Mamiya Mammy camera

My Mamiya Mammy camera

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

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

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

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

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

Top view of Mamiya Mammy camera

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

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

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

History:

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

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

From: The Collectors Guide to Japanese Cameras

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Conclusion:

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

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

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

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Konica Pearl II camera

My Konica Pearl II camera & case

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

History:

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

Early photo of Rokusaburō Sugiura. Credit Konicaminolta website.

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

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

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

Popular Cherry camera: Credit Konicaminolta history page

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 My Results:

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews. 

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

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.

 

Welta Welti camera

My Welta Welti camera

While looking for a camera to discuss in this week's camera collecting blog, I was unpacking cameras I took to the recent camera show outside of Seattle, and I picked up a nondescript leather case for one of them. Opening the case to see which camera it was, it turned out to be a fairly plain-looking 35mm folding camera. 

 I opened the camera to see which one it was, but nothing was screaming the manufacturer to me. The only few telltale signs I could see were the words "Germany USSR Occupied" in gold embossed letters, along with "Made in Germany" embossed into the leather. There was also the number 1 inside a triangle and the numbers 37/373/1001 embossed into the leather on the back of the film door.

 Opening the door to see what lens the camera had, it wasn't what I expected. Unlike a Schneider or Zeiss lens, the camera has a less popular Meyer Optik lens in a Vebur shutter.

 Now I was more perplexed about the brand of camera I was holding. I researched the information I had, and I found that I was holding a Welta Welti camera made soon after WWII.

My Welta Welti camera with leather case.

 Usually, on cameras of this era, the manufacturer's name is embossed on the side of the camera, close to the film door. I looked at the camera again, and it was either worn off from use or never there in the first place.

 Testing the camera's shutter, it worked at all speeds, and the aperture was smooth and functioning as it should. The lens was clean, and the transport seemed in good condition, so for the week I go camera shopping in Tokyo, and being a fan of Welta cameras, like the Perfekta and Superfekta, I found the camera to write about for this week's blog post.

History:

 For those of us who spend our days restoring, shooting, and studying vintage cameras, the name Welta carries a distinct weight—both literally and figuratively. Founded in 1914 by Walter Waurich and Theodor Weber in Freital, Germany, the company originally operated under the moniker Waurich & Weber. By 1919, the "Welta" trademark was born, marking the beginning of a remarkable, albeit turbulent, chapter in the history of photography.

 Welta quickly earned a sterling reputation during the 1920s and 30s. At a time when German optical and mechanical engineering set the global standard, Welta held its own against titans like Zeiss Ikon. They mastered the folding camera format, producing medium format workhorses outfitted with top-tier Compur shutters and stunning optics from Schneider-Kreuznach or Carl Zeiss. For a working photographer or a serious enthusiast, a Welta meant uncompromising precision wrapped in a beautifully crafted, leather-bound brass body.

 As the 1930s progressed, the photographic landscape shifted dramatically as the 35mm film format gained popularity. Competitors were releasing compact, pocket-sized folding 35mm cameras, most notably the Kodak Retina. Welta's brilliant response was the Welti.

 Introduced in 1935, the Welti was a marvel of compact engineering. It wasn't just a scaled-down medium format folder; it was a purpose-built 35mm instrument. With its incredibly robust struts, precision-focusing helix, and satisfyingly dense, all-metal heft, the Welti proved that "compact" didn't mean compromising on professional-grade durability. It remains the perfect embodiment of Welta's meticulous design philosophy.

 The devastation of World War II completely altered Welta's trajectory. Finding itself in the Soviet occupation zone (later East Germany), the company was nationalized in 1946, becoming VEB Welta-Kamerawerke. Despite this massive structural shift, the Freital factory continued to produce incredible cameras, including refined post-war iterations of the Welti, the Weltax, and the Belmira.

 However, as the East German government moved to consolidate its optical industries to compete on the global stage, Welta was eventually absorbed by VEB Kamera-und Kinowerke Dresden in 1959, which later evolved into the massive Pentacon conglomerate.

 By the mid-1960s, the Welta name faded into history. Yet, when you hold a Welti today, you are holding a defiant piece of history—a tactile testament to a specialized factory that, for a few brilliant decades, built some of the finest folding cameras the world had ever seen.

My Camera:

 My Welta Welti camera is similar in size and shape to the Kodak Retina cameras. The camera is 4.5" wide by 3.5" tall by 2" deep with the lens retracted, and 3.5" deep with the lens door open and the lens in the normal "taking" position. The Welta Welti weighs 1 pound, 2.9 ounces.

To open the lens door, press a small button at the bottom of the camera, and the lens door opens, exposing a Meyer-Optik Trioplan 50mm f2.9 lens (serial # 1529563), in a Vebur shutter at the end of a small bellows that extends, then the front door is opened.

 The shutter speeds range from 1/250 to 1 second, along with "B" for timed exposures. To set the shutter speed, turn a knurled ring on the outside of the shutter, lining up the desired shutter speed with the red dot on the ring. Just behind the shutter speed selector is the shutter cockling lever. You'll need to pull the lever over each time you're going to make an exposure, as there is no automatic shutter cocking mechanism on the Welta Welti camera.

The aperture on my Welta Welti camera ranges from F/2.9 to 16 and is set by a sliding lever under the shutter, below the lens.

 On the back of the lensboard is a large knob that serves as the focusing lever for the camera. There is no rangefinder or internal focusing on the camera, so the distances you set are just guesses. Sliding the knob to the left or right focuses the lens. The lens can focus as close as 3.3 feet to infinity. At the end of the focus knob is a small pointer that sets the desired distance. 

 On the back of the camera is a depth-of-field scale that shows the minimum and maximum distances that will be in focus, depending on the distance the camera is focused to and the aperture set on the camera. 

 Looking at the top of the camera, from left to right, is the rewind knob, the viewfinder used to view and frame your image. The viewfinder has a small lever under it that allows it to be pointed level for landscape images and to point down slightly for closer portrait images.

To the right of the viewfinder is a cold shoe that can be used for a separate rangefinder to aid in focus distance or a flash for indoor or night photographs. Moving on to the shutter release inside the frame counter, a small sliding button to unlock the film drive gear for film advance and rewind, and on the far right-hand side is the film winding knob with an arrow on the top showing the direction you turn it to advance the film to the next frame.

 On the left side of the Welta Welti camera is a lever that opens the film door for loading and unloading film. Opening the film door exposes the inside of the shutter. The camera has a standard film-loading area for a 35mm camera. The take-up spool is on the right side, and right next to it is the silver film drive gear. On the back of the camera door is the pressure plate. Once the film has been exposed, slide back the small lever between the film winding knob and the frame counter, which makes the film drive gear free-moving and allows you to rewind the film into the film cassette without tearing up the sprocket holes.

To close the lens door for transportation, press down on the two angled struts on the side of the lens; the lens and film door will begin to retract into the camera body. Just press it all the way back until you hear a clicking sound, which means the door is shut and won't pop back open by accident. 

 

My Results:

 I have some 200 ISO film in my bulk loader, which I enjoy using, especially for testing 35mm cameras, as I can roll a shorter roll of film into the film cassette and not use up a full roll of 36 exposures for my blog. Rolling about 20 frames into the film cassette, I took the camera for a nice spring day walk through the neighborhood.

 The flowers and trees are blooming, and the sun is shining. Here are a few of the images I got with the Welta Welti camera.

 Conclusion:

 Looking at the images, they turned out better than I anticipated. The exposures were good, and the focus was enough to produce sharp images, so I'm fairly good at judging distance to the subjects and setting the proper focus distance. I understand that having an external rangefinder for the camera would be helpful, but it would also slow down the process.

 The transport was smooth along with the film rewind. The viewfinder is pretty small, and with glasses, it made it a bit more difficult. That, along with having to remember to cock the shutter each time, was the only real drawback to the camera.

 The Welta Welti is similar to other 35mm cameras from this era, like the Kodak Retina. They are small, pocketable 35mm cameras with a nice range of shutter speeds and good optics. I now understand why I brought the camera to the camera show. It's a nice camera, but I'll probably put it up on my online store for someone else to enjoy.

 Thank you for taking some time from your day to read about this compact 35mm camera made in the late 1940s to early 1950s. Here's a link to the Welta Welti manual. Thanks to Butkus.org.

 I'd love to hear from you about this or any of the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell cameras I've written about, along with other camera oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years collecting photo items. 

 I'm taking next week off for my trip to Japan, so I'll see you in a couple of weeks. Please be safe.

Bell Panorama and Panel Camera

My Bell Panoraams & Panel camera

I didn’t start out chasing rare panoramic cameras like the Bell Panorama; my first love was colorful and unusual box cameras. As a new collector—newly married, young son at home, and a very limited budget—I hunted for Kodak Rainbow cameras, Univex AF models with painted faces, and bright Agfa and Falson colored folding cameras whenever I could afford to add another piece to the shelf.

 Somewhere in those early years, about 45 years ago, I spotted my first Bell Panoramic camera in a local antique shop. Sitting in a locked glass case, it looked like a strangely long box‑style camera, and I honestly had no idea what I was looking at. I asked the clerk to pull it out, turned it over in my hands, and saw a price tag of about 80 dollars—far more than I was paying for box cameras at the time—so I reluctantly handed it back and walked away, wondering why on earth this plain, elongated camera was priced like that.

 A few years later, flipping through one of the many camera guides in my collection, I stopped cold on a photo of an extremely long box‑style camera: a Bell Panorama. Instantly my mind jumped back to that antique‑store shelf, and the mystery price tag suddenly made sense. Now my interest in panoramic cameras was growing, fueled by swing‑lens classics like the Kodak Panoram, Al‑Vista, and Russian Horizont, but the big boys—Fujifilm 6×12 and 6×17 systems or the Horseman 6×17—were still well out of my price range, so the Bell stayed in the realm of daydreams.

A Bell Panorama & Panel camera compared to a Kodak No. 3 Brownie

 Fast‑forward about 40 years. While browsing online listings for vintage panoramic cameras, I stumbled onto a modified Bell Panorama and Panel Camera that had been converted to shoot 120 film instead of its original 118/122 roll film. The seller mentioned the shutter was working but pointed out some odd “home‑brew” details. The price was finally in my comfort zone, so I messaged them, made the deal, and waited (not very patiently) for my first Bell panoramic camera to land on my doorstep.

 Unlike swing‑lens panoramic cameras, the Bell Panorama uses a fixed wide‑angle lens and a huge image circle, more like a compact, wooden ancestor of a Horseman or Fujifilm 6×17. When the package arrived and I unboxed it, I was greeted by a lot of black masking tape on the body, a mysterious metal bar on top, and bellows that actually looked pretty healthy. The shutter sounded sluggish with the lens mounted, but once I unthreaded the retaining ring and tested the lens and Betax shutter off the camera, the speeds snapped back to life—turns out the ring was pinching the shutter housing just enough to slow everything down.

 On the back I noticed strips of white tape covered in handwritten numbers. Some clearly related to shutter accuracy tests, while others looked suspiciously like film‑advance notes—my best guess was someone had already mapped out how many turns of the advance knob you need between panoramic frames when shooting 120 film in this old #122 panoramic body.​

How my Bell Panorama & Panel camera arrived to me.

 Opening the back confirmed that a previous owner had done a thoughtful 120‑film conversion. One chamber already had a custom adapter so a 120 spool would sit where the original 118/122 spool once lived, but to actually shoot the camera I still needed a second adapter for the take‑up side. Thankfully, I’d already bought a pair of 120 adapters for my Kodak Quick Focus camera, and I was pretty sure they could be coaxed into service in the Bell Panorama as well.​

 If you’d like to dive deeper into the different Bell Panorama and Panel Camera models, I highly recommend David Silver’s excellent article, which goes into far more historical detail than I can fit here.​

History: 

 The Bell panoramic cameras were a short‑lived but important American attempt to make wide images simple and affordable for ordinary photographers in the early 20th century.

 In 1908, Iowa inventor Isaac A. Bell patented what he called Bell's Straight Working Panoramic Camera, produced by the Bell Camera Company in Grinnell, Iowa. At a time when most panoramic cameras used rotating or "swing" lenses and curved film planes, Bell's design stood out for its fixed wide‑angle lens and straight focal plane, eliminating the need for complex clockwork drives and curved backs. He built his camera around then‑standard #122 roll film, offering a generous 3¼ × 11 inch frame while still allowing normal postcard‑size exposures on the same roll, which made the camera attractive to amateurs who didn't want a dedicated specialty system.

Bell’s distinctive label on the original 1908 Bell Panorama camera.

 The first Bell Panorama combined a folding bellows body, a brass Gundlach shutter, and a wide‑angle lens that could cover the long negative at small apertures, trading speed for even coverage across the frame. While industrial reviewers praised the camera's practical engineering, it received little advertising and sold poorly, so surviving examples are rare and collectible today. Bell remained committed to the concept, refining the design and securing a second U.S. patent in 1911.

 In 1912, he introduced the revised Bell Panorama and Panel Camera, built more cheaply but upgraded with better Wollensak optics, stronger internal panel levers, and a redesigned reflex viewfinder that could be used for either postcard or panoramic framing. Distribution shifted to the American Northern Photo Supply Company, and then to Sears, Roebuck, which finally gave the camera a modest, stable market for several years. A smaller No. 10 model using #118 roll film appeared in 1916, but by 1918, changing tastes and newer panoramic systems ended Bell production. 

 In retrospect, Bell's panoramic cameras are seen as rare but influential examples of how existing rollfilm, folding‑camera ergonomics, and wide‑angle optics could be intelligently combined to democratize panoramic photography.

My Camera:

 My Bell Panorama camera is 13.5" wide by 4.75" tall and 3" deep with the lens retracted. With the front cover closed, the camera is 7.25 "deep. When the front cover is opened and the lens extended, the camera is 7.25" deep. The camera weighs just under 3 pounds, at 2 pounds, 14.6 ounces. 

To open the front, press the button in the middle on top; you can then pull down the lens board and pull out the bellows. The Bell Panoramic camera has a Wollensak Velostigmat Wide Angle, series III, 6 1/2 x 8 1/2 lens, serial # 196261, in a Wollensak Betax shutter with speeds from 1/2 to 1/100, along with "T" for time exposures and "B". The aperture settings range from F/9.5 to F/45. The lens can also rise to correct perspective.

There are a couple of items missing from my camera: the viewfinder, which is usually on the lens, is missing, as with other folding-style cameras, and the handle is gone. When the camera arrived, a long metal piece was taped to its top. Since the long piece on top had accessory shoes, I'm guessing the long piece on the top had a removable finder which wasn't included with the camera. There is also a bubble level added to my camera, which they placed on the lens base, opposite to where the viewfinder would be.

 It also didn't have the secondary winding lever shown in the David Silver article. Still, it is a screw that holds the film adapter in the camera. It is very natural, but not original.

 My camera is a later version, specifically named the Bell "Improved" Panorama and Panel camera, because the back of the camera doesn't fully come off. The bellows are a thicker black material that replaced the original red bellows. The lens base is painted black in place of the original polished natural wood. Still, the flaps on the sides of the camera, which allow the photographer to change the negative format used to photograph their subject, are included and in good working condition. 

These flaps are controlled by two separate control arms, one for the right and one for the left. These arms are on the top of the camera, close to the film advance and the film locking pin. When the lens is extended, you can move the arms forward to move the flap out of the way, making the negative size longer. When these are pulled back, the flaps cover a portion of the negative, reducing its size.

 Depending on the number of flaps used, the camera can produce either a 6x17 when both flaps are used, a 6x24 when only one flap is used, or an astonishing 6x29 negative when both flaps are flipped forward. These are also the numbers on the white tape on the back of the camera. My guess is still the number of turns you do to advance the film to the next frame, because the red windows on the back of the camera are both taped over and not viewable on 120 film when used in the camera.

Back side of the Bell Panorama camera. Note numbers on the white tape.

To open the back of the camera to load film, you first need to open each film chamber. This is done by pressing a small button on the back of the camera, close to the edge. Once pressed, you can open each side. On the left side, where the film takes up the reel and the advance handle is located, inside the chamber is a small handle you pull out that unlocks the back door. Pull out the handle, and with a fingernail or something thin, you can open the left side of the back and slide out the right side of the camera, exposing the film path.

 To load film, I unthreaded the right side, where the adapter is. I put in a fresh roll of 120 film into the camera, replacing the screw that holds the film and adapter in place. One of the tricky parts of this modified camera is threading the film over the plastic pieces taped into the camera's holding frame, which crops the pieces into place. I threaded the film in several times, but it always ended up under the cropping pieces rather than above them. I finally found a solution and got the film through.

With the 3D-printed adapters I used for the No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak, the take-up spool barely fit, and it was extremely tight. I needed to cut a channel into the side so I could slide the adapter over the bottom stem, since it was fixed in place. Usually, on folding cameras, there is a spring-loaded pin that you can pull down and slide the film reel into place, but this camera doesn't offer that. Cutting the channel into the adapter's side allowed me to slide the film into the camera and spool it onto the take-up reel.

 With the camera loaded, I went out to take some photos and see if the film advance numbering system actually works.

My Results:

 The old adage "Live and Learn" is very popular when I go out to shoot with cameras. It generally takes a couple of rolls of film to get to a normal comfort level with a new camera, and that's what happened with the Bell Panoramic camera.

 I shot my first roll of film, thinking the flaps would magically spread out during shooting. After carefully counting the turns to reach the next frame and "thinking" I was shooting in the 6x19 format, I noticed I had only two images on the roll, and they weren't in the widest format. 

 I also noticed the images were very "top-heavy on the negative, meaning the images almost bled off the top of the film, and there was more room on the bottom. This indicated that the adapter didn't work as it should, but the good news is that the exposures were good.

 Excited to know the camera didn't have any light leaks and the shutter was working well, I decided to make some changes and shoot another roll to see what I could get. The first thing I noticed was that when you pull out the lens, that's when you need to determine the format you want to shoot in. When the lens is closed, the flaps are always pulled back, leaving the film unexposed to the full width. That was the easy fix…. remember to flip the flaps forward AFTER you pull out the lens.

 I also needed to make adjustments to the film adapters for the take-up spool. Since the images were top-heavy, I trimmed off about 1/4" off the bottom of the lower adapter. This would push the film lower, making it easier to turn the film advance crank. 

 Loading the camera with a second roll of film, which was much easier than the first time, I headed out to my front yard to take more photos. Pulling the lens out of the camera's body, then flipping the wings forward this time. Now I knew I was going to get a longer image on the negative. Carefully counting the turns of the film advance crank, I took my first photo of the second roll. Advancing the film to the second frame, I leveled the camera using the bubble level and snapped my second photo. The third photo wouldn't be full-width because the film wasn't long enough to capture three full-frame images, so I shot a photo and hoped for the best.

 Here are the results from the first roll.

Here are the results from the second roll.

Conclusion:

 Here are my thoughts on this camera: it's extremely fun to shoot with, and I think the lens is sharp and produces great images. I'm anxious to try the camera out using the different formats, but here are some of my frustrations.

 Not having a viewfinder is rough. I needed to guess at what I was pointing the camera at. That's the first. I really didn't know what the angle of view was, and looking at the photos, it's wider than I anticipated. The Kodak Panoram and other panoramic cameras have lines on top that indicate the approximate angle of view. There's nothing on this camera that shows that.

 It's difficult to hold, but not too bad. I should use a tripod, especially when the top shutter speed is just 1/100. I also need to refine the number of turns to reach the first frame and the number needed to reach the next frame.

 Still, I absolutely LOVE this camera. The images are great, and it's compact and more lightweight than other panoramic cameras. It's a camera I'm extremely happy to have in my collection, and I will be on the lookout for more in the future.

 If you were the original owner or the person who owned this camera before me, great job on the modification. Reach out to me, I'd love to talk to you.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this small, extremely wide panoramic camera that produced an almost 2.25" x 11" negative. Just incredible.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell cameras I've reviewed, along with other photographic oddities. Stop by and see if there are items you're looking for.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Welta Superfekta

My Welta Superfekta camera

Not being wealthy, my collecting has always been focused on cameras well within our family's financial means. Up until my final ten years of working and before retirement, the cameras I purchased were items you could find at local flea markets and estate sales, or occasionally I made a trade for an item while selling at a camera show where I had a table.

 Being drawn to obscure and unusual cameras and having devoured McKeown's Camera Guide for many years, the Welta Superfekta is one camera I've always dreamed of adding to my collection. Due to its price and relative scarcity in the U.S., it's always been out of reach for me until this past few years.

 It wasn't until I looked at an online camera auction that I found the Welta Superfekta at a price that was not only reasonable but also inexpensive. Online, the camera looked in good to decent condition, but they said the shutter was erratic. To me, those words mean I'll need to send the camera in for a shutter repair, which isn't too uncommon for a camera reaching 100 years old. 

 I purchased the Welta Superfekta online, and when the camera arrived, as suspected, its shutter was extremely sluggish and needed to be CLA'd. I reached out to the person I usually send cameras for servicing, and he confirmed he could service the shutter but wasn't sure about other areas of the camera, as he wasn't too familiar with it.

The excitement of adding the Welta Superfekta to my collection was wonderful, especially since it's a 6x9 cm-format camera that takes 120 film. Still, the more exciting part of the camera is that it's very similar to the Cornu Ontoflex, which has a rotating back, allowing the photographer to shoot both vertically and horizontally without turning the camera sideways. Just rotate the back from vertical to horizontal and flip the image orientation, as with the Mamiya RB67.

 The one thing I noticed when I turned my camera from vertical to horizontal is that the back doesn't turn all the way, which makes me curious about its history. This flaw, while concerning, adds character and a story to the camera, resonating with collectors who appreciate Imperfections.  

Another reason for my excitement to add the Welta Superfekta to my collection is that it would be the third folding Twin Lens camera in my collection. I had already purchased and written about both the Welta Perfekta and the Zeh Zeca-Flex cameras, making this the “Trifecta” of this camera style.

Welta Superfekta, Perfekta and Zeh Zeca-Flex camera.

Welta before World War II:

 The history of Welta Kamerawerke leading up to World War II is a testament to the rapid innovation and high-precision craftsmanship that defined the German photographic industry in the early 20th century. Founded in 1914 by Walter Waurich and Theodor Weber in Freital, near Dresden, the company began as "Waurich & Weber" before adopting the "Welta" brand name that would eventually become synonymous with high-end folding cameras.

French ad for the Welta Perfekta and Superfekta cameras

 In its first decade, Welta focused on the transition from heavy glass-plate cameras to the more versatile roll-film formats. By the 1920s, Freital and the surrounding Dresden area had become the global epicenter of camera manufacturing, and Welta held its own against giants like Zeiss Ikon. Their early success was built on the folding camera—a design that allowed a high-quality lens and shutter to collapse into a slim, leather-covered metal body.

 The 1930s marked Welta's "Golden Era." During this decade, the company moved beyond standard designs to create some of the most mechanically complex cameras ever made. While competitors were focusing on the emerging 35mm trend, Welta mastered the 120 roll-film market with innovative models like:

 

  • The Weltur: A rangefinder folding camera known for its incredible build quality and integrated viewfinders.

  • The Perfekta and Superfekta: These folding Twin Lens Reflex (TLR) cameras were engineering marvels, offering the ground-glass focusing of a studio camera in a portable, collapsing frame.

  • The Welti: A foray into the 35mm market that proved Welta could compete with the Leica in terms of precision and optics, often featuring high-end Carl Zeiss Jena or Schneider lenses.

 Welta's pre-war philosophy was to offer a variety of price points without sacrificing mechanical integrity. You could find a simple Welta Trio for the casual hobbyist, or a Superfekta with a rotating back for the professional who demanded perfection. This versatility allowed Welta to export heavily to the UK and the United States, where their cameras were often rebranded for local retailers.

 By the late 1930s, Welta was a premier name in photography. However, as Germany shifted toward a war economy, production began to pivot away from consumer optics. After the war, Freital was part of the Soviet occupation zone (later East Germany), and Welta was eventually absorbed into the state-owned VEB Pentacon, marking the end of its era as an independent, family-founded innovator.

My Camera:

 My Welta Superfekta camera is 7.5" tall without the light chimney opened, and 10" with it opened, by 4" wide, and 3.5" deep with the body retracted, and 6.25" deep when the body of the camera is extended. The camera weighs 3 pounds, 0.2 ounces without film, so it has some heft.

To extend the camera body away from the film chamber, press the silver button on the right side of the camera body, located just below the film winding lever. Pressing the button quickly extends the camera lens area, and you'll be able to see the bellows. By doing so, you'll see how the camera gets its name, a folding twin-lens camera. When I extended the camera's front from the rear, I noticed the bellows were in excellent light-tight condition.

 My camera has a 7.5cm f/3.5 Weltaskop viewing lens, along with a Carl Zeiss Jena 10.5 F/3.5 Tessar taking lens, so the viewing lens is wider than the taking lens, and the taking lens is in a Compur-Rapid shutter with shutter speeds from 1/400 to 1 sec. along with "B", and "T". The focus lever is located on the left side of the lens when you're holding the camera, and it slides up and down to focus on your subject. 

There is also a focus scale along the top of the camera, between the Welta sign on the film body and the Superfekta sign on the lens area. As you slide the focus lever up and down, you'll see a triangle move from side to side, indicating the distance to the subject on the focus scale, which is in meters.

 Along the back of the camera, by the viewfinder, there is a button to press to open the light chimney. The light chimney popped up, and along one side is a depth-of-field scale for the camera, and on the front is the magnifying lens, which flips as it should. 

On the back of the film body is another sliding lever that you move to the left, in the direction of the arrow, and the back will open. Opening the back of the camera, I noticed that the film advance roller, which activates the frame counter, is missing, so the frame counter isn't operational on this camera. Luckily, there is a red window on the back door so you can see the numbers being transported as you roll the film from one image to the next. 

 I also noticed a paper sign glued to the inside of the back door at the top, which read, "non si girare il rullo che nel senso della freccia" (translation from Italian to English: "do not turn the roller in the direction of the arrow").  This message on the inside tells me the camera is originally from Italy. I guess the camera was made for the Italian market, but the reseller may have added that; I'm not certain. Still, it's interesting that a German camera was sold in Italy and found its way to the USA.

To load the camera with film, the chamber where you put in a fresh roll of film pulls up to make it easier to put in the film, which is a nice feature in the camera. Otherwise, the camera loads just like many roll film cameras, but it would have been nice to have a frame counter that advances from the roller on the back to indicate the frame numbers. I'll just have to do it the "old-fashioned" way and look through the red window to get to the next frame when I shoot.

To collapse the camera lens area into the camera body, you'll need to press in two silver buttons on the front of the camera, placed between the viewing and taking lens, and press the lens area into the film body, which is extended by a couple of scissor struts on each side of the camera. Be sure to retract the camera stand leg, under the front lens area, just behind the tripod socket, before closing the camera. If you don't do this, the camera will not close. I know because I've tried a few times by accident.

 When you close the camera, another interesting thing is that there's a roller at the tip of the film area on the outside. When you close the lens into the film body, the viewfinder rolls along the roller, sliding it forward and covering the focus scale. Given that the camera is almost 100 years old, it's still interesting how it opens and closes mechanically. 

If you don't want to rotate the film chamber when shooting, there is a flip-up sports-type finder on the side of the camera you can use if that's easier for taking horizontal images. It just gives the photographer another option when using the camera.

 

My Results:

 I don't have a case that fits my Welta Superfekta camera. The camera doesn't have the standard loops you can snap into a carrying strap, so when I went out shooting a few times, I just put it in a pouch-style case to carry it and took it out when I was ready to shoot.

 Looking at the side of the camera, there are a couple of studs and other areas where a strap might fit, but without a manual or a nomenclature for the items on the camera, I'm unsure what they are used for.

 I took the Welta Superfekta out a couple of times to shoot with: once to a local lake and another time while walking around the neighborhood to get closer-up images.

 Here are the results from my two times using the camera.

Conclusion:

 The camera's results underwhelmed me, as one of two things is happening. First, I didn't think the images would be as sharp as I had imagined; that may be because something happened to the camera, like a drop or impact, which is also why the camera doesn't flip all the way horizontally when shooting. 

 My weakening eyesight may also cause it, but because of eye surgery I had last year on my right and dominant eye, I'm becoming more and more dependent on using my left eye for focusing, which is difficult for me at times. Personally, I feel it's more the first issue: something tweaked the camera body, and the lens doesn't align properly, which is why I wanted to shoot the second, more close-up images walking through the neighborhood.

 Nonetheless, it's somewhat awkward to hold without a neck strap to keep it steady. Still, I absolutely love the camera's ability to rotate the film back for both vertical and horizontal photography. It's a wonderful camera to have in my collection, and for the price paid, even with the servicing, it's still a bargain.

Welta Perfekta and Superfakta side views

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this wonderful photographic marvel from almost 100 years ago.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photo is my online eBay store, which sells some of the cameras reviewed, along with many camera and photo accessories.

 Until next week, please be safe.