Canon IV Sb camera

My Canon IV Sb camera

Being a lifelong Nikon shooter, along with working in the retail photo industry for nearly 20 years during the 1970s, I became very tired of Canon's dominance and marketing strategy around the Canon AE-1, which was the "hottest" camera around when it was released in 1976.

The Canon AE-1 was under restricted distribution, meaning demand far outstripped supply, and the camera was extremely sought after. There were people waiting months to get the camera. I say this because, as someone who was hounded almost daily for the camera, I started to dislike the brand.

Don't get me wrong, their cameras are decent, and even when they dominated the digital world with the 5D, 5D Mark II, and other cameras, it still irked me that they sold so many units. I was tired of them—especially as a member of the gold-and-black team (Nikon).

In Canon's early years, they made some extremely well-made and sought-after cameras, the Canon IV Sb being one of them. Companies like Nikon, Nicca, Minolta, and Leotax made some of the better rangefinder cameras coming from Japan during this timeframe. They competed well with the more sought-after German companies of Leica, Zeiss, and Voigtländer.

I enjoy the early font on the Canon name.

I say this because I've owned Canon rangefinder cameras in the past. Still, because of my past biases, I rarely look for them unless one comes up at a very good price or is included in a group lot I've purchased.

It's interesting that while Canon rangefinders have produced some amazing products—especially the extremely fast Canon 50mm f/0.95 lens—their cameras are generally priced less than their Nikon counterparts, which produced more "professional" products during the 1950s–1990s.

Fast forward to this week's blog on cameras in my collection: the Canon IV Sb, included in the camera lot I purchased in Las Vegas about a month ago. The camera is in very good condition, except for a repaired blemish on the second shutter curtain. The lens is bright and clear; the rangefinder is clean, bright, and seems accurate; the chrome shows no tarnish; and all shutter speeds sound accurate, even the slower ones.

It's been quite some time since I ran film through one, so I figured now was a good time to put a roll of expired Plus-X 20-exposure film from my gaggle of film in, walk through the neighborhood, and take some photos.

History:

Canon started in 1933 in a small room in Tokyo's Roppongi district, where four men—Goro Yoshida, Saburo Uchida, Takeshi Mitarai, and Takeo Maeda—founded the Precision Optical Instruments Laboratory. Their goal was simple and ambitious: build a Japanese camera that could stand up to Germany's best. At the time, all the fine cameras came from Europe.

Canon IV Sb advertisment.

Their first effort, built in 1934, was the Kwanon, named after the Buddhist goddess of mercy. It was Japan's first 35mm focal-plane-shutter camera and only a prototype—it never went on sale. Yoshida had studied a Leica II to figure out how it all worked. In 1936, the company released its first commercial camera, the Hansa Canon, which became known by the name we'd all come to know. Since the little company couldn't make its own lenses yet, the earliest Canons shipped with Nikkor lenses from Nippon Kogaku—yes, Nikon. The two companies that would become lifelong rivals started as customer and supplier.

The company became Canon Camera Co. in 1947, and just Canon Inc. in 1969. Through the 1950s, it built fine rangefinders, but the future was the SLR. Canon's first one, the Canonflex, arrived in 1959. Then, in 1961, the Canonet arrived: a fixed-lens rangefinder that became one of the best-selling cameras of its day—a real people's camera.

The 1970s were Canon's big decade. The F-1 of 1971 was its first true professional system camera, and the new FD lens mount gave it its own mount. But the camera that changed everything was the AE-1 in 1976—the first 35mm SLR with a microprocessor inside. It was cheap, easy to use, and sold in the millions, putting real SLRs into the hands of ordinary shooters.

In 1987, Canon made its boldest move: the EOS system and the all-electronic EF mount. The old FD lenses wouldn't fit, which angered plenty of loyalists. Still, the clean-slate design let Canon leap ahead in autofocus. It was the right bet. Canon rode the autofocus era into the digital age with the EOS D30 in 2000, then broke new ground in 2005 with the EOS 5D, the first affordable full-frame digital camera.

Today, Canon's EF mount has given way to the RF mirrorless mount, introduced with the EOS R in 2018. From a four-person workshop in Roppongi to a photography giant, Canon got there by doing what its founders set out to do: build cameras for everyone, not just professionals.

The Camera:

My Canon IV Sb came with a Canon 50mm f/1.8 lens and is similar in size to some Leicas, like the IIIB and others from the same era. The camera measures 5.5 inches wide by 3.75 inches tall and 2.75 inches deep, and weighs 1 pound, 11.7 ounces. The serial number on my body is 122236, and the lens is 100470.

My camera is marked "E.P." in red, surrounded by a red diamond on the top plate. This doesn't necessarily make the camera more or less valuable than others. Still, it marks the camera as most likely purchased at a U.S. military base, identifying the camera and lens as duty-free or tax-free when imported into the U.S.

The Canon IV Sb was introduced in December 1952 and was available until the upgraded IV Sb2 was marketed in March 1954. The camera has an M39/LTM lens mount and offered either a Serenar or Canon f/1.8 or f/1.5 lens as a standard option.

The 50mm lens I have features the aperture ring on the outer knurled ring, with settings from f/1.8 to f/16. It has a locking lever, like other LTM lenses, that locks when focused at infinity, with a minimum focusing distance of 3.5 feet.

The camera has a vertical-traveling cloth shutter, with speeds from 1/1000 to 1/25 on the top shutter speed dial, and from 1/25 to 1 second (plus "B" for time exposures) on the secondary shutter speed dial on the front face of the camera. One distinguishing feature of the Canon IV Sb is the ability to lock the front secondary shutter speed dial with a small tab on top.

Like other cameras from this period, the film advance is a round knob that rotates clockwise to cock the shutter and advance the film to the next frame. Inside the film winding knob is a reminder dial to set the film speed (there is no meter in the camera, so this is just a personal reminder). The frame counter is on the bottom of the film advance knob and must be set manually when you load a roll of film into the camera.

The shutter release is on top of the camera, just left of the film advance knob. Above the shutter release is the film rewind lever, which is lowered for normal film operation and flipped up to the "R" position to rewind the roll into the cassette when it's finished.

The Canon IV Sb also has an accessory shoe on top for auxiliary viewfinders. On the far left side of the camera is the film rewind knob, which can be pulled up to make the rewind process easier when you've exhausted the full roll of film.

Just below the rewind knob is the viewfinder selector lever with F, 1x, and 1.5x settings, allowing you to magnify the viewfinder for use with 50mm, 100mm, or 150mm lenses. By choosing different magnifications, it slides a magnifying lens into the finder to replicate the crop for your chosen focal length. It's a great feature, and I really enjoyed it.

The camera body has no standard flash sync port, as the Canon IV Sb uses a proprietary flash connection system for bulb or electronic flash. The downside is that all contacts are made through a sliding bar on the camera's left side. Without the Canon Flash Unit Model Y and its accessories, traditional flash isn't readily available.

To load film into the camera—similar to other rangefinders of this era—unlatch the lock on the bottom plate and pull it off, exposing the film chamber and take-up spool. Pull out the take-up spool, thread the lead from a fresh roll of film into it, and slide both the spool and the film canister into the camera body. Take up the slack of the film with the film rewind lever and advance the film to the first frame. Reset the frame counter to one and start taking photos.

My Results:

I loaded the camera with an expired roll of Plus-X that expired in June 1976. I like shooting this film because it has only 20 exposures, so I don't waste extra film when shooting for the blog.

Conclusion:

The camera did a wonderful job and was fun to use. I really enjoyed the bright rangefinder focusing, and the ability to magnify the image through the viewfinder for the 100mm and 150mm lenses makes this a wonderful user camera. It would have been great if they'd also included a wider viewfinder window for wide-angle lenses, but that may be asking too much, especially for a camera made over 70 years ago.

For this period, I still prefer Nikon rangefinder cameras and completely understand why professionals chose them alongside Leica. While the Canon IV Sb is easy to use, its flash system is unusual for the time and forces photographers to use its proprietary ecosystem.

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

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

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

Until next week, please be safe.

Bolsey PH-324A Camera, 35 Model B Special & B3

Composition of my Bolsey 35 B Special, PH-324A and B3 cameras

I've always been a fan of Bolsey cameras, as I've written about them in the past. Many of their models have a highly unusual appearance. Their 35mm cameras look somewhat bulbous from the top, with an odd three-sided removable back door. Yet, they seem to fit in the hand nicely thanks to their quirky form factor.

I've owned many Bolsey cameras over my collecting career, from the twin-lens Bolsey-Flex Trio and Bolsey 8 (both still and movie cameras) to the oddly shaped twin-lens 35mm Bolsey C model. But today I'm writing about their more common 35mm rangefinders—with the fun exception that they come in different colors.

One thing I've noticed is that the red logo Bolsey button on top of the camera is usually missing. I'd guess more than half the ones I've seen have lost this red button, likely popping off at some point in the camera's life. I've had some with and some without, so I generally look for and purchase them with the button intact, unless it's a truly "special" camera.

All three cameras I'm looking at today are based on the Bolsey B in terms of shape and most features. Due to my love for colored cameras, I couldn't resist putting this trio together—mainly for the fun of photographing them side-by-side and seeing what I could come up with for my lead photo.

The Bolsey "Special" is the oldest in my collection, and I purchased it online off eBay many years ago. The thought of adding a red Bolsey to the shelf was a huge plus for me. When I received it and saw it was in great physical shape, I was thrilled. Finding out the shutter and transport actually worked was just the frosting on the cake.

However, it wasn't until I finally pulled it off the shelf, loaded it up, processed the film, and saw the results that I realized there was a major flaw (see the images in the "Results" area). While the rangefinder worked as it should and the pressure plate was intact, the images were incredibly out of focus. I guess one of the lens elements is missing, or something is so out of whack that it ruins the focus. The back looks perfectly fine, so I'm at a loss.

After some research, I learned that some Bolsey "Special" cameras were made for microscopes and scientific purposes. Maybe this lens was specifically calibrated for extreme close-up work? But then again, the rangefinder worked perfectly for distance. It's a mystery.

I bought the second camera, the Bolsey B3, at an antique store in a neighboring town about three years ago. I was walking through the basement section when I came across a booth with a few cameras, and there sat this grey B3. The chrome was tarnished, and the shutter was stuck open, but the top was clean, and it was grey—a color I hadn't seen on a Bolsey before. The price was only a few dollars, so even though the shutter wasn't working, I figured it would make a fantastic display piece alongside my other Bolseys.

The newest Bolsey to join my collection is the PH-324A. This military camera was made for, and used by, the U.S. Signal Corps. This olive-drab camera features a stark black finish and a bold red "Bolsey" on the faceplate. It was part of a lot I bought at an auction house a few months ago.

While I always enjoy finding different colored versions of cameras, the stigma of a "military" model didn't initially excite me. That's possibly because the high prices they usually command typically turn me off—and keep them out of my budget! But the striking black finish on this one really won me over.

After processing the disappointing roll from the Bolsey Special, I loaded some film into the PH-324A and took it outside for a spin. Thankfully, this roll turned out much better, which you can see in the "Results" section below.

History:

The history of Bolsey cameras is inextricably linked to the brilliant and prolific mind of its founder, Jacques Bolsey. Born Yakob Bogopolsky in Kiev in 1895, he first made his mark on the photographic world in Switzerland during the 1920s. There, he designed the legendary Bolex 16mm motion picture camera, a revolutionary piece of equipment that helped democratize filmmaking for generations of operators. He also laid the mechanical groundwork for the Swiss Alpa-Reflex 35mm camera in the late 1930s before emigrating to the United States to escape the onset of World War II.

Bolsey Advertisment

During the war, Bolsey worked extensively with the U.S. government, designing durable, high-precision combat cameras for both aerial and ground photography. When peacetime arrived, he leveraged this military engineering experience to enter the booming consumer market. In 1947, he founded the Bolsey Corporation of America in New York and introduced his first major consumer camera, the Bolsey Model B.

The Bolsey Model B was a compact 35mm rangefinder featuring a distinctively heavy, cast-aluminum body. It possessed a uniquely rugged feel—a direct byproduct of Bolsey's wartime designs. Equipped with a fixed Wollensak Anastigmat 44mm f/3.2 lens and a split-image rangefinder, the Model B was both mechanically capable and affordable for the post-war middle class.

The company quickly iterated on this early success. The subsequent Model B2 added double-exposure prevention, while the exceptionally quirky Model C, introduced around 1950, stands out as one of Bolsey's most eccentric designs. The Bolsey C was an unusual hybrid: it functioned as a standard 35mm rangefinder but also integrated a twin-lens reflex (TLR) viewfinder on the top of the body. This let photographers look down into a ground-glass screen to focus, offering an alternative to the traditional eye-level viewfinder.

Later models, like the Bolsey B22 and the Jubilee (introduced in 1953 and 1955, respectively), featured a proprietary "Set-O-Matic" system. This mechanical innovation coupled aperture control directly to the focus mechanism, removing the mathematical guesswork from early flash photography.

Despite their mechanical durability and innovative features, Bolsey cameras suffered from inconsistent quality control in their external finishes. The metal plating on many camera bodies tended to deteriorate or pit quickly. By 1956, facing intense competition from domestic manufacturers like Kodak, as well as highly sophisticated new imports from Japan and Germany, Bolsey ceased camera production and sold his business interests to the Wittnauer Watch Company.

Jacques Bolsey passed away in 1962. Today, his legacy survives not only in the revered Bolex cinema cameras but also in the quirky, durable Bolsey 35mm rangefinders that remain fascinating artifacts of mid-century photographic engineering.

My Camera:

For this section, I'll focus on the PH-324A. The red "Special" is very similar to the PH-324A, while the Bolsey B3 is different mechanically and has some aesthetic differences, too.

The Bolsey 35mm models are sturdy and compact, coming in at 4.25" across, 2.5" tall, and 2.5" deep, weighing 14.9 ounces without film. My camera has a Wollensak 44mm f/3.2 Anastigmat lens, and the serial number on my PH-324A is 95012.

Looking along the top, you'll find just the rewind knob on the left. The middle of the PH-324A features the information plate with the Bolsey logo, reading: "Signal Corps. U.S. Army, Camera PH-324A," along with the contract name and "Bolsey Corp. of America." On the top right is the winding knob to advance the film. There's a helpful arrow indicating the turning direction, along with the instruction to "Lift slightly and Wind." Right below the winding lever is the frame counter.

Top view of the Bolsey PH-324A camera

On the back of the camera are two holes for the viewfinder. The left is the standard finder used to frame your image, and the right is a split-image rangefinder used for focusing. For me, they are a little difficult to use, but I think that's because of the eye surgery I had over a year ago and simply getting more accustomed to using my left eye to focus.

Moving to the front, the viewfinders are at the top. Down by the lens, you focus by sliding a large tab on the left side (as you hold the camera). On the PH-324A, there is a red dot and a slight indent just past the 12-foot mark. This is designed for hyperfocal focusing. Similar to how an Instamatic works, if you set the camera's focus to this point and use a small aperture in normal sunny conditions, your depth of field will keep everything from approximately 5 feet to infinity in sharp focus.

Above the lens are the shutter speeds, which range from 1/200 down to 1/10, along with "B" for Bulb and "T" for timed exposures. The 1/100 shutter speed is printed in red. You turn the outer knurled ring to select your desired speed.

Below the lens are the aperture settings, ranging from f/3.2 to f/22. Set these by sliding the small arrow to match your lighting conditions. The f/8 mark is also printed in red. When you set the camera to 1/100, f/8, and focus on the red dot (around 15 feet), the camera is extremely easy to operate because all the primary settings are color-coded in red.

The shutter release is located around the lens assembly in the ten o'clock position. Just press it down to fire the shutter.

The bottom of the camera has the film door release. Flip the lever to "open," then slide the back off to expose the loading area. From there, you load it as you would any standard 35mm camera.

After taking a photo, you must follow the instructions engraved on the film advance knob. I didn't notice this when I first loaded the camera. The winding gears felt stuck, and I actually tore some of the sprockets right off the film. To advance the film properly,  lift the winding knob slightly, then start turning.

Lifting the knob releases the internal lock on the advance gear, allowing you to wind to the next frame. Without lifting it, you'll tear the sprocket holes just like I did before consulting the manual. When it's time to rewind the film into the cassette, there is no release button for the drive gears. You wind the rewind knob in the direction of the arrow, and the film pulls smoothly back into the cassette.

Results:

Loading up some expired Plus-X film from 1976 (which is still great film, by the way), I took a walk through my neighborhood and captured several of my usual test views.

Here are a couple of the images taken with the red "Special." The final few—and much sharper—images are from the PH-324A, which did a considerably better job!

Conclusion:

The Bolseys are incredibly fun cameras to shoot with and remain some of my favorites in my collection. They are even more fun to use once you read the instructions and learn how to advance the film without tearing the sprocket holes!

The focus was surprisingly easy to nail, even for an old guy using his left eye. The viewfinder was clear, the shutter speeds seemed accurate, and the lens was sharp, producing some genuinely nice images despite the larger grain structure of the vintage Plus-X film.

Thank you for taking the time to read about some of the Bolsey cameras from my collection.

Overall, my experience with these cameras was very positive. While a slightly larger finder window would be nice, I do love shooting with a compact camera every once in a while. I've always felt that Bolsey cameras were well-built, quirky, and an absolute joy to use.

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

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

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

Until next week, please be safe.

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 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.