Leica CL Camera-50th Anniversary Edition

My Leica CL-50th Anniversary Edition Camera

I can remember when the Leica CL was first introduced. I was a junior in high school and attending concerts with my buddies. Because of its size, I thought it would be perfect to take to shows to photograph bands. It was small, compact, and had incredible optics.

 At the time, I shot Nikon, which was a bit bigger and heavier, and the idea of a smaller, lighter camera intrigued me.

 Unfortunately, I had a few obstacles to overcome to get one. The first and foremost was the price. At around $450.00 for the camera body with the 40mm lens, I needed to save a lot before I could afford it, especially while also buying records, paying for a car, and going to concerts. Something needed to give.

 For me personally, another drawback of the Leica CL was the lack of longer lenses for the body. At the time of release, they offered a 40mm and a 90mm, which they recommended, but for the shows I was photographing, I sometimes needed up to a 200mm. The 40mm or 90mm would be OK for some of the work, but I liked getting a bit closer to the performers, so the longer lens was very desirable.

 A good friend of mine, Greg Copeland, was an early adopter of the Olympus OM system and purchased his right after it was introduced in 1973. After I played with his for a while, I started to prefer shooting with a slightly bigger camera, as my hands just seemed to overlap the camera, and it didn't feel comfortable. As a result, the thought of owning a Leica CL subsided.

Leica CL 50th Anniversary

 Minolta introduced their version of the Leica CL, the Minolta CLE, in 1980, when I was working at a camera store in the San Francisco Bay Area. I briefly considered buying it through the employee purchase program, but I wasn't a big fan of Minolta cameras. Also, being married and having a two-year-old put a little damper on spending a lot of money on camera gear.

 Jump almost 40 years into the future, and an opportunity to purchase a Leica CL with the fitted leather case and Leitz Summicron-C 40mm f/2 lens dropped into my lap. I was in a camera store in a small Midwest town on a business trip, and as I was looking in one of the showcases, there it was.

 The owner at the time said he was having a difficult time selling it, and he would make me a good deal on it if I were interested. He said the meter wasn't working, but it did come with the hood, lens cap, and case. He threw out a price that was too good to pass up. I thought about it for a few minutes and started playing with it. It seemed in great condition, except for the meter, so I bought the camera and took it home.

History of Leica CL & Minolta CLE

The partnership between Leitz (the maker of Leica cameras) and Japanese manufacturer Minolta during the 1970s birthed two of the most fascinating rangefinders in photographic history: the Leica CL and the Minolta CLE. Conceived during a period of financial instability for Leica, this collaboration aimed to produce a compact, accessible entry point into the legendary M-mount system.

 Introduced in 1973, the Leica CL (Compact Leica) was designed by Leitz but manufactured in Japan by Minolta. It represented a radical departure from traditional Leica design. Weighing considerably less than its sibling, the polarizing Leica M5, the CL featured a vertically traveling cloth focal-plane shutter and a unique through-the-lens (TTL) light meter positioned on a pivoting arm that swung out of the way just before the shutter fired. To accompany the camera, Leitz introduced two compact, budget-friendly lenses: the 40mm f/2 Summicron-C and the 90mm f/4 Elmar-C.

Leica CL Advertisement

 The CL was a massive commercial success. However, its popularity became a double-edged sword. It sold so well that it reportedly cannibalized sales of the far more expensive M5, prompting Leitz to discontinue the CL prematurely in 1976 after producing roughly 65,000 units. Minolta also sold its own domestic version during this time, the Leitz Minolta CL, which was functionally identical.

 After the partnership dissolved, Minolta built on the CL and engineered a true technological marvel: the Minolta CLE (Compact Leica Electronic), released in 1980.

 While it retained the M-mount and a similar form factor, the CLE was entirely Minolta's creation and represented a massive leap forward. It replaced the CL's mechanical shutter and swinging meter arm with an advanced electronic stepless shutter and a cutting-edge silicon photodiode system.

 Most impressively, the CLE introduced aperture-priority auto-exposure and TTL off-the-film flash metering—features that would not appear on a true Leica M body until the M7 arrived over two decades later. Minolta paired the CLE with three exceptional M-Rokkor lenses: a 28mm f/2.8, a 40mm f/2, and a 90mm f/4. Despite its technological superiority, the CLE had a relatively short production run and was discontinued in 1985. Today, both cameras remain highly sought after by film enthusiasts as capable, lightweight alternatives to traditional M-system rangefinders.

My Camera

My Leica CL is a 50th-anniversary model with the stamp under the "Leica CL" name on the front. On the back of the camera body is engraved 487-L. The Leica CL is 4.75" wide by 3" tall by 2.5" deep, with the Leitz Summicron-C 40mm f/2 lens. The camera weighs 1 pound, 2 ounces with the hood and lens cap, and without film. The body serial number is 1429885, and the lens serial number is 2552228.

My Leica CL also has a vertical hanging, fitted leather case with "Leica Wetzlar" embossed on the front. I'm not a big fan of how the soft case works with the camera, as I find it gets in my way when using the camera. It does offer protection, so that's a plus.

 Looking at the top of the camera, the Leica CL is rather plain. From left to right, there is the "Leitz Wetzlar" logo, a hot shoe for the flash, the shutter release (threaded for a cable release), a white line for setting the shutter speed, and a film winding lever.

 Most exposure controls are on the front of the camera body or lens. In the upper left corner of the camera, as you face it, is the shutter speed wheel, which has speeds from 1/1000 to 1/2 (no 1 sec. exposure setting) and "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed is set by turning the outer wheel to the desired speed, which is aligned with the small white line on the camera body. Some people get confused because the white line isn't directly above the shutter speed number, but slightly to the left. Make sure you set the shutter speed to the white line, and not at the top of the dial.

Inside the shutter speed dial is the ASA or DIN (ISO) setting for the internal light meter. Set the ASA by turning the chrome wheel with the pad of your finger or thumb to the desired film speed.

 Below the shutter speed wheel is a smaller round button with a red circle, which is the lens release button. Press the button and turn the lens counterclockwise a short distance until the red dot latches to the red circle, then remove the lens. To attach the lens, match the red dot on the lens to the red circle, then turn the lens clockwise until it clicks into place and locks onto the camera body.

On the opposite side of the lens is an even smaller chrome button: the "battery test" button for the light meter. Unfortunately, the light meter on my camera isn't working, so it's not something I use when shooting with the Leica CL.

 On the lens is the focus knob, which is a larger knob on the bottom, and the aperture settings, which are located towards the front of the lens. I also have a rubber lens hood and a plastic lens cap that fits onto the hood; both came with the camera kit.

Looking through the viewfinder, there are several things to look at. In the middle is the bright rangefinder. This is a wonderful and very easy rangefinder. The image looks sharper (to me) when you bring the lines together in the yellowed area of the rangefinder. I'm generally not a big fan of rangefinders, but I do really like how this one performs.

 It also has internal lines for a 40mm and 50mm lens. Along the top of the finder is the shutter speed, with a red bar sliding to the set shutter speed, which is easily adjusted with your forefinger rolling along the shutter speed selector.

On the right side of the viewfinder is the light meter. Leica interestingly designed the camera: when you wind it, a small hinged arm with a CDS sensor drops down in front of the vertically traveling focal plane shutter. This is what meters your exposures. As you change the shutter speed/aperture combination and the ASA setting, a bar moves up or down until it's in the center "cutout" area. When it's in the middle of the "cutout" area, the meter tells you it's properly exposed.

 When you click the shutter, the CDS sensor moves up just before the shutter opens and closes, exposing the film. Then, when you wind the film to the next exposure, the CDS sensor pulls back down and is ready to meter your next frame. If you haven't wound to the next frame and the winding lever is in close to the body, the meter is off. I also noticed that when you move the shutter speed dial to 1/2 sec. or "B", a red dot appears in the meter area. My best guess is that it's a longer exposure warning.

To remove the camera back to load the film, on the bottom of the camera in the center, there is a knob that you lift and turn until it stops. Then, slide the camera back down to slide the back off the camera body. Once you've done that, the pressure plate is hinged to the camera body, not the back of the film door you just removed.

 Put your film cassette in the left-side film chamber, flip down the pressure plate, and thread the lead into the grey clips on the take-up spool. Advance the film a bit to make sure it's caught and traveling across the shutter. Flip back the pressure plate, slide the camera back under the grooves on the front of the camera, sliding it all the way onto the camera body, and lock the film back onto the camera body.

The bottom of the film door also has the rewind crank and rewind button to unlock the film transport wheel, plus a small film reminder on the other side of the rewind crank.

 I have a few rolls of outdated Plus-X film dated to June 1976, which I have in both 36 and 20 exposures that I'm selling in my store on eBay, so I loaded a roll of 20 exposures into the camera, set my external light meter to ISO 50, and went for a walk around the neighborhood to see how the camera would perform.

 My Results

After walking the neighborhood and taking photos of many of the usual subjects to keep it somewhat consistent, I went home and processed the film. Here are some of the images I took on my walk.

Conclusion

I enjoyed many things about using the Leica CL. First and foremost was the focusing. I really enjoyed how the rangefinder reacted to the images I selected. It made it easy to focus, especially in busy areas with a lot of detail.

 The second thing I enjoyed about the camera was the image quality. Similar to the Contarex "Bullseye" camera, this lens is very sharp. I kind of marvel at how sharp these images are. Maybe it's because I try so many different cameras with average or below-average optics, but when you get a sharply focused photo, they just jump out at you.

 The camera case (to me) was a real pain. Having the case flop around when I'm using the camera was a negative experience. In the future, instead of latching the case through the strap, I'll put the strap on the camera and wrap the case around it for protection. When I unzip the case, I'll put it in my pocket. That's a more desirable solution for me.

 One other thing I noticed from the last few cameras shot with the expired Plus-X film I have is that I kind of like the grain of the film. It's a bit chunkier than the newer films, which I kind of enjoy and remember from my earlier days of shooting.

 Overall, my experience with the Leica CL was very positive. I would have liked an internal meter, but for the price I paid for the camera, lens, and case, I'm very happy and can use an external meter or guess exposures, which is pretty easy.

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

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Zeiss Ikon Contarex "Bullseye" camera

My Zeiss Ikon Contarex “Bullseye” camera

Ever since I started collecting cameras, way back in the late 1970s, maybe even the early 1980s, the Zeiss Ikon Contarex, "Bullseye" or "Cyclops" camera has been on my radar to hopefully someday have in my collection. These were the times when my wife and I were newly married, and money was always tight—living paycheck to paycheck.

I can remember seeing the Contarex camera in magazines and other collecting or historical publications. Always in the back of my mind, I thought this was one of the most beautiful cameras ever made. The bulging "eye" over the lens made the camera seem otherworldly, futuristic, and more like an art piece than a camera.

Seeing it many times in McKeown's Cameras price book, which I would devour constantly, soaking in the information on the different camera designs and companies from around the world that produced odd and unique cameras, it was the Contarex that always stood out as an icon for camera collectors.

Fast forward 35 years. It was sometime in the early to mid-2010s when I had the opportunity to purchase one of these wonders of a camera. With extra income to spend on expanding my collection and selling off some cameras, I pulled the trigger at a camera show in the San Francisco Bay Area, where we lived at the time, on a wonderful, working Contarex with the fitted case.

Contarex nameplate

The camera came with the slightly wide Zeiss Distagon 35mm f/4 lens, which was fairly slow, but there are two items I liked about this lens. It's wide—not as wide as I'd like, but it also focuses closer than most lenses. The lens can focus down to 7.5 inches from the subject, almost making it a macro lens. Not quite, but much closer than the standard lens.

The Contarex also has a working meter, which is somewhat rare for a selenium meter system on a camera made in the late 1950s to early 1960s. I also enjoy a more "hefty" camera, since I was mainly raised using the older Nikon F system. Along with having larger hands, these cameras feel more comfortable to me.

I remember when the Olympus OM system camera hit the market in the 1970s. I'd wrap my hands around the smaller body and lenses, and it always made me feel like I was suffocating the camera as my hand enveloped them. Same with the Pentax ME system when they came out, so having a larger camera body and lens has always seemed right to me.

The Contarex camera is extremely solid, well-built, over-engineered, and somewhat weighty. The Contarex has some real heft to it. One thing I wasn't aware of was the camera's build quality, which I discuss below in the history section.


History of the Contarex Cameras

The Zeiss Ikon Contarex, introduced at Photokina in 1958 and hitting the market in 1960, stands as one of the most ambitious and notoriously over-engineered 35mm single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras ever manufactured. Conceived in 1954 under the internal designation "Contax IV," the Contarex was designed by Edgar Sauer as Zeiss Ikon's definitive professional 35mm SLR, intended to replace the Contax IIa and IIIa and, in the company's words, cater to "any photographic task whatsoever."

With rising Japanese powerhouses, the Contarex system was Zeiss Ikon's no-holds-barred flagship—a mechanical tour de force that commands immense respect (and sometimes frustration) in the vintage collecting community today.

Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera advertisment

The first model in the lineup earned the nicknames "Bullseye" and "Cyclops" due to the prominent, circular selenium light meter window mounted directly in front of the pentaprism. This meter wasn't just cosmetic; it represented a massive mechanical achievement. The Contarex I was the first 35mm SLR to feature a focal-plane shutter with direct light meter coupling. The camera mechanically linked the shutter speed, aperture, and film speed settings via a highly complex system of internal cords and pulleys.

While the interchangeable Carl Zeiss lenses produced for the Contarex are still legendary for their sharpness, contrast, and uncompromising build quality, the camera bodies themselves are incredibly intricate. The original Bullseye contains nearly 1,100 individual parts, including roller bearings in the aperture mechanism. Interestingly, the lenses lack traditional aperture rings; instead, the aperture is controlled by a milled wheel on the camera body itself, which directly interfaces with the bayonet mount.

Because of their sheer mechanical complexity, they require highly specialized technicians for servicing—simply removing the top plate requires dismantling 43 separate components. A working selenium meter is often a strong indicator that a specific body hasn't been abused over the decades. For anyone running an online shop or writing historical reviews, finding a fully functional Contarex at a global market is a massive victory, offering rich material for a blog deep-dive or video overview.

Another notoriously delicate quirk is the rewind mechanism. Instead of a direct shaft, it uses a series of tiny gears, making it smooth but highly vulnerable to impact damage. Additionally, interchangeable magazine backs allowed mid-roll film swapping, cementing its status as a true professional system camera.

Despite its brilliance, the sheer cost ($499 in 1961), heavy weight, and complicated nature of the Contarex meant it never dominated the market quite like the simpler Japanese alternatives. Zeiss Ikon eventually produced several variations, including the Contarex Special, Professional, and the electronic Super, before ceasing production in the early 1970s. Today, these chrome behemoths remain a fascinating pinnacle of mid-century German engineering—heavy, beautiful, and incredibly rewarding to study and restore.

My Camera

My Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera is 4" tall by 6" wide by 4" deep with the Zeiss Distagon 35mm f/4 lens, and weighs in at 2 pounds, 8.8 ounces. My camera body serial number is T89707, and the lens serial number is 3703592. You can find the instruction manual for the Zeiss Contarex at Mike Butkus's website, www.CameraManuals.org.

Looking at the top of the camera, going from left to right, is the camera's rewind knob with a flip-up lever, along with a directional arrow indicating which way to turn the wheel when it's time to rewind your film. There is also an indicator or reminder of what ASA (ISO) you have in the camera.

To the right of the rewind knob is an external light meter window. This is the same as you'll see in the viewfinder, only it's to be used if you're setting up from your waist and want to get the meter settings before you put the camera to your eye.

On the very top of the camera is the accessory shoe, used for a flash unit or for an accessory viewfinder which would be used for the widest 21mm lens available. Just in front of the accessory shoe is the "Bullseye" or "Cyclops" meter. Inside the meter are the aperture settings, which are controlled by a knurled ring just to the right of the meter and on the front of the camera body.

Turning this wheel sets the aperture setting, and it will also set the internal aperture needed to make the exposure. This will be transferred through the camera body, setting the proper aperture on the lens through its internal pulley system. You can remove the front of the meter housing, which has a honeycomb appearance, to expose the meter aperture, along with the pulley that activates it.

Just behind the aperture wheel on the front of the camera is the film winding lever, which sits on top of the shutter speed selector. Inside the winding lever is the camera's shutter release, which can accept a cable release for longer exposures. The shutter speed selector has a range of shutter speeds from 1/1000–1 sec, including "B" for timed exposures.

Just under the shutter speed selector is the ISO (ASA) settings. To set the ISO, lift on the shutter speed wheel and turn the dial to set the meter to the proper ISO. The ASA range is from 50–1300. There are also 2x and 4x settings if you want to overexpose in low-light situations purposely.

On the front of the camera, just under the aperture control wheel, is the camera's self-timer, which has a maximum delay of 12 seconds. It can be shorter, provided you don't pull the lever all the way to the maximum amount. On the other side of the lens, on top, is a light window for the internal meter.

Under the light window is the button to remove the lenses. Press in and turn the lens counterclockwise to remove the lens. To mount the lens, match up the two red dots and turn clockwise until the lens clicks into place. On the side, next to the lens release button, is the flash sync terminal, which is where you'll connect the flash cable, since the camera doesn't have a hot shoe for the flash.

Looking through the camera's viewfinder on the rear of the camera, you'll see the three different focusing types incorporated into the focusing screen. On the outer portion is ground glass, in the very middle is the split image, and circling the split image is a microprism focusing area. Some people have difficulty with the split image, especially with slower lenses, where one of the halves blacks out and they cannot find the vertical or horizontal line to bring together. That's caused by the pupil of your eye not being centered in the focusing screen. If you move the camera up or down, you'll notice this changes from top to bottom, but once centered, the split image becomes whole, and you'll be able to focus more easily.

On the right side of the focus screen is the meter window. Inside the meter window is a line. The goal of proper metering is to get the line in the middle for a properly exposed image. When the line is above the cutout area on the left, you're overexposing, and when below, you're underexposing. The meter allows you to set either the shutter speed, then move the aperture wheel to line up the exposure, or you can set the aperture and move the shutter speed to get the meter needle in the center. It all depends on whether you want to stop action (shutter speed) or get more/less depth of field (aperture).

To open the camera to load film, there are two latches on the bottom of the camera that need to be turned, which allow you to slide the back off the camera and expose the film chamber. Once the back is removed, you'll load the 35mm film like you would any other 35mm camera. Once the film is loaded, put the film back into the grooves in the camera body, and slide the back up and into position on the back of the camera. Once it's on, lock the two latches and flip down the handles so the camera sits flush.

When you get to the end of the roll, and it's time to rewind the film back into the cassette, one of the latches on the bottom of the camera has an "R" for rewind. Lift the handle of this latch only, and turn the lever until the handle is pointing at the "R" (for rewind). Flip up the handle on the rewind knob and rewind the film back into the 35mm cassette. Once the film is rewound, turn both levers to the open position, take the back off the camera, and remove the film for processing.

Now that we have film loaded into the camera, let's take it for a walk around the neighborhood and see how the camera performs.

My Results

I didn't have any fresh film to shoot through the Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera, but I did—and still do—have some outdated film from 1976, Plus-X 135 film, which I took from the inventory I have from my online store.

 Shooting the film at approximately ISO 50 and processing the film in Rodinal at 1:25, here are the results I achieved with the camera.

Conclusion

The camera performed flawlessly. While this was the first time actually shooting with the Contarex camera, I was surprised at how close you could focus with the lens. All of the images were handheld, and the day was somewhat overcast so that the images would be a bit flat in the lighting, but overall, the camera and lens were fantastic.

 The aperture wheel and light meter worked as they should, and the lens's sharpness is incredible. While the camera is big and heavy for many, it felt very comfortable in my hands.

I now understand why so many people enjoyed using this camera, as it is over-engineered and almost impossible to get serviced. While mine is working well, I'll definitely be taking the camera for many more walks shooting film with it.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Envoy Wide Angle camera

My Envoy Wide Angle camera

I’ve always been drawn to anything panoramic—cameras, negatives, even yard‑long prints. I love images that feel like the way I actually see: scanning the edges, noticing subjects on the periphery, wanting just a little more in the frame.

 That’s why I’m so fond of cameras that may not be truly panoramic, but still give a generous wide‑angle view. I enjoy classic street and fashion work—Diane Arbus, Elliott Erwitt, Henri Cartier‑Bresson, Richard Avedon, Herb Ritts, Irving Penn—I can happily look at their photos all day long. But when it comes to scenic images, even with masters like Ansel Adams and Edward Weston, a part of me is always wondering what’s just outside the edge of the frame.

 So when I went hunting for a camera to feature in this week’s camera‑collecting blog, the Envoy Wide Angle was sitting there on one of my shelves, quietly staring back at me. It isn’t famous, it isn’t flashy, but it’s a small English wide‑angle box that happens to see the world a lot like I do.

 My friend, fellow camera blogger, and co‑host of the Camerosity podcast, Mike Eckman, wrote an excellent review of the Envoy Wide Angle a while back, so I deliberately let some time pass after his piece. Now that the dust has settled, it felt like the right moment to pull my Envoy down, load some film, and see what I could add to the conversation.

Brief History of Ilford:

 While often synonymous with high-quality black-and-white film, Ilford Ltd. holds a distinct and fascinating place in the history of camera manufacturing. Founded in 1879 by Alfred Hugh Harman in Ilford, England, the company initially focused on dry plates. However, as the photographic medium evolved, Ilford expanded into the hardware that would utilize their world-class emulsions.

 Ilford's foray into cameras began in the late 19th century with specialized plate cameras. By the early 1900s, they introduced models like the Ilford Falling Plate camera. These were designed to be robust and reliable, catering to a growing market of serious amateur photographers. As roll film began to dominate, Ilford transitioned, ensuring its hardware remained a perfect vessel for its advancing film technology.

 The post-WWII era marked Ilford's most ambitious period in camera design. Two models, in particular, stand out to collectors and historians:

  • The Ilford Witness (1953): A legendary 35mm rangefinder that is now a rare prize for collectors. It featured a unique interrupted screw mount and was designed to compete with the likes of Leica and Contax. Though technically brilliant, its high production costs led to a very limited run.

  • The Ilford Advocate (1949): Instantly recognizable by its ivory-white stove-enamel finish, the Advocate was a 35mm camera designed to stay cool under the sun (ideal for tropical climates). Its distinct aesthetic and reliable performance made it a mid-century icon.

 By the 1960s, Ilford pivoted toward the mass market, collaborating with manufacturers like SND (West Germany) to produce the Ilford Sportsman series. These were affordable, user-friendly 35mm cameras that brought the Ilford name into households across the UK and Europe.

Today, while Ilford's focus has returned to its roots in chemistry and paper, the "Ilford" badge on a vintage camera remains a symbol of British engineering and a golden era of silver halide photography.

My Camera

The Envoy Wide Angle is a deceptively simple, very boxy camera that shoots big 6×9 images on either 120 or 620 roll film, or on plates with a removable back. It measures roughly 5 inches wide by about 3.75 inches tall and 3.5 inches deep, and it has the solid, brick‑like feel you’d expect from a mid‑century British box. Controls are straightforward: shutter speeds from about 1/150 to 1 second plus B, set by rotating the ring around the shutter until the red dot aligns with your chosen speed.

On my example, the shutter unit is from Agilux (Agifold), who also produced their own cameras in the late 1940s and 1950s. The cocking lever sits around the 5 o’clock position on the front, while the shutter release is down at about 7 o’clock. It’s not an ergonomic marvel by modern standards, but after a couple of frames your fingers know where to go.

The Envoy’s party trick is the lens: a 64mm f/6.5 Taylor, Taylor & Hobson wide‑angle, a 4‑element design covering an angle of about 82 degrees, roughly equivalent to a 25–28mm lens on 35mm. For what is otherwise a plain, fixed‑focus box, that’s an unusually ambitious piece of glass. Held level, distortion is minimal, and the lens has a reputation for being impressively sharp, especially stopped down.

Although the lens opens to f/6.5, the manual is clear that this full opening is only for focusing on the optional ground‑glass screen when using plates. In normal use on roll film, the working apertures start at about f/11 and go down to f/32; f/16 will satisfy most situations, and f/22 is where the lens is said to give its best coverage and performance. There is no focusing mechanism at all—sharpness comes purely from depth of field, with approximate ranges as follows:

  • f/11: 10 ft to 60 ft

  • f/16: 6 ft to 400 ft

  • f/22: 4 ft to infinity

  • f/32: 30 in to infinity

 In other words, once you’ve set a sensible aperture for the light, the Envoy behaves like a very refined point‑and‑shoot: you concentrate on framing, and the lens quietly takes care of focus.

Using the Finder and Framing:

 The Envoy doesn’t give you an optical viewfinder in the usual sense. Instead, you flip up a rectangular sports finder on the front and a matching chrome frame on the back, then look through and do your best to line things up. The rear frame has a little slider for 3 ft, 6 ft, and infinity, but in practice those settings don’t seem to change much—the framing is more of an approximation than a precision instrument.

When using the Envoy Wide Angle camera, I treated it like a loose, intuitive framing aid. I composed a bit wider than I might with a “normal” camera, knowing I could afford to include extra space in those big negatives. Between the generous depth of field and the easy loading of 120 roll film, the camera encourages you to work simply: point, estimate, and trust the lens.

To open the back of the camera to load film, on the right side is a top slider that pulls up, and the film back will open for roll film. On the back of the camera, when using roll film, there is an insert. Pull up the winding wheel, and the film insert is removable. Pull out the insert and load the roll of film as you would any 120 or 620 film. Put the insert back into the camera's body, press down the winding wheel to engage the film's notches at the end, close the back, and make sure it's fully closed and locked. On the back of the camera is a sliding cover for the red window, which you use to wind the film and note the frame number. Wind the film until you reach the number 1, and you're now ready to take your first photo.

 A Morning at Moulton Falls:

 Once I pulled the Envoy Wide Angle off the shelf, I did what any curious wide‑angle fan would do: I loaded a roll of 120 and took it somewhere with space to breathe. My wife and I, along with our grand‑dog Bean, headed up to Moulton Falls in Washington, about 15 miles from home. It was a sunny day, but we went out early, while the sun was still low and brushing the trees and river with softer light.

 Knowing the Envoy really comes into its own at smaller apertures—f/16, f/22, even f/32—I chose 400‑speed film to give myself some flexibility in the forest shade and along the river. With a fixed‑focus lens, the only “decisions” you really make are shutter speed and aperture, so I quickly settled into that mindset: pick a stop for the depth of field I wanted, set a reasonable shutter speed, and let the camera do the rest.

Front view of Envoy Wide Angle, No. 2880.

 Moulton Falls is one of those places that suits a wide‑angle view: the arched bridge, the rocky river, the trees crowding the edges of the frame. It’s exactly the sort of scene where I’m always wishing I could see “just a bit more” to the left and right, and the Envoy happily obliged, giving me big, expansive 6×9 negatives from a very compact box.

My Results:

 Back from the walk, I was pleasantly surprised by what came out of that first roll. For a camera with no focusing mechanism at all, the Envoy’s lens is very sharp, with good contrast and a pleasing tonality across the 6×9 frame. Stopped down, the corners hold up better than you’d expect from a mid‑century wide‑angle box, and distortion is minimal as long as you keep the camera level.

 The 400‑speed film paired well with the slower shutter speeds and small apertures I was using under the trees and near the water. Scenes that could easily have turned muddy or soft came out crisp, with plenty of detail in the rocks, foliage, and bridge structure. For a “simple” camera, the negatives have a surprisingly modern look once scanned.

Final Thoughts:

 For something that looks like a straightforward box, the Envoy Wide Angle turns out to be a very capable wide‑angle 6×9 machine. The lens is sharp, contrasty, and handles scenery with confidence, as long as you respect its need to be stopped down. The fixed focus and sports finder mean it will never be a precision tool in the modern sense, but that’s part of its charm.

 This one is a keeper in my collection, both for its compact size and for the quality of the images it produces. I’d happily put it in the same conversation as the Brooks Plaubel Veri‑Wide, a fun, wide‑angle medium-format option, with the Envoy winning on simplicity and portability. If you enjoy wide‑angle cameras and can live with fixed focus and a guessy finder, it’s well worth tracking one down and adding it to your group of “user” cameras.

 I’d love to hear your thoughts—if you have an Envoy Wide Angle or another fixed‑focus wide‑angle medium-format camera you enjoy, let me know how you use it and what you like about it.​

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with lenses, and other odd photo items. Please stop by and browse around. I list my items with a "make offer" option, so if you see something you like, make a fair offer, and I'll most likely accept. Let me know you saw my blog.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Sakura Bakelite camera

The 1930s Sakura Bakelite: A pocket-sized piece of Japanese history with a surprisingly modern 'X' design.

Looking through my camera collection, I wanted to find something more unusual to write about this week. When I picked up the Sakura camera in its case, I didn't think much about it until I opened the camera's case and saw the writing inside. 

 The writing said, "K. Kitayama" along the bottom, and "kin" on the right and kizyun" on the left, so my immediate thought was to try and do some research to see if I could find the ancestors of the camera, or possibly even the owner of the camera. 

 Since the camera was released in Japan in 1937, I imagined the original owner might still be alive, but the chances are slim. Also, since the lettering was in English and not Japanese, the camera was brought to the US by the owner, but when? 

 Looking more closely at the case, there is a red stamp on the inside top. It appears to be in Japanese, but it's pretty faded; there's also a number "74" that is pretty visible in the lower right corner. So, did the camera enter the US in 1974 when the owner brought it here from Japan, and was it stamped by customs or the Japanese government before leaving?

 Also, when I took the camera out of the case to inspect it for this week's blog, on the back wall of the case is a signature written in ink that appears to be a name starting with K. and Kizyun? I tried many different Google searches for different spellings. While I find these things fascinating, my chances of finding the original owner, or possibly some family members, are very slim. Still, my passion for finding the original owner remains. 

Have you ever found a piece of gear with a name inscribed on it? I'd love to hear your detective stories in the comments.

 Now that I've spent way too many hours going down the rabbit hole trying to find out who the camera belonged to, let me tell you more about the camera itself.

My Sakura Bakelite camera

 The Sakura (Bakelite) camera is an odd, oval-shaped model made by Konishiroku in the late 1930s. Konishiroku was the original company that became Konica. While the Sakura camera is a very basic model that I'll describe below, I understand it's rather rare.

 Sakura, meaning "Cherry" in Japanese, was a short-lived brand produced by Konishiroku during the 1930s. Their most popular items were a series of 3 different, beautifully colored, Sakura Box cameras. One of the cameras used 127-sized film for its 4x6.5cm format. In contrast, their larger cameras were 4.6x6cm or 6x9cm format cameras on 120 film. These cameras are also very collectible and rare items.

 

Konishiroku Before World War II:


The story of Konishiroku (the predecessor to Konica) is essentially the birth of the Japanese photographic industry. Long before it became a global imaging giant, the company began in 1873 when Rokusaburo Sugiura began selling photographic and lithographic materials at Konishiya Rokuemon, a traditional pharmacy in Tokyo.

Ad for Sakura camera from Camera-Wiki

 By 1876, Sugiura moved the photographic department to a dedicated shop called Konishi Honten. This move was visionary; at the time, photography was a fledgling Western import, yet Sugiura foresaw its cultural and commercial potential in Meiji-era Japan.

 In the late 19th century, Japan relied almost entirely on imported cameras and chemicals from Europe and America. Konishi Honten sought to change this. In 1902, the company established the Rokuoh-sha factory in Tokyo, marking a pivotal shift from a mere retailer to a pioneer manufacturer.

Just one year later, in 1903, they released the Cherry Portable Camera. This was Japan's first brand-name camera, a simple box-type unit that democratized photography for the Japanese public, much like the Kodak Brownie did in the West.

 Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, the company refined its engineering to compete with high-end German imports. Several key milestones defined this pre-war era:

 

  • The Pearlette (1925): Based on the Vest Pocket Kodak, this folding camera became an icon in Japan, remaining in production in various forms for decades.

  • The Lily and Idea series: These cameras showed Konishiroku's ability to produce sophisticated folding and plate cameras that appealed to serious amateurs and professionals.

  • Establishment of the "Konishiroku" name: In 1921, the company reorganized as a partnership, and by 1936, it was incorporated as Konishiroku Honten Co., Ltd.

 By the mid-1930s, Konishiroku was not just making camera bodies; it was a master of the entire "imaging chain." They produced Sakura brand cameras, film, and photographic paper. In 1935, they began developing their own high-quality lenses under the Hexar name.

 As the 1930s drew to a close, the Japanese government began consolidating the industry for the war effort. Konishiroku's precision manufacturing was increasingly diverted toward military optics, such as aerial cameras and rangefinders. However, the foundation they built—combining retail savvy with deep technical manufacturing—ensured that when the "Konica" brand eventually debuted in the post-war era, it was backed by over 70 years of institutional expertise.

My Camera:

 My Sakura Bakelite camera is an odd, oval-shaped camera with a pull-out front lens used for taking photos, and it retracts when it's in its case for transport. It's only 3.75" wide by 2.75" tall, including the film winding knob, and 2" deep with the lens retracted or 3" with the lens extended. It only weighs 6.1 ounces without film in the camera.

The camera is a rich, dark brown Bakelite with slight mottling and a grainy finish, giving it a nice texture. SAKURA is molded in Bakelite at the top of the pull-out lens area. There is a smooth "X" shape on the faceplate as well, with the lens centered at the "X"'s intersection. 

X design and controls on the face of the Sakura camera

The Sakura camera is extremely basic. Its fixed-focus Rokuoh-Sha Tokyo lens and lack of adjustable apertures make it simple to use, making it ideal for casual photography or quick snapshots. The shutter settings are either "I" for instant or "B" for bulb, used for timed exposures. The shutter is set by a chrome arrow pointing to the desired setting. The shutter release is just below the shutter setting. It is a longer, curved lever, emphasizing its straightforward design for beginners or vintage enthusiasts interested in minimalistic cameras.

On top of the Sakura camera is a chrome pull-up viewfinder in the front, along with a pop-up pointer in the rear, which you use to center your subject before taking the photo. Also, at the top of the camera is the film winding knob, which has an unusual numbering system. The idea is that you start at number 1, then turn the nob to number 2, which is the proper amount of length to get the film to the next frame. I didn't use this method, but used the red window on the back of the camera to find the frame numbers. The red window also features a sliding chrome cover that opens or closes as needed.

At the bottom of the camera is a tripod socket for timed exposures. However, there is no cable release socket, as is generally used for this. Also at the bottom is a lever that locks or unlocks the film chamber, allowing it to be removed from the camera for loading or unloading film. Once the chamber is unlocked, the film chamber lifts up from the top of the camera, but this can only be done when the lens is extended; otherwise, the lens blocks the chamber in the camera body. Once the lens is extended, the film chamber extends from the top of the camera, and you can load film to take photos. Once loaded, slide the film chamber back into the camera body, lock it into place, set the frame counter to 1, and you're ready to snap some photos.

My Results:

 I took two rolls of film with the Sakura camera because the first roll turned out so poorly. It didn't dawn on me that a couple of things happened when shooting the first roll. The first thing I noticed was that I forgot to pull the lens out of the camera body while shooting, but only for the first 1-2 photos, which resulted in some pretty unusual, very out-of-focus images. 

 The second thing that happened was when I was shooting the first roll, I was pulling the shutter speed lever in place of the shutter release, then when I found the shutter release, the shutter speed was set to "B", so all of these images were blurry from motion, as well as overexposed.

 So I loaded a second roll after seeing the disaster from my first roll, and #1 made sure the lens was extended, and #2, I put my finger on the shutter release lever before framing the photo so I wouldn't accidentally pull the shutter settings from "I" to "B". The second roll turned out much better than the first, and while I'm embarrassed by the first, I needed to share my experience with the camera.

 Once I figured out the mistakes, the images actually turned out very nicely.

Conclusion:

 The Sakura was fun to shoot with, but the frustration of the first roll must have befuddled the original users, too. Putting the shutter control on the top of the shutter release made for an interesting, but frustrating, experience. If the company had switched the shutter release with the shutter controller, the experience could have been better. At least switching the "B" and "I" settings would have been helpful.

 Still, I enjoyed using the Sakura bakelite camera. There's still something gnawing at me: who and where, and the story behind this little, oddly shaped Bakelite camera that's approaching 90 years old.

Quick question: Have you ever found a piece of gear with a name inscribed on it? I'd love to hear your detective stories in the comments.

 Thank you for learning about this wonderful and rare Japanese camera, made just before World War II.

 Here is a list of my other CAMERA REVIEWS, with links.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.