is the "half" mirrored sports finder, which is viewed from the rear of the light chimney.

The light chimney can be removed via a button on the top, rear of the camera body on the right side. There were accessory finders for the camera: one with an enlarged viewing area and a stereo viewfinder. You can also use the camera without the light chimney or direct vision finder. The light chimney is easily attached to the camera.

The most useful item, and one I'd love to see on all other twin-lens cameras, is their very unique "high speed" focus system, which is FANTASTIC to use. It consists of a vertical slider on the left side of the camera, which pulls out with a circular grip you put your thumb in while holding the camera. You then slide your thumb up or down to focus on your subject. It is incredibly fast and accurate. The more I used it, the more hooked I got.

Even resting the camera in your left hand, with your thumb in the focus guide and your right hand on the side, made focusing smooth and easy. The shutter release is on the right side, making focusing and taking photos very easy.

Also on the right side of the camera is another unique feature: the winding and cocking lever. You do it all with a single turn of the winding lever. No shutter to cock, no winding backward to cock the shutter; it's all in one motion. Advance your film and the camera is cocked and ready to shoot.

To open the back to load the camera with film, slide the top bar on either side of the hinged back, and the film door will pop open.

I didn't learn the proper way to load the camera until I wasted a roll of film, then went back and read the German version of the Rocca Automatic camera on Mike Butkus's website. There were a couple of steps I didn't realize the first time I loaded it that are extremely important. They're unlike those on any other twin-lens camera. Let me go over the process.

  1. Open the back of the camera to expose the film chamber. On the rear of the camera, on the right side, is a winding knob with a lift-out handle. This will wind the film in the film chamber without having to wind the film advance. This lever has three positions. All the way in, then slightly out when you lift the handle away from the knob; pulling the knob out allows you to load film into the film chamber.

  2. Put the take-up spool into the top area of the film chamber by lifting the knob out with the handle, then press the handle knob in to engage the take-up spool.

  3. Place the fresh roll in the bottom portion.

  4. Bring the leader to the take-up spool and thread it into the take-up spool slot.

  5. Wind the handle until you see the "start" arrow on the film's paper backing.

  6. Close the back of the camera, making sure the opening bar is slid to the left to lock the back.

  7. On the bottom of the camera is a red window covered by a disk attached to the tripod socket.

  8. Open the disk and wind the film until you see the number 1 in the red window.

  9. VERY IMPORTANT: Press in the winding knob all the way into the camera body. Reset the frame counter to #1, which is in front of the film winding knob.

  10. Take your first photo, and advance the film advance/cocking lever. At this point, you'll notice the film-winding knob turns as you cock the shutter, so you know the film is moving inside the camera.

On my first roll of film in the Rocca Super Reflex camera, I didn't wind to the #1 on the bottom window, or press in the winding knob, so my film never engaged with the transport. I took all the images on one frame.

My Images:

Now that I have the film loaded properly, let's take a walk through the neighborhood and see what this camera can do.

Here are some of the images from the walk through the neighborhood.

Conclusion:

Well, the camera did a good job. I REALLY liked how the camera focused with the thumb control. It was very fast and accurate, and the more I used it, the more I liked it.

The focus control on the camera is something I'd love to see on other cameras. Still, since there is autofocus now, and no one is making a medium-format film camera, especially a twin-lens version, I seriously doubt it'll be adopted into new cameras.

The camera loading was a bit peculiar, but the winding knob with the handle was great. Once I understood the three positions it offered, it was quick and easy. The winding knob with handle is a great way to load the camera.

In the long run, I really enjoyed shooting with it. This camera offered so many unique features, but given the competition when it was made in the 1950s, it's easy to see why other companies did much better and lasted longer.

I'm happy to have experienced this wonderful, unique camera and look forward to shooting with it in the future.

Thank you for taking the time to read about the Rocca Super Reflex camera that I recently added to my collection.

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

Check out my Cuny's Camera Collection 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.

Lumiere Nada Luxe camera

My Lumiere Nada Luxe camera

As I was looking through the cameras on some of the shelves I display them on, I saw tucked away in a corner a tan, reptile-covered top section of a folding camera I had put there a couple of years ago and completely forgotten about.

It was a camera I had purchased at the Vernaison market, one of the Paris flea markets, on our last trip there. I had full intentions of using and writing about it. Still, with my feeble mind and my attention deficit disorder kicking in, I'm sure some other camera caught my eye, and I wrote about it instead.

Funny how you remember silly things. I still remember seeing the camera in this one person's stall, who had assembled many other beautiful and interesting cameras. Given my love for colorful and unusual cameras, it wasn't out of the ordinary for me to find this wonderful, tan, reptile-covered camera in the back of one of his showcases.

I didn't want to call over the stall owner until I had looked at what else he had in the showcase, so after a few minutes of finding 3-4 other items I wanted to look at, I summoned him over and asked to look at a few pieces.

His English was a little better than my French, so we relied on simple sign language and pieced a few words together so I could ask about some of the objects he had on display. The gentleman had good taste, and he was extremely patient with my mispronouncing certain French words. He just smiled and nodded.

Reptile or snakeskin on the Lumiere Nada Luxe camera

But after many minutes of rudimentary signing, pointing, and using Google Translate to ask and answer questions, there were 2-3 items we agreed on a price for, and one of them was the reptile-covered Lumiere Nada Luxe camera, which was in good, clean, and working condition.

I really enjoy going to the Paris flea markets; well, I enjoy pretty much any flea market. To me, the fun of collecting is the treasure hunt. Whether you're at an estate sale, flea market, or antique store, you just never know what you're going to find. When all the cards line up, and you find the item you've been looking for—or just something that catches your eye in the moment—discuss the price with the seller and come away with a bargain, that's the fun of it.

Getting back to the Lumiere Nada Luxe camera I found on my shelf, it put a big smile on my face to think back to the Paris flea market. I pulled the camera from the shelf and opened it up, then clicked the shutter to make sure I could run some film through it.

It was cleaner than I remembered, and the shutter worked well. I also didn't see any light leaks in the bellows, so now was as good a time as any to put a roll of film into the camera, take a walk through the neighborhood, and see what this gorgeous camera, made in the 1930s, almost 100 years ago, could produce.

A Brief History of Lumière Cameras

The name Lumière means "light" in French, and no camera company ever lived up to its name quite like this one. Antoine Lumière founded the firm in 1860 in Besançon as a portrait painter turned photographer. When the Franco-Prussian War threatened France's eastern border in 1870, Antoine moved his family to Lyon and set up a workshop making glass photographic plates.

The firm's real success came from Antoine's sons, Auguste and Louis. Louis, still a teenager, improved the new dry plate emulsion and produced what the firm sold as "Étiquette Bleue," or Blue Label, plates in 1882. A large factory followed in 1883, and by the mid-1890s Lumière was running the biggest photographic factory in Europe. The sons formally took over the business in 1893.

Two years later, the brothers changed the world again. Working with their chief engineer Charles Moisson, they built the Cinématographe. This single machine could record, develop, and project moving pictures. Its first public screening, in Paris on December 28, 1895, is widely considered the birth of cinema. The brothers saw it as little more than a curiosity and moved on.

Their next breakthrough was color. Patented in 1903 and released in 1907, the Autochrome Lumière process coated a glass plate with microscopic potato starch grains dyed red, green, and blue, acting as a color filter over a black-and-white emulsion. It was the first practical color photography process, and it stayed the standard for color work for more than thirty years.

Cameras came later, almost as a side business. Lumière's first was an oddity: the Périphote of 1901, a panoramic camera with a rotating lens sweeping around a film-lined cylindrical drum. A serious camera line arrived in the 1920s, starting with the folding stereo Sterelux. The 1930s brought the cameras collectors know best: the Lumirex line of 6x9 folding cameras, the tiny, collapsible-viewfinder Eljy cameras, and the Scoutbox line of box cameras. The Second World War shut down the assembly lines.

Lumière kept making cameras after the war, but the company never regained its old scale. In 1961, the Swiss chemical firm Ciba absorbed it, and in 1982 the company became Ilford France. Cameras sold under the Lumière name around 1970 were not made by the company at all. For collectors, Lumière cameras are a charming corner of French camera making. Still, the firm's true legacy is bigger than any camera: it gave us the movies, and it gave us color.

My Camera:

This beautiful Lumiere Nada Luxe camera is not your ordinary self-erecting 6x9cm format folding camera; it has special, truly "luxe" features.

To open the camera, press the silver button just under the camera's film winding lever, and the camera pops open. Then pull the lens platform down, and the lens is erect in the camera.

The camera measures 7" long by 3-3/8" wide and 1-3/8" deep with the lens closed, and 5.25" deep with the lens open and the camera in the "taking" position. The camera weighs 1 pound, 4.4 ounces without film loaded.

The Lumiere Nada Luxe camera is covered in what I guess is beautifully tanned snakeskin, with a wonderful subtle tan bellows which makes the chrome on the lens board shimmer. The camera has a Lumiere Depose Anastigmat f/6.3 lens.

Looking under the lens, there is a triangle that points to the focus points under the lens: 2 m for portraits, then 5m for groups, and finally infinity for scenic shots. Above the lens are the shutter speeds: 1/100, 1/50, and 1/25, along with "B" and "T" for timed exposures. Above the shutter speeds is a sliding bar you move to set the proper shutter speed.

The camera incorporates interesting aperture settings. I haven't come across these in my years of collecting cameras. The aperture settings are f/6.3, 8.5, 12, 17, and 24. You set these with another slider under the lens, with a red pointer indicating the selected aperture.

On the far right side of the camera, as you hold it, is the shutter release with a red dot. All the important features, like shutter speed, aperture, and the shutter release, have red accents, which give the camera another "deluxe" look.

Just above the aperture settings is a black brilliant viewfinder, which turns for either vertical or horizontal photographs. Having the brilliant viewfinder, along with the black on the lens and shutter speed dial, adds real contrast against the shiny chrome lens board.

Just under the lens are two right-angled red metal pieces riveted to the lens platform, each bearing two letters of the camera's name on either side of the center lens rail: NA on the left and DA on the right (NADA). It's been written that the name is an ode to the early French photographer, Nadar, but I'm leery of this.

To open the back of the camera to load film, press together the two clips just behind the camera's handle; this lets you pull the back away from the camera body and off the camera, exposing the film chamber.

This next item is something I wish all folding cameras had. On both ends of the camera's film chamber, where you put the new roll of film, or just the take-up spool, is a lever which spreads the two prongs, or the one prong and winding crank, apart, allowing you to drop the new roll of film or the take-up spool into the proper chamber. Then press the lever back, and it holds the film spool in place. This was the easiest and most convenient method used for putting a roll of film into a camera. Something so simple, yet it works extremely well.

Once the film and take-up spool are in place, load the film as you would in any roll-film camera, then put the back onto the camera body and make sure it's latched. Wind the film to frame 1 as you look through the red window on the back of the camera. At this point, you're ready to take photos.

My Results:

With a roll of film loaded, I took my usual stroll through the neighborhood, photographing interesting subjects to see how the camera would perform.

Here are the results I received with the Lumiere Nada Luxe camera.

Conclusion:

The images have a very "dreamy" look, which I enjoy. The focus was OK, not great, but that's to be expected, especially using a zone, guesstimate focus system.

I really liked the photo of the flag and fire hydrant, as they have an image quality that I enjoy, something similar to the old photos from this era by Stieglitz, Steichen, or others, with a very soft, dreamy appearance.

Thank you for taking the time to read about the Lumiere Nada Luxe camera I recently added to my collection.

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

Check out my Cuny's Camera Collection 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.

Voigtländer Bessa 66 cameras

My two Bessa 66 cameras

It's interesting how you can notice some cameras and miss others at the same time.

While I've owned a Voigtländer Bessa in the past, I picked up the smaller Baby Bessa, or Bessa 66, from a collection in Las Vegas about a month ago. I dismissed the camera as I thought it was a similar-looking Voigtländer Vito, a much different 35mm camera than the Bessa 66, which is a compact, medium format 6x6cm camera.

There were actually three similar-looking cameras in the group I had set aside because I had mistaken them for Voigtländer Vito cameras, but after popping the fronts open, I was surprised to see longer bellows and shutters.

As I turned over the camera, I then noticed the embossed BESSA 66 on the back of the camera, and realized that the camera was slightly bigger than the Vito cameras I've had in the past. I was going on merely the appearance of the camera's shape, which is similar. It's the domed front of the camera that houses the lens that is similar on many of the Voigtländer cameras.

After I gathered the three similar cameras for a thorough check-out, I mistakenly thought they were different. Still, I found out two were Bessa 66 cameras and the third was a more refined Perkeo I. At this point, I figured it would be fun to write about the two Bessa 66 cameras and put the Perkeo away for another day.

There were a couple of differences I noticed right away about the two Bessa 66 cameras. The main difference was the viewfinder on top of the cameras. One had a fold-out, pop-up finder, more like a sports finder. In contrast, the other has an optical finder incorporated into the top of the camera.

The second thing I noticed was that the film-advance knobs differed between the two cameras. One has a lift-up handle to advance the film, while the other has a more robust wheel, which makes advancing the film easier.

Bessa 66 Standard (top), and Bessa 66 Deluxe (bottom)

Looking online at the differences between the two cameras, one is an earlier "Standard" version with the pop-up finder and handle advance. In contrast, the later camera, which some people call the "Deluxe" version, has an optical viewfinder and a round film-advance knob.

The only other thing I noticed looking at the cameras from the outside is that the Deluxe camera has a bigger and sturdier knob on the bottom where the new roll of film is placed, which resembles the winding knob on top, as opposed to a slightly different one on the "Standard" version. These knobs don't affect how the camera operates, since neither pulls out to let the fresh roll into the film chamber. Still, I'll get into loading the camera later in the post.

At this point, I'm impressed with the Bessa 66 cameras, as I am with many of the Voigtländer cameras. They feel very similar to other folding 6x6cm cameras from this timeframe, like the Zeiss Ikontas made before WWII, in size and artistry, along with other Japanese cameras like the Mamiya Six and Mizuho Six.

The larger film format makes them terrific travel cameras. They are small and compact, have wonderful lenses, shoot 6x6 (or, in some cases, 6x4.5 or 6x7), and fit in your pocket for easy transport.

My wife wanted to go to a local Grist Mill, which is about 30 minutes from our house. So I loaded a roll of outdated Plus-X film into the Bessa 66 Deluxe, and off we went to see how the camera performed.

History: The Voigtländer Bessa Cameras

Voigtländer is the oldest name in photography. Johann Christoph Voigtländer founded the firm in Vienna in 1756, making optical instruments long before photography existed, and the company opened its Braunschweig, Germany, branch in 1849. By the time the Bessa arrived, Voigtländer had already been building cameras for nearly a century.

Bessa 66 advertisment

The Bessa line began in 1929 with a folding rollfilm camera that was clever in a very practical way: it was a dual-format camera, taking both 6x9 and 4.5x6 pictures on standard 120 film. A photographer could shoot large negatives or twice as many smaller ones by changing the mask. In 1935, Voigtländer added a coupled rangefinder version, the Bessa Rangefinder, and the line became one of Germany's best-known folding camera families.

The cameras most collectors mean by "Baby Bessa" came out in 1938. These were the single-format Bessa 46 and Bessa 66, smaller companions to the big Bessa. The Bessa 46 shot sixteen 4.5x6 frames on a roll of 120, while the Bessa 66 shot twelve square 6x6 frames. Both were self-erecting folders: press a button on the baseplate and the front springs open, ready to shoot. Focusing was by guesswork, using a scale on the lens, and neither Baby Bessa was ever sold with a coupled rangefinder.

Like most German cameras of the period, the Baby Bessas came in a wide range of lens and shutter combinations, which is part of what makes collecting them fun. Entry-level models carried the three-element Voigtar or Vaskar. Better models got the four-element Skopar or the famous five-element Heliar, usually with a Compur or Prontor shutter. Early models had a folding frame finder; later ones got a proper optical viewfinder on the top plate, along with a film counter, a depth-of-field calculator, and a hinged yellow filter.

Production was interrupted by the Second World War, and after the war only the Bessa 66 came back, since the 4.5x6 format was already covered by the regular Bessa. Post-war Bessa 66 cameras came with coated lenses, a Vaskar version selling in America for $49.50 and a Color-Skopar version for $64.50. In 1950 the little folder was reborn under the older Perkeo name, and the Perkeo E of 1954 finally added a rangefinder the Baby Bessa never had. The line ended around 1955, shortly after the Carl Zeiss Foundation acquired Voigtländer.

The big Bessa lived on a little longer as the Bessa I and Bessa II of 1950, and the Bessa name itself would return decades later on Cosina's rangefinder cameras. But the Baby Bessa remains the line's sweet spot: a genuinely pocketable 120 folder, built by the oldest camera maker in the business, that still shoots beautifully today.

My Cameras

The two Voigtländer Bessa 66 cameras are virtually the same size, with the Deluxe slightly taller because of the optical viewfinder. I'll mainly talk about the Deluxe version, as it's the camera I put film in and shot with. The camera is 3.5" tall by 5" wide, and 1.75" deep with the lens closed and 4" deep with the lens extended. The camera weighs 1 pound, 2 ounces without film loaded.

My Bessa 66 Deluxe version has a few issues. One of the nice things about the pre-war Bessa 66 versions is that it has a flip-up yellow, or contrast, filter for black-and-white film. Unfortunately, the glass part of the filter is gone on the camera I have. It also looks like the ring around the lens with the lens name, focal length, and maximum aperture is missing from my Deluxe camera but is on the Standard camera. So I'm not sure if the Deluxe camera has the four-element Skopar or the famous five-element Heliar lens.

The lenses on either of the Bessa 66 cameras are manual, meaning there is no rangefinder for focus, so you'll have to manually guess the distance to your subject and turn the lens to that "guessed" distance, then take your photo.

The pre-war Bessa 66 cameras had the hinged filter, which was not fitted to the post-war cameras. Because the filter was fragile, many cameras had it broken off through use. On the Standard camera I have, it looks like the filter has been broken off the camera.

To open the camera to expose the lens and shutter, which is on a black bellows, press the chrome button on the bottom of the camera; the lens/shutter then pops out.

My Deluxe camera has a Compur shutter with shutter speeds from 1/300 to 1 second, plus B for timed exposures. The Standard camera has a Prontor II shutter, which offers shutter speeds from 1/175 to 1 second and "B" for timed exposures. Both cameras have maximum apertures of f/3.5 and go to f/16.

Once the camera is opened, the shutter speeds can be changed by turning the outer ring around the shutter. A red dot points towards the desired shutter speed. The aperture is set via a sliding lever which will point to the desired aperture setting. You cock the shutter by pulling back the cocking lever on the right side of the shutter.

Both the Standard and the Deluxe Bessa 66 release the shutter by the shutter release that is incorporated into the lens door, which trips the shutter via linkage inside the lens door. You'll need to get used to this shutter release, as it's an uncommon place for one.

To close the lens/shutter back into the camera, pull out the hinged locking Standard on either side of the Standard camera; the camera starts to collapse, then press in the front door to close it.

The Deluxe camera closes a bit differently. In the front, just below the lens, press in the chrome bar to release the locked hinge holding the lens rigid; then press in the lens door to close it. Both are similar, but the Deluxe camera is simpler and more of a nicety, which makes closing it easier.

To open the back of the camera to load film, slide the chrome-and-black foot on the bottom of the camera. This foot has two features. One keeps the back locked, as one end slides under the bottom latch needed to open the film back. This prevents anyone from pressing the bars together to open the film back. The other feature, and the more useful one, is that sliding the leg out creates a base that keeps the camera upright and prevents the front from tipping forward onto the lens.

Once the foot is in the out position, press the two bars together on the film door to open the back. At this point, load film into the Bessa as you would any 120 film camera: thread the lead into the take-up spool, wind until you see the start arrows, then close the back of the camera.

Both the Deluxe and Standard cameras have a red window on the back to wind until you see the next frame number. These windows also have a cover you can open or close via a small black knob next to it. When closed, the window shows an "X" so you know it's closed.

The Deluxe camera has a "Semi-Automatic Film Advance system," as described in Mike Butkus's manual and his other incredible camera manuals. The camera has a switch on the back and a frame counter on top.

Here's how the film advance works on the Deluxe camera:

  • -- On the back and front of the camera, just under the top, next to the film winding knob, are two sliding latches. If the frame counter on top doesn't show 0, slide these latches to the left and right, back and front in turn until the frame counter shows 0.

  • -- On the back of the camera is a red window that will show an X. To the right of it is a flat serrated wheel of equal diameter.

  • -- Open the red window by turning the wheel 90 degrees clockwise. Turn the winding knob until the number 1 appears in the red window.

  • -- Turn the wheel back to close the red window.

  • -- Looking at the top of the camera, slide the latch on the back to the left. The frame counter on top will show 1. The camera is now ready to take the first picture.

  • -- To advance the film, slide the latch on the front to the right. The frame counter will show 2. Turn the winding knob until it stops. Take the second picture. Repeat until the counter shows 12 and take the last picture. Slide the front latch one more time until the counter shows 0, then turn the knob until the film is completely wound.

My Results:

Here are a few of the frames I took while my wife and I visited the Grist Mill, which is beautiful this time of year.

Conclusion:

I've always been a big fan of Voigtländer cameras. To have one that is both medium format and pocket-sized, with sharp lenses, is a real bonus and makes it one of my favorites. The only thing that would make it better would be rangefinder focus. That's what makes cameras like the Zeiss Super Ikontas and other Japanese cameras like the Mamiya Six or Konica Pearl so desirable.

Thank you for taking the time to read about the Bessa 66 cameras I recently added to my collection.

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

Check out my Cuny's Camera Collection 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.

Dover No. 620-A camera

My Dover No. 620-A camera

It's always the odd and unusual cameras that grab my attention.

As I was looking through some online auctions, I saw a camera that really caught my eye. It wasn't your typical 35mm SLR, rangefinder, or even a twin-lens camera, but a triangular-shaped Bakelite camera with a large flash reflector. The feature that really made me give the camera some thought was the very large exposure guide on the rear of the camera, along with the sliding yellow filter on the lens.

As I was scanning the photos of the camera online, I saw "Dover No. 620-A" on the side of the camera. It's a camera I was not aware of, which is somewhat odd given the amount of time I've spent scanning McKeown's Camera Guide.

Nameplate on the camera

At this point, I picked up the camera bible (McKeown's Camera Guide) to see what they had on the camera. They had a short description linking it to the Speed-O-Matic, which is a camera I'd read about a long time ago, but I didn't remember much about it until I refreshed my memory looking through the guide.

I also did some online research, which offered up identical information, along with a few more images of the camera. The photos showed the yellow filter on one side of the lens along with a second filter (Portrait) on the other side. Unfortunately, the camera I saw online only had the yellow filter.

The price of the camera online was very low, so I thought it might be fun to pull the trigger, purchase the camera, and write about it for one of my blog posts. I did see others on eBay and other places, but at the time, none of them had the flash reflector, the flash battery compartment wasn't as nice, and the price, even with shipping, was more than the one I saw online.

History:

The Dover 620-A is one of those cameras that's interesting for all the wrong reasons. It's a big, heavy chunk of black Bakelite with chrome trim, made around 1950 by the Dover Film Corp. — a company you've probably never heard of, and for good reason. The 620-A shoots 16 exposures of 4.5x6cm on 620 film, with a Somco f/9 meniscus lens, five rotary disc stops, a single-speed shutter, and a built-in flash. Its one genuinely clever feature is a pair of little filters — portrait and skylight — mounted right on the lens that slide across it. The operating instructions are even riveted onto the back, in case you lose the manual.

Cover from the Speed-O Matic camera

But the real story starts a few years earlier, with a camera called the Speed-O-Matic. Made around 1947-48 by the Speed-O-Matic Corp., it was an "instant" camera from before instant was easy: it shot direct-positive paper in a film pack, twelve 2x3-inch shots, and then you developed the paper yourself in a tank that came with the camera. Meniscus lens, single-speed shutter, extinction meter. Simple in theory, clunky in practice — you were essentially running a darkroom in a box.

The timing couldn't have been worse. Polaroid's Land camera debuted in 1948 and showed the world what instant photography was supposed to feel like. The Speed-O-Matic's shoot-paper-then-develop-it-yourself routine was a dead-on-arrival flop. The camera flopped, but the tooling survived.

That's where Dover Film Corp. comes in. Rather than design a camera from scratch, Dover took the Speed-O-Matic body molds and modified them for conventional roll film — and the Dover 620-A was born. Same bulky body, now a plain snapshot camera for standard 620 film. One curious footnote: the George Eastman Museum holds a Speed-O-Matic in its collection — camera, developing tank, film kit, and original box — a gift from the Eastman Kodak Company. Kodak kept an eye on the competition, even the competition that couldn't sell.

So the 620-A is a second act built on a failure: an instant camera that couldn't compete with Polaroid, reborn as a conventional snapshot camera by a company that saw value in molds nobody else wanted. And for the record, there probably wasn't ever a model B.

The Camera:

The camera is a very odd duck, measuring 5" wide by 4.5" deep and 7.5" tall from the bottom of the film winding knob to the top of the flash reflector. The Dover 620-A weighs just under one pound, at 15.5 ounces.

There's really nothing much to the camera itself. On the front of the camera is the lens, and on my camera the sliding yellow filter is on the right side — the portrait filter that should be on the left is missing.

Just below the lens is a rotary disk numbered 1 to 5; rotate it and the aperture in the lens changes. The number 1 is the widest opening and the number 5 is the smallest. The shutter release is above the lens at the 11 o'clock position. There is only one shutter speed, and that appears to be approximately 1/60.

The Dover No. 620-A produces 16 images on a roll of 620 film. The film back is held onto the front of the camera by two clips — one on top, one on the bottom — hinged on the back of the camera.

Once you unhinge the top and bottom clips and open the back, you load it like any roll-film camera: the take-up spool on the left side, the fresh roll of film on the right.

The take-up knob on the bottom of the camera is much larger than on many other cameras, but on the bright side, it makes winding from one frame to the next very easy. On the negative side, the camera doesn't sit straight when you set it down on a counter or table — the size of the knob made photographing the camera more difficult.

To me, the bright side of the camera is the exposure guide on the back, which fills up the entire back door. It's easy to read, and it has more information than a camera this simple would ever expect a photographer to know.

Exposure guide on the back of the Dover No. 620-A camera.

On the left side of the camera is the flash, which takes either a type 22 clear bulb (for black & white film) or a 22B for color film. The battery compartment seemed pretty clean, so I put in 2 fresh AA batteries, but no flash. At this point, I scuffed up the contacts and put a fresh type 22 bulb in the holder, and success — the flash worked. I forgot how bright flash bulbs were until you accidentally look at one when the flash goes off. YIKES.

With a working camera, I wanted to put it through its paces and see what it could produce in terms of images. Unfortunately, the only film I had was from the 1950s, and not in very good condition. Anxious and unwilling to wait, I popped a roll in the camera and walked through the neighborhood, taking some images with the Dover No. 620-A.

 My Results:

Well, the camera performed as it should, and I should have waited to get fresher film, because the exposures from the very outdated film were off, and due to the film's age, the images have an unusual texture from what I can only presume is a breakdown of the emulsion.

Conclusion:

While the photos didn't turn out as I hoped, the camera was fun to use and, other than the odd and extraordinarily large winding knob on the bottom, it's a relatively rare camera for the collection.

Thank you for taking the time to read this updated review of the Dover 620-A camera!

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Be sure to check out some of my other Camera Reviews.

Check out my Cuny's Camera Collection YouTube channel, where I'm 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'll find some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and gear from my personal collection that I am thinning out.

Until next week, please be safe!

Alpa Reflex 9d camera

My Alpa Reflex 9d with Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 lens

A few months ago, I received a message from a friend of mine who lives in Las Vegas. She told me that one of her neighbors' husbands had passed away a while ago, and his wife was looking to sell his camera collection.

She had already gone through her usual friends, family, and other acquaintances to see if anyone was interested in the cameras, with the usual response of "no." My friend told her that he knew someone who might be interested, and that's when I started receiving messages asking if I would like to see what she had.

Of course, I said yes.

I'm always looking to buy and sell cameras, as well as keep certain cameras for special occasions, so I asked my friend to take some photos and send them to me.

When the photos arrived, I wasn't expecting what I saw. This wasn't just a few cameras sitting in a closet. There was an entire wall of cameras next to the fireplace, neatly stacked on shelves. Doing a rough count, there appeared to be around 100 cameras.

There were plenty of very common cameras that I wasn't particularly interested in, but there were also quite a few really nice ones. In the photos I spotted a Leica IIIb, a Canon rangefinder, a Voigtländer Vitessa, a couple of Exaktas, a Fed I, and one camera that really caught my eye—the Alpa Reflex 9d.

Photo of the camera collection purchased.

I asked if she would be willing to sell just the cameras I was interested in, which amounted to around 25 to 30 cameras. Unfortunately, it was an "all or nothing" sale. She wanted all of the cameras out of her house to make some room, which I could certainly understand.

There was just one problem.

I live in Washington State, and the cameras were in Las Vegas. Shipping nearly 100 cameras would be expensive, and packing that many cameras would be a tremendous amount of work. Since the woman selling the collection was elderly, I also didn't think it was reasonable to expect her to pack and ship everything.

Fortunately, my wife and I were already planning a road trip.

We were going to drive down the Oregon coast to visit family, continue to the San Francisco Bay Area, where we had lived about 10 years ago, and then head to Southern California to visit my sister-in-law. If I could add another four-hour drive from Southern California to Las Vegas, I could pick up the cameras myself.

We agreed on a price, and my friend told me the cameras were in tip-top shape. The seller also agreed to wait until mid-September for me to make the trip.

That worked out perfectly.

While we were in San Francisco, we timed our visit to coincide with the monthly Alameda Point Antique Faire, held on the first Sunday of each month. Naturally, I couldn't be that close and not go. I came away with some great camera and photography-related items.

From San Francisco, we headed to Southern California, stayed with my sister-in-law for a few days, and then made the drive to Las Vegas.

Since we were traveling by car, I had plenty of room for the cameras. I brought a large spare suitcase and plenty of packing material so I could safely transport everything home.

Even though I had agreed to purchase the entire collection, I had already made it clear that I didn't want all of the cameras. I estimated that I would donate about 40 percent of them to Goodwill because they really didn't have much value. The seller told me that whatever I didn't want, I could simply box up because she had a young friend interested in photography who would love to have them.

When we arrived at her house, it was great to finally meet the person I had been talking with on the phone and emailing for quite some time. She was very happy that I had made the trip to pick everything up.

We sat and talked for a while, and then I got to work.

I put the cameras I wanted into the bubble bags I had brought and carefully packed them into the large suitcase. The cameras I wasn't keeping went into two separate boxes, which I carried into her garage.

Then, when I went to close the suitcase, it hit me.

This was going to be heavy.

Very heavy.

Fortunately, it wasn't completely unmanageable, and I was able to get the suitcase into the back of my car. But I'd estimate that it was very close to 100 pounds.

That was essentially what my wife and I had been doing for the previous three weeks—driving, visiting family, going to antique shows, and finally hauling a nearly 100-pound suitcase full of cameras home from Las Vegas.

We returned from the trip about a week ago, and I've now started sorting through the cameras we purchased, listing some of them in my Cuny's Cameras and Photos eBay store and preparing others for a camera show in Seattle on Saturday, October 3, 2026.

Of all the cameras in that collection, however, there was one I was particularly anxious to get my hands on.

The Alpa Reflex 9d.

And fortunately, it came with what may be an even more interesting piece of the package—the Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 lens.

After unpacking everything, the first thing I did was inspect the Alpa to make sure it was in as good a condition as my friend had described. I also checked the lens to make sure the glass was clean and clear.

Everything looked good.

So I loaded a roll of film into the Alpa, grabbed the camera, and headed out into the neighborhood to see what this vintage Swiss camera and lens could do.

History

Alpa cameras occupy a special place in the history of 35mm photography. Made in Switzerland, Alpa cameras were never mass-market products. Instead, they were precision instruments designed for photographers and collectors who appreciated exceptional mechanical construction, innovative designs, and meticulous craftsmanship.

The company's roots go back to Pignons S.A. in Ballaigues, Switzerland. In 1944, the company introduced the Alpa Reflex, designed by Jacques Bolsky. It was an unusual 35mm SLR that combined a compact body with a distinctive internal mechanism.

Alpa Reflex 9d advertisment.

From the beginning, Alpa cameras were different from the mainstream.

During the late 1940s and 1950s, Alpa developed a series of increasingly sophisticated 35mm SLRs. Models such as the Alpa-Standard, Alpa-Reflex, Alpa-6, and Alpa-7 helped establish the company's reputation for precision and quality.

Alpa cameras were considerably more expensive than many of the mainstream 35mm cameras being produced by manufacturers such as Leica, Nikon, Canon, and Pentax. Their relatively low production numbers and Swiss construction gave them an almost bespoke character.

One of the important developments in the Alpa story came with the Alpa 9d, introduced in the early 1960s. It incorporated a through-the-lens metering system while retaining the unusual mechanical design that made Alpa cameras so distinctive.

The Alpa 10d and later Alpa 11 series continued this tradition. Prestigious lens manufacturers supplied optics for Alpa cameras, including Schneider-Kreuznach, Kern Aarau, and Angénieux.

Perhaps the most famous Alpa cameras are the 9, 10, and 11 series, along with the later Alpa 12 cameras. Their precision construction, interchangeable lenses, and unusual operating characteristics made them particularly attractive to professional and specialist photographers.

The Alpa 11si, introduced during the 1970s, represented one of the final major developments of the original Alpa tradition. Its compact body, sophisticated metering, and exceptional build quality made it one of the most interesting Swiss 35mm SLRs of its era.

Despite the company's reputation, producing highly specialized cameras in relatively small numbers made it difficult for Alpa to remain profitable. Pignons S.A. eventually ceased camera production in 1990, bringing the original Alpa 35mm era to an end.

Today, Alpa 35mm cameras are highly regarded by collectors. Their limited production, distinctive engineering, unusual lens systems, and Swiss craftsmanship make them fascinating examples of high-end mechanical 35mm photography.

For collectors, an Alpa isn't simply another vintage SLR. It represents a uniquely Swiss interpretation of what a precision camera could be.

The Camera

The Alpa Reflex 9d is a hefty, extremely solid camera. With the Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 lens mounted and focused to infinity, it measures approximately 6 inches wide, 4 inches tall, and 3.5 inches deep. At the lens's closest focusing distance, the overall depth increases to about 4.5 inches.

The camera and lens together weigh 2 pounds, 3.5 ounces.

The body serial number is 48600, while the Kern lens has serial number 1050580.

It took me a little while to get used to how this camera operates. The film does advance normally, but the winding lever is reversed from almost every other camera I've ever used.

Instead of using your thumb to push the film advance lever to the side, you grab the lever with your forefinger and pull it back to advance the film to the next frame.

It's one of those things that feels strange at first simply because I'm so accustomed to cameras working the opposite way.

Under the film advance lever is the shutter-speed control, which provides speeds from 1/1000 second down to 1 second, with a flash synchronization speed of 1/60 second.

Changing the shutter speed is also a little different. Pull down on the collar and rotate the ring to the desired shutter speed, indicated by a white line on the collar.

The camera can also make exposures longer than one second. By setting the shutter-speed dial to 1 second and rotating the collar, you can select exposures of up to 4 seconds.

The Meter

The Alpa Reflex 9d has a built-in light meter, with the battery compartment located on the back of the camera next to the viewfinder eyepiece.

The meter uses a match-needle system. Looking through the viewfinder, you see a needle with a circle on its end and another floating needle. The idea is to adjust the shutter speed or aperture until the two needles line up.

To activate the meter, you slightly depress the shutter release on the front of the camera. A lock next to the shutter release prevents you from accidentally firing the shutter while metering.

Unfortunately, the meter in my Alpa isn't working. The needle doesn't move when I depress the shutter release or change the shutter speed and aperture.

That's not a huge problem for me, however, since I normally carry a handheld meter anyway.

The ASA setting is controlled by a dial on top of the camera. If you prefer to select the aperture first, the meter system can tell you what shutter speed to use for the available light.

It took me a little while to understand the system, and I'll admit that it isn't the most intuitive metering arrangement I've used.

But once you understand what Alpa was trying to accomplish, it makes sense.

Other Controls

On the left front of the camera body is a square block that locks and unlocks the shutter and meter system. Moving it to the left unlocks the system, while moving it toward the lens locks it.

Below this is the self-timer, which provides a delay of up to approximately 20 seconds.

On the right side of the body are the flash synchronization terminals and the lens-release button.

Removing the lens is straightforward. Press the lens-release button and rotate the lens counterclockwise. To install a lens, line up the two red dots—one on the camera body and one on the lens—and rotate the lens clockwise until it clicks into place.

The Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 lens

The Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 is a pretty wonderful lens.

It focuses from about 11 inches to infinity, making it much more versatile than a typical 50mm lens. The focusing ring is toward the rear of the lens, while the aperture ring is toward the front and provides settings from f/1.8 through f/22.

The lens also has a distinctive automatic/manual control on the shutter-release shaft.

In the automatic position, the lens stays at maximum aperture while focusing and only stops down to the selected aperture when you release the shutter. In the manual position, the lens stops down as you change the aperture.

This makes the lens particularly nice to use when you're trying to focus accurately at close distances.

The depth-of-field scale is also unusual, using a series of colored dots to indicate depth of field at the various apertures.

Looking through the viewfinder, the focusing screen has a 45-degree slanted split-image rangefinder in the center, surrounded by a fine ground-glass circle and a matte focusing area.

The meter needles are visible on the right side of the viewfinder.

Loading Film

Loading film is a little different from most 35mm SLRs I've used.

To open the camera, turn the large handle on the bottom in the direction indicated by the arrow and slide the back off the camera.

Once the back is removed, loading the film is fairly straightforward. Load the film as you would in most 35mm cameras, making sure the film travels across the shutter before replacing the back and locking it into position.

I then pull up the rewind knob and turn it several times to take up any slack in the film. When I advance to the first frame, the rewind knob should rotate, confirming that the film is advancing properly.

When the roll is finished, press the rewind button on the bottom of the camera, pull up the rewind crank, and rewind the film into the cassette.

Then you're ready for another roll.

My Results

After loading the film and taking the Alpa out into the neighborhood, I was finally able to see what the camera and, more importantly, the Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 could do.


I shot these images on expired 6/70 Kodak Plus-X film, developed in Rodinal.

The results were exactly what I was hoping to see from this lens.

Conclusion

It took me some time to get used to the film transport system. After using cameras for roughly 60 years, I'm pretty accustomed to advancing film by pushing a lever with my thumb. Pulling the Alpa's lever toward me with my forefinger just feels backwards.

After using it for a while, though, it stopped feeling strange. It was simply different.

The Alpa Reflex 9d is also a very solid camera. You can feel the quality when you're holding it. This isn't a lightweight camera designed to disappear into a bag. It's a precision instrument, and it feels like one.

The advanced features took me some time to understand, and the shutter-speed controls aren't as quick to operate as I'm used to. But I don't think the Alpa was really designed for someone who wanted to shoot quickly.

This is a camera for taking your time.

For me, the real star of this particular combination is the Kern Macro Switar 50mm f/1.8 lens.

The lens is spectacular.

I love the close-focusing capability, and the images have a very creamy look while still retaining excellent sharpness. That's difficult to describe until you actually see the photographs, but I really enjoyed the results.

I wish the built-in meter worked, but that wasn't going to stop me from using the camera. I'm reasonably good at estimating exposure, and when I want to be more precise, I can always use my Sekonic L-308 meter.

So, was the Alpa Reflex 9d worth the four-hour drive from Southern California to Las Vegas?

For me, absolutely.

Actually, when I think about it, the Alpa was worth quite a bit more than the drive. It was one of those cameras in the collection that I saw in a photograph and immediately thought, "I want that one."

And after putting a roll of film through it, I'm glad I did.

Are you interested in other cameras? Check out some of my other Camera Reviews.

Also, check out my Cuny's Camera Collection YouTube channel, where I'm putting together video overviews of the cameras I write about. Be sure to subscribe and like the channel!

You can also visit Cuny's Cameras and Photos, my online eBay store, where you'll find some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and photography items from my collection that I'm thinning out.

Until next week, please be safe.

ICAF Roby Camera

My ICAF Roby camera

I bought the Roby camera a few weeks ago at an online auction, bundled with several other items. It caught my eye because it reminded me of the Ferrania small box camera I have on my shelf. Both cameras share a rounded front lens area and a sleek finish. I saw it as a good complement to the Ferrania, and based on the auction photos, I believed it was made by Ferrania when I placed my bid.

 The auction "lot" included a hodgepodge of gear—a large bag, old movie lights, a slide projector, and more—but I was only interested in the Roby. When I received the shipping bill from the auction house, I was floored by the price. I hadn't told them I only wanted that one item.

I called them immediately to let them know they could donate, keep, or toss the rest of the lot, as those items had no value to me (and probably not to many others, either). That brought the shipping down to a very reasonable price that I was happy to pay.

My Ferrania & Roby camera

 Once the camera arrived, I was surprised to find out it wasn't made by Ferrania at all. A different Italian company, ICAF (Industria Costruzione Apparecchi Fotografici), built it. ICAF later became Bencini, a popular manufacturer responsible for the Bencini Koroll (which I've previously written about). They also produced a camera I've been hunting for and am itching to review: the Bencini Comet III.

 The Roby is bigger than I anticipated, but on the bright side, it takes 120 film and shoots 6x9cm (2 1/4 x 3 1/4) format images. I originally assumed it would be closer in size to the Ferrania Filma, which is a more compact 127 format camera. I also thought I had already written about the Filma! Looking back, I haven't, so I'll review that one soon.

 This article won't be as long as some of my others for two reasons. First, the camera is extremely simple and has few settings. Second, my wife and I are currently on an extended road trip visiting relatives and friends. I won't have much downtime to write, so I apologize in advance if I miss a week or two of camera reviews.

History

The story of ICAF and Bencini cameras is a fascinating chapter in Italian photographic history, charting an evolution from simple box cameras to uniquely stylized, rigid-bodied metal shooters.

Antonio Bencini's photographic journey began during World War I. Trained as an aeronautical engineer, he was tasked with maintaining and repairing French-made aerial reconnaissance cameras for the Italian military. After the war, he jump-started Italy's domestic camera industry by founding FIAMMA in 1920 and later founded a second company, Filma. After selling both ventures to Ferrania, Bencini relocated to Milan and established ICAF (Industria Costruzione Apparecchi Fotografici) in 1937.

 ICAF's initial offerings were straightforward box cameras like the Roby and Gabry, named after Bencini's children. To comply with nationalist language policies, the company quickly changed the names to Robi and Gabri. Shortly before World War II, the company was renamed CMF. Camera production paused during the conflict as the factory pivoted to manufacturing aircraft and bicycle components.

ICAF Strap

 Emerging in 1946 as CMF Bencini, the company began defining its signature aesthetic. Moving away from the era's fragile cloth bellows, Bencini transitioned to durable sliding-tube mechanisms and rigid die-cast aluminum bodies. This shift produced cameras that were rugged, affordable, and distinctly Italian.

 The real breakthrough came in 1948 with the introduction of the Comet series. Designed for 127 film, these cameras were massive commercial successes. By 1953, the company shortened its name to simply Bencini and released the Comet III. With its striking vertical orientation, oversized winding knob, and art-deco flourishes, the Comet III remains a highly recognizable example of mid-century industrial design. Alongside the Comet was the popular Koroll line, which utilized 120 film for larger formats. These models were known for their reliability and straightforward functionality, cementing Bencini's reputation among amateur photographers.

 During the 1960s, Bencini tried to adapt to consumer preferences by producing 126 cartridge cameras, many of which were rebranded and sold by the British drugstore Boots. In the 1970s, the company ventured into the 110 pocket format and released 35mm plastic cameras, still bearing the iconic Comet name.

 While Bencini ultimately struggled to compete with advanced Japanese SLRs and closed its doors in the 1980s, its legacy endures. Today, these early aluminum-cast cameras are appreciated as tangible, mechanical pieces of Italian photographic history.

My Camera

My ICAF Roby is approximately (I forgot to measure it before leaving!) 3 inches tall, 3.5 inches deep (due to the protruding lens area), and 2.5 inches wide, weighing about 10 ounces. The finish is a bit rough, with some chipped paint, as you can see in the photos, but it has a working shutter. The lens is a 105mm f/11, which is indicated directly around the glass.

When I first inspected the camera, I wondered about the mechanism next to the viewfinder (positioned above the lens). I pushed it to one side, and the viewfinder flipped sideways, allowing you to frame horizontal images. The waist-level finder is surprisingly clean and bright, making subject framing a breeze.

The shutter release is located on the left side of the lens at the seven o'clock position. Right beneath it is a switch for exposure modes: down for "instant" and up for timed exposures. According to my trusty shutter tester, the "instant" setting fires at approximately 1/100th of a second. There are no aperture controls, so the lens is fixed at f/11.

 A switch on the left side of the camera opens the body for loading. The entire side panel comes off, along with the film insert. Load the film as you would with any roll film camera, slide the insert back into the body, and lock the door to prevent accidental exposure. Wind the film to frame number one, and you're ready to shoot.

I had some old, expired Plus-X film in my drawer that I decided to try out. The lens was clean, and the film wound easily. It wasn't until I processed the negatives that I realized how underexposed the images were—likely due to the film's age. Nonetheless, the results have a particular contrast and softness that reminds me of early Edward Steichen photographs or the work of Anne Brigman. Take a look at the images below.

Results

Here are some of the results from the Roby using 50-year-old expired Plus-X film. The shots were massively underexposed, and I had to do quite a bit of work on them in post—especially since I didn't have time to shoot another roll before hitting the road.

 I'll shoot another roll when I get back and update this post with properly exposed images. My apologies for the initial results; I know the camera will perform much better with fresh film.

Conclusion:

This camera is a nice addition to the collection; it was fun to shoot with, and it fits right in next to my Ferrania box. I'm considering removing the front lens area to sand off some of the rust and repaint it for a refreshed look. It may not improve the camera's function, but it will look better on the shelf.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about the ICAF Roby from my collection.

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

Check out my Cuny's Camera Collection YouTube channel, where I'm putting together video overviews of the cameras I write about. Be sure to like and subscribe!

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

Until next week, please be safe.

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.

 

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.

Konica Pearl II camera

My Konica Pearl II camera & case

I purchased the Konica Pearl II on my first visit to Kitamura Camera, when I hired Bellamy Hunt of Japan Camera Hunter to show me many used camera stores in Tokyo. 

 It was our last stop on the half-day tour when we visited this massive, seven-story flagship store, which is one of more than 45 Kitamura Camera locations in Tokyo. It's on the fourth floor where they show their "high-end" items such as rare Leica cameras and lenses, Nikon rangefinders, Hasselblads, Rolleis, Mamiyas, and quite a few camera oddities. It's the floor that if you have an extra $10,000, $20,000, or even $100,000 burning a hole in your pocket to purchase rare photo items, they most likely have it.

 Unfortunately, I didn't win the lottery before coming to Japan, so I needed to be much more frugal in my camera purchases. Because of this, I much prefer the third floor of Kitamura's flagship store. It's where they have their "bargain" items. Personally, it has the items I'm much more accustomed to purchasing.

 The Konica Pearl II was a camera I didn't really notice until the second time I passed by a particular showcase. It was tucked in a back corner, not really visible except for the film winding knob, which I thought looked odd and different from many of the winding levers on this style of camera. It has more of a winding-key appearance rather than the standard round knob you see on most 120-style folding cameras.

 We asked one of the salespeople to get the camera out of the showcase for me to get a better look at, and he didn't even see the camera at first, tucked back in a corner of the showcase. But after guiding him to the correct camera I wanted to see, he took it off the shelf and put it on a mat in a lower showcase for me to look over.

Different angle of the Konica Pearl II camera. Notice the shutter release on the lens door.

 To my surprise, the camera seemed to be in wonderful condition. The price for the camera seemed low, so I started to look over it with the thought in the back of my mind that there must be an issue. The shutter worked, the aperture moved smoothly. The camera opened and closed with ease, and the fitted leather case was also in good condition. 

 Putting the camera up to my eye to look through the viewfinder, I found the issue. The back eyepiece was absent from the camera. Because of that, there were a couple of issues. First, when you looked through the viewfinder, the image was blurry, and you couldn't really see or frame it well.

 The second issue was something I didn't realize until the salesperson mentioned it. You couldn't see the yellow center area on the rangefinder. Initially, when I first picked up the camera, I didn't notice the two windows on the front, which would indicate a rangefinder-style camera, but on second look, there were two windows, which makes perfect sense.

 For the price of the camera, they offered to acquire a very compact medium-format camera with a functioning shutter, smooth focus, a light-tight bellows, and a fitted case. I figured I couldn't go wrong. All I needed (hopefully) was to find a "parts" camera to source the viewfinder glass from, and make this wonderful early 1950s camera whole again.

 During my time in Tokyo, I did spend time looking for a "parts" camera, but it wasn't until just a few weeks ago that I came across one for a reasonable price that I could harvest the viewfinder glass, and try to make this camera whole again. Unfortunately, it hasn't arrived yet. I'm eager to write this post, so once the glass arrives, I'll update it with the camera's progress (or lack thereof) with the new glass.

 

History:

 Konica's early history begins in 1873, when Rokusaburō Sugiura started selling photographic materials in Tokyo, at a time when Japan was still importing nearly all such supplies from the West. That founding date makes the company older than Eastman Kodak, and it places Konica at the very start of Japan's photo industry.

Early photo of Rokusaburō Sugiura. Credit Konicaminolta website.

 Sugiura first operated through the family business in Tokyo's Nihonbashi area, where demand for photographic goods was growing fast enough to justify a separate line of business. By 1878, he had founded Konishi Honten, and in the 1880s, the firm moved beyond retailing imported goods to producing its own photographic materials in Japan. This shift mattered because it helped move Japanese photography from dependence on foreign products toward domestic production.

 In 1902, Konishi began producing its own photographic plates and printing paper, and soon after, in 1903, it introduced the Cherry portable camera, widely described as Japan's first branded camera. That product established the company as a pioneer rather than just an importer. Over the next decades, Konishi built a reputation as one of Japan's leading camera and materials companies.

 During the 1910s and 1920s, the company continued to expand its manufacturing base and deepen its role in Japan's optical and photographic sectors. Its name evolved through several forms, including Konishi Honten and Konishiroku, reflecting both family succession and corporate growth. By the interwar period, the firm was part of a broader Japanese camera industry that was still small by global standards but increasingly capable of making its own products.

Popular Cherry camera: Credit Konicaminolta history page

 In the 1930s, Konishiroku pursued further camera development, including prewar prototype work that pointed toward later 35mm designs. Like much of Japan's industrial base, its development was increasingly shaped by the era's tensions, and the coming war would disrupt civilian camera production. Still, by the eve of World War II, Konica's predecessor had already established the core identity that would define the brand: a Japanese photographic pioneer rooted in import substitution, careful manufacturing, and gradual technological independence.

 In the 1950s, Konishiroku cemented its medium-format legacy with the exceptional Pearl series of folding cameras. Shooting 6x4.5cm frames on 120 film, these compact powerhouses combined portability with remarkable optical precision. The decade introduced the Pearl II (1951), the Pearl III (1955), and the pinnacle of the lineup: the Pearl IV (1958). These beautifully engineered models proved that medium format didn't have to be bulky, providing a professional-grade folding tool that easily slipped into a coat pocket.

My Camera:

 My Konica Pearl II camera, manufactured in 1951, is a 6x4.5cm vertical-format camera. The physical size of the camera is 4.75" wide by 4.5" tall and 1.5" deep with the lens closed in the camera body, and 4" deep when you depress the button on the top of the camera, located in front of the accessory shoe, to open the camera's lens door. The camera weighs 1 pound, 4 ounces without film loaded.

With the lens door open, it exposed the Konishiroku Hexar 75mm F/4.6 lens, serial #90096, in a Konirapid-S shutter with a range of 1/500 to 1 second, along with "B" for timed exposures. On so many cameras, shutter speeds are set by turning a ring to the desired value along the outer portion of the shutter. There is a shutter cocking lever located just behind the shutter speed setting ring on the shutter.

 The camera's shutter release button is located on the lens door and trips the cocked shutter via a linkage to the shutter release. A cable release socket is also in the shutter just next to the cocking lever.

The aperture ranges from F/4.5 to F/22 and is adjusted by turning a knurled ring at the back of the shutter to the desired aperture, indicated by a red dot on the setting ring. Also on the camera's shutter is an ASA flash terminal, which would be used for bulb flash units popular at this time.

Behind the camera's shutter is a larger knob used to focus the camera through the rangefinder system. As mentioned earlier, I'm not sure whether my rangefinder is working. There's another way to check, and that's the method I used to get the photos for this article. 

 Moving the focus knob on the camera one way or the other moves a bar in and out located on the opposite side of the shutter release linkage. This bar's movement changes the focus distance to the subject, which you can see through a window on top of the camera. I find these simple features on cameras fascinating. I don't know why, but I do.

To close the lens door back into the camera body, press inward on the side struts holding the lens erect, and the struts will collapse, allowing you to fold the lens back into the camera's body. Pressing it back locks it into place. You'll also need to set the camera's focus to infinity before it will close all the way.

 Looking down at the top of the camera, there are just a few objects to see. There is a small area on the front of the rangefinder housing that is losing some of its leatherette. The wonderfully designed focus window with a depth-of-field scale. The name "Pearl II" is in a modernistic font, with the camera's accessory shoe on a lower plane and the button for releasing the lens door.

To load the camera with film, the film door release is on the right side of the Pearl II. Lifting the lever on top unlocks the film door, allowing you to open it and load film. The fresh roll fits on the left side, and the take-up spool will be on the right, where the larger key-style winding lever is located. Once loaded, close the back of the camera and wind until you see the number 1 in the rear chrome window, which has a sliding cover.

 With the film loaded in the camera, let's take a walk through the neighborhood to see how it performs. Even though I don't have a usable rangefinder, the distance scale on top of the camera should help me take sharp photos.

 My Results:

 Since the camera has a vertical 6x4.5 format, you can take 16 images on a roll of 120 film. If you're taking a horizontal image, you'll need to turn the camera to landscape orientation.

 Here are some of the photos I took during my walk in our neighborhood.

Conclusion:

 I understand why the Konica Pearl lineup is so desirable for an everyday pocketable film camera. It's sophisticated, yet simple. The camera can focus on your subject via an internal rangefinder system, rather than relying on a less desirable "guess" focus system. 

 The higher shutter speed of 1/500 for the time period allows for less camera or subject movement, and the iconic Konica Hexar lens is sharp and provides wonderful contrast to the images.

 I'm very glad I purchased this camera, and am keeping my fingers crossed that the viewfinder glass will bring the camera's rangefinder back to life, allowing for even easier focusing and possibly a sharper image.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this wonderful camera from Japan's early camera revolution after WWII, when many cameras had "Made in Occupied Japan" embossed somewhere on them, just like this one.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews. 

 I also have a YouTube channel where you can view overview videos of some of the cameras I've written about.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell many of the cameras reviewed, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated in my 50-plus years of collecting. Stop by and see if there's something for you there.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Mizuho Six camera

My Mizuho Six camera & case

During my trip to Tokyo a month or so ago, one of my primary goals was to find a little-known or unusual camera to write about for this camera-collecting blog.

 It was on my last day in Tokyo that I visited Used Camera Box for the second time. To say this camera store is filled to the rafters is beyond description. Most of the camera stores I visited in Tokyo were well laid out, with space between cameras. All the items with tags and prices are very visible. It's very similar to what you'd see in any city in the world, with cameras or other products displayed. 

 The Used Camera Box is unlike most camera stores you'll come across.  The shop is pretty small, but the amount of cameras they have is unbelievable.  Many of the showcases featuring the higher-priced, most desirable cameras are well displayed. 

 Then there are other areas of the store with showcases with cameras on top of cameras, on top of cameras. Stacked three high and so crammed next to each other, it's difficult to see what they have towards the back of the showcase. 

 There are the bins, many, many bin of cameras. All around the store's perimeter are tall showcases. In front of these tall showcases are plastic bins filled with more cameras. Many of the cameras in these bins are "bargain" items, which means they might have a part missing or not work. These bins are stacked three high, going around much of the store. Because of this, it's probably one of my favorite used camera stores. 

Name on top of the camera below the shutter release

 For me, the real pleasure of collecting is the hunt. The excitement of finding a real odd or unusual item at a bargain price. It's similar to going to a Flea Market, as there may be a real treasure in the next cabinet or stall. 

 I worked my way to one of my favorite showcases towards the back of the store. It's a showcase filled with many of the older cameras. It has a mix of higher-priced and lower-priced items. The patient salesperson let me pull items out and check them out. It was from this showcase that I found this week's camera, the Mizuho Six. The camera comes with a nice leather-fitted case, too. This, along with last week's Baron RI, was another camera I had never heard of until I researched it.

 Just like last week's blog about the Baron RI camera, this week's camera is another very similar style. It's a folding 120 camera made in the early 1950s, when Japan was rebuilding after World War II. 

 It was manufactured by another, smaller, and little-known company that later changed its name to Neoca. Here's some history on the brand.

History:

 The Mizuho Six began life in the early 1950s, when Mizuho Koki of Japan was producing folding medium-format cameras for a market that still valued compactness and simplicity. These early Mizuho-branded folders used 120 film and reflected the practical, postwar approach common among smaller Japanese camera makers.

From my book on collecting Japanese Cameras

 In 1954, the company changed its name to Neoca, and the Mizuho Six line became part of that transition. The name change marked a shift from the earlier Mizuho identity toward a broader Neoca camera range. At the same time, the foldable medium-format design remained rooted in the company's first postwar products.

 The Mizuho Six itself went through a series of small but meaningful variations rather than a dramatic redesign. Known versions include the Mizuho Six I, II, III, IIB, IIIB, and V, as well as later Super models such as the Super, Super N, and Super T. These changes suggest the camera was gradually updated with different body details, finder arrangements, and lens or shutter combinations.

 The best-known early version, such as the Mizuho Six V a, was a folding camera that offered either 4.5x6 or 6x6 cm exposures and used an uncoupled rangefinder. That combination made it a flexible, straightforward tool for photographers who wanted medium-format image quality in a portable body.

 As Neoca moved into its own identity after 1954, the company shifted increasingly toward compact 35mm cameras. Still, the Mizuho Six remains important as a bridge between eras. It represents the company's early craftsmanship and the transitional period when Japanese manufacturers were moving from traditional folding cameras toward the more modern designs that would dominate later in the decade.

My Camera:

 Built in the early 1950s, my Mizuho Six camera is 5.5" wide, by 4" tall, by 2" deep with the lens closed, and 4" deep when the lens is extended into the taking position. The camera weighs 1 pound, 7 ounces without film loaded. The camera's serial number is 3391. The camera also has "Made in Occupied Japan" embossed on the side where the film door release is located.

To open the lens to take a photo, depress the small button on top of the camera located in front of the accessory shoe, and to the right of the film winding knob. Once depressed, the lens board opens, exposing the lens.

 The Mizuho Six has an 80mm Mizuho Kiko Miltar Special F/3.5 lens, serial # 2664, in an NKS shutter. The shutter speeds range from 1/200 to 1 sec, along with "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed is set by turning the shutter speed dial around the lens to the desired speed. The shutter release is located on the top, right side of the camera, just in front of the "Mizuo-Six" name and serial number.

 The aperture is set similarly by sliding a knurled ring around the lens to the desired aperture, which ranges from F/3.5 to F/22.

It wasn't until I shot my first roll of film through the camera that I realized the shutter wasn't working properly, so I'll need to either get it fixed or sell the camera with the defect. The issue is when I cock the shutter, which is done with a small switch on the top of the lens, the shutter remains open until you depress the shutter release. It doesn't really "cock" the shutter as it should. 

 What I did notice was when I pulled the shutter cocking ever over to the farthest position, the shutter wouldn't open. It was when I released the lever after the cocking maneuver that the lens stayed open. If I pulled the lever all the way, held it, and then tripped the shutter release, the shutter would work as intended. This was awkward to use this way, but it's the method used to take the blog images.

 There is no rangefinder in this camera; it has only an optical viewfinder on top to frame your images. To focus on the subject, rotate the lens manually to the "guessed" distance to your subject before taking the photo.

 To close the camera for transport, depress the two enlarged tabs on the camera's struts inwards. The lens board will collapse, and you can close it back onto the camera body, which will lock it into position.

The one interesting feature of this camera is the ability to shoot either 6x6cm or 6x4.5cm. When you open the back of the camera to load film, there are two "wings" that can be pulled up from each side of the film chamber, covering a portion of the taking area and thus cropping the frame size from 6x6cm to 6x4.5cm.

 Once you make the change, you'll then use the appropriate red window on the back of the camera to count the frame numbers imprinted on the 120 rolls of film. It will also give the photographer four more images per roll, going from 12 images on a 6x6cm format to 16 on a 6x4.5 format camera. You'll need to shoot the entire roll in that format, as there's no way to change formats mid-roll.

You load the camera as you would any roll-film camera, with the take-up spool on the left side. Load the fresh roll on the right, and bring the film's leader to the take-up spool on the left,  making sure the leader is in the take-up spool. Then wind until you see the "start" arrows pointing outwards. Close the back of the camera and wind the film until you see the number 1 in the red window for the format you're using.

 Now that we have film loaded into the camera, let's take it out and see what results we get.

 My Results:

 Opening the Mizuho Six and cleaning both the front and rear elements of the lens before loading the camera. I had some T-Max 100 film that was just about out of date, so I loaded it into the camera. I chose the 6x6cm format so I could use a larger image size and assess the lens's sharpness.

 Here are the results from my walk around the neighborhood with the Mizuho Six camera

Conclusion:

 Well, I think the second roll of film turned out much better than the first roll, but I'm not overly impressed with the sharpness. This could be from a couple of different factors.

 While I cleaned the lens as best I could, it still seems to have some haze. The second factor is that the lens is slightly out of registration. I'm a fairly good guesser of distance, and the lens even at infinity seems a bit out of focus. I also think that some of the issues with the focus were caused by camera movement and what I needed to do to operate the shutter.

 The camera also has cosmetic issues. Some parts of the leatherette are missing and can be easily replaced. Given the shutter issues and the lenses' haze, this may not last long in my collection, and you'll probably see this in my online store soon.

 On the plus side, the camera can shoot in different formats, which is a nice feature, but I don't think it's going to overcome the camera's faults. It's a fun camera to shoot with, and I was happy to learn more about this camera.

 Thank you for taking some time from your busy day to learn a bit about this little-known camera from the beginning of the Japanese camera revolution.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where you'll find some of the cameras I reviewed for sale, along with many other cameras, lenses, and photo items from my collection.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Baron RI camera

My Baron RI camera

When I visited Tokyo, Japan, a few weeks ago, one of my main objectives was to find odd, unusual, or little-known cameras that I could write about for this blog post. I found a few cameras that meet this criteria and will be writing about them over the next couple of weeks. 

 To get familiar with many of the used camera stores in Tokyo, I hired Bellamy Hunt from Japanese Camera Hunter for a half-day tour. Not only is he a wonderful, kind, and knowledgeable camera collector, but his background on how he started his company is intriguing. I had a wonderful time getting to know him and appreciated all his insights into collecting cameras.

 One of the shops he took me to was Used Camera Box at 1 Chome-13-7 Nishishinjuku, Shinjuku City, Tokyo 160-0023. It was, to me, a jaw-dropping experience. The camera store is not that big, but almost 90% of it is filled to the rafters with cameras. There are many showcases with cameras on top of cameras, and in front of these showcases are bins of more used cameras.

 Only two people were working there, so I didn't want to monopolize their time opening and closing different showcases. If the showcases had been opened and I had places to look through all the items they had, it would have easily taken a couple of days, which would have been something I would have done.

 During my time with Bellamy, we didn't spend much time there, but I found one or two items, paid for them, and left. It was a store I planned to come back to when I had more time, to spend a couple of hours going through the bins and looking through different showcases, trying to find the odd, unusual, or unknown items.

Embossing on the camera leans board.

 On my final day in Tokyo, I went back to Used Camera Box and did what I had planned. When I arrived in the morning, soon after they opened, there were no customers, so I had time to go through many of the bins and scour at least one or two of the showcases. 

 There was a showcase towards the rear of the store that looked like it had many interesting items. I noted the items I was interested in and called over one of the two salespersons. At this point, a couple of other customers were there, but I was determined to look at the items I wanted.

 The salesperson was very courteous and allowed me to pick and look at several items I was interested in. There were some very rare gems, but the pricing was considerably higher than I was willing to pay, so I decided on 3-4 cameras, paid for them, and left very happy.

 One of the cameras purchased in the last few days at Used Camera Box is the camera I'm writing about in this post: the Baron RI camera. 

 The Baron RI camera is one I had never heard of or seen before, though it looks like so many other Japanese cameras from this timeframe. A folding 120, or 620 camera with a fold-out bed and nice Japanese shutter, taken from German manufacturers who made similar style cameras before World War II.

 Doing research on the camera, Baron cameras were made only by Chūō Seiki for a few years, between 1952 and 1956. They produced a few different models, but the company was short-lived, and the cameras are not very common.

History:

 Baron cameras were part of Japan's early postwar flood of small camera brands, emerging in the early 1950s when the country's photographic industry was rebuilding and rapidly expanding. These cameras reflect a period when dozens of manufacturers rushed to meet domestic demand and to compete in export markets, often by producing affordable 35mm and folding cameras inspired by European designs.

Japanese advertisment for Baron cameras

 In the early 1950s, Japanese camera makers were still working under the lingering effects of wartime disruption and occupation-era labeling rules. Many products carried "Made in Occupied Japan" markings until around 1952–1953, after which "Made in Japan" became standard as exports broadened and the industry gained a stronger international identity. Baron belongs to this wider ecosystem of small, fast-moving firms that relied on compact production runs, simple mechanics, and competitive pricing to find buyers.

 What makes Baron interesting is not that it was one of the biggest names, but that it represents the experimental, entrepreneurial side of the Japanese camera boom. The period was crowded with startups, subcontractors, and short-lived brands, many of which produced cameras that are now obscure but historically important because they show how Japan's industry learned to scale up, refine machining, and improve optical quality. That broader growth helped Japanese cameras go from largely unknown outside the country to serious competitors in overseas markets by the end of the decade.

 For collectors and historians, Baron cameras are valuable as artifacts of that transition. They sit at the intersection of postwar recovery, consumer optimism, and Japan's rise as a global center of photographic manufacturing. Even when the cameras themselves were modest, the brand is part of the larger story of how Japanese makers shifted from imitation and survival to innovation and global influence.

My Camera:

 My Baron RI camera is 4" tall, by 5.5" wide, and 2" deep when the lens is closed, and 4" deep with the lens extended. The camera weighs 1 pound, 8.1 ounces without film loaded. Embossed on the folding bed door is "Baron Camera Company, Tokyo, Japan."

The camera came with a very nice brown leather-fitted camera case, though the strap is missing. The case still offers wonderful protection for the camera. The serial number for my Baron R camera is 22893, stamped on the top plate of the back of the camera.

 To open the camera lens door, slide the chrome lever under the name "Baron-R," which unlocks the lens door and exposes the lens as it extends on chrome struts along the side of the lens door.

 The Baron RI camera has a Baron Anastigmat 80mm F/3.5 lens in an NKS-FB shutter. The shutter speeds range from 1/300 to 1 second, plus "B". To set the different shutter speeds, turn the dial around the lens to the desired shutter speed. There is a cocking lever for the shutter, located above the lens, with the shutter release on the lower left of the lens when viewed from the front. The shutter release is activated via a rod and linkage from the shutter release on the top of the camera, which pushes the shutter release when depressed.

The aperture range is from F/3.5 to f/22. The aperture is set by sliding the lever on top of the lens to the desired aperture setting. To the side of the aperture settings is a PC sync used for flash. There are no settings for "X" of "FP," though, so I'm unsure if this is for electronic or bulb flash.

 To close the lens bed, you press back on the two sides of the struts, which have "Baron" embossed into them, and press back into the camera body, which collapses the lens door and allows it to fold back into the camera body. Pressing in will lock the lens door into the normal transporting position and allow the camera case to close.

 My Baron-RI camera does have a couple of issues. I'm confident that's why I paid so little for it. None of the issues are deal-breakers for me purchasing the camera. The main item, the accessory or cold shoe, is missing from the camera. That's not a huge deal, as I generally don't use them. I did put black fabric tape over the spot where the accessory shoe goes, to give the camera a better appearance.

There is another item about the camera I'm not certain about. On the back of the camera, there are red windows with sliding covers for both 4.5x6 and 6x6 formats. I'm not sure whether the camera came with a mask for both formats, or if the company offered two different formats and only made one back for both cameras. Also stamped on the back of the camera, below the red windows, is "Baron-Six" embossed into the leather.

 An item on the Baron RI that I've never seen in a camera is an uncoupled rangefinder. When you look through the viewfinder on the rear of the camera, you view the rangefinder. On the right side, as you're holding the camera, there's a wheel that rotates, allowing you to focus the rangefinder. On my camera, it's bright and clear. You then transfer the distance from the internal rangefinder to the lens and set the distance to the subject. I'm confident that building an integrated rangefinder, which would focus the lens, would have added much more intricacy to the camera, but they either didn't want to bother or just wanted to keep the costs down. It's an interesting item built into the camera.

To load film into the Baron RI, on the left side of the camera is a lever you pull up, which opens the door to the right, exposing a standard roll film chamber. Load film as you would with any roll film camera by placing the take-up spool on the transport side and pulling down the knobs at the bottom of the camera. Put in the fresh roll in the empty area and bring the leader to the take-up spool. Thread the lead into the slot on the take-up spool and wind until you see the film is engaged and rolling onto the spool. Wait until you see the "arrows" pointing outward, close the back of the camera, and press down the locking bar, then wind the film advance knob until you see the #1 in the red window. Take your photo, and wind until you see the #2, and so on through the roll of film.

Now that I have film in the camera. Let's go around the neighborhood and see how the camera performs.

 My Results:

 I gave the camera a very quick look over. All the shutter speeds were working, and the aperture moved as it should. I loaded a roll of Ilford 125 film into the camera, went to the Dog Park with my daughter, and walked around the block, looking for flowers and other subjects to photograph.

 Here are the results.

Conclusion:

 Overall, the camera was easy to use and fun to shoot with. 

 It wasn't until I processed the film that I dug further and noticed a pinhole in the camera's bellows. That's why the photos have this light streak, and not just a light streak, but a gush of light on the bottom of the images, consistent in all the photos taken.

 I liked the rangefinder, which was easy to use and much easier for me than guessing distance. After focusing, I then transferred the distance to the lens, which was fun, and produced sharp images. I'll need to go in and add some thin fabric tape and black liquid fabric to the bellows to eliminate the annoying light leaks. It's a camera I purchased on my trip to Tokyo, and I will keep it for the time being.

 Thank you for taking some time to read about this little-known camera at the beginning of the Japanese camera revolution in the early to mid-1950s.

 I'd like to hear from you if you have questions, or even if you have a Baron camera or one of the many similar-style cameras made in Japan during this timeframe.

 Please take a moment to look at some of my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where you'll see some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with many other lenses, and vintage camera accessories I have for sale.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Minolta Vest camera

My Minolta Vest camera

My interest in the Minolta Vest began a few months ago when I saw a post on Facebook. What I like most about the camera is its similarity to the Minolta Six. Both cameras use a three-tier, stacked metal bellows system that extends and collapses, unlike the standard cloth- or leather-covered cardboard bellows found on most cameras.

 When I first pulled out the lens on either the Minolta Six or the Minolta Vest, the metal stacking bellows reminded me of a Japanese pagoda. Both cameras have a beautiful chrome pattern set against stark black Bakelite, giving them a strong Art Deco appearance. It's the artistry and attention to detail that you don't see in cameras produced today.

 Knowing about this early Minolta camera with metal stacking bellows, I made a point of keeping an eye out for one during my trip to Tokyo a few weeks ago.

 Fate was on my side, and I found a Minolta Vest in decent condition at the Tokyo City flea market. As I walked past one of the many hundreds of stalls, I noticed one of the vendors had a few cameras on his table. When I picked up the camera, I saw the Minolta name embossed on the back. Then, as I pulled the lens away from the camera body and the metal stacked bellows appeared, I was filled with excitement and joy.

Minolta Vest rigid stacking bellows that resemble a Pagoda

 There are two metal grips on either side of the lens that you use to pull it away from the camera body. The stacked bellows were somewhat stiff, with a bit of corrosion on the chrome, but with a little coaxing, the lens fully extended. I played with the shutter system, and it fired, but inconsistently. Sometimes the shutter would fire when the release was pressed, and sometimes it wouldn't. That was a bit of a disappointment, but not a dealbreaker.

 The lens appeared to be fine, and the aperture moved smoothly as it opened and closed. The lens was a bit difficult to return to the closed position, as I expected due to bellows corrosion, but with a bit of effort, it did retract.

 There were a few other cameras I was interested in on his table, so I gathered the two or three items I wanted and asked for the price. After a bit of negotiating using my phone to translate, we agreed on a price. I put the items in my backpack and, with a grin on my face and knowing I'd be writing a blog post about the camera, wandered off to see what other treasures I could find at that terrific, bustling flea market.

Early History

 Minolta began as a small but ambitious Japanese camera business in 1928, founded by Kazuo Tashima under the name Nichi-Doku Shashinki Shōten. From the start, the company was shaped by a fascination with German optics and camera design, and its earliest products reflected that influence. In 1929, Minolta introduced its first camera, the Nifcalette, a folding roll-film model that showed the company's early dependence on imported components and foreign technical models. Even so, it marked the beginning of a distinctly Japanese camera maker that would soon develop its own identity.

 The company adopted the name Minolta in 1931, a move that signaled a more confident and modern direction. The name was meant to evoke mechanisms, instruments, optics, and lenses, and it captured the firm's growing ambition to become more than a reseller of products influenced by foreign markets. During the early 1930s, Minolta gradually moved from imitation toward originality, developing folding cameras that were practical, attractive, and increasingly self-reliant in design. By 1933, the company had introduced its first camera under the Minolta name, a moment that helped establish the brand as a serious presence in Japan's emerging camera industry.

Advertisment for Minolta Vest

 Before World War II, Minolta was still a relatively young company, but it was already building the foundations of its future reputation. Models such as the Minolta Vest in 1934 and the Minolta Flex in 1937 demonstrated the brand's expanding technical range. The Flex was especially notable as Japan's second twin-lens reflex camera, placing Minolta among the more innovative camera makers of the era. These prewar years were important not because Minolta dominated the market, but because they revealed a company learning quickly, adapting foreign ideas, and steadily refining its own manufacturing skills.

 World War II disrupted Japanese industry, and like many camera makers, Minolta faced a difficult transition as the country shifted toward wartime production. After the war, the company entered a new phase of growth. Japan's postwar recovery created strong demand for precision optical equipment, and Minolta was well-positioned to benefit. In the 1950s, the company moved into 35mm camera production, a crucial step that aligned it with the global photography market. Minolta's postwar cameras gained attention for their solid engineering and user-friendly design, helping the brand earn a stronger international reputation.

 Over time, Minolta became known for more than just reliable film cameras. It developed a reputation for innovation in metering, automation, and eventually autofocus, especially in the late twentieth century. But those later successes were rooted in the company's early decades: a period of experimentation, persistence, and gradual technical maturity. The story of Minolta before and after World War II is really the story of a company that began by studying the best ideas from abroad, then turned those lessons into a lasting photographic identity.

My Camera

 The camera was built between 1934 and just before World War II, with production ending in 1940.

 The Minolta Vest is a fairly simple and basic camera. There aren't many frills, except for the beautiful three-tier stacking bellows system. The camera is one of the early examples made from Bakelite. It is also known as the Minolta Best or Minolta Marble, due to the prominent Everset Marble shutter on the camera's face.

It's also a compact camera, measuring 5.25 inches wide by 3 inches tall without the metal viewfinder extended, and 4 inches with it extended, by 2 inches deep with the lens retracted into the camera body, and 3.75 inches with the three-tier Bakelite bellows extended. 

The Minolta Vest camera's serial number is stamped on the leg that extends, allowing the camera to stand vertically. My camera is serial number 45605.

 The Marble shutter has three shutter speeds: 1/100, 1/50, and 1/25, along with B and T. The shutter is set via a wheel on the top of the lens, and it's just to the right of the lens as you're holding it to take a photo. As mentioned previously, my camera's shutter doesn't fire consistently. It works best at 1/100 and fires pretty regularly at that speed. At 1/50 and 1/25, it takes two or three tries for the shutter to fire, so I'll need to keep that in mind when I take the camera out for a shoot.

Shutter release, shutter speeds, and aperture settings on the Minolta Vest camera

The nondescript lens, which I'm guessing is approximately 75mm, has a maximum aperture of f/8 and extends to f/22. The aperture is set via a sliding lever under the lens.

I believe my camera is one of the earlier examples because the shutter looks different from those on others I've seen. There is no "Patents Nippon" on the face, and the design has an earlier Art Deco appearance. 

 Like many earlier models, the lens is fixed focus, whereas I have seen other models with a focusable lens and a maximum aperture of f/4.5.

 Looking at the back of the camera, there are two red windows, which indicate to me that the film format is 3 x 4 cm. Opening the back of the camera, which is done by pulling up a small knob at the end, opens the rear door. When doing so, it shows that the camera's format is 6 x 4.5 cm, so there must have been an insert in the camera to change the format. My camera doesn't have the insert, so mine will always be 6 x 4.5 cm.

Once the back is open, you load the camera just like you would any roll-film camera by putting the empty spool on the take-up side, which has the film advance knob. Put the fresh, unexposed film on the other side, slip the film leader into the slot on the take-up reel, and wind the knob, making sure the film is transporting until you see the arrows pointing outward. Close the film back, and wind until you see the number one in the center red window.

 Now that the film is loaded in the camera and my wife and I are headed to the local farmer's market, it's time for me to take some photos and see how this camera performs.

Click on the image to view video

 

My Results

 Using a light meter and 100 ISO film in the camera, the recommended setting was 1/100 at f/7.1. I needed to fudge it a bit and shoot at 1/100 at f/8, and hope for the best.

 As previously mentioned, there is no focus on this camera, and I tried to be about 10 feet from the subjects when taking images.

 Here are some of the results:

Conclusion

 As I scan the images from the farmers' market, some turned out better than others. I'm not sure what was going on, but some of the photos are sharper than others. I didn't pull out and push back the lens once I got to the farmers' market; I pulled the lens away from the camera body and adjusted the settings to the lighting conditions.

 There were a couple of times when I set the shutter to 1/50, but the focus was pretty inconsistent in many of the images. I was expecting slightly better results. Maybe there were a couple of times when there was some movement, especially since the shutter is a bit wonky and the images look unfocused.

Who knows what this camera has been through over the past 90 years, but all in all, it was fun to shoot with. The bellows look amazing, and I was complimented on the camera a few times as we walked through the farmers' market, so that was fun.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn a bit about this early example of a Bakelite camera from Japan, made in the early to late 1930s.

 I'd love to hear from you regarding this or some of my other camera reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store, where I sell some of the cameras reviewed, along with other camera and photo odds and ends.

 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.

Kolar Kola camera

My Kolar Kola camera

I didn’t write a blog post last week because I was in Tokyo camera shopping and hoping to find something odd and unusual to write about in the coming weeks. I was successful in that search, and this week’s camera is one I bought at one of my favorite used camera stores in Japan, Kitamura Camera in the Shinjuku area of Tokyo. Kitamura has several locations, but this was their flagship store.

 Kitamura Camera is an impressive multi-floor store with just about everything a camera lover could want, from a photo studio to film sales and processing. The most impressive parts for me were the two used-camera floors. The fourth floor had an outstanding collection of rare Leica cameras and lenses, Nikon rangefinders and lenses, Hasselblad gear, and other medium format cameras and lenses. The third floor was where I spent the most time. That was their bargain floor, with many lesser-known cameras and others that were not quite perfect.

 They also had Leicas and Nikons there, but some had small defects or were not fully functional. These were not the kind of “junk” cameras you often see in used camera stores, where lenses have fungus and shutters no longer fire. These were cameras most people would probably buy for parts, but Kitamura still presented them in a much more appealing way.

 That third floor is where I found this week’s camera: an odd cube-shaped camera called the Kola. I had never heard of it before. When I checked it out, the lens was clean, the shutter fired at all speeds, the film spools were still in the camera, and the price was very reasonable.

Back side of my Kolar Kola camera

 At first glance, I thought it might be a 127 film camera because of the film spools, but the frame size was marked 24 x 36, which meant it was a 35mm camera. That made me think it may have used paper-backed 35mm film, similar to the way some Bolta cameras were loaded.

It was certainly unusual enough to catch my attention, so I bought it along with a few other treasures from the shop. I planned to do the research later, but for the moment I set it aside and kept exploring the store. I knew I would be back before leaving Japan.

 Later that day, back at my hotel, the first camera I pulled out was the Kola. I wanted to know more about it right away. I soon learned that the camera was made in Czechoslovakia by a small and relatively obscure camera maker in the 1930s.

 Many examples I found online show Kola cameras in a 4 x 4 cm format on 127 film. Some earlier versions have a barrel lens, and the lenses I found were usually marked f/3.5 or f/4.5. I also found references to a paper-backed 35mm version. In my research, I saw that some Kola cameras used special 35mm cassettes and a different geared spool, but that spool arrangement did not match the camera I own.

 Here is a little more about the maker.

History

Václav Kolář was a significant, if short-lived, figure in prewar Czechoslovak camera manufacturing. Based in the Modřany district of Prague, Kolář operated his workshop during a period of experimentation and innovation in European photography. In the 1930s, small makers like Kolář were trying to compete with German giants such as Zeiss Ikon and Voigtländer.

 Kolář’s history appears to have been one of rapid innovation followed by financial difficulty. His company focused on precision engineering and often produced cameras that were mechanically sophisticated for their price point. However, the economic pressure of the Great Depression and fierce competition from Germany eventually led to bankruptcy in the mid-1930s. Today, his cameras are considered hidden gems of Central European camera history, prized for their rarity and distinctive design.

 His product line was surprisingly varied for such a small workshop. One of his best-known cameras was the Kola-Diar, a box-shaped roll-film camera. It was designed to be compact and practical, often using 127 film or unperforated 35mm film, which later gave it a bit of a spy-camera reputation among collectors. It featured a collapsing lens mount and a rugged build that stood out from the folding cameras of the period.

 Another notable model was the Kola-Flex, a twin-lens reflex camera made largely of Bakelite. Unlike many pseudo-TLR cameras of the era, the Kola-Flex often featured gear-linked lenses, allowing for more accurate focusing through the top viewfinder. Kolář also produced the Kolex, a traditional folding plate camera, and the Box-Reflex, an entry-level Bakelite model. These cameras were typically fitted with lenses bearing Kolář’s own names, such as Rekolar, Kolyt, and Kolar-Anastigmat, and were often paired with reliable German shutters like the Vario or Compur.

 Kolář’s legacy lies in his pioneering work in the Czech tradition of fine mechanical camera building. His designs showed that Czechoslovak workshops could produce serious photographic equipment, helping lay the groundwork for the later nationalized industry that would produce the Flexaret series.

My Camera

My Kolar Kola camera measures 3.5 inches wide, 3 inches tall, and 2.75 inches deep. It weighs 1 pound, 1.7 ounces, and has serial number 740 stamped into the back of the camera. It is fitted with a Schneider Xenon 5cm f/2.9 lens in a Comur-Rapid shutter. The shutter speeds range from 1/500 second to 1 second, with T and B settings for timed and bulb exposures. There is a cable release socket next to the shutter cocking lever on the top of the shutter, and the shutter release is positioned low at about the 8 o’clock position.

In my research, I found that many Kola cameras use a helical focus system mounted behind the shutter mechanism, but mine is a front-element focus model, meaning the lens itself rotates. Focus distances are marked on the outer ring of the lens in meters.

On top of the camera, from left to right, there is a large winding knob that advances the film clockwise. In the middle is a very small optical viewfinder, which is especially hard for me to use since I wear glasses. To the right of that are two small raised openings that can accept a cold shoe, much like the Nagle Pupille camera. An accessory rangefinder can be mounted there for critical focus.

 To the right of the cold-shoe area is the frame counter, located inside the knob that holds the film in place. Behind the frame counter is a small round indicator attached to the wheel inside the film chamber. As the film moves across that wheel during winding, the indicator turns, and each full rotation advances the frame counter.

The more I look at this camera, the more similarities I see between the Kola and the Nagel Pupille camera. Both have helical-focus variations, both offer an accessory shoe for a rangefinder, and both have a solid, well-made feel.

 To open the back and load film, there are two clips on either side of the camera that hold the back to the body. Pull those clips back, and the rear cover slides off, exposing the film chamber.

This is where the camera becomes especially interesting. There were already two spools inside, and they were just a little shorter than a 127 spool. The exposed frame area is 24 x 36, so the camera is definitely a 35mm model. My first idea was to use 127 backing paper with bulk-loaded 35mm film, but when I tried the 127 spools, they actually fit into the camera. Not perfectly, since the winding and holding knobs sit slightly higher, perhaps by about 1/16 inch, but they did fit.

I removed the 35mm spools that came with the camera and loaded it with 127 film I already had. On the back of the camera there is a red window, so I hoped I would be able to see the numbers pass by as I took pictures. If not, I could use the frame counter and the rotating wheel to estimate the proper spacing for 35mm-sized exposures on a roll of 127 film. I knew there would be some waste because the 127 film is wider than the image area the camera is using.

On the bottom of the camera there is a hinged door that allows the spools to be inserted into the body. The 35mm spools that came with the camera are too wide to fit through that opening, so if I were to use paper-backed 35mm film, I would need to open the hinged door to get the spools inside. The door is secured by a sliding latch that locks it in place.

Once the 127 film was loaded, I slid the back onto the camera body, latched the two clips, and headed out to make some photographs.

Results

With a roll of 127 film loaded, I walked through the neighborhood taking photos of the usual subjects to see how the Kola performed. At first, I guessed at the distance between frames, and that worked well enough. The frame counter behaved exactly as expected.

 Here are the results from my neighborhood walk.

Conclusion

WOW! I was very impressed with the sharpness and ease of use of this camera. The viewfinder is small and a bit difficult to use, especially for me since I wear glasses, but the sharpness of the images and the smooth film advance made up for the camera’s quirks.

 It would have been better to shoot 35mm film, since that would have avoided wasting image area the way 127 film does here. However, the hassle of paper-backed 35mm film, plus the unusual spool setup, made the wasted film area easier to accept.

 I am still puzzled by this particular Kola. It has a faster f/2.9 lens than the f/3.5 or f/4.5 lenses I found in my research, and it is also a 35mm version with spools that differ from those that came with the camera. That mystery makes it even more interesting to me.

 I am really happy with the results this Kola camera produced, and I am glad I found such a special camera on my trip to Tokyo.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Stop by Cuny’s Cameras and Photos to see what I have for sale in my eBay online store. It is filled with camera accessories, and you may even find a camera or two that I have reviewed in the past.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this small powerhouse of a camera made by a company in Czechoslovakia for such a short period of time. I am very happy to have one in my collection.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2

My Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 530/2 camera

Walking through flea markets, garage sales, or camera shows, I always stop to look at what Zeiss cameras they have, and the cameras that I always pick up to look over are any of the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta cameras. Not only because they look impressive even when closed, but also because I'm always struck by how well-made and intricate they are for a camera that's 90 years old.

 To me, the Super Ikonta cameras are like looking at a masterpiece of art. They are timeless in their form, compactness, and mechanical intricacies. When closed, they are compact and sturdy. They have a heft to them that you know they were manufactured to last a long time.

 Zeiss Ikon made four different Super Ikonta styles. There were the smaller models in 6x4.5 or 6x6cm formats, then they also made a larger, specifically longer version that shot 6x9, and a rare version that shot 6x11cm. The 6x9cm version came with a metal insert that reduced the image size to 6x4.5, essentially allowing the photographer to get twice as many images on the 120 roll film loaded in the camera.

 Having owned both in my life, I'm torn between them. On the one hand, I prefer the longer negatives, so the 6x9cm version is appealing, but it's also a bit bigger to carry. The more compact 6x6cm version is a terrific camera to carry when you travel. They are compact, fit in your pocket, have wonderful optics, and use a rangefinder to focus.

 Looking at the cameras on my shelf for a camera to write about, the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 530/2 was a camera I recently got back from a full CLA, so I knew, or at least hoped there wouldn't, or shouldn't be an issue putting film in the camera and running a roll of film through it. 

Horizontal view of my Zeiss Ikon Soper Ikonta 530/2 camera

 The camera I had purchased almost a year ago was from an online auction. I saw it at the auction along with a few other cameras, placed a fairly low bid, and won it. The camera was shipped to me, and upon inspection, I noticed the shutter wasn't working. It worked at higher speeds, but the camera needed servicing, so I sent it for CLA.

 My camera came back from the technician and looked flawless. The rangefinder was bright and accurate, the lens was bright, the focus was smooth, and the lens popped out of the camera as if it were new. 

 Whenever I see a Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta or another rangefinder folding camera, the first thing I check is the shutter to see if it's opening/closing, especially at slower speeds. Then I check the focus to see how smoothly the lens and focus knob turn. It seems that many of the cameras have very stiff focusing, so when the camera came back, and the focus knob turned so nicely, I must have had a large grin on my face, as this was a new experience for me: a smooth focus.

 With all that said, it was time to put a fresh roll of 120 film into the camera and take a walk through the neighborhood on a wonderful spring afternoon. The sun was out, and so many of the trees and flowers were in bloom, it was the ideal opportunity to take my newly CLA'D Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta for a spin.

Brief History of the Zeiss Ikonta Cameras:

 Zeiss Ikon and the Ikonta cameras sit at an important crossroads in European camera history. Formed in 1926 from the merger of four major German makers—Contessa-Nettel, Ernemann, Goerz, and Ica—Zeiss Ikon became one of the largest and most influential camera companies in the world, backed by the Carl Zeiss optical tradition.

 The Ikonta line emerged around 1929 as Zeiss Ikon's premium folding-camera family. It was introduced in several sizes, including 6x4.5, 6x6, and 6x9 roll film frames, and represented the company's effort to rationalize and modernize the crowded product lines inherited from the merger. These cameras were built as elegant folders: compact when closed, but capable of producing high-quality medium-format images when opened.

 What made Ikonta especially significant was its market position. Zeiss Ikon used better lenses and more refined construction on Ikonta models, while cheaper versions sometimes carried the related Ikomat name. The line became closely associated with Carl Zeiss lenses, such as the Tessar, which helped the cameras earn a strong reputation for sharpness and image quality.

 A major step forward came with the Super Ikonta series, introduced in 1933. The "Super" name indicated the addition of a coupled rangefinder, making focusing far easier and more accurate than the original scale-focusing Ikontas. That innovation helped define some of the best prewar folding cameras available.

 Production continued through the war years and into the postwar period, but folding cameras gradually lost favor as photography shifted toward more modern fixed-lens designs and 35mm systems. Even so, Ikonta and Super Ikonta remain admired today for their craftsmanship, portability, and classic Zeiss optical quality.

My Camera:

 My Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2 is 7" wide by 4" tall and 2 "deep when the lens is retracted, and it's 5" tall when you open the camera, and the viewfinder pops up, and 5.5" deep when the lens is extended. The camera weighs 1 pound 15 ounces without the case or film loaded. My serial number is E30192.

The Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2 camera has several different options for lens and shutter combinations:

  • Tessar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Compur shutter. This combination is the best-documented early setup for the 530/2, especially on black-enamel versions from the early 1930s.

  • Triotar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Klio shutter. Some early examples were fitted this way, making it a less common but real configuration.

  • Tessar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Klio shutter. At least one documented example shows this pairing, indicating that Zeiss Ikon used multiple shutters during the model's production.

  • Later or related Super Ikonta variants appear with Tessar lenses in Compur Rapid or Synchro-Compur shutters, though those are more typical of later Super Ikonta models.

Looking at the top of the camera, on the right side of the rangefinder, is a button that opens the camera when it's closed. According to the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta manual. Hold the camera in your right hand, with the front slightly pointed down. Press the button, and the camera should open slightly. Then pull down on the front cover so the bellows and lens extend to the taking position. Once the lens is extended, you'll need to swing the arm holding the small round lens into place so you can use the rangefinder for focusing. Also, when you open the camera, the Albada (sports) finder springs open. Look through the Albada finder; it has lines for both 6x9cm images in a horizontal format and for 6x4.5cm images for a vertical subject.

Now that the camera is open, you're ready to make exposures once the film is loaded, which we'll get to in just a moment. The shutter and aperture settings are located around the lens. Shutter speeds from 1/250 to 1 sec, plus "B," are set by turning the ring to the desired speed. The aperture is set by sliding the arrowed lever at the bottom of the lens to the desired aperture, which ranges from F/4.5 to F/32 on my camera.

 The focus wheel is on the front of the swing arm you moved over for the rangefinder, just above the lens when the camera is in the vertical position. For focusing, look through the small window on the back of the camera. Turn the dial to use rangefinder focus, which includes a small yellow area in the middle of the finder. When out of focus, the subject will appear as two images. Your main subject, and a second image in the yellow area. Turn the wheel until both images merge into one, indicating the subject is now in focus. 

Set your shutter speed and aperture setting, and don't forget to cock the shutter. The shutter release is on the top, left side of the camera. Press the shutter release, which will trip the shutter via a series of linkages that run along the bottom of the lens bed. Just behind the shutter release is a small window. When the window is grey, the shutter has been tripped, and you'll need to turn the film winding lever until the small window turns red. At this point, you can re-cock the shutter and release it. 

To open the back of the camera to load film, under the camera's handle is a small slider with an arrow pointing toward the opening. Slide the small knob in the direction of the arrow, and the camera back will open. Load the film as you would any 120 roll film camera, roll the film so the "start" arrows are showing, then close the back of the camera, and wind the film advance knob so the number 1 shows up in the appropriate window on the back of the camera. 

There are two red widows on the back of the camera: one for 6x9cm images and one for 6x4.5 cm images, if you have the metal insert in. If you have the insert in the camera, you'll use both windows for film advance, as you would with a 127 film camera with two windows. Stop at the number 1 on the far right window, then take your photo. Wind the film until the number 1 appears in the second window on the left, then take your photo. Then wind the film until the number 2 shows up on the first window on the right side, and so on through the number 8. For 6x9cm images, you'll get 8 exposures per roll; for 6x4.5, 16.

 To close the camera for transport, slide the arm you extended for focus back over the bellows. Holding the camera with both hands, press in on the locking arms on the struts to lock the bellows and lens into place; the bed will collapse a bit. Fold the lens back into the camera until the camera clicks closed, then flip down the Albana finder.

My Images:

 Let's take a look at how the images turned out. Here are a few of the images I took with the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta camera.

Conclusion:

 The first few images were incredibly sharp, well-exposed, and as I expected. I noticed that towards the end of the roll, the images became softer and less sharp, which concerned me. What did I do wrong?

 To give some background, I had eye surgery on my right eye, which is my dominant eye, about a year or two ago. When I went to see the eye doctor, I could barely make out details with my right eye, so surgery was necessary. Since then, it's gotten a bit better, but not as good as it used to be. Now I'm getting used to putting the camera up to my left eye, which is considerably better than my right. It still feels awkward, but it's my new normal.

Missing pressure plate

 I thought this contributed to the images being soft. Then I remember what a good friend, Mike Eckman, said a few weeks ago when we were discussing image sharpness. He said that he had a similar instance and noticed that the film's pressure plate was missing. At this point, I opened the back of the camera, and sure enough, the pressure plate was missing. 

 How could I miss that when I'm loading the camera? You get so used to looking at and loading cameras that you miss that a camera doesn't have a pressure plate.

 At this point, I'm sure I could manufacture one out of something like thin foamcore and just cut out circles for the red window. Still, it's a lot of fun to use, and the images are incredible. I'll chalk it up as a learning experience and double-check to be sure they have the pressure plate from now on.

 Here are some of the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera accessories, lenses, etc.

 Please feel free to comment on this or any of the other camera reviews I've done. I'd love to hear from you.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

My Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

Being a collector and working in the photo industry for more than 50 years, and, more specifically, in the photographic retail business for almost 20 of those years. My retail years were in the mid-1970s through to the early 1990s. It was the height of film photography with Nikon F's, Canon AE-1's, Minolta SRT's, Pentax, Rollei, Contax, etc. I can remember the introductions of many of the best-selling cameras from this era. I have seen and sold many cameras. But to this day, I still enjoy them.

 When I look at a camera, especially an older one I'm not familiar with, the first impression strongly influences whether I purchase it. I'm always on the hunt for the odd and unusual camera.  I imagine it's really about what you enjoy collecting. 

 Many collectors look for pristine examples of Leica, Rollei, Hasselblad, or items with a slight difference, making them a "rare" item. Still, if I see a camera I'm not aware of, and it has an unusual appearance or color that stands out, that's what catches my eye. It doesn't have to be expensive or rare; it just has to be unusual to me.

 That's where the camera I'm writing about this week comes in. The Kodak Ranca is a camera I first saw on my friend Mike Ott's website. Mike is the longtime owner of Pacific Rim Camera and one of the best photographic resources around. It's a website I often visit, very similar to Mike Butkus's Camera Manual, which offers information on cameras, catalogues, manuals, etc. 

 I purchased the Kodak Ranca because it was a compact camera I wasn't familiar with. It wasn't until it arrived that the camera had a very similar look and feel. I was aware that it was a Nagel-made camera, which was another reason I was attracted to it. Still, when I dug into the camera after it was purchased, it's considered the "less expensive" version of the very popular Nagel Pupille camera, which I reviewed a few months ago.

 According to my reading of the Ranca camera, there were two versions. The earlier model, known as 46/0, has a helicoid lens and shutter system that rotates out from the camera's body when you grip and rotate the shutter/lens area a quarter turn counterclockwise. This also exposes the helicoid on which the lens/shutter rotates. The second version is the 46/1, which has a rigid lens barrel with the lens and shutter on the end. 

 The camera was introduced in the middle of 1930 and remained available for only approximately 1 year, until the latter part of 1931. Both the Nagel Pupille and Ranca camera take 127-size film, producing 16, 3x4cm images on the roll. 

 Sources state that a total of 2,200 Ranca cameras were produced, compared to 5,000 of the more expensive, better-featured Pupille cameras. While the Pupille has superior features, fewer Ranca cameras are produced. Yet, the Pupille is more of a collector's item and fetches a higher price, even today.

 Some of the other differences between the two models: both cameras have "sports"-style pop-up viewfinders; some have glass on the front, and some don't. Different shutters, either Prontor or Ibsor, were available. The camera uses a front focus system, with some cameras opting for a very simple distance scale for portrait, group, or landscape. In contrast, others have the distance in feet on the lens barrel. 

History:

 Dr. August Nagel was one of the most important European designers ever associated with Eastman Kodak, and their partnership reshaped Kodak's position in the precision‑camera market. In 1932, Eastman Kodak purchased Nagel's Stuttgart-based firm, Dr. Nagel-Werke, and reorganized it as Kodak A.G., retaining Nagel as managing director and head of design. Before this acquisition, Kodak was dominant in film and popular roll-film cameras. Still, German makers like Leica and Contax defined the high‑end miniature camera segment. Kodak wanted a German-built precision camera to compete directly, yet at a lower price and in a form that fit its mass‑market philosophy. Nagel, already respected for compact folding designs and his work on Contessa-Nettel and Zeiss Ikon models, was the ideal partner to bridge that gap.

Kodak Ranca advertismant

 Within Kodak A.G., Nagel used generous Eastman funding and Kodak's global reach to develop a compact 35mm camera that could rival the established German leaders. The result was the Kodak Retina, introduced in 1934 (Type 117), a folding 35mm camera that offered solid German construction and good optics at a far more accessible price than Leica or Contax. At the same time, Nagel introduced a new daylight-loading 35mm cartridge—what became known as Kodak 135 film—which fit not only the Retina but also Leica and Contax cameras. This cartridge standardized 35mm still photography worldwide. It made 35mm use far easier for ordinary photographers, who no longer needed to roll film into cassettes in the dark.

 Nagel's collaboration with Eastman Kodak extended beyond the Retina itself. Under the Kodak A.G. banner in Stuttgart, he and his team produced several notable pre‑Retina and companion models, such as the Recomar plate cameras, the compact Pupille, the Vollenda folding cameras, and the Duo 620 medium‑format folders. These cameras married Nagel's hallmark precision and compactness with Kodak's branding and distribution, giving Kodak an instant foothold in the "serious enthusiast" and professional market that had previously looked almost exclusively to other German makers. 

 Although Nagel died in 1943, the Retina line continued to evolve with the introduction of the rangefinder. Later SLR versions, and the 135 cartridge he introduced, remain the standard for 35mm film, making his association with Eastman Kodak one of the most consequential designer–manufacturer partnerships in camera history.

My Camera:

 My Nagel Ranca camera is 4" wide by 2.5" tall with the viewfinder retracted, and 3.25" tall with the viewfinder extended. The camera is 2.25" deep with the lens retracted into the camera body. When it's extended and ready to take a photo, it's 2.75" deep. The camera weighs 10.1 ounces when a roll of film is not loaded.

 My Nagel Ranca has a Nagel Anistigmat 5cm lens, an F/4.5 lens, a Protar shutter located above the lens with only three shutter speeds: 1/100, 1/50, 1/25, along with "T" for timed and "B" for Bulb. The aperture ring, which is located below the lens, has a slide that controls the aperture. The minimum aperture setting is F/16.

Shutter/Aperture settings on Kodak Ranca camera

As mentioned previously, the lens/shutter needs to be turned counterclockwise a quarter turn to extend the lens on the helicoid. The unusual thing about doing this is that the shutter release is now in an odd and awkward position for use. The lens/shutter is retracted, and the shutter release is in the 11:00 o'clock position, which is ideal for tripping the shutter. However, when the lens is extended, it puts the shutter release in the 7:00-8:00 o'clock position, making it a bit more awkward, in my opinion. 

 There is a shutter release socket behind the shutter release if needed. On the right side of the shutter dial is a self-timer with a large red dot. Pull it down to set the self-timer, then press it to activate it. Mine isn't working properly, which is common for cameras from this era.

The lens is a front focusing lens. This means you rotate the lens itself to the desired distance from you to the subject. This is shown on the lens by a red line, which is also in an awkward position when the lens is extended. As opposed to being on the top, it's now on the side.

 The lens doesn't need to be extended to open the camera to load film into it. Slide the lever on the bottom of the camera to unlock the film chamber from the camera body. Gripping the chrome handles on either side of the viewfinder and lifting up allows you to remove the film chamber. Once removed, load the 127-size film into the film holder, then slide the film holder back into the camera body and lock it in place with the bottom locking mechanism.

Since there are two red windows on the back, these are used to advance the film. First, wind the film until you see the number 1 in the right side window. Then take your photo. Now wind the film until you see the number 1 in the left side window. Take your next photo. Wind until you see the number 2 in the right side window. Then repeat this process through the number 8. At this point, you've taken 16 photos on your film, and it's time to get it processed, or process it yourself if you have the equipment and chemicals to do so.

 

My results:

 I loaded a roll of 400 ISO film into the Nagel Ranca camera because the day started out overcast. With the limited shutter speeds available, I needed the extra sensitivity to make good images.

 The day turned out sunnier than expected, and the lack of a high-speed shutter meant I needed to shoot all the images at 1/100, f/16. Even then, the negatives turned out a bit denser than anticipated, but I made the corrections needed in post-processing.

 I tried some close-ups and a few longer shots to assess the camera's lens quality. I was both surprised, in a good way, and surprised, in a bad way, by my results.

 Here are some of the photos from my walk through the neighborhood. 

Conclusion:

 To say I was disappointed by some of the results is an understatement. The closer images, which I thought wouldn't turn out very well, were the shining light of the camera roll. The images taken at infinity, assuming they would be sharp, especially at F/16, are unsharp and disappointing.

 The camera was fun to shoot with, and I always enjoy shooting 127 film in the 3x4cm format. Still, I was also disappointed with the shutter release's location after extending the lens to the "taking" position. The shutter release was in an awkward position, to the point that I had to shoot the camera with my thumb while resting it in my palm.

 I'll get used to it next time I take the camera out for a shoot, but I prefer using the Nagel Pupille.

 Thank you for taking some time to learn about the "lesser featured" brother of Nagel's Pupille, the Ranca camera. A compact 127 camera made in the early 1930s.

 Here are the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras reviewed, along with many other photo oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years with cameras and images.

 Until next week, please be safe.

No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak

My No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak camera

As I've mentioned in several of my posts, I've always been drawn to the odd, unusual, colored, or panoramic cameras, so when I had the opportunity to purchase a No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak many years ago, I jumped at the chance. 

 I found this camera while visiting an antique store during a business trip to Philadelphia. During my sales calls, if I had some spare time between appointments, I'd seek out antique malls and stores close to where I was and spend some time looking to see if there was anything interesting. On this particular day, as I was upstairs in the shop's attic, which was musty and smelled of stale air, I found the No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak.

 Not knowing much about the camera beyond seeing it in McKeown's Camera Price Guide, it appeared to be in decent condition. I started turning dials and pressing buttons to get a sense of the camera's condition. 

 It appeared to be pretty solid, but there were a few flaws, but when I looked at the price tag, which was only $25.00, I figured I give it a shot, so I brought it downstairs to talk to the shop owner, and asked if they'd offer a slight discount on the camera, and I offered them $20.00, which they took. The shop owner said the camera's been up in the attic for many years and was happy to give it a new home where it would be appreciated.

Front view of No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak

 Now that I had the camera in hand, I was setting the camera in the car seat next to me, getting ready to go to my next appointment, the thought of how was I going to get the camera home, since all I had was a carry on bag, and my case for my computer, and other office related gear which I brought with me during sales calls.

 Luckily for me, this wasn't the first time I've run into this issue. There have been time during my travels, that I've had to cram so many items, mainly cameras or lenses in my suitcase, I'd be afraid that I'd struggle lifting the suitcase over my head due to the weight of it, but I've always managed to move items around in my suitcase, fitting even larger items, like the No. 3B Quick Focus camera in there and safely transporting them home safely tucked securely in my carry-on bag.

 While the camera looks very ordinary on the outside, resembling many other box-style cameras, the one thing that sets it apart is its ability, as the name suggests, to focus quickly on the subject. This system is still just a guestimate process as there is no ground glass or focus screen in the camera. Still, rather than setting a wheel in the later versions or sliding a bar to an approximate distance from you to the subject, press a button. The camera springs the lens to an approximate distance from the film plane, replicating the distance required to produce a sharp image on the film.

 I've owned the No. 3B Quick Focus camera for more than 20 years, and it wasn't until I was going through some boxes of cameras I have that I came across the camera. Looking at the camera, it's in relatively good condition for a camera made between 1905 and 1911, with only a few modifications. The main difference was that earlier versions had a sliding lever to adjust the focus distance, whereas later versions used a circular wheel.



 Early Kodak History:

 The period between 1880 and 1910 was a time of rapid innovation in industrial history, transforming photography from a complex process into a popular hobby, which makes owning a camera from this era especially meaningful for history buffs and enthusiasts.

Early Kodak Advertisment

 Before 1880, photographers had to use "wet plates," which required coating glass with chemicals and developing them immediately before the emulsion dried. In 1880, George Eastman began manufacturing dry plates in Rochester, New York. These could be stored and sold, effectively decoupling the act of taking a photo from the chemistry of preparing it. In 1884, he transitioned from glass to paper film rolls, a pivot that laid the technical foundation for the modern snapshot.

 In 1888, the first Kodak Camera was released. It was a simple box pre-loaded with enough film for 100 exposures. When the roll was finished, the owner sent the entire camera back to the factory. Kodak would develop the film, print the photos, and return the camera reloaded with new film. This "System of Photography" changed the medium's identity from a technical craft to a consumer hobby.

 By 1889, Eastman Kodak introduced transparent nitrocellulose film, which was flexible and clear. This wasn't just a win for photographers; it was the catalyst for the motion picture industry, as it provided Thomas Edison with the material needed to create the first movies.

In 1900, the Brownie camera was launched. Selling for just $1 (with 15-cent film rolls), it was marketed specifically to children. It solidified Kodak's "Razor and Blade" business model: sell the hardware at cost to create a permanent market for the consumables (film and chemicals).

 By the end of the first decade of the 20th century, Kodak had streamlined its corporate structure and expanded into Europe. The company pioneered the "Folding Pocket Kodak" during this time, making cameras small enough to travel anywhere. By 1910, Eastman Kodak wasn't just a company; it was a monopoly of the "snapshot," having successfully democratized the visual record of human life.

My Camera:

 My No. 3B Quick Focus camera is 7" tall by 8.25 " long with the lens retracted, and 4.75" wide, and weighs 2 pounds, 13.4 ounces. The serial number of my camera is 7380K, which you can find on the inside of the plate covering the shutter on the front of the camera. Thank you to Pacific Rim, which has a No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak manual.

The camera has two viewfinders: one on the top for vertical images, and, when turned on its side, one for horizontal images. The camera's shutter release is on the right side; it's a "one motion" release, meaning you slide it down, and the shutter opens and closes. Then slide the shutter release up, and it repeats the open/close motion.

 Also on the right side of the camera is the aperture setting, which is controlled by pulling out a lever to three different positions to set the aperture. Below the aperture settings is another lever you use to set the shutter speed to instant when the lever is in, or to time exposure when you pull it out. In time exposure, you'll need to flip the shutter release up or down to open the shutter, then back to close it.

The strap on my camera is broken, and on the right side of the camera is the wheel to set the distance, as you guessed, but unfortunately, the button to focus the camera is missing. I put in a temporary item, similar to a large thumb tack, to activate the "quick focus" mechanism.

 Mechanically, the camera focuses quickly when you set the wheel to the proper distance, and the lens springs to the focused position very quickly. At this point, since the camera appeared to be in good working order, I figured it was time to put some film in and write a blog post about it. 

It's at this point that I decide to write about a certain camera, only to run into snags that make the process of making images and writing about the camera longer than anticipated. In my younger days, I didn't have the same patience as I do now, as I learned from many similar stories of starting a project: due to unforeseen issues, the process is longer than anticipated.

 When I took the back off the camera to inspect the film chamber, I noticed the negative size on this camera is enormous. The camera produces a 3 1/4" x 5 1/2" negative, also called "Postcard size," on a roll of daylight-loaded 125 film. On each 125-size film roll, the camera produced 10 images.

 Since 125 film is no longer available, I needed to adapt the camera to use a more modern roll film. Online, I found someone who makes adapters for new film to fit into older-style cameras, so I reached out to him, and for a nominal fee, he made me four adapters to fit 120-size film into 125-size cameras. At this point, I will likely purchase a 3D printer so I can do these things myself, but as mentioned earlier, that will pose a whole new set of issues that I'll need to address.

The No. 3B Quick Focus camera has a three-piece hinged back that comes off the camera by pressing in a small button on the top and bottom of the camera, which releases the locking mechanism and allows the camera's back to come off for loading and unloading of film. Due to the age of the camera, one of the hinges is in decent condition, but the other was rather worn, and on one of the times taking the back off, it tore off, and the back was in two pieces, which now needed to be repaired if I wanted to shoot with it.

 I purchased some thick, black book-binding tape, a cloth tape that will allow the back to move slightly while staying intact with the other pieces. The tape was applied on the inside and is very flat and non-reflective. With the back fixed, the film adapters made, I needed to mask off the area of the film opening to accommodate 120-size film, so I needed to mask it off to approximately 2.25" across.

 At the local hobby shop, I found some black, matte construction paper. I cut the construction paper to the desired length and width, and taped it to the back of the film chamber to mask the excess area needed for the 120 film.

After sitting in a box for more than 20 years, the camera's optics needed a good cleaning, so with Q-tips, lens cleaners, and lens tissues in hand, I gave the viewfinders and lenses a good cleaning, which they desperately needed.

 One other thing I needed to figure out was that, since the camera originally used 125-size film, there is a red window on the back so you can tell which frame number you're on. The red window won't work for the adapted 120 film, so I needed to see how much film would be wound per each turn of the advance knob. 

 I put a piece of paper on the spool and turned it one-half turn, which covered the spool. Then I measured that length and determined that it was approximately  1", so to cover the 5 1/4", I'd turn 3 full turns to get approximately 6" of film across the film area. The one thing I didn't know was how much paper backing there was on each roll before reaching the film itself. This I just guessed at and hoped I'd get 5 images per roll since each negative would be 2.25" x 5.25".

 With the camera's back off, I loaded film into the camera, then put the film back on. To guard against any light leaking into the camera through the taped hinge, I put some black painters' tape on the outside as well. Now it was time to go outside and see what the camera could do.

My Results:

 With film loaded in the camera and guessing at the film's approximate starting point, I walked through the neighborhood, estimated the distance to the subject, set the focus wheel of the No. 3B Quick Focus to that distance, and pressed the focus button. The lens sprang to the distance needed, and I took the photos.

 Here are the images I took during my walk through the neighborhood, knowing I'd only have 4-5 images to shoot.

Conclusion:

 Well, after all that work, I still had light leaks. They are all in the same direction and at the same place, so I didn't plug up any areas with a pinhole that caused the light leak.

 Taking the back off the camera and going into a dark room, I shone a light into certain areas around the shutter and the quick focus area. The only spot I saw a light leak was in the top area by the locking mechanism, which the cover itself should have covered.

 I'll need to do a bit more poking around to see what I can find, but overall, the images were good, aside from the light leak. I needed to take a few more close-up shots to check focus, but from what I can see, it turned out well, and it's a fun camera to shoot with.

 Overall, a fun and very good learning experience working with a 115-year-old camera.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this camera and the issues I had to resolve to get it back to a usable state for shooting.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photo is my eBay online shop, where I sell cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera and photo oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Kodak Panoram 1-Model D

My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D camera

Panoramic cameras and images have always fascinated me. The thought of seeing such a wide area in a photo seems so natural to me. Whenever I look at subjects, the human eye always sees a wide field of view, and narrowing it down to a smaller angle just seems peculiar to me. Even when I look through telephoto lenses, I want to see a wider angle, just closer. Unfortunately, that’s not how lenses work, so the ability to get a wider view is wonderful.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 is one of the first panoramic cameras I've owned. The first panoramic camera I bought was a Russian Horizont, a 35mm model that came with an accessory handle, viewfinder, and case. Unfortunately, this model of camera, due to the lack of workmanship, has a tendency for image "banding" as the lens doesn't rotate smoothly when making the exposure, so when the lens hesitates, it creates a change in exposure, creating a vertical exposure difference, which is darker due to the extra exposure time.

 I only had that camera for a short time, but it was a wonderful one to learn from, and from that experience I found the Kodak Panoram 1. One of the main reasons I knew about Kodak's early panoramic cameras was a set of negatives of two of my friends, which I purchased around 35 years ago. They were a set of 40 nitrate panoramic negatives, measuring 2 1/4" x 7", from a family who visited San Francisco and the surrounding area in 1906. There were photos of the rubble from the 1906 earthquake, along with other images of the family traveling up the delta to Sacramento and into the forest areas. If you're interested, here is a link to pictures from the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake.

 While researching the negative size and cameras built around 1900, I came across the Kodak Panoram 1 and the Multiscope Baby Al-Vista. I believe the Baby Al-Vista's negatives are just a bit smaller. At this point, due to my love of panoramic images, I really wanted to find a good Kodak Panoram 1 camera not only to have in my collection, but also to shoot with.

My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D with Case.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 camera used 105 film when it was manufactured, which is the same width as 120 film; the spools are just a bit different, as the flange is wider on 105 spools. Knowing that I could shoot 120 film in the Kodak Panoram 1 camera made it considerably more desirable. 

 Kodak also made larger Panoram cameras, the 3A and 4, which used larger film. The 3A produced 3 1/4" x 10 3/8" negatives on size 122 film; the 4 made 3 1/2" x 12" negatives on size 103 film. Since the necessary larger film is unavailable, choosing a usable Panoram was easy: I purchased the Panoram 1.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 comes in two distinct versions. There's the original Panoram 1, where the entire back of the camera comes off the body, revealing the curved arc of the film plane. The back of the camera is held to the camera body by two clips. 

 The second version of Kodak Panoram 1, the Model D, which I've had in my collection for 30-plus years, is slightly different. The back of the camera doesn't detach from the body, but, like some horizontal-folding cameras, there are buttons on either side you press to release it and fold it down. Then the camera's sides swing out to allow you to load and unload film.

 I have owned and restored several of both models, as the lens-swinging mechanism is the same, and the leather or suede bellows are similar. The main reason for the change in style was to reduce the camera's size. I prefer the original with the removable back, but both deliver fantastic images.

History of Kodak Panoram:

 Introduced by Eastman Kodak at the turn of the 20th century, the Kodak Panoram series democratized wide-angle photography, bringing it out of the domain of professional specialists and into the amateur market. Debuting in 1899 with the No. 4 and in 1900 with the smaller, popular No. 1, these "shoe-box"- shaped cameras remained in production until 1928.

Advertisment for the Kodak Panoram cameras

 The Panoram’s defining feature was its ingenious swing-lens mechanism. Unlike standard cameras with fixed lenses, the Panoram featured a lens mounted on a pivoting turret. When the shutter was triggered, the lens swung in an arc—typically between 112 and 142 degrees—sweeping light across a curved plane of film (the area of film bent to match the arc) at the back of the camera. This design minimized horizon distortion while capturing vast landscapes or large-group portraits in a single exposure. A swing-lens mechanism means the camera’s lens actually moves or "swings" during the exposure, rather than remaining stationary as in most cameras, to create a wide panoramic image.

 Aimed primarily at outdoor and travel use, Panoram cameras were used to document landscapes, expeditions, and colonial scenes, including polar exploration and industrial development in Southeast Asia. Their relatively simple wooden-and-leather construction, fixed focus, and minimal controls reflected Kodak’s broader strategy of making specialized photography accessible to non‑experts. At the same time, the nearly three‑decade production run indicates sustained popularity among enthusiasts of wide‑angle views.

 Three primary models defined the line: the No. 1 (using 105 film), the No. 4 (using 103 film for massive 12-inch negatives), and the short-lived No. 3A (introduced in 1926). While eventually displaced by newer formats and the 35mm revolution, the Panoram remains a cult classic today, prized by collectors and photographers for the unique, sweeping perspective that only a mechanical swing-lens can provide.

My Camera:

 My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D camera is 7.5" wide with the strap, by 4.5" deep by 4" tall, including the optical viewfinder, and weighs 1 pound 9.5 ounces without film loaded in the camera.

 To open the lens, pull down the front lens cover to reveal the swing lens to one side or the other. If it were pointing straight ahead, the lens cover wouldn't close. On the inside of the lens cover is the camera name, No. 1 Panoram, Kodak, Model D. On the bottom is the camera's serial number. My camera's serial number is 18986.

The camera is simple with minimal controls. On top is the etched nickel Kodak waist-level finder, which you lift to reveal the viewfinder. Behind the finder is the shutter speed selector. There are two notches: the one near the center is for a slower shutter speed, and pulling the selector to the end increases spring tension, making the lens swing faster at that speed.

 To set the speed, slide the bar opposite the lens direction. If the lens faces right, slide the bar left to set the next photo's shutter speed. Lock the chosen slow or fast speed with the clip under the selector bar. The shutter release is just right of the optical waist-level finder. Press the shutter button to release the lens and watch it swing to expose the film. Two lines form a "V" at the top, indicating the camera's approximate field of view.

As mentioned previously, to open the back to load the film, unclip the strap on the right side of the camera, then press in the two buttons on the sides of the camera, which will release the camera's back, and it will swing down, and the sides of the camera will also swing open, revealing the film chamber. There you'll see the curved film plane the film travels over, and the very impressive cone on the back of the lens guiding the light onto the film as the lens swings from one side to the other.

To load film into the camera can be a bit tricky because the newer plastic film reels—that is, the circular pieces at each end of a roll that hold the film—can at times be thicker than what was used originally back in the early 1900s, when Kodak would use metal for the reel ends and wood for the film cores, meaning the spools—the cylinder around which the film is wound—would be a bit thinner. When I went to load film for the blog post, I tried a brand I'd never used before. The spool was just a bit too thick and wouldn't fit into the camera easily, and once I did get it in, it was so stiff that the film wouldn't transport across the shutter easily.

 I loaded a new roll by placing the empty spool on the right, then lifting the winding lever and button to fit it. Then I placed the new roll on the left, brought the paper backing over the film plane, and threaded the leader into the empty spool slot. I wound the film until the start arrows appeared, pressed in the camera sides, and swung the back up to lock it.

Since 120 film isn't designed for panoramic cameras, the numbers 2, 6, 10, and 14 appear on the back of my camera. These indicate the frame numbers to stop at for each of the four photos on 120 film. I wound the film to 2 and was ready to take my first shot.

 

My Results:

 The film I loaded into the camera was an older roll of Kodak BW400CN film I purchased at a local camera show a few months ago. One thing about the film is that it needs to be processed in C-41 chemicals, which is a standard color film developing process. For the article, I wasn't sure I'd have enough time to get the film processed. Looking online, people mentioned the film can be processed in B&W (black-and-white) chemicals, so that's what I did. 

 There was a break in the rain on Sunday, so I loaded the film into the camera because the Kentmere I had didn't fit because the spool was too thick. I took the photo and went back to the house to develop the negatives. Maybe I didn't process the film long enough, since the images were extremely thin. I had to do some magic in Photoshop to get the images I have, so my apologies for the poor examples.

 However, I used the camera when I went to Yosemite a few years ago, and the images turned out great, so I'm adding a couple of color images from Yosemite to this blog to show how well the camera performs.

Conclusion:

 I've always been a huge fan of both the Multiscope Al-Vista and the Kodak Panoram camera. It's interesting that I've only owned the Panoram 1 camera and never the 3a or 4 Panoram, but I do have some of the larger Al-Vista cameras.

 The Panoram 1 is a fun camera to use, and the results are surprisingly good. I should have a camera with a smooth shutter. The cameras are compact, use 120 film, and, unfortunately, are becoming increasingly expensive as people learn about them and how much fun they are to use.

 Fortunately, I've had mine for many years, and I also have the camera case, which is a plus. It's just a real gem in my camera, and truthfully, I'm surprised I haven't written about it sooner than I have.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes from your day to read about his wonderful panoramic camera from over 100 years ago.

 Here's a link to my previous Camera Reviews.

 I also have an eBay shop, Cuny's Camera and Photo, where I sell cameras I've reviewed, along with other photo oddities. If you're interested in anything from my store, reach out to me, and I'll offer a discount. Just mention my blog.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Art Deco Rolleicord 1

My Rolleicord 1

Some cameras look so amazing that you consider them more of a work of art than a mechanical piece of metal and glass that takes photos. That was my thought the first time I saw the Rolleicord 1. While the Rolleicord 1 is a fairly plain camera, it's the "skin" that gives it a "wow" factor.

 It's the same feeling I had when I saw cameras like the cameras designed by Walter Teague, like the Kodak Beau Brownies, The Petite Coquette, and the Gift Kodak. They are more of something you'd see in a museum rather than take out and take photos with.

 It has more to do with the Art Deco era; these items were manufactured in, and along with the pride in artistry, the companies had to present something to their audience than we currently have. The fact that a camera company in the 1930s would introduce a new line of cameras with such a striking appearance is a bold statement and a testament to the Rollei name.

The History:

Rollei holds a significant place in photographic history. Founded in 1920 in Braunschweig, Germany, by Paul Franke and Reinhold Heidecke, the company originally bore the name "Franke & Heidecke." Initially, it focused on precision mechanical devices, but by the mid-1920s, Rollei began producing cameras that would revolutionize photography.

 Rollei gained international recognition in 1929 with the launch of the Rolleiflex, the first twin-lens reflex (TLR) camera. The Rolleiflex was compact, robust, and designed for medium-format photography. Its unique twin-lens system featured one lens for viewing and focusing and another for capturing the image on film. This innovative design allowed photographers to frame shots at waist level, making candid photography more discreet and practical. The Rolleiflex quickly became a favorite among professionals and enthusiasts, particularly for portrait and documentary work.

The success of the Rolleiflex led to the introduction of the Rolleicord, a more affordable version aimed at amateur photographers. Both models showcased Rollei's commitment to precision engineering and optical excellence, which became hallmarks of the brand.

 During the 1930s and 1940s, Rollei continued to innovate, refining the Rolleiflex and Rolleicord lines with features such as automatic film winding and improved optics. Despite the challenges of World War II, the company maintained its reputation for high-quality cameras. In the post-war era, Rollei played a significant role in the resurgence of the German camera industry.

French ad for Rolleicord 1

The 1950s and 1960s marked a golden age for Rollei. The Rolleiflex TLR became synonymous with professional photography and was used by renowned photographers such as Richard Avedon, Diane Arbus, and Vivian Maier. Rollei also ventured into other formats and technologies. The Rolleiflex 35mm SLR, introduced in the late 1950s, showcased the company's adaptability to the changing market demands.

By the 1970s, the rise of Japanese camera manufacturers like Nikon, Canon, and Minolta introduced intense competition. These companies offered high-quality single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras at more affordable prices, challenging Rollei's dominance in medium-format and professional photography.

In response, Rollei diversified its product line, introducing the Rolleiflex SL66, a medium-format SLR, and the compact Rollei 35, which became one of its most miniature 35mm cameras. Despite these innovations, Rollei struggled to maintain its market share due to its higher production costs and its competitors' rapidly advancing technology.

 In the 1980s and 1990s, Rollei faced financial difficulties, leading to changes in ownership and restructuring. The company shifted focus to digital imaging and niche markets, including high-end studio cameras and digital backs for medium-format systems.

The Rollei legacy endures as a symbol of German engineering and innovation, reflecting a century of dedication to the art and science of photography.

My Camera:

The Rolleicord 1 was made between 1933 and early 1936, with 32,508 units sold. The camera is nickel-plated and decorated with a trompe-l'oeil grid on all sides except the bottom, giving it its unique look. In 1934, Franke & Heideke produced a version of the camera without the beautiful pattern finish and covered the body in drab black leather, which was the Rolleicord 1, model 2.

 My Rolleicord 1 is 5.25" tall with the chimney closed and 8" tall with the chimney up, by 4" deep, by 3.5" wide, including the focus knob. It weighs 1 lb, 15.4 oz, so just under 2 lbs. The serial number on the camera is 029789, which is stamped into the body with the back door opened. The camera has a Carl Zeiss Jena Triotar 7.5cm f4.5 lens in a Compur shutter. 

The shutter speeds range from 1/300 to 1 sec., along with "B" and "T" settings. For transparency purposes, my shutter isn't in the best condition and only works on the top three speeds (1/300, 1/100, 1/50 sec.). It doesn't close if I use any of the slower speeds. The shutter speeds are set by turning the collar around the lens to the desired shutter speed, which is indicated by a triangle. 

 The camera's aperture setting ranges from f4.5 to F32. A pointing triangle and a separate collar on the other side of where you set the shutter speed determine the aperture setting.

 To cock the shutter, you slide the bar under the lens to the right as you're holding the camera to take a photo. With the same lever, you slide the lever to the left to take the photo. There aren't separate levers for cocking the shutter and tripping the shutter. It's all done with the same bar. Me, I like that, so you're not looking to cock the shutter in one area and take the photo in a different area. Very smooth and easy. There is also a socket for a cable release on the bottom of the shutter at approximately the 7 o'clock position.

To load the camera with film, simply pull the back release on the bottom of the camera, and the back will swing open. To take the empty spool of 120 film from the bottom chamber, you'll need to pull out the film knob on the right, which will allow you to take the empty spool out of the camera. 

 Pulling out the winding knob will allow you to put the empty spool in the top portion of the camera to advance the film to the next frame. Press the winding knob to keep the empty film spool in place. Put the new roll of film into the bottom chamber and press back in the film knob to keep the roll in place.

 Once you have the empty spool on the top and the new roll of film on the bottom, remove the tape that keeps the roll closed, pull the leader over the bottom and top roller, and slide the film's end into the take-up spool slot. Wind the film onto the take-up spool with the advance knob until you see an arrow pointing to the ends of the film. At this point, you can close the back door and wind the film to your first frame.

The frame counter on the left side of my camera body isn't working. Luckily, on the bottom of the camera, there is a red window you can use to see when you're in the first frame. Unfortunately, this numbering system on the film rolls is used for 6x9 format, so using this method, I only got eight images on a roll of 120 film instead of the standard twelve for 6x6 format cameras.

 To focus on your subject, pull up the chimney by slightly pulling back the release on the back of the chimney, and pull up, which will expose the large focusing screen. On the right side of the camera is the focusing knob. The focusing distance is from 0.8 meters to infinity. Turn the focusing knob to bring your subject into focus on the screen.

A fine focus magnifier on a spring rests on the back of the chimney. Bring the magnifier around to the top of the viewfinder. Mine stays in place, allowing the photographer to bring their eye closer to the magnifying glass for fine focus. When not using the fine focus magnifier, it can be swung back to the back of the finder so you can see the full image on the focusing screen. You can also slide the front portion of the chimney back and use the chimney as a sport finder if needed.

Exposure index and depth of field scale on back of the Rolleicord 1 camera.

On the back of the camera is an exposure guide and depth of field scale. This scale was produced in German, French, and English for the different markets. My guide on the back is in German. According to the Rolleicord 1 manual, the exposure guide is rated for DIN 26, which would be ASA/ISO 320

 

My Results:

It's in the northwest United States in early January, which means very little sunshine. So I loaded up the camera with some 400 ISO film and walked around the neighborhood to see what I could get from this Rolleicord 1 camera. Knowing I only had the top three speeds to work with, this wasn't too much of an issue as the sun was generally behind clouds most of the day; it wasn't that dark out, and it typically shows between 1/300 and 1/100 shutter speed.

 Here are some of the results from my Rolleicord 1 camera.

Conclusion:

WOW!!! What a fun camera to shoot with. I forget how much I enjoy shooting with a TLR camera. It reminds me of my wedding shooting days many years ago. Looking down at your subjects and seeing such a nice big image brings back many good memories.

Even though the Rolleicord was made for amateur photographers, the lens is fantastic, easy to use, and excellent Rollei camera quality. I only had to keep reminding myself that when you see something going right in the finder, you need to turn left. If something comes into the frame on the right, it is really on the left in real life. I like the ability to keep things square, and while I prefer a panoramic format, having a square image is interesting and gives a new perspective.

 Thank you for taking some time from your day to read about this fantastic camera.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Bolsey Model C-Twin Lens Reflex

My Bolsey C camera

Very early in my camera collecting career, the Bolsey cameras have been a steady companion in my collection. I believe this goes back to when, in my 20s, I'd go to local Flea markets, which were usually held in older Drive-in theatres due to their expensive areas, and find Bolsey cameras. Usually, they were the B2 models and generally in fair to poor condition.

 Every once in a while, I'd find one in working condition, which was a rarity. The thing that drew me to these cameras was the odd shape they have. They are generally smaller than the standard 35mm camera. Still, they have an odd shape where the front of the camera is much broader than the rear. The corners of the cameras are rounded off, giving them a sleek and modern look for their time. I compare them to the shape of automobiles of the time, which generally had rounded curves and were comfortable to use.

 The Bolsey C was a camera that I've always had my eye on to add to my collection for many years. I can remember looking through the Bible of all camera collectors, McKeown's camera guide, and seeing the Model C and the other Model B and Jubilee models, with thoughts that someday I'll have one in my collection. That day was about 4 years ago when I purchased another "lot" of cameras with the Model C within that lot. To my surprise, the camera was almost mint and had a working shutter. Even the fitted case was in excellent condition. The camera appeared almost unused for 70-75 years since the camera was initially introduced in 1950.

History:

Bolsey Camera Company can be traced back to Yakov Bogopolsky, a trailblazing figure in the early 20th-century photographic industry, who played a pivotal role in the evolution of compact cameras. Born in 1895 in Ukraine, Bogopolsky left for Switzerland in 1913-14, where he studied medicine in Geneva. Due to the Russian Revolution and WWI outbreak, he could not return to Russia. While studying medicine, he worked as a portrait photographer to earn money. During his time in Switzerland, he changed his name to Jacques Bolskey. While in Switzerland, his passion for photography grew. He even invented a camera that photographed the beating heart of a dog, which was used in surgery.

 One of Bolskey's earliest successes was the Bolex line of cameras he designed while working for Paillard, a Swiss company. These cameras, primarily for motion pictures, became highly regarded for their precision and durability. While in Switzerland, he also worked as a designer at Swiss watchmaker Pignons S.A., which produced the first Alpa camera.

 After 22 years in Switzerland and being denied citizenship there, he eventually immigrated to the United States in 1939, changing his name to Jacques Bolsey. Bogopolsky's most significant contributions were realized through the Bolsey Camera Company, which he founded in the 1940s in New York. 

Bolsey's hallmark was producing user-friendly, affordable cameras that maintained quality. His most iconic designs were the Bolsey B series of cameras, which debuted in the mid-1940s. These cameras, such as the Bolsey B, B2, and Jubilee, were compact and housed in durable cast aluminum bodies. They featured a coupled rangefinder and a fixed-focus lens, making them accessible to amateur photographers. The Bolsey cameras were marketed as an ideal solution for everyday photography, emphasizing ease of use and portability.

 One of Bolsey's key innovations was incorporating a built-in flash synchronization system, a feature uncommon in consumer-grade cameras at the time. This innovation further solidified the company's reputation for blending functionality with convenience. The cameras became popular in the United States, particularly among families looking to capture moments during the post-war era.

 Despite its early success, the Bolsey Camera Company struggled to compete with emerging Japanese camera manufacturers in the 1950s and 1960s. Companies like Nikon and Canon began producing more advanced and competitively priced cameras, dominating the global market. Bolsey's commitment to simplicity and compact design became less appealing as photographers demanded more advanced features.

 By the mid-1960s, the Bolsey Camera Company ceased operations. While short-lived, Bolsey left a lasting impact on camera design, particularly democratizing photography. The company's cameras remain collectors' items today, valued for their unique blend of aesthetics, engineering, and historical significance. Jacques Bolsey's vision and ingenuity continue to be celebrated in the world of vintage photography.

My Camera:

My Bolsey Model C is two cameras in one. It's a twin-lens 35mm camera that incorporates both a waist-level finder and rangefinder into the same camera body. The camera is 3.75" tall with the chimney down and 4.75" tall in the up position, 4.25" wide by 2.5" deep, and weighs 1 lb 2.6oz. The camera is made from aluminum and has a gleaming finish. The camera has a Wollensak Anastigmat 44mm f3.2 lens in a Wollensak shutter. My Bolsey C also still has the red round Bolsey emblem intact on the viewing chimney. So many Bolsey cameras are missing this, as they are easily lost.

 The camera has a waist-level finder with ground glass at the top for focusing and is parallax corrected to 2', which is also the minimum focusing distance. According to the Instruction manual, the waist-level finder is "exactly as you will shoot it. "The waist-level lens is also the same as the taking lens.

 The camera also has a coupled rangefinder with split image capability built into it. It has the best of both worlds for focusing. Both the waist level and the rangefinder on my camera are bright and accurate. The separate viewfinder is offset on the right side of the camera for framing purposes. Also, on the back of the camera, there are two sockets on the left side made for the flash unit that snaps into them. A flash with a normal PC cord won't work on this camera.

To load the camera, the back is removed from the camera body by switching a lever on the bottom of the camera to the "open" position. The back slides off, exposing the standard 35mm camera film chamber. You slide in a 35mm film cartridge into the open area on the left, bringing the leader over the roller and the drive gear with the sprockets, and slide the leader into the take-up spool. IMPORTANT: wind the camera; you need to pull the winding lever up slightly before the camera will allow the camera to advance to the next frame. If you don't do this step, you'll tear the sprocket holes from the film because the drive gear is locked until you pull the winding lever up before winding. Put the back onto the camera and lock it. At this point, lift the winding lever and advance two times to get it to the first frame. On the back of the camera is a depth-of-field scale.

One other function of the winding lever is cocking the shutter. The Bolsey Model C uses a bar to prevent users from taking double exposures. The shutter release is a lever on the right side of the camera. Behind the shutter release is a bar with a red dot on the end. After you take a photo, the bar with the red dot springs forward, preventing the shutter release from returning to the normal "taking" position. After you take the photo, lift the winding knob, and advance to the next frame, the bar with the red dot is pulled back into the camera, allowing the shutter release to move back to the "taking" position and cocking the shutter. If you try to take a photo with the red dot showing, the shutter doesn't trip, and no exposure is made. Not all Bolsey cameras have the red dot bar to prevent double exposure. I have several other Bolsey cameras (B2 Special in red and a grey B3) that don't incorporate this feature.

The camera only has 5 shutter speeds, 1/200, 1/100, 1/50, 1/25, and 1/10, along with "B" and "T" for timed exposures. The 1/25 and 1/20 are in red, warning of slow speed to use a tripod or some way to keep the camera steady. The control of the shutter speed is a slider bar above the speed indicating which speed will be used. The aperture settings go from f3.2 to f22. These are controlled by a separate sliding bar under the lens with a pointer pointing at the set aperture.

Close up of shutter spped and aperture controls on Bolsey C camera

My results:

Where I live, it's usually overcast and raining, but I had a few hours where the sun almost poked its head out, so I loaded a roll of film into the camera and drove to two different places close to my home to take photos. The first was a local park with a playground, and the second was a home with a massive Christmas display. The display mainly consists of plastic figures on the front of the house. I figured I get a few good photos here. Here are the results of the photo journey.

Conclusion:

I need to admit, I wasn't sure how this camera would perform or if I would like to use this somewhat oddball camera. I have to admit, the camera worked great, and it was really fun to shoot with. I really enjoyed the waist-level finder and thought it was bright and accurate in its ability to focus sharply. I also tried the rangefinder, which performed just as well. On a scale of 1-10, I'd give this an 8, maybe even an 8.5, in its usability, a joy to use, and results.

 You can get good results using either the rangefinder or waist-level finder. It's the best of two worlds built into one camera. If you don't have one, you should add this to your collection. Try to find a good working example to take out and use. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes to read about this fantastic camera.

 Until next week, please be safe.