Jason Schneider
the Camera Collector
What Were They Thinking?
A compendium of classic camera design blunders and omissions
By Jason Schneider
Over the past 180 years or so, a vast amount of talent, effort and thought has gone into designing cameras, and the best ones of any era are masterpieces of ingenuity and craftsmanship that enable photographers to articulate their vision seamlessly, often at a high level of technical excellence. However, nothing created by humans is perfect, and even the best cameras are beset with everything from minor foibles to inherent limitations imposed by their basic design parameters. Some older camera designs (such as the Canon 7 of 1961 to 1964 with its huge clunky built in selenium meter) were limited by the technology of the day, while others reflect questionable decisions made by designers, engineers, and marketing mavens. Herewith a collection of my favorite dummheits (stupidities) and head-scratching omissions, starting with the fabled Kodak of 1888, arguably the first successful mass market camera.
Original Kodak of 1888 with barrel-type shutter. V-shaped pattern inscribed in leather at front of top to aid composition is barely visble here.
The first Kodak and the first Brownie: What—no viewfinders?!
The Kodak of 1888, the first camera marketed by the Eastman Dry Plate & Film Co. of Rochester, New York, is, in the opinion of most historians, the most important series-production camera ever made. What makes this humble-looking box camera so consequential is not its ingenious construction or technical brilliance, both of which are noteworthy, but the idea it embodied— a camera capable of producing satisfying photographs in the hands of ordinary people having no special technical skills. When the Kodak was announced in 1888. photography had progressed from the Daguerreotype and wet plate days when photographers literally had to prepare their own plates, but it was still an arcane pursuit requiring considerable expertise and dedication, particularly in the darkroom. What the Kodak offered, for the then-handsome sum of $25 (equivalent to a staggering $821.93 in 2024 dollars!), was an unintimidating, easy-to use, portable box camera with no adjustments, that was pre-loaded with roll film sufficient for 100 exposures. When you were finished shooting the roll, you shipped the camera back to Eastman in Rochester, along with $10 (a hefty $328.77 in 2024 dollars). For this tidy sum they developed the film, transferred each negative to a sheet of glass for contact printing (because the 2-3/4-inch-wide “stripping film” was mounted on a non-transparent paper backing) made one print from each good negative, reloaded the camera with film for 100 more exposures, and returned it to the owner. In the context of the 19th century, the Kodak was the world’s first successful point-and-shoot, and the camera that really created the modern photofinishing industry.
The Kodak of 1888 (left) and a well dressed Victorian era woman holding the camera in shooting position. Images like this were used in ads.
The Kodak, manufactured for The Eastman Dry Plate & Film Co. by George Brownell of Rochester, New York (who may also have had a hand in its production engineering) is a wooden-bodied box camera clad in Turkey morocco with “nickel and brass trimmings and inclosed in a neat sole leather case with shoulder strap.” Described as “about the size of a large field glass” it measures 3-1/4 x 3-1/4 x 6-1/2 inches and weighs 1lb. 10 oz. It produced circular pictures 2-1/2 inches in diameter on 2-3/4-inch-wide flexible film, had no frame counter (you stopped winding the film-advance key when the rotating pattern in a little round window had gone through one full turn!), and it had no viewfinder—you aimed it with the aid of two lines, in a V pattern, engraved into the leather top. The lens, contained in a unique barrel-type shutter that revolved on an axis parallel to the film plane, was a 57mm f/9 Rapid Rectilinear. Based on the format it was a wide-angle, which gave good depth of field, but image quality in the corners of the field would have been poor, so the corner-less circular format made sense technically. The shutter, which was manually cocked with a pull cord. provided a single shutter speed of about 1/25 sec. The camera also came with a felt plug, in effect a lens cap, which fit into the lens surround on the front of the camera and could be removed and replaced for making time exposures. The shutter-release button was on the left, a tripod socket oddly placed on the top—but with no viewfinder this hardly mattered!
Original Kodak Brownie of 1900 with rare accessory clip-on viewfinder. Camera sold for only $1.00; the viewfinder was 25 cents extra!
Despite its spartan simplicity, ample price, and the inconvenience of having to return the camera for processing, the Kodak was a phenomenal success—about 25,000 were sold in the first year of production—because it was the first camera that enabled anyone to take pictures, and it was aggressively marketed with a brilliant advertising campaign. Eastman’s astute grasp of human psychology and motivation is evident in these quotes from an1888 Kodak ad, “Anybody who can wind a watch can use the Kodak Camera…No tripod, no focusing, no adjustment whatever…A picturesque diary of your trip…may be obtained without trouble that will be worth a hundred times its cost in after years.” In 1889, it was “1. Pull the cord 2. Turn the key 3. Press the button. And so on for 100 pictures.” This was later refined into the greatest photographic advertising slogan of all time, “You press the button, we do the rest.”
Those too impatient to send their cameras to Rochester could buy darkroom-loadable 100-exposure film spools for $2 apiece, and develop and print their own film, or send the exposed film back to Rochester and have it processed and returned with a fresh roll for $10. While The Kodak was certainly ingenious, none of its features, except for the barrel shutter, was unique, but the concept of a stone simple roll film camera, squarely aimed at the middle-to-upper-class mass market and the forward-looking marketing techniques used to promote it ultimately brought photography within the reach of hundreds of millions of people. More than any other single camera, the Kodak helped to create the modern photographic industry by transforming the act of taking pictures into a universal human experience.
An original Kodak Camera, one of the holy grails of camera collecting, now verges on being a museum piece. Early barrel-shutter models in good condition sell in the $4000-5000 range, though a truly pristine and complete example with case and instruction manual could easily fetch much more. Later models with the classic “safety-pin” metal-bladed shutter are worth less but are still scarce and collectible.
The original Kodak Brownie: Still no viewfinder!
Now you would think that 12 years would be sufficient for Kodak to develop a box camera with a real viewfinder, but no. Like the Kodak of 1888, the original Kodak Brownie of 1900 had no viewfinder, only framing lines in a 60° V-pattern inscribed on its top, with the open end of the V pointing forward toward the subject. However, it was a simple, competent, easy-to-use, daylight-loadable camera at the then-unprecedented price of $1.00. And by putting a brilliantly conceived mass-marketing program behind it, Kodak was literally able to motivate millions to buy it. The Brownie’s success was unprecedented—in the first year alone, over 150,000 cameras were shipped, three times the previous record. To get a clearer idea of the impact of the Brownie, check out one of the many timelines of the 20th century and go to the year 1900. Right up there, along with such momentous events as Max Planck’s formulation of the quantum theory and the publication of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” is Kodak’s introduction of the $1 Brownie camera!
The Brownie got its name from artist Palmer Cox’s whimsical cartoon versions of Brownies--“hard-working Scottish sprites or elves who did household chores” --that were as popular in the 1880-1920 period as Mickey Mouse is today. Some have conjectured that the name was an oblique tribute to Frank A. Brownell, who was responsible for its design and manufacture, but this is not the case. In any event, the Brownie is about as simple and basic as a camera can get—an imitation-leather covered cardboard box, with wooden film carrier, measuring about 3 x 3 x 5 inches. It has a simple fixed-focus f/11 meniscus lens, and metal rotary shutter with a single speed of about 1/35-1/50 sec plus T. However, starting in July 1900, a small clip-on accessory reflex viewfinder was offered for 25 cents! The film-winding key was detachable and often lost, which is why many original Brownies are found with soldered-on, non-standard keys. The first 15,000 Brownies were fitted with a push-on cardboard box lid back that proved unreliable and was soon replaced (March 1900) with a bottom-hinged back with a nice, nickel-plated sliding latch on top. Despite its modest specs, the original Kodak Brownie did score one extremely important historical distinction—it pioneered No.117 film, thus making it the world’s first 2-1/4 x 2-1/4-inch roll film camera. The117 size, essentially 6-exposures of 120 film on a narrower-flanged spool, is long defunct, but the glorious 2-1/4 square roll film format is still very much alive in 120-format. Also, that accessory viewfinder proved so popular that all subsequent Box Brownies had small built-in reflex viewfinders for composing pictures in horizontal or vertical orientations.
The Brownie was certainly the right product at the right time, at the right price with a catchy name. But what really transformed it into an enduring American icon that sired generations of Kodak Brownies up until the ‘70s and inspired countless imitators worldwide, was Kodak’s ingenious and aggressive marketing plan. Brownies were advertised in popular magazines rather than trade magazines. Ads stressed it could be “operated by any schoolboy or girl” and kids were urged to join The Brownie Camera Club, which had no initiation fee, and whose object was “to increase the interest of American boys and girls in matters pertaining to photography.” Kodak ran picture contests and awarded prizes. A roll of film, called a “Transparent-Film Cartridge, 6 exposures 2-1/4 x 2-1/4” cost 15 cents, a box of paper, 10 cents, and a Brownie Developing and Printing Outfit, 75 cents. At the bottom of many ads was a small box with the message “Send a dollar to your local Kodak Dealer for a Brownie Camera. If there is no dealer in your area, send us a dollar and we will ship the camera promptly.” With the arrival of the Brownie, anyone could take photographs of everything from special occasions to everyday life, and to do so inexpensively. The era of the snapshot had dawned, and the world would never be the same.
Today, an original Brownie camera with “shoe box” back cover and accessory viewfinder is a rare bird indeed and a collector’s prize valued at about $2000. The later, improved version with hinged back, also a primo collectible, sells for about $300-500 with original winding key and box. The long-running #2 Brownie (1901-1933), that took 120 film and had a 2-1/4 x 3-1/4-inch format, is a nice user-collectible that sells for $35-50 and is recommended to anyone who wants to experience the joys of shooting with a classic box camera. Despite their modest specs they can take surprisingly sharp, detailed pictures—providing you don’t get closer than about 5 feet from the subject.
Barnack Leicas: Bottom loading Leicas and their discontents
Oskar Barnack was the principal inventor of the original Leica I (Model A) of 1925, a masterfully integrated, 35mm precision miniature still picture camera that was destined to alter the course of photography in the 20th century. His achievement in building a coupled rangefinder system with interchangeable lenses into the Leica II (Model D) of 1932 while maintaining the same size, form factor, and ergonomics of his original masterpiece is nothing less than astounding. Indeed, every screw mount Leica up to and including the coveted Leica IIIg of 1957 to 1960 is a “Barnack Leica” because it incorporates many of the farsighted concepts he had laid down in the ‘20s and ‘30s.
Leica I (Model A) bottom view,, with base plate removed for loading. Note latch with hinged D-shaped handle that opens inserted Leca cassettes when handle is turrned to "closed" locking position.
Leica I (model A) with base plate removed for loading. Bottom loading requires a removable spool, tapered film leader, some manual dexterity.
All Barnack Leicas feature “unibody” construction—the basic chassis is a single piece of aluminum alloy rather than an assemblage of parts. This enhances structural integrity and enables precise lens-to-film- plane alignment, critical in achieving outstanding image quality with the small 24 x 36mm format, which requires greater enlargement to yield standard print sizes of 8 x 10 inches or larger. The basic body structure of all Leicas from the Leica I (model A) of 1925 to the Leica IIIb of 1938 to 1941 was formed by flattening a round metal tube by applying high pressure on 2 sides to achieve the classic slim body shape with rounded ends. The body was then cut to size vertically, machined to precise tolerances to accept the lens mount and internal parts, and covered in leather-textured black Vulcanite. Starting with the Leica IIIc of 1940, screw mount Barnack Leicas used a 3mm longer, one-piece diecast alloy chassis with an integral rangefinder cover, and had upgraded internals, a larger shutter release, and a new frame counter mechanism. The Leica IIId (a rare version of the IIIc), the Leica IIIf black dial of 1950, and the Leica IIIf red dial of 1952 (both with built-in flash sync) were built on the same diecast chassis as the IIIc, and the last screw-mount Leica, the IIIg of 1957-1960 used a taller body casting to accommodate the new larger viewfinder with projected frame lines for 50mm and 90mm lenses.
Leica II (Model D) of 1932 with nickel hardware, 50mm f/2.5 Hektor lens. Integrating an interchangeable lens system with coupled rangefinder into virtually the same minuscule form factor as the original Leica I (Model A) was pure genius. Kudos to Oskar Barnack!
All screw-mount Barnack Leicas use the same pesky bottom loading system that requires a removable take-up spool, a tapered film leader, and some degree of manual dexterity to ensure that the sprocket teeth engage the film perforations properly before you latch the back shut. The fact that bottom loading Barnack Leicas were in production for 35 years proves that the system is workable, but practically anyone who’s ever shot with one of these magnificent machines has complained about loading it. Indeed, countless Leica fans cheered when the Leica M3 arrived in 1954 with a hinged back section that made loading film and loading verification much easier. To give Barnack his due, the one advantage of the bottom-loading system is that turning the hinged back lock key on the bottom of the base plate to closed position causes an internal tab to open the “darkroom door” of an installed Leica cassette, allowing the film to move frictionlessly through the camera. With Kodak’s introduction of the felt-lipped standard 35mm cartridge in 1934, this advantage became far less important.
The Kine Exakta of 1936: A landmark camera with a (nearly) fatal flaw
The Kine Exakta of 1936 was the world’s first commercially successful 35mm SLR—the ungainly but competent Sport (a pioneering 35mm SLR made by GOMZ in the USSR) was evidently announced one year earlier in 1935, but it probably wasn’t marketed until later and then not internationally distributed. Based largely on the VP Exakta of 1933 (which provided a 4.5 x 6cm format on 127 roll film), the Kine Exakta, as its name implied, took 35mm cine film and provided a standard 24 x 36mm format. While it had the appealing look of “precision machinery” and the traditional Ihagee Exakta’s trapezoidal body shape, the Kine Exakta was beset with numerous “inconvenience features” and required a leisurely approach to picture taking. These include a 270°-stroke, left-handed, non-ratcheted film wind lever, a manual diaphragm lens that had to be stopped down to shooting aperture after focusing wide open (later modes had lenses with externally coupled semi-auto diaphragms), and a devilishly complicated system for setting slow shutter speeds using a separate manually wound gear train.
Oriiginal Exakta 1 of 1936 with round magnifier, manual in background. To focus more precisely you had to press the hinged magnifier down onto the viewing screen, obscuring much of the viewing image, which made focusing and composing the picture separate operations. Uncool.
The Sport of 1935, This ungainly USSR-made 35mm SLR with a focal plane shutter, waist-level finder, and a auxiliary optical finder was announced in 1935, beating out the Kine Exakta by one year, but it sold in limited quantities and never achieved worldwide success.
But the crowning dummheit of the Kine Exakta is its waist-level viewfinder, which has the focusing magnifier hinged at the bottom of the finder hood, so you must clamp it down directly over the focusing screen! Not only does this system limit the degree of magnification, compromising its value as a focusing aid, the frame holding the magnifier also obscures a large portion of the viewing image so you can’t really view and focus simultaneously—one if the major advantages of using an SLR! When users complained, Ihagee enlarged area of the original round magnifier, which obscured around 70% of the viewing image, to a rectangular one that obscured “only” 50% or so! They didn’t really address the problem until 1949 by introducing the Exakta II, basically a Kine Exakta with the focusing magnifier hinged at the top the waist-level viewing hood where it should have been in the first place. The only ones pleased with any of these incredible lapses in camera design 101 are collectors—an original 1936 Kine Exakta with round magnifier is a rare collectible worth $600 and up; a clean Kine with rectangular magnifier fetches about $300-$500 depending on lens and condition. If you’re a shooter who wants the vintage Exakta experience without the pain, financial and otherwise, go for an Exakta II which is obtainable for around $100-$150.
The sad saga of the Kodak Ektra: When too much is not enough!
The Kodak Ektra of 1941 was Kodak’s audacious attempt to build the finest interchangeable-lens rangefinder camera the world had ever seen, and they poured an enormous amount of resources into the project. The result, designed primarily by Joseph Mihaly, was technically brilliant, spectacular, and in many ways functional, but it was also extraordinarily complex, expensive to manufacture, and it featured a left-handed shutter release, film-advance crank, and front-mounted focusing wheel! The Ektra’s amazing features include: a 4-1/8-inch-base, high magnification, full-military-spec split-image prism rangefinder, varifocal dioptric viewfinder providing auto parallax compensation with breech-lock bayonet lenses from 35mm to 153mm, interchangeable film magazines with built-in, two-stroke film-advance levers and folding rewind cranks, and a rubberized cloth focal-plane shutter with fast-and slow-speed dials providing speeds of 1-1/1000 sec plus B. Standard lens was a 50mm f/1.9 or f/3.5 Ektar, both superb.
Kodak Ektra with 50mm f/1.9 Ektar lens. You've gotta give Kodak credit for sheer audacity, but the Ektra was a technical and marketing flop.
Since Kodak officially sold only 2,490 Ektras to the public before it was discontinued in 1948 and each one used 667 different parts made of 88 different materials in its construction, Kodak evidently lost a pile of money on the project. Ektras are beautiful on the outside, less so on the inside, and are notoriously unreliable picture takers (the shutter was never perfected and the film backs are trouble prone) but it is a unique and magnificent collectible. Current value with 50mm f/1.9 Ektar lens: $2,500 to $3000.
The Nikon F: Indestructible--except for the prism lock.
The legendary Nikon F introduced in 1959 was the first truly professional caliber SLR, conceived as the basis for a high quality professional SLR system. The Nikon F remained in production, with relatively minor changes, for nearly 14 years, and during that time it established Nikon as the leading professional 35mm camera, a position not seriously challenged (by Canon) until the autofocus era. A handsome, rugged, and reliable camera of modular design, its removable pentaprism and external meter-coupling system allowed the Nikon F to be retrofitted with the latest advances in metering technology by upgrading the meter prism, and its F mount has endured, with some operational changes, even until the present digital era—a remarkable example of non-obsolescence. While the Nikon F is not a technological landmark, it is the camera that really marked the coming of age of the 35mm SLR. Its features include at titanium foil focal-plane shutter (early models had cloth shutters) with speeds from 1-1/1000 sec plus B and T, interchangeable finders and screens, and a removable back. An extensive range of lenses and specialized accessories are available. The Nikon F is a fine user-collectible, and these days something of a bargain—you can snag a clean working Nikon F Photomic with 50mm f/1.4 Nikkor lens for $200 to $300 or even less. Downsides: the prism locking mechanism is not as robust as the rest of the camera (it wasn’t originally designed for large heavy meter prisms) and it ispossible to knock a Photomic prism off a Nikon F if you’re a klutz (don’t ask me how I know). Also, I’ve never been a fan of the clunky external linkage for coupling the lens aperture to the meter prism. Note: Nikon responded by upgrading the prism locking system on the Nikon F2, which added robust hooks at the front of the prism to better secure it to the body.
Nikon FTN with late TTL meter prism and multicoated 50mm f/1.4 Nikkor S.C. lens. Prism lock was dodgy, and reinforced on the Nikon F2
The Leicaflex Standard: The perils of making an SLR for Leica M lovers.
The Leicaflex was the first SLR manufactured by Leitz, the result of a development program dating back to 1958. It was officially released in 1964 and discontinued in 1968, with the introduction of the Leicaflex SL, the first SLR with selective TTL metering. Over the Standard’s lifespan only about 37,500 bodies were sold, perhaps a blessing in disguise since some say the cost of productionexceeded the dealer price! The original Leicaflex Standard was a reluctant entry into the SLR arena, and a great disappointment to many diehard Leica fans that were hoping for a world class contender to go up against the Nikon F, Canonflex, Asahi Pentax and its extravagantly huge and overdesigned German predecessor, the Zeiss “Bull’s-Eye” Contarex. Mocked by some reviewers as “the shotgun marriage of a Leica M3, a Visoflex reflex housing, and a Leica MR meter” the non-TTL-metering Leicaflex Standard was functionally obsolete the day it was released. And when it finally went on sale, the Leicaflex with standard 50mm f/2Summicron-R lens sold for $585, then an astronomical price for a brand new SLR lacking features available on other cameras costing far less.
Leicaflex Standard in black with matching 90mm Elmarit-R lens. Technologically behind the times and beset with an idiosyncratic "rangefinder-like" viewfinder, it was expensive and didn't sell, but it takes great pictures and is now considered a de facto classic.
The Leicaflex Standard is a very conservative camera that has a commendably bright reflex finder, but it only provides a focusing image within a central microprism circle—the entire outer area is a non-focusing aerial image—kind of like (dare we say it?) a rangefinder camera! Geometric shutter speed settings of B and 1-1/2000 sec. are clearly displayed along the bottom of the finder, with the meter needle and lollipop-shaped match-needle pointer located on the right. Neither the back nor the prism is interchangeable, precluding the possibility of adding back-mounted accessories or conveniently changing finders or focusing screens. While the single stroke wind lever has a moderately long throw of about 140° from standoff position, it’s not ratcheted so you can’t wind to the next frame in a series of shorter strokes.
Leicaflex Standard viewfinder focused only in the central miicroprism circle. The outer area was a very bright, non-focusing aerial image.
The Leicaflex Standard was produced in 2 variants: the original Mark 1, identifiable by its fan-shaped exposure counter, and the later Mark 2, which has a round exposure counter and turns off the meter when the wind lever is pressed flush with the camera body. The Mark 1 has no meter off switch at all—you must store it in a dark place or in its case to conserve battery power—a major design oversight one would not expect from a thoughtful company like Leica.
Despite its shortcomings that were obvious even in its day, the Leicaflex Standard, in its own idiosyncratic way, is a timeless classic. It’s exquisitely made and gorgeously finished at a level that few, if any, modern cameras can match. Its highly complex and sophisticated mirror and shutter mechanisms are masterfully executed, quite reliable, and extremely durable. Its viewfinder is very bright even by current standards and the central focusing image snaps into focus with alacrity. Its original line of single-cam R-mount Leitz prime lenses (35-135mm), many designed by the legendary Dr. Walter Mandler, are mechanical masterpieces that deliver breathtaking image quality. Its shutter release and film wind action are silky smooth, and its shutter tops out at an impressive 1/2000 sec. Even its funky, low sensitivity metering system (which has an ugly shrouded CdS port and battery cover on the front of the pentaprism housing) works quite well in reasonably bright light and gives “fat spot” readings roughly equal in coverage to a 90mm lens. However, its CdS cell meter is subject to the dreaded memory effect, and you’ll have to have the meter converted to accept a current 1.5v silver oxide or alkaline cell—it was designed to take a now defunct 1.35v mercury battery. Note: while the Leicaflex Standard works fine with 1- and 2-cam R-mount lenses, 3-cam and ROM-equipped lenses can cause trouble, so beware. If you’re tempted to acquire one these idiosyncratic and underappreciated classics, bodies in clean functional condition are readily available used in the $200-$350 range and you can occasionally snag a nice one, complete with a 1-cam 50mm f/2 Summicron-R for around $500-600. If you decide to take the plunge, make sure yours comes with a no questions asked, full return guarantee if you’re not satisfied-- these cameras can be expensive to fix!
Konica IIIM of 1960 had a big ugly hinged selenium cell meter on top that's notoriously unreliable and (mostly) unrepairable. It's too bad, because the camera provided full and half-frame formats with parallax and field size correction and has a great 50mm f/1.8 Hexanon lens.
The Konica IIIM: A great camera destroyed by adding a horrible meter!
The beautifully made and attractive Konica IIIA of 1958 featured an unusual, vertically mounted, left-handed, rapid-wind lever, and a magnificent high magnification (1:1) range/viewfinder with true projected, parallax-compensating finder frame lines that also adjust for field frame size (the reduced angular coverage as you focus closer). Other features include: an excellent 50mm f/1.8 or f/2 Hexanon lens, Seikosha 1-1/500 sec MX shutter, rewind crank and self-timer. Despite its beautiful execution, elegant proportions, and advanced features, the Konica IIIA was a glorious technological dead end. The subsequent Konica IIIM (which added half frame capability and a coupled flip-up-selenium-cell meter) was an unreliable dud due to the fragile, unreliable meter call that also spoiled the handsome lines of the camera. About 95% of Konica IIIMs have non-functioning meters, and your chances of getting one repaired are slim to none. The solution: If you hanker for a great Konica rangefinder 35, look for a nice clean Konica IIIA; they’re readily available used in clean working condition for about $200-$250. It is said that the 50mm f/1.8 Hexanon lens performs a tad better than the 48mm f/2 but the latter is more compact and more in keeping with the camera’s elegant form factor. Either version is a fine user-collectible well worth the current price.
The Minolta CLE: Everything you want, except manual metering.
The Minolta CLE unveiled in 1980 was the first autoexposure M-mount rangefinder 35, a logical successor to the Leica CL and Leitz-Minolta CL that had debuted in 1973, and arguably the best camera to come out of the longstanding Leitz Minolta cooperation agreement. Indeed, its feature set wouldn’t be equaled by any Leica until the Leica M7 of 2002. The Minolta CLE introduced a host of new technologies to the rangefinder 35, including TTL OTF (through the lens, off the film plane) metering, aperture priority autoexposure, and an LED metering display in the viewfinder.
Minolta CLE of 1980 with superb 40mm f/2 Rocker-M lens. Prior to the Leica M7 of 2007 it was the most advanced M-mount rangefinder 35.
In terms of its metering electronics, the Minolta CLE is based on the Minolta XG-series SLRs, specifically the XG-7. The viewfinder has projected, parallax compensating, projected frame lines for 28 mm, 40 mm, and 90 mm focal lengths, an electronic focal plane shutter with speeds to 1/1000 sec, and a through-the-lens, 2-cell (TTL) silicon photodiode (SPD) metering system with aperture-priority automatic or manual exposure, and automated ambient and flash exposure metering that works dynamically, adjusting the shutter speed and TTL, off the film (OTF) flash metering during the exposure. Despite its advanced specs, the Minolta CLE does not provide a metered manual exposure mode like the Leica M7 or Konica Hexar RF—it only offers a choice of aperture priority AE or (non-metered) manual f/stop and shutter speed settings.
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Konica Hexar RF of 1999 with 35mm Hexar lens in M-compatible KM mount. It had AE and metered manual exposure but not TTL OTF flash.
Would it be possible to modify a Minolta CLE to provide a metered manual exposure mode, a working method preferred by many serious photographers? It would require major modifications to the camera’s electronic circuitry and would be very difficult to achieve without compromising the camera’s existing capabilities. Bottom line: if cost were no object, it could probably be done, but as a practical proposition, not so much. You can acquire a pristine Minolta CLE with 40mm f/2 M-Rokkor lens for about $900.00 to $1,200.00. And if you must have an M-mount rangefinder 35 with AE and metered manual exposure, check out the Hexar RF with 35mm f/2 Hexar lens (roughly $600 to $1,000, but prices vary wildly) or a Leica M7 ($3,500 to $4,500, body only)… but only the M7 has aTTL OTF flash metering that’s comparable to the CLE but using the shoe-mount SCA system.
A compendium of classic camera design blunders and omissions
By Jason Schneider
Over the past 180 years or so, a vast amount of talent, effort and thought has gone into designing cameras, and the best ones of any era are masterpieces of ingenuity and craftsmanship that enable photographers to articulate their vision seamlessly, often at a high level of technical excellence. However, nothing created by humans is perfect, and even the best cameras are beset with everything from minor foibles to inherent limitations imposed by their basic design parameters. Some older camera designs (such as the Canon 7 of 1961 to 1964 with its huge clunky built in selenium meter) were limited by the technology of the day, while others reflect questionable decisions made by designers, engineers, and marketing mavens. Herewith a collection of my favorite dummheits (stupidities) and head-scratching omissions, starting with the fabled Kodak of 1888, arguably the first successful mass market camera.
Original Kodak of 1888 with barrel-type shutter. V-shaped pattern inscribed in leather at front of top to aid composition is barely visble here.
The first Kodak and the first Brownie: What—no viewfinders?!
The Kodak of 1888, the first camera marketed by the Eastman Dry Plate & Film Co. of Rochester, New York, is, in the opinion of most historians, the most important series-production camera ever made. What makes this humble-looking box camera so consequential is not its ingenious construction or technical brilliance, both of which are noteworthy, but the idea it embodied— a camera capable of producing satisfying photographs in the hands of ordinary people having no special technical skills. When the Kodak was announced in 1888. photography had progressed from the Daguerreotype and wet plate days when photographers literally had to prepare their own plates, but it was still an arcane pursuit requiring considerable expertise and dedication, particularly in the darkroom. What the Kodak offered, for the then-handsome sum of $25 (equivalent to a staggering $821.93 in 2024 dollars!), was an unintimidating, easy-to use, portable box camera with no adjustments, that was pre-loaded with roll film sufficient for 100 exposures. When you were finished shooting the roll, you shipped the camera back to Eastman in Rochester, along with $10 (a hefty $328.77 in 2024 dollars). For this tidy sum they developed the film, transferred each negative to a sheet of glass for contact printing (because the 2-3/4-inch-wide “stripping film” was mounted on a non-transparent paper backing) made one print from each good negative, reloaded the camera with film for 100 more exposures, and returned it to the owner. In the context of the 19th century, the Kodak was the world’s first successful point-and-shoot, and the camera that really created the modern photofinishing industry.
The Kodak of 1888 (left) and a well dressed Victorian era woman holding the camera in shooting position. Images like this were used in ads.
The Kodak, manufactured for The Eastman Dry Plate & Film Co. by George Brownell of Rochester, New York (who may also have had a hand in its production engineering) is a wooden-bodied box camera clad in Turkey morocco with “nickel and brass trimmings and inclosed in a neat sole leather case with shoulder strap.” Described as “about the size of a large field glass” it measures 3-1/4 x 3-1/4 x 6-1/2 inches and weighs 1lb. 10 oz. It produced circular pictures 2-1/2 inches in diameter on 2-3/4-inch-wide flexible film, had no frame counter (you stopped winding the film-advance key when the rotating pattern in a little round window had gone through one full turn!), and it had no viewfinder—you aimed it with the aid of two lines, in a V pattern, engraved into the leather top. The lens, contained in a unique barrel-type shutter that revolved on an axis parallel to the film plane, was a 57mm f/9 Rapid Rectilinear. Based on the format it was a wide-angle, which gave good depth of field, but image quality in the corners of the field would have been poor, so the corner-less circular format made sense technically. The shutter, which was manually cocked with a pull cord. provided a single shutter speed of about 1/25 sec. The camera also came with a felt plug, in effect a lens cap, which fit into the lens surround on the front of the camera and could be removed and replaced for making time exposures. The shutter-release button was on the left, a tripod socket oddly placed on the top—but with no viewfinder this hardly mattered!
Original Kodak Brownie of 1900 with rare accessory clip-on viewfinder. Camera sold for only $1.00; the viewfinder was 25 cents extra!
Despite its spartan simplicity, ample price, and the inconvenience of having to return the camera for processing, the Kodak was a phenomenal success—about 25,000 were sold in the first year of production—because it was the first camera that enabled anyone to take pictures, and it was aggressively marketed with a brilliant advertising campaign. Eastman’s astute grasp of human psychology and motivation is evident in these quotes from an1888 Kodak ad, “Anybody who can wind a watch can use the Kodak Camera…No tripod, no focusing, no adjustment whatever…A picturesque diary of your trip…may be obtained without trouble that will be worth a hundred times its cost in after years.” In 1889, it was “1. Pull the cord 2. Turn the key 3. Press the button. And so on for 100 pictures.” This was later refined into the greatest photographic advertising slogan of all time, “You press the button, we do the rest.”
Those too impatient to send their cameras to Rochester could buy darkroom-loadable 100-exposure film spools for $2 apiece, and develop and print their own film, or send the exposed film back to Rochester and have it processed and returned with a fresh roll for $10. While The Kodak was certainly ingenious, none of its features, except for the barrel shutter, was unique, but the concept of a stone simple roll film camera, squarely aimed at the middle-to-upper-class mass market and the forward-looking marketing techniques used to promote it ultimately brought photography within the reach of hundreds of millions of people. More than any other single camera, the Kodak helped to create the modern photographic industry by transforming the act of taking pictures into a universal human experience.
An original Kodak Camera, one of the holy grails of camera collecting, now verges on being a museum piece. Early barrel-shutter models in good condition sell in the $4000-5000 range, though a truly pristine and complete example with case and instruction manual could easily fetch much more. Later models with the classic “safety-pin” metal-bladed shutter are worth less but are still scarce and collectible.
The original Kodak Brownie: Still no viewfinder!
Now you would think that 12 years would be sufficient for Kodak to develop a box camera with a real viewfinder, but no. Like the Kodak of 1888, the original Kodak Brownie of 1900 had no viewfinder, only framing lines in a 60° V-pattern inscribed on its top, with the open end of the V pointing forward toward the subject. However, it was a simple, competent, easy-to-use, daylight-loadable camera at the then-unprecedented price of $1.00. And by putting a brilliantly conceived mass-marketing program behind it, Kodak was literally able to motivate millions to buy it. The Brownie’s success was unprecedented—in the first year alone, over 150,000 cameras were shipped, three times the previous record. To get a clearer idea of the impact of the Brownie, check out one of the many timelines of the 20th century and go to the year 1900. Right up there, along with such momentous events as Max Planck’s formulation of the quantum theory and the publication of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” is Kodak’s introduction of the $1 Brownie camera!
The Brownie got its name from artist Palmer Cox’s whimsical cartoon versions of Brownies--“hard-working Scottish sprites or elves who did household chores” --that were as popular in the 1880-1920 period as Mickey Mouse is today. Some have conjectured that the name was an oblique tribute to Frank A. Brownell, who was responsible for its design and manufacture, but this is not the case. In any event, the Brownie is about as simple and basic as a camera can get—an imitation-leather covered cardboard box, with wooden film carrier, measuring about 3 x 3 x 5 inches. It has a simple fixed-focus f/11 meniscus lens, and metal rotary shutter with a single speed of about 1/35-1/50 sec plus T. However, starting in July 1900, a small clip-on accessory reflex viewfinder was offered for 25 cents! The film-winding key was detachable and often lost, which is why many original Brownies are found with soldered-on, non-standard keys. The first 15,000 Brownies were fitted with a push-on cardboard box lid back that proved unreliable and was soon replaced (March 1900) with a bottom-hinged back with a nice, nickel-plated sliding latch on top. Despite its modest specs, the original Kodak Brownie did score one extremely important historical distinction—it pioneered No.117 film, thus making it the world’s first 2-1/4 x 2-1/4-inch roll film camera. The117 size, essentially 6-exposures of 120 film on a narrower-flanged spool, is long defunct, but the glorious 2-1/4 square roll film format is still very much alive in 120-format. Also, that accessory viewfinder proved so popular that all subsequent Box Brownies had small built-in reflex viewfinders for composing pictures in horizontal or vertical orientations.
The Brownie was certainly the right product at the right time, at the right price with a catchy name. But what really transformed it into an enduring American icon that sired generations of Kodak Brownies up until the ‘70s and inspired countless imitators worldwide, was Kodak’s ingenious and aggressive marketing plan. Brownies were advertised in popular magazines rather than trade magazines. Ads stressed it could be “operated by any schoolboy or girl” and kids were urged to join The Brownie Camera Club, which had no initiation fee, and whose object was “to increase the interest of American boys and girls in matters pertaining to photography.” Kodak ran picture contests and awarded prizes. A roll of film, called a “Transparent-Film Cartridge, 6 exposures 2-1/4 x 2-1/4” cost 15 cents, a box of paper, 10 cents, and a Brownie Developing and Printing Outfit, 75 cents. At the bottom of many ads was a small box with the message “Send a dollar to your local Kodak Dealer for a Brownie Camera. If there is no dealer in your area, send us a dollar and we will ship the camera promptly.” With the arrival of the Brownie, anyone could take photographs of everything from special occasions to everyday life, and to do so inexpensively. The era of the snapshot had dawned, and the world would never be the same.
Today, an original Brownie camera with “shoe box” back cover and accessory viewfinder is a rare bird indeed and a collector’s prize valued at about $2000. The later, improved version with hinged back, also a primo collectible, sells for about $300-500 with original winding key and box. The long-running #2 Brownie (1901-1933), that took 120 film and had a 2-1/4 x 3-1/4-inch format, is a nice user-collectible that sells for $35-50 and is recommended to anyone who wants to experience the joys of shooting with a classic box camera. Despite their modest specs they can take surprisingly sharp, detailed pictures—providing you don’t get closer than about 5 feet from the subject.
Barnack Leicas: Bottom loading Leicas and their discontents
Oskar Barnack was the principal inventor of the original Leica I (Model A) of 1925, a masterfully integrated, 35mm precision miniature still picture camera that was destined to alter the course of photography in the 20th century. His achievement in building a coupled rangefinder system with interchangeable lenses into the Leica II (Model D) of 1932 while maintaining the same size, form factor, and ergonomics of his original masterpiece is nothing less than astounding. Indeed, every screw mount Leica up to and including the coveted Leica IIIg of 1957 to 1960 is a “Barnack Leica” because it incorporates many of the farsighted concepts he had laid down in the ‘20s and ‘30s.
Leica I (Model A) bottom view,, with base plate removed for loading. Note latch with hinged D-shaped handle that opens inserted Leca cassettes when handle is turrned to "closed" locking position.
Leica I (model A) with base plate removed for loading. Bottom loading requires a removable spool, tapered film leader, some manual dexterity.
All Barnack Leicas feature “unibody” construction—the basic chassis is a single piece of aluminum alloy rather than an assemblage of parts. This enhances structural integrity and enables precise lens-to-film- plane alignment, critical in achieving outstanding image quality with the small 24 x 36mm format, which requires greater enlargement to yield standard print sizes of 8 x 10 inches or larger. The basic body structure of all Leicas from the Leica I (model A) of 1925 to the Leica IIIb of 1938 to 1941 was formed by flattening a round metal tube by applying high pressure on 2 sides to achieve the classic slim body shape with rounded ends. The body was then cut to size vertically, machined to precise tolerances to accept the lens mount and internal parts, and covered in leather-textured black Vulcanite. Starting with the Leica IIIc of 1940, screw mount Barnack Leicas used a 3mm longer, one-piece diecast alloy chassis with an integral rangefinder cover, and had upgraded internals, a larger shutter release, and a new frame counter mechanism. The Leica IIId (a rare version of the IIIc), the Leica IIIf black dial of 1950, and the Leica IIIf red dial of 1952 (both with built-in flash sync) were built on the same diecast chassis as the IIIc, and the last screw-mount Leica, the IIIg of 1957-1960 used a taller body casting to accommodate the new larger viewfinder with projected frame lines for 50mm and 90mm lenses.
Leica II (Model D) of 1932 with nickel hardware, 50mm f/2.5 Hektor lens. Integrating an interchangeable lens system with coupled rangefinder into virtually the same minuscule form factor as the original Leica I (Model A) was pure genius. Kudos to Oskar Barnack!
All screw-mount Barnack Leicas use the same pesky bottom loading system that requires a removable take-up spool, a tapered film leader, and some degree of manual dexterity to ensure that the sprocket teeth engage the film perforations properly before you latch the back shut. The fact that bottom loading Barnack Leicas were in production for 35 years proves that the system is workable, but practically anyone who’s ever shot with one of these magnificent machines has complained about loading it. Indeed, countless Leica fans cheered when the Leica M3 arrived in 1954 with a hinged back section that made loading film and loading verification much easier. To give Barnack his due, the one advantage of the bottom-loading system is that turning the hinged back lock key on the bottom of the base plate to closed position causes an internal tab to open the “darkroom door” of an installed Leica cassette, allowing the film to move frictionlessly through the camera. With Kodak’s introduction of the felt-lipped standard 35mm cartridge in 1934, this advantage became far less important.
The Kine Exakta of 1936: A landmark camera with a (nearly) fatal flaw
The Kine Exakta of 1936 was the world’s first commercially successful 35mm SLR—the ungainly but competent Sport (a pioneering 35mm SLR made by GOMZ in the USSR) was evidently announced one year earlier in 1935, but it probably wasn’t marketed until later and then not internationally distributed. Based largely on the VP Exakta of 1933 (which provided a 4.5 x 6cm format on 127 roll film), the Kine Exakta, as its name implied, took 35mm cine film and provided a standard 24 x 36mm format. While it had the appealing look of “precision machinery” and the traditional Ihagee Exakta’s trapezoidal body shape, the Kine Exakta was beset with numerous “inconvenience features” and required a leisurely approach to picture taking. These include a 270°-stroke, left-handed, non-ratcheted film wind lever, a manual diaphragm lens that had to be stopped down to shooting aperture after focusing wide open (later modes had lenses with externally coupled semi-auto diaphragms), and a devilishly complicated system for setting slow shutter speeds using a separate manually wound gear train.
Oriiginal Exakta 1 of 1936 with round magnifier, manual in background. To focus more precisely you had to press the hinged magnifier down onto the viewing screen, obscuring much of the viewing image, which made focusing and composing the picture separate operations. Uncool.
The Sport of 1935, This ungainly USSR-made 35mm SLR with a focal plane shutter, waist-level finder, and a auxiliary optical finder was announced in 1935, beating out the Kine Exakta by one year, but it sold in limited quantities and never achieved worldwide success.
But the crowning dummheit of the Kine Exakta is its waist-level viewfinder, which has the focusing magnifier hinged at the bottom of the finder hood, so you must clamp it down directly over the focusing screen! Not only does this system limit the degree of magnification, compromising its value as a focusing aid, the frame holding the magnifier also obscures a large portion of the viewing image so you can’t really view and focus simultaneously—one if the major advantages of using an SLR! When users complained, Ihagee enlarged area of the original round magnifier, which obscured around 70% of the viewing image, to a rectangular one that obscured “only” 50% or so! They didn’t really address the problem until 1949 by introducing the Exakta II, basically a Kine Exakta with the focusing magnifier hinged at the top the waist-level viewing hood where it should have been in the first place. The only ones pleased with any of these incredible lapses in camera design 101 are collectors—an original 1936 Kine Exakta with round magnifier is a rare collectible worth $600 and up; a clean Kine with rectangular magnifier fetches about $300-$500 depending on lens and condition. If you’re a shooter who wants the vintage Exakta experience without the pain, financial and otherwise, go for an Exakta II which is obtainable for around $100-$150.
The sad saga of the Kodak Ektra: When too much is not enough!
The Kodak Ektra of 1941 was Kodak’s audacious attempt to build the finest interchangeable-lens rangefinder camera the world had ever seen, and they poured an enormous amount of resources into the project. The result, designed primarily by Joseph Mihaly, was technically brilliant, spectacular, and in many ways functional, but it was also extraordinarily complex, expensive to manufacture, and it featured a left-handed shutter release, film-advance crank, and front-mounted focusing wheel! The Ektra’s amazing features include: a 4-1/8-inch-base, high magnification, full-military-spec split-image prism rangefinder, varifocal dioptric viewfinder providing auto parallax compensation with breech-lock bayonet lenses from 35mm to 153mm, interchangeable film magazines with built-in, two-stroke film-advance levers and folding rewind cranks, and a rubberized cloth focal-plane shutter with fast-and slow-speed dials providing speeds of 1-1/1000 sec plus B. Standard lens was a 50mm f/1.9 or f/3.5 Ektar, both superb.
Kodak Ektra with 50mm f/1.9 Ektar lens. You've gotta give Kodak credit for sheer audacity, but the Ektra was a technical and marketing flop.
Since Kodak officially sold only 2,490 Ektras to the public before it was discontinued in 1948 and each one used 667 different parts made of 88 different materials in its construction, Kodak evidently lost a pile of money on the project. Ektras are beautiful on the outside, less so on the inside, and are notoriously unreliable picture takers (the shutter was never perfected and the film backs are trouble prone) but it is a unique and magnificent collectible. Current value with 50mm f/1.9 Ektar lens: $2,500 to $3000.
The Nikon F: Indestructible--except for the prism lock.
The legendary Nikon F introduced in 1959 was the first truly professional caliber SLR, conceived as the basis for a high quality professional SLR system. The Nikon F remained in production, with relatively minor changes, for nearly 14 years, and during that time it established Nikon as the leading professional 35mm camera, a position not seriously challenged (by Canon) until the autofocus era. A handsome, rugged, and reliable camera of modular design, its removable pentaprism and external meter-coupling system allowed the Nikon F to be retrofitted with the latest advances in metering technology by upgrading the meter prism, and its F mount has endured, with some operational changes, even until the present digital era—a remarkable example of non-obsolescence. While the Nikon F is not a technological landmark, it is the camera that really marked the coming of age of the 35mm SLR. Its features include at titanium foil focal-plane shutter (early models had cloth shutters) with speeds from 1-1/1000 sec plus B and T, interchangeable finders and screens, and a removable back. An extensive range of lenses and specialized accessories are available. The Nikon F is a fine user-collectible, and these days something of a bargain—you can snag a clean working Nikon F Photomic with 50mm f/1.4 Nikkor lens for $200 to $300 or even less. Downsides: the prism locking mechanism is not as robust as the rest of the camera (it wasn’t originally designed for large heavy meter prisms) and it ispossible to knock a Photomic prism off a Nikon F if you’re a klutz (don’t ask me how I know). Also, I’ve never been a fan of the clunky external linkage for coupling the lens aperture to the meter prism. Note: Nikon responded by upgrading the prism locking system on the Nikon F2, which added robust hooks at the front of the prism to better secure it to the body.
Nikon FTN with late TTL meter prism and multicoated 50mm f/1.4 Nikkor S.C. lens. Prism lock was dodgy, and reinforced on the Nikon F2
The Leicaflex Standard: The perils of making an SLR for Leica M lovers.
The Leicaflex was the first SLR manufactured by Leitz, the result of a development program dating back to 1958. It was officially released in 1964 and discontinued in 1968, with the introduction of the Leicaflex SL, the first SLR with selective TTL metering. Over the Standard’s lifespan only about 37,500 bodies were sold, perhaps a blessing in disguise since some say the cost of productionexceeded the dealer price! The original Leicaflex Standard was a reluctant entry into the SLR arena, and a great disappointment to many diehard Leica fans that were hoping for a world class contender to go up against the Nikon F, Canonflex, Asahi Pentax and its extravagantly huge and overdesigned German predecessor, the Zeiss “Bull’s-Eye” Contarex. Mocked by some reviewers as “the shotgun marriage of a Leica M3, a Visoflex reflex housing, and a Leica MR meter” the non-TTL-metering Leicaflex Standard was functionally obsolete the day it was released. And when it finally went on sale, the Leicaflex with standard 50mm f/2Summicron-R lens sold for $585, then an astronomical price for a brand new SLR lacking features available on other cameras costing far less.
Leicaflex Standard in black with matching 90mm Elmarit-R lens. Technologically behind the times and beset with an idiosyncratic "rangefinder-like" viewfinder, it was expensive and didn't sell, but it takes great pictures and is now considered a de facto classic.
The Leicaflex Standard is a very conservative camera that has a commendably bright reflex finder, but it only provides a focusing image within a central microprism circle—the entire outer area is a non-focusing aerial image—kind of like (dare we say it?) a rangefinder camera! Geometric shutter speed settings of B and 1-1/2000 sec. are clearly displayed along the bottom of the finder, with the meter needle and lollipop-shaped match-needle pointer located on the right. Neither the back nor the prism is interchangeable, precluding the possibility of adding back-mounted accessories or conveniently changing finders or focusing screens. While the single stroke wind lever has a moderately long throw of about 140° from standoff position, it’s not ratcheted so you can’t wind to the next frame in a series of shorter strokes.
Leicaflex Standard viewfinder focused only in the central miicroprism circle. The outer area was a very bright, non-focusing aerial image.
The Leicaflex Standard was produced in 2 variants: the original Mark 1, identifiable by its fan-shaped exposure counter, and the later Mark 2, which has a round exposure counter and turns off the meter when the wind lever is pressed flush with the camera body. The Mark 1 has no meter off switch at all—you must store it in a dark place or in its case to conserve battery power—a major design oversight one would not expect from a thoughtful company like Leica.
Despite its shortcomings that were obvious even in its day, the Leicaflex Standard, in its own idiosyncratic way, is a timeless classic. It’s exquisitely made and gorgeously finished at a level that few, if any, modern cameras can match. Its highly complex and sophisticated mirror and shutter mechanisms are masterfully executed, quite reliable, and extremely durable. Its viewfinder is very bright even by current standards and the central focusing image snaps into focus with alacrity. Its original line of single-cam R-mount Leitz prime lenses (35-135mm), many designed by the legendary Dr. Walter Mandler, are mechanical masterpieces that deliver breathtaking image quality. Its shutter release and film wind action are silky smooth, and its shutter tops out at an impressive 1/2000 sec. Even its funky, low sensitivity metering system (which has an ugly shrouded CdS port and battery cover on the front of the pentaprism housing) works quite well in reasonably bright light and gives “fat spot” readings roughly equal in coverage to a 90mm lens. However, its CdS cell meter is subject to the dreaded memory effect, and you’ll have to have the meter converted to accept a current 1.5v silver oxide or alkaline cell—it was designed to take a now defunct 1.35v mercury battery. Note: while the Leicaflex Standard works fine with 1- and 2-cam R-mount lenses, 3-cam and ROM-equipped lenses can cause trouble, so beware. If you’re tempted to acquire one these idiosyncratic and underappreciated classics, bodies in clean functional condition are readily available used in the $200-$350 range and you can occasionally snag a nice one, complete with a 1-cam 50mm f/2 Summicron-R for around $500-600. If you decide to take the plunge, make sure yours comes with a no questions asked, full return guarantee if you’re not satisfied-- these cameras can be expensive to fix!
Konica IIIM of 1960 had a big ugly hinged selenium cell meter on top that's notoriously unreliable and (mostly) unrepairable. It's too bad, because the camera provided full and half-frame formats with parallax and field size correction and has a great 50mm f/1.8 Hexanon lens.
The Konica IIIM: A great camera destroyed by adding a horrible meter!
The beautifully made and attractive Konica IIIA of 1958 featured an unusual, vertically mounted, left-handed, rapid-wind lever, and a magnificent high magnification (1:1) range/viewfinder with true projected, parallax-compensating finder frame lines that also adjust for field frame size (the reduced angular coverage as you focus closer). Other features include: an excellent 50mm f/1.8 or f/2 Hexanon lens, Seikosha 1-1/500 sec MX shutter, rewind crank and self-timer. Despite its beautiful execution, elegant proportions, and advanced features, the Konica IIIA was a glorious technological dead end. The subsequent Konica IIIM (which added half frame capability and a coupled flip-up-selenium-cell meter) was an unreliable dud due to the fragile, unreliable meter call that also spoiled the handsome lines of the camera. About 95% of Konica IIIMs have non-functioning meters, and your chances of getting one repaired are slim to none. The solution: If you hanker for a great Konica rangefinder 35, look for a nice clean Konica IIIA; they’re readily available used in clean working condition for about $200-$250. It is said that the 50mm f/1.8 Hexanon lens performs a tad better than the 48mm f/2 but the latter is more compact and more in keeping with the camera’s elegant form factor. Either version is a fine user-collectible well worth the current price.
The Minolta CLE: Everything you want, except manual metering.
The Minolta CLE unveiled in 1980 was the first autoexposure M-mount rangefinder 35, a logical successor to the Leica CL and Leitz-Minolta CL that had debuted in 1973, and arguably the best camera to come out of the longstanding Leitz Minolta cooperation agreement. Indeed, its feature set wouldn’t be equaled by any Leica until the Leica M7 of 2002. The Minolta CLE introduced a host of new technologies to the rangefinder 35, including TTL OTF (through the lens, off the film plane) metering, aperture priority autoexposure, and an LED metering display in the viewfinder.
Minolta CLE of 1980 with superb 40mm f/2 Rocker-M lens. Prior to the Leica M7 of 2007 it was the most advanced M-mount rangefinder 35.
In terms of its metering electronics, the Minolta CLE is based on the Minolta XG-series SLRs, specifically the XG-7. The viewfinder has projected, parallax compensating, projected frame lines for 28 mm, 40 mm, and 90 mm focal lengths, an electronic focal plane shutter with speeds to 1/1000 sec, and a through-the-lens, 2-cell (TTL) silicon photodiode (SPD) metering system with aperture-priority automatic or manual exposure, and automated ambient and flash exposure metering that works dynamically, adjusting the shutter speed and TTL, off the film (OTF) flash metering during the exposure. Despite its advanced specs, the Minolta CLE does not provide a metered manual exposure mode like the Leica M7 or Konica Hexar RF—it only offers a choice of aperture priority AE or (non-metered) manual f/stop and shutter speed settings.
-Konica Hexar RF of 1999 with 35mm Hexar lens in M-compatible KM mount. It had AE and metered manual exposure but not TTL OTF flash.
Would it be possible to modify a Minolta CLE to provide a metered manual exposure mode, a working method preferred by many serious photographers? It would require major modifications to the camera’s electronic circuitry and would be very difficult to achieve without compromising the camera’s existing capabilities. Bottom line: if cost were no object, it could probably be done, but as a practical proposition, not so much. You can acquire a pristine Minolta CLE with 40mm f/2 M-Rokkor lens for about $900.00 to $1,200.00. And if you must have an M-mount rangefinder 35 with AE and metered manual exposure, check out the Hexar RF with 35mm f/2 Hexar lens (roughly $600 to $1,000, but prices vary wildly) or a Leica M7 ($3,500 to $4,500, body only)… but only the M7 has aTTL OTF flash metering that’s comparable to the CLE but using the shoe-mount SCA system.
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Trask
Established
Another great article, Jason -- thanks! Regarding the CLE: true, there is no metered manual exposure, and I'll admit that I found it fiddly and frustrating that I had to manually depress a little locking button to allow for exposure compensation when using aperture priority AE -- having to find and press that little button just slowed things down. So I asked a repairer to remove the little ball bearing that kept the exposure compensation dial from turning freely, and there you go -- aperture priority AND the ability to move exposure up or down by up to two stops, with the red exposure LEDs tracking each shift up or down. Of course the ability to move the exposure dial up or down two stops meant that after moving it, you had to remember to return the dial to the "0" compensation position. So -- not as good as things might have been, but IMHO better than having to constantly unlock exposure compensation to tweak exposure.
Jason Schneider
the Camera Collector
Thanks for your kind words. Your exposure compensation modification for shooting in AE sounds ingenious. Sadly I've never owned a Minolta CLE, but I did shoot with one for about 2 weeks and was impressed with its design and performance.
Coldkennels
Barnack-toting Brit.
I will never understand why so many people complain about bottom loading.
In all the years of doing it, I've only ever had one failed load - caused by the classic "film not on the sprockets" problem - compared to countless failed loads on open-back cameras.
Plus, bottom loading cameras - even the weird octagonal Canon bottom loaders - are solid. No flappy back means a more rigid construction, a better feel in the hand (no seams or joins), and far fewer light leaks.
Personally, I'd have put basically every camera ever made by Zeiss in this list... the Contax I is a hot mess of nonsense, and there's a lot about the Contax II and III which is hilariously poorly designed.
In all the years of doing it, I've only ever had one failed load - caused by the classic "film not on the sprockets" problem - compared to countless failed loads on open-back cameras.
Plus, bottom loading cameras - even the weird octagonal Canon bottom loaders - are solid. No flappy back means a more rigid construction, a better feel in the hand (no seams or joins), and far fewer light leaks.
Personally, I'd have put basically every camera ever made by Zeiss in this list... the Contax I is a hot mess of nonsense, and there's a lot about the Contax II and III which is hilariously poorly designed.
Myrrys.eu
Established
There's tons of weird and wonderful camera contraptions out there. I've eyed out Robot cameras with winding motors quite a few times and while I can get inside the designers head enough to know why they would want that, holding one of those tiny pieces of lead in your hand makes you wonder if anyone wants to shoot one for real (and not just for a gimic). Small, dense, unrealiable, relatively noisy.. And quirky. Then again I'm charmed by them and would love to own one, but I'm done collecting and only want to have cameras around me that I actually use these days 
Picture taken from wikipedia article
Picture taken from wikipedia article
Coldkennels
Barnack-toting Brit.
I used to have a friend here in London who swore by his Robots. He had a couple of them - I forget which, but I know one was a very early one - and his certainly worked a treat. Bloody weird things, though.I've eyed out Robot cameras with winding motors quite a few times and while I can get inside the designers head enough to know why they would want that, holding one of those tiny pieces of lead in your hand makes you wonder if anyone wants to shoot one for real (and not just for a gimic). Small, dense, unrealiable, relatively noisy.. And quirky. Then again I'm charmed by them and would love to own one, but I'm done collecting and only want to have cameras around me that I actually use these days
Personally, my "weird craving I'm going to give into eventually" camera is the original Corfield Periflex:
By all accounts they're incredibly convoluted to use. As per Corfield cameras:
If I remember right, the "periscope" has to be manually lowered into the image path - and then you have to remember to bring it back up, too. It's absolutely ludicrous, and I love it. I've managed to resist buying one online for years at this point, but if I ever find one of the original pigskin ones (as shown) at a photographic fair, it's definitely coming home with me.
titrisol
Bottom Feeder
The Contax IIa and IIIa (post war) and their Soviet cousins are very nice cameras with a very idiosyncratic design
I guess you either love it or hate it. I loved the optics, rangefinder precision and "feel" but the font in the speed dial became too small to read for me anymore
Richard G
Mentor
Very interesting analyses. One point: the Konica Hexar AF is pictured not the RF. Hard to fault the AF, but I look forward to being corrected on that too.
aw614
Established
Did the XG7 and other XG series Minoltas also not meter in manual mode? Its weird that Minolta would do that on the CLE, when the XD11 could meter in manual mode.
Retro-Grouch
Mentor
I'm sure we all have examples to offer; my favorite is the Mamiya TLR system. A medium format camera for professional use, without any sort of depth-of-field scales? Perhaps wedding photographers, the folks who used these cameras the most, didn't feel that this was a major shortcoming. And to be fair, I don't really see how DOF scales could have been implemented, but then, I'm not one of the Mamiya engineers who was being paid the big bucks. Nevertheless, it's still one of my favorite camera systems to use. I just turn to other cameras when I know the DOF issue could present difficulties.
Retro-Grouch
Mentor
This is the reason I parted with my CLE. A fine camera, to be sure, but the lack of manual metering drove me nuts.
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chuckroast
Well-known
I nominate the stupid backlight system on the Nikon F3 metered prisms. It's a wonky cut rate solution on an otherwise brilliant camera.
Also .... ALL AF SYSTEMS ... uh, I mean ... I gotta go now ...
Also .... ALL AF SYSTEMS ... uh, I mean ... I gotta go now ...
Retro-Grouch
Mentor
I once had the opportunity to fondle a Robot Royal 36. I can't say what it was like to shoot one of them, but the fit, finish, and aesthetics made my Leicas feel like FSU junk in comparison. There. I said it out loud!There's tons of weird and wonderful camera contraptions out there. I've eyed out Robot cameras with winding motors quite a few times and while I can get inside the designers head enough to know why they would want that, holding one of those tiny pieces of lead in your hand makes you wonder if anyone wants to shoot one for real (and not just for a gimic). Small, dense, unrealiable, relatively noisy.. And quirky. Then again I'm charmed by them and would love to own one, but I'm done collecting and only want to have cameras around me that I actually use these days
Picture taken from wikipedia article
Jason Schneider
the Camera Collector
Thanks for your thoughts. I've used bottom loading Leicas and Canons for many years and my loading screw-up rate is definitely higher than yours, and I experience more frequent loading problems with bottom loaders than I do with 35s having removable or hinged backs. The problem is inevitably solved by reloading the camera so the only thing lost is time, and maybe a little pride. I agree that the Contax I is a hot mess, though I love its looks. The Contax II also has its peccadilloes, but I think "poorly designed" is a bit harsh. I have shot with my well used example with uncoated 50mm f/1.5 Sonnar for over two decades with satisfaction. Maybe I'm just klutzier than you-
James24
Well-known
I found that the Nikon FTN Photomic locked ok - it has 2 clamping jaws as per the one in your photograph. Surely you mean that the Photomic, Photomic T and Photomic TN are the ones decidedly in need of a locking mechanism. I can personally vouch for this - I remember an occasion in the mid 70s when my Photomic TN finder fell on to a very hard floor when I held my camera upside down. I replaced the finder with a much more satisfactory FTN version.
Agreed, the F2 Photomic was much better. An altogether neater solution.
Agreed, the F2 Photomic was much better. An altogether neater solution.
DownUnder
Nikon Nomad
My problems with cameras have been relatively minor, but at times annoying. With one exception, the Exakta Varex.
I bought a secondhand Varex rib in Sydney, Australia in 1974 during my first visit to that country (where I now live), and took it with me on a gala tour of North Queensland.
It proved so complex, complicated and generally downright infuriating to use, that I traded it in as soon as I got back to Sydney, and bought a used Nikkormat FT, which promptly devised another problem for me.
From the Exakta I went to Nikkormats. The FTs had a fiddly ISO (then ASA) speed setting on the side of the lens, which involved using a fingernail (and often breaking same) to change the film speeds. Compared to that damn Exakta the rest of the camera worked a dream and I was happy that I didn't have to study up for an engineering degree in order to learn how to use it (the Varex) properly. But it was still annoying to use and I was worried about running out of fingernails - so I changed again.
I bought a Nikkormat EL. A beaut beast, wonderful to use, so far ahead of its time, sturdy as anything any camera manufacturer has ever made. Wiith one exception - the mirror lock-up. This tended to seize us when I put it up to clean the camera or change the battery - mine had an annoying tendency to run through batteries at an Olympic race rate, but in the '70s nothing cost a lot of money so I put up with this quirk and kept buying new batteries. A kindly camera repair man in Melbourne showed me how to fiddle with bits in the EL to get the damn mirror to drop again, which at times involved rather a convoluted effort and several tries.
A few years later the opportunity to buy a Nikkormat FT2 came along, and I sold the EL to a friend and moved up on the 'mat merry-go-round.
It says something about those Nikkormats that I still have the two FT2s I bought 40+ years ago. And my friend still uses the EL I sold her. They all work well and excepting the loud 'kerplunk' the FT2 makes when I press the shutter, all is fine and okay and well with them. Also that EL which even still meters 100% spon-on accurately, as mine also do.
Along the way I picked up a Nikon F with a Photomic for an extended journey I made to Indonesia in the early '90s, but I never did bond with that camera, and I sold it after a few months. So the problem with the locking mechanism was never an issue for me. That F worked well enough but I disliked its ergonomics, maybe more to do with the Photomic which made it rather top-heavy. That meter 'expired' during the trip and I did all my metering with a Weston Master V I had taken along. Another story there, maybe...
I bought a secondhand Varex rib in Sydney, Australia in 1974 during my first visit to that country (where I now live), and took it with me on a gala tour of North Queensland.
It proved so complex, complicated and generally downright infuriating to use, that I traded it in as soon as I got back to Sydney, and bought a used Nikkormat FT, which promptly devised another problem for me.
From the Exakta I went to Nikkormats. The FTs had a fiddly ISO (then ASA) speed setting on the side of the lens, which involved using a fingernail (and often breaking same) to change the film speeds. Compared to that damn Exakta the rest of the camera worked a dream and I was happy that I didn't have to study up for an engineering degree in order to learn how to use it (the Varex) properly. But it was still annoying to use and I was worried about running out of fingernails - so I changed again.
I bought a Nikkormat EL. A beaut beast, wonderful to use, so far ahead of its time, sturdy as anything any camera manufacturer has ever made. Wiith one exception - the mirror lock-up. This tended to seize us when I put it up to clean the camera or change the battery - mine had an annoying tendency to run through batteries at an Olympic race rate, but in the '70s nothing cost a lot of money so I put up with this quirk and kept buying new batteries. A kindly camera repair man in Melbourne showed me how to fiddle with bits in the EL to get the damn mirror to drop again, which at times involved rather a convoluted effort and several tries.
A few years later the opportunity to buy a Nikkormat FT2 came along, and I sold the EL to a friend and moved up on the 'mat merry-go-round.
It says something about those Nikkormats that I still have the two FT2s I bought 40+ years ago. And my friend still uses the EL I sold her. They all work well and excepting the loud 'kerplunk' the FT2 makes when I press the shutter, all is fine and okay and well with them. Also that EL which even still meters 100% spon-on accurately, as mine also do.
Along the way I picked up a Nikon F with a Photomic for an extended journey I made to Indonesia in the early '90s, but I never did bond with that camera, and I sold it after a few months. So the problem with the locking mechanism was never an issue for me. That F worked well enough but I disliked its ergonomics, maybe more to do with the Photomic which made it rather top-heavy. That meter 'expired' during the trip and I did all my metering with a Weston Master V I had taken along. Another story there, maybe...
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Coldkennels
Barnack-toting Brit.
So here's my many issues with the Contaxes:
1) the rewind knobs. Dear god, the rewind knobs. Yes, I know, they support cassette-to-cassette operation, but why would you have a rewind knob at all when they're so barely useable?! Trying to rewind film in a Contax II is one step removed from torture, and the slightly more useable one in the Contax IIa is a mild improvement at best.
2) the shutter speed selector. You have to hold the camera at a weird angle to see what you've chosen on a Contax II, and while the IIIa is again a massive improvement... you can't actually read the whole speed from above, so 500 becomes 50. Yes, you can understand which is which with context, but jesus, that's an oversight.
3) removable take up spools shouldn't be able to drop out freely the second the back is removed. This is far more annoying than anything in a bottom loader. Especially as the removable take up spool is so limply held in place that keeping tension on the film when loading is a pain in the ass! I've had more film transport issues with Contaxes and Kievs than any other camera as a result. Which reminds me...
4) the fact film is pushed along by the sprockets instead of pulled into place by the limp-wristed take up spool is a huge design error. I've shot 30+ frames on a five centimetre strip of film multiple times because of faulty film transport in a Contax. This could have been fixed by actually holding the take up spool in place properly - something proved by the fixed-spool Kiev 4AM.
5) it also doesn't help that all variants of the Contax take up spool seemingly do a really poor job of holding the film in place and would probably be incapable of pulling the film along anyhow. I've got a few, pre-war and post-war, and I'm not convinced by any of them. At least the ones for bottom-loaders (Leica, Canon, Leotax, etc) really hold the end of the film. The Contax ones just seem to make a half-hearted effort at it.
6) despite the fact film transport is all on the sprockets, film spacing is determined by friction/tension at both ends of the film transport (if I remember right). It is, in true Zeiss style, more complex than it needed to be.
7) Speaking of more complex than it needed to be: two bayonet mounts on one camera. Who thought this was a good idea? You can take a 3 lens kit out with you and need a different lens cap for each one (internal, external shallow, external deep). The bayonet isn't even faster than Leica's screw mount as you have to make sure everything's set to infinity every time (which, inevitably, it isn't).
8) Oh, and another thing that's less convenient than a Leica: I can put a Leica III baseplate in my mouth and load while walking. Try holding an entire Contax II back in your mouth (while also looking around for where that take up spool has gone). Good luck.
9) Internally, these things are even more poorly thought out than externally. Ever tried adjusting vertical alignment in a Contax? Utter nightmare. On a Leica? Spin an easily-accessible prism. On a Contax? Dismantle half the camera, dissolve some glue, reposition the prism, rebuild the rangefinder, check it, find out it's still wrong, and repeat until you want to throw the thing at a wall. People say "oh, the rangefinder never goes out of alignment vertically". Absolute nonsense. It does. I have far more Kievs and Contaxes in this house than is even remotely healthy and half of them have slight vertical misalignment. The glue ages, dries out, and allows things to shift. Zeiss seemingly went "our work is perfect and no one will need to adjust this", which is borderline arrogance compared to Leitz' "let's make this as easy as possible to adjust" mentality.
10) Contax grip is more irritating and inconvenient than bottom loading - and this is coming from someone who likes the Contax grip. You load a film once per 36 frames, but you have to do the Contax grip every single frame.
And special bonus round: why, oh why did Zeiss reverse the direction of the focusing wheel on a Contax IIa compared to the pre-war models? It confuses me every single time I pick one up. Which is a shame, because the bodies are objectively nicer in every way.
That's my rant over. I'm now going to make a cup of tea and stare at a Contax in disdain. It's a shame because I love the bloody glass on the things! I'm just glad Amedeo adapters exist.
chuckroast
Well-known
chuckroast
Well-known
Small point - I believe it was the Nikkormat Ft that had that little ASA tab arrangement. I think the Nikkormat FtN (and Nikkomat FtN in Japan) fixed this.
I know because I have an Ft here that I still use. At 70 ish years of age, the silly thing refuses to retire. The meter even works.
Rick Waldroup
Well-known
This is a great article. We are blessed to have such content at the tip of our fingertips. Thank you, Jason.