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.

 

Durst Duca

A Tiny Full‑Frame Surprise: Shooting the Durst Duca

My Durst Duca camera.

I first saw the Durst Duca in McKeown's Camera Guide probably 30 years ago, and I can still remember my first instinct: this had to be a miniature camera. The tall, narrow body looked more like a tiny cine camera than anything that could handle standard 35mm film. With its vertical form, I assumed it used a 16mm cassette like a Minolta 16. So when I read that the Duca is actually a full‑frame 35mm camera, I was shocked.

 It just didn't seem possible. The camera looked too small and too skinny to hide a 35mm cassette sideways, especially with that unusual vertical format. For years, it stayed in the back of my mind as one of those oddball cameras I never expected to actually run across.

Finding My Duca

Being in the U.S., this little Italian camera rarely shows up at the usual places I haunt for gear—flea markets, garage sales, estate sales. On the big auction sites, I do see them once in a while. Still, they're usually priced higher than I'm willing to pay, especially once you tack on international shipping.

Front view of Durst Duca camera.

 When the auction was about to end, I logged in about 10 minutes before the finish. The price on the Duca had jumped up a bit, and I was outbid, so I nudged my max up—still on the low side—and watched the timer count down. No one else jumped in, and I ended up winning the camera.

The auction house shipped quickly. When I opened the box, I was still surprised by how small the camera is in person. It was even smaller than I'd pictured. I started to check it over, winding the advance lever on the side and cocking the shutter. I heard a faint click, but it was so quiet I wasn't sure the shutter was actually opening and closing.

 I pulled the side of the camera off to get at the film chamber and saw that one of the two film cassettes was still inside—that was a nice bonus, since it meant I only needed to scare up one more cassette. Digging around in the drawer where I keep odds and ends of camera accessories, I found another cassette that would work.

 In my darkroom, I shone a flashlight through the lens and fired the shutter. At first, I saw no light at all, and my heart sank; I figured the camera might be dead. Then I noticed the pressure plate that holds the film flat against the rails. I pulled the pressure plate out, pointed the flashlight into the front of the lens again, and tripped the shutter. This time, I saw a brief flash of light through the gate—success. The shutter was working. That was the moment I decided the Durst Duca would be the camera I'd write about for this week's blog.

A Little Durst History

Durst is best known today for its darkroom enlargers. Still, for about 25 years, the company also made a small, innovative line of cameras that reflected the same experimental mindset they brought to the darkroom. Founded in 1936 in northern Italy by brothers Julius and Gilbert Durst, the firm quickly gravitated toward photographic equipment, especially enlargers, which eventually became its main business.

 Durst's camera story starts with the Gil, a simple 120 roll‑film box camera introduced in 1938 for the growing amateur market. After World War II, Durst resumed production of the Gil and then shifted toward more compact designs, setting the stage for its 35mm experiments.

Australian Ad for Durst Duca camera

The Duca followed as a tiny 35mm still camera that used Agfa Karat cassettes instead of standard 35mm cartridges. That choice let Durst play with miniaturized body shapes: an oval, cine‑style form in a pocketable size, offered in several colors. This focus on unusual styling and packaging mirrored their enlargers, which often looked different from competitors but emphasized precision and usability.

 Next came the Durst 66, a modestly specified camera with an unconventional shutter and a quirky way of measuring exposure. You can already see Durst thinking outside the box, trying to rethink mechanisms rather than just copying others' work.

 All of that leads to the Durst Automatica, made from 1956 to 1963 and often regarded as the first 35mm camera with aperture‑priority automatic exposure. It used a pneumatic shutter derived from the Durst 66 and wrapped it in a very elegant body. For such a small camera line, it was an ambitious finale and shows how far Durst was willing to push design and automation.

My Durst Duca

The Durst Duca was introduced at the Milan Trade Fair in September 1946 and stayed in production until around 1952. It's a vertical‑format, full‑frame 35mm camera that uses Agfa Karat cassettes, and it was available in five colors: black, blue, red, white, and brown. I've only ever seen the black, blue, and red versions in photos. Still, now that I know more are out there, I'll keep an eye out—even if I suspect the more unusual colors will be priced higher than I'm willing to pay.

Physically, the Duca is tiny: only about 4 inches tall by 3.25 inches deep and just over 1.5 inches wide, and it weighs 10.1 ounces with the cassettes in place. The body is nicely rounded and fits well in the hand—definitely a camera you could drop in a coat pocket and forget about until you need it.

 The camera is very basic. The lens is a fixed 5 cm, f/11 meniscus design, though a rarer f/8 version is supposed to exist. Shutter speeds are limited to just two settings: 1/30 of a second and "P" for timed exposures. A small switch on the camera's faceplate, just below the viewfinder, sets the speed. I've also seen a version where the speeds are marked "I" for instant and "T" for timed. My guess is that mine is a later version, but I can't say that for sure.

 Focusing is done in only two zones. You can set the lens for 1–3 meters or 3 meters to infinity. To focus, you turn the outer ring of the lens until the red line points to the distance you want.

Loading Film and Getting the Duca Ready

To open the camera for loading, there's a small curled‑up lip on the right side of the body that you lift to swing open the film door. Inside, you'll see the two Agfa Karat cassettes. They pop out along with the pressure plate, which sits just behind the film gate and pulls straight up and out for loading.

 As mentioned, the camera takes Agfa Karat cassettes. When these were sold new, each roll of 35mm film was cut for 12 exposures, and the front of the camera proudly states that it takes 12 photos per roll. Since I have bulk 35mm film and two cassettes, I loaded my own.

I put one of the cassettes and my bulk loader into a dark bag. Inside the bag, I opened the loader, pulled out what I guessed would be enough film for 12 exposures, and added a bit more to be safe. I fed the film into the first cassette and closed up the loader, leaving a short length to thread into the second cassette. Then I unzipped the dark bag and removed the loaded cassette.

In the light, I could now feed the end of the film from the first cassette into the second one, slide both cassettes into the side of the camera, and drop the pressure plate back into place, making sure the film sat flat against the gate. Before closing the door, I advanced the film a bit to confirm that it was transporting. With the cassettes and pressure plate removed earlier, I'd noticed a small brass pin—very similar to the one in the Ansco Memo—that pops out, grabs a film sprocket, and moves up to advance the film.

Once everything looked right, I swung the back door into position and pressed it firmly against the body. Two small notches on the back have to line up with the body; if they're off even a little, the door won't sit snugly.

 Before heading out, I took a look at the lens and saw that the front element was pretty grimy. With some lens cleaner and tissues, I managed to clean the front, but because the camera is built the way it is, I couldn't get to the rear element at all. With the film loaded and the transport confirmed, I was ready to go for a walk through the neighborhood.

 

Shooting with a Vertical 35mm

With film in the camera, I headed out around the neighborhood, trying to photograph some of the same subjects I usually shoot—houses, parked cars, trees, little details I run across on my walks.

 The camera's faceplate shows a horizontal rectangle next to the number 12, while the viewfinder is vertical. I found that confusing at first. Was this meant to be a horizontal or a vertical camera? With only 12 exposures per roll, it seemed logical that they'd be in a horizontal orientation to match most 35mm cameras. Still, the vertical viewfinder was telling me otherwise. I wasn't sure, so I shot in both orientations early on, turning the camera back and forth.

 Once I processed the film and looked through the negatives, it was obvious: the Duca is a vertical‑format camera. If you want a horizontal image, you turn the whole camera on its side. It's not complicated, but it does take a little mental adjustment when you're used to most 35mm cameras being the other way around.

Results and Thoughts

Some of the images turned out great, and some didn't. There are a few reasons for that. One is focus—I didn't always remember to switch between the two focus zones when I changed subject distance. The other is exposure. With only one shutter speed and one aperture, you're basically at the mercy of the light. The negatives showed some variation, but nothing I couldn't deal with in post‑processing. It reminded me a lot of shooting with an Instamatic: pick a film with a wide exposure latitude and let it do the heavy lifting.

 I got 14 frames on the roll before the film refused to advance into the second cassette, which tells me my length estimate in the dark bag was close. The camera itself handled well. The viewfinder is on the small side and can be difficult to look through, especially if you wear glasses, but it's usable once you get used to it.

 The transport worked smoothly, and the shutter opened and closed as it should. The lens, however, is still dirty on the rear element, and there's really no easy way to clean it without taking the camera apart. That shows up in the photos as a general softness, almost like shooting with a soft‑focus filter. On some subjects, the look can actually be pleasant; on others, it just makes things a bit mushy.

 Overall, the Duca was a fun camera to use, and I'll definitely shoot it again. The whole process—from loading the Karat cassettes, to working with the vertical format, to seeing the results—was enjoyable. It's the kind of camera you could toss in a pocket when you head out on a trip and forget about until something catches your eye. I like that it's doing all of this as a full‑frame 35mm camera in such a tiny body.

 Thanks for taking the time to read about my experience with this little Italian wonder of a camera.

 If you'd like to see more of my camera adventures, here's a link to my other camera reviews. And if you're interested in cameras, lenses, or other photo gear I'm letting go of as I thin the collection, you can visit my Cuny's Cameras and Photos online store.

 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.