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.