Towers of smoke reached into the sky above the Imperial Gardens as American automobiles burned on the ground. American military men were hurled into the castle moat and stoned. Policemen were battered with sticks and rocks and pro-communist placards. Warning shots were fired into the sky. Two protestors were shot and killed, and dozens more were badly injured.

The day would come to be known in Japan as Bloody May Day, a day which would eventually lead to the formation of a new and long-lasting U.S.-Japan Alliance, and (importantly for the scope of this publication) a handful of new and unusual film cameras.

Bloody May Day

The May 1st protests began peacefully, with concerned elements of the Japanese citizenry converging on the Imperial Gardens to protest the signing of the Security Treaty between the United States and Japan just days earlier. This treaty had laid out the conditions for ending the American Occupation of Japan that followed World War II, and established a path to restoring Japan’s sovereignty as a nation.

The agreement dictated that Japan would allow the United States to maintain military bases on Japanese soil even after the end of the Occupation. It prohibited Japan from offering the same service to any other foreign power, and stipulated that the United States could launch any military action from Japan-based forces without any need to consult the Japanese government. It further failed to mention any requirement that U.S. forces defend Japan if Japan were attacked. Most troubling for many Japanese, the treaty had no expiration date nor did it mention any mechanism by which an expiration date could be created.

Following the events of Bloody May Day in 1952, and through the work of many other peaceful and non-peaceful protests, and with the help of a massive anti-military base movement that arose in Japan throughout the 1950s, a new treaty was finally negotiated beginning in 1957. By 1959 the negotiations had concluded and the new Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between the United States and Japan was signed in January, 1960.

This new agreement was far more equitable from a Japanese perspective. It committed the United States to defend Japan in the event of an attack, it required prior consultation with the Japanese government before any U.S. forces could be dispatched from Japan-based military bases, and it specified an expiration date ten years hence. After ten years, the treaty could be abrogated by either party.

Though not without its fair share of detractors, the new agreement was successful in mitigating many of Japan’s greatest concerns surrounding the U.S.-Japan alliance, and paved the way for the long-standing cooperation that has existed between the two countries for over sixty years.

Now Let’s Talk About the Cameras

During the Bloody May Day riot, many police officers were injured while attempting to photograph the protestors and the riot. It can be assumed that the police were photographing the protestors for purposes of identification or to create a record of evidence to be used in future legal proceedings. Whatever their purpose, the police were taking pictures of the crowd, and the crowd noticed.

The protestors quickly adopted a policy of destruction of any camera employed in photographing the riot.

In a Nippon Times newspaper clipping we can read an eye-witness account by someone named Stuart Griffin, who writes of being “in the thick of the violent outburst.” He describes the usual riotous scenes that we’re all so unfortunately still accustomed to today – inflamed crowds and flaming cars, smashed windows, the stumbling body-press of humanity writhing and grappling.

He also describes witnessing the destruction of cameras.

“The rioters tried to prevent cameramen from photographing the vehicles in flames. One cameraman narrowly escaped from having his camera smashed by a unionist […]” [Source]

Police officers photographing the scenes of May 1st necessarily had their faces pressed against the viewfinders of their cameras. They had their hands full. They were operating at a disadvantage, unable to give their full attention to the violence around them and often suffered injuries because of it.

Japanese camera companies had, in fact, already researched the development of pistol-shaped cameras in the late 1940s, as a means for police officers to catch photographic evidence of criminal behavior in real time. But their design was so specialized and their use-case so niche that full development of a pistol-shaped camera had not been a priority. After the events of Bloody May Day, this changed.

Suddenly the police forces of Japan were pressing camera-makers for a solution to the problem of the bulky, traditional camera for in-the-field police work. They wanted a camera which could be used quickly, without the need to hold the camera up to the user’s eye, and a camera which could be easily stored into a belt holster when not in use. It seemed that the pistol camera’s day had come.

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Pistol Camera Makers and Notable Models

Prior to Bloody May Day, a number of Japanese camera companies had been toying with development of pistol-shaped cameras. These include the Gemmy and the Seiki 16 Pistol Camera, which were both made around 1950. Another pistol-shaped camera, the Doryu 1, was well-known as a prototype, however it was never produced in numbers due to reliability issues.

After the events of Bloody May Day, the pistol camera became a more well-developed product, the two most successful of which were the Mamiya pistol camera, which was officially called Mamiya Fast-Action Camera (Pistol Shape), and the competing Doryu 2-16.

Let’s start with the Doryu.

The Doryu 2-16 was an ingenious photographic device. It came with an f/2.7 standard lens (and allowed for interchangeable cine-mount lenses) and it exposed 16mm film. The flash magazine was contained in the handle of the “gun” and could hold six magnesium-filled flash cartridges. Pulling the trigger would fire the shutter and light the magnesium flash cartridge on the top of the camera. A photo would be made and a crime (supposedly) recorded.

The Doryu 2-16 failed to find success. The Doryu looked a bit too much like a firearm, and the authorities of the time feared that this might frighten people and lead to unfortunate situations. In addition, development pf the Doryu 2-16 took too long, and by the time it was finally ready for use the Japanese police forces had essentially adopted the Mamiya Pistol Camera as their model of choice. Before they’d sold their first camera, the Doryu 2-16 had lost its customers.

The company decided to attempt to market the Doryu 2-16 to civilian customers, however the highly-specialized design meant that it sold in very low numbers. Doryu 2-16 production was quickly halted. This has lead to a very high valuation of surviving Doryu 2-16 cameras among collectors, with some Doryu 2-16 cameras selling for over $10,000 at recent auction.

1905 Ticka Watch Camera - An In-Depth Look

There's this guy I know; one of those old-timey photo geeks that have seen it all and own most of it. He's got hundreds of cameras. Gold-plated Leicas that weren't available to the public, French cameras nobody's ever heard of... and this. A Ticka Pocket Watch Camera.

The Mamiya Pistol Camera was the most successful pistol-shaped camera. It was designed by Miyabe Hajimu, Mamiya’s chief designer at the time, in a design process that took just six months. Unlike the Doryu 2-16, the Mamiya Pistol Camera uses 35mm film in standard cassettes to shoot exposures measuring 18 x 24mm. The film is advanced manually via a lever, which also cocks the shutter. The shutter is released by the traditional pistol-style trigger. Aperture and shutter speed are controlled by a single ring around the lens barrel (using the EV system).

Through clever positioning of the camera’s controls, it’s possible for the user to shoot an entire roll of film using only one hand. Its compact size and included holster made it an ideal choice. Plus, it looked much less like a traditional firearm compared to the Doryu 2-16.

By 1954, the Mamiya Pistol Camera had become standard equipment for every police headquarters in every Japanese prefect. However, estimates claim that production totaled only 300 units, and many Mamiya Pistol Cameras were scrapped in the following decades. This has lead to valuations as high as the similarly rare Doryu 2-16. One Mamiya Pistol Camera sold at recent auction for close to $13,000.

Fate of the Pistol Camera

Pistol cameras were born out of tragedy, created to better prosecute criminals and to protect police officers working in harm’s way. But their real-world utility is questionable.

Like the Pocketwatch Camera and the Mamiya Camera Clock, that I’ve written about previously, Pistol Cameras were highly specialized, extremely niche cameras. Predictably, the pistol-shaped camera did not last as a photographic tool. It appeared in the early 1950s in Japan and then quickly and quietly went extinct.

And, to be fair, that’s probably a good thing. Perhaps cameras that look like guns was never a very good idea.

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The Mamiya Watcher A is a 35mm Film Surveillance Camera Built Into a Clock

James has been the victim of a heinous theft. In today's article he uses the Mamiya Watcher A to capture the criminal.

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More than a hundred years later, we recognize the Vest Pocket Kodak as one of the most important cameras ever made. And though this model today today has been virtually forgotten by the younger generation of the film photography community, the VPK is worth remembering.

A Brief History of the Vest Pocket Kodak

The first model in Kodak’s Vest Pocket camera range was introduced in April of 1912, and sold for $6, which, when adjusted for inflation, equates to $180 today. This was quite expensive for a camera that wasn’t technically ground-breaking.

The first model came with a single element meniscus lens mounted alongside an aperture mechanism (the maximum speed of which was f/11), and a simple ball bearing shutter capable of four speeds (1/50th, 1/25th of a second, plus Bulb and Time modes for long exposures). The lens element itself was sharp in the center and that’s about it. Which explains why many photographs from this time period are relatively sharp and mushy everywhere else. Lens optics from this period, compared to where they would be only a few decades later, can be described as primitive. Primitive optics however, didn’t hamper sales. The first Vest Pocket Kodak sold over 200,000 units.

Interestingly, a British variant of the camera received a proper f/6.8 lens from Koritska, an Italian optics designer.

In 1915, Kodak released the Autographic model. This model would not only go on to be the best selling of Kodak’s cameras to that time, but a very important milestone in the history of photography. It was offered with the meniscus lens, or what’s known as a U.S. speed 8 rapid rectilinear lens, which is a lens that reduces radial distortion, as well as four shutter speeds (same as the previous model).

The most notable feature of the Autographic model was the ability to write directly onto the film. That’s right, Kodak essentially laid the foundation for EXIF data. How was this possible? The Autographic featured a metal, hinged flap on the back of the camera. By opening this, the photographer could access the backing paper of the film within. Sandwiched between the film negative and the backing paper was a thin carbon tissue. By writing notes on the backing paper, this would transfer the writing directly onto the negative beneath. When the negative was developed or a print made from the negative, the writing could be seen.

Kodak was quite clever for this, since they were marketing this camera as the tool for family photography and daily archiving by way of the photograph. They also positioned the Vest Pocket Kodak as the camera for everyone, such as the everyday worker just wanting a basic camera, the high roller who desired a luxurious gadget, and last but certainly not least, the ambitious amateur with aspirations of professional status.

During World War I, the vest pocket Kodak was advertised as the soldier’s camera. A way for soldiers on the front line to document their experiences of the war as well as keep in touch with loved ones back home. Military superiors did not approve of this. However, that didn’t stop soldiers from documenting the war or documenting in general.

The VPK Autographic sold an unprecedented 1.75 million units. Following this success, every subsequent model of Vest Pocket Kodak would feature the ability to write information onto the film. Daily photographic archiving was here to stay.

After the Autographic, Kodak released the Autographic Special, which came equipped with a variety of lenses from numerous makers, including Kodak themselves, Bausch & Lomb, Cooke, Ross, and even Zeiss. These various lenses were fitted with either f/6.9 or f/7.7 as maximum aperture.

Later versions of this model would be made with true focusing lenses as opposed to the fixed focusing lenses of all earlier models, with the most desirable version being fitted with the Zeiss Tessar f/4.9 with an eight speed Compur shutter.

The Autographic Special didn’t sell as well as the original Autographic, but still managed to shift approximately 300,000 units. In the mid-1920s, towards the end of production of the Autographic Special, Kodak changed the design of the camera to a drop bed style rather than the tong design of earlier models.

In 1926, the VPK Model B was introduced as a more bare bones folding bed design marketed as the Boy Scout and Girl Scout Kodak. This model also received a new front plate design from Walter Dorwin Teague, who not only designed cameras for Kodak but Polaroid as well.

The optics in the Model B are very similar to the prior models. The aperture however, was numbered 1-4 whereas on previous models, aperture was indicated by weather descriptions such as “brilliant,” “clear,” “gray,” and “dull.”

The major difference between the Model B and previous models was the way in which film was loaded. Previous models were loaded in a similar fashion as the Leica M3, with the film pulled apart into a take up spool and loaded into the top (instead of the bottom like the M3). In the case of the Model B, the entire bed and bellows unit had to be removed and film was loaded through the front of the camera.

Alongside the Model B, Kodak also produced the Series III. This model was styled and operated similar to the Model B and featured either a Kodex or Diomatic shutter. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find much information on the shutter speeds or aperture of these lenses.

What About 127 Film?

I mentioned earlier that this camera introduced an entirely new type of film type that not very many people mention or even seem to really bother with these days – 127 film. This film is 120 film’s little brother, smaller than 120 but larger than 35mm film. In square format, it makes negatives measuring 4 x 4 centimeters, and in rectangular format 4 x 3cm and 4 x 6cm are the most common; of course this will depend on the type of camera being used.

127 film declined in popularity along with the Vest Pocket Kodak, which ended production in 1935. The 1950s saw a resurgence in popularity of the little big film that could. Although, photographers mostly preferred 127 for slide film since it was larger than 35mm but small enough to use in slide projectors once mounted. Kodak ultimately ceased production on 127 film in mid-1995.

Today, it can be found here and there on eBay and Film Photography Project, Lomography, and B&H Photo have stocked and sold various types of film in 127 format at various times. (Just now we can buy Kodak Portra in 127 from B&H Photo! What a treat!)

Nearly Dead and Almost Forgotten - 127 Film Today

A brief history of 127 film, an overview of the cameras that shoot it, and whether or not shooting them is worth the trouble today.

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What Makes the Vest Pocket Kodak Important Today

Why should we consider the Vest Pocket Kodak to be among the most important cameras ever made? Sure, it’s over a century old, it even probably witnessed the invention of sliced bread. And it sold a lot of units. And it photographed important people and events. But that’s not what makes it important. For me, the reasons are much deeper and more philosophical in nature.

This camera found its way into the pockets and homes of people from all walks of life. It showed everyone that a camera could be considered an essential appliance of everyday life, as important as any tool or gadget or invention that could be found on any kitchen countertop or in any tool box.

And not only was the VPK a tool to preserve that which would have otherwise remained just a memory, for some, the VPK was also a stepping stone to a higher career in photography. Julius Shulman, who went on to be one of the most prolific architectural photographers of all time, began his journey with a Vest Pocket Kodak. And if it was good enough for Shulman…

So, what happened to the Vest Pocket Kodak? What ushered the once ubiquitous camera into obsolescence? It was simply replaced.

By 1935, the end of production for the Kodak Vest Pocket, Leica and Contax had established themselves as the highest quality in 35mm cameras. In October of that same year, Canon, a small company from Japan, released its first rangefinder camera as a budget alternative to those made by Leica and Contax. By this point, it was clear that 35mm photography was the way of the future, leaving the once-loved Vest Pockets virtually obsolete.

But that doesn’t mean the Vest Pocket Kodak went away overnight. Families for generations would keep a Kodak Vest Pocket solely for documentation and special occasions. Through the Vest Pocket Kodak, photography was established as the dominant affordable medium for preserving memories, recording families, and documenting lives in a way that would last for generations. Photography was no longer a novel magic. It was now a way of life, a way of expression; a way of passing on history to those who did not yet exist.

That said, I must admit that the Vest Pocket Kodak is not the most practical camera to use in the 21st century. The film is expensive, hard to find, and not many labs develop it anymore. The cameras are ancient, often needing repair, and image quality from their primitive lenses leaves much to be desired.

However, that doesn’t mean that VPKs should be relegated to antique stores, tossed in the landfill, or left to wither away on a shelf next to a bunch of unopened Star Wars Pez dispensers. A better fate for these wonders of photographic history is that they be displayed; in museums, homes, schools, libraries, and any other place that would cherish having one upon their shelves.

The city museum of Dublin, TX has an entire section of photography history, and within the glass cases, alongside the Crown Graphic that the local newspaper once owned, sits a Vest Pocket Kodak. This warms my heart. The museum doesn’t point out the portable Kodak specifically, but people’s faces light up in remembrance when they see it. This alone makes a strong case for the VPK’s preservation.

Long before the Leica M3, before the Canon AE-1, the Pentax K1000, and before the Brownie Hawkeye became the cameras of history, the ones that would be passed down along the family line to dutifully document every day life, there was the Vest Pocket Kodak.

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The apocryphally informed among us will say that the motto was coined by the mid-20th century New York City-based crime and tabloid photographer Arthur Fellig, more popularly known as Weegee, whose photography was scalding hot in black-and-white, flash-exposed on the rain-slick streets, and often dripping with blood.

In the earliest days of his career, Weegee would loiter around the Manhatten Police headquarters. Whenever a notice came over the police teletype (an early fast communication device that could send written messages over phone lines) Weegee would race the police to the scene of the catastrophe, and often find himself first on the scene. This offered him an opportunity to photograph the scene of the crime or disaster without interruption or interference. He would quickly develop the film and take the grizzly, uncensored pictures to the newspaper, which paid handsomely for blood and guts.

Weegee quickly made a living (and a name for himself) out of his violent and shocking photography.

The connection between Weegee and the mantra F/8 and be there goes like this.

One day, when Weegee had achieved a certain level of fame, he was asked by an interviewer how he had managed to become the most famous crime scene photographer in history. Weegee supposedly replied with the now famous and famously succinct witticism, “F/8 and be there.”

I can’t find this interview anywhere, nor a written first-hand account. Nor, it seems, can anyone else.

Did Weegee ever speak the words? I don’t know.

But there’s reason to believe he did not.

To start, Weegee is known to have made nearly all of his published photographs with a 4×5 Speed Graphic camera preset to f/16 and 1/200th of a second, with a flash bulb, and standing from a set distance of ten feet. If a photographer spent decades shooting at essentially the same settings, it makes little sense that the photographer would offer anything but these specific settings in his clever retort to a somewhat dim question.

So, forget Weegee. I’ve found published documents in which multiple people claim that National Geographic is the source of the phrase “F/8 and be there.” 

In an article in the July 1985 issue of Whole Earth Review titled Digital Retouching: The End of Photography as Evidence of Anything, writer Stewart Brand wrestles with the question of photographic ownership in an approaching era in which photographs could be created by a computer. Interestingly for our purposes, he mentions the “F/8” mantra and its connection with National Geographic.

“The advice to photographers from the [National] Geographic is: ‘F/8 and be there.’ If content in photos can be electronically and subliminally added and re-moved, why bother to be there?” – Stewart Brand; July 1985; Whole Earth Review; Digital Retouching: The End of Photography as Evidence of Anything

The NG connection to the phrase was mentioned again in a 1993 issue of Popular Photography. In this issue the photographer Kal Muller describes how he made a particular photo. He casually mentions, “The advice, ‘F/8 and be there’ from National Geographic years ago, has long been my motto.”

Frustratingly, I’ve not been able to find a single issue of National Geographic in which the motto appears. So, forget National Geographic. And let’s forget about hunting down the origin of the phrase, and move on to something more interesting.

F/8 and Be There, Elsewhere

In a 1983 issue of Direction: The Navy Public Affairs Quarterly, Master Gunnery Sergeant Ed Evans writes about covering the Marines in Lebanon in 1982. In this article, Evans contrarily writes that F/8 and be there was, for him, useless.

“[…] Marines landed. Cameras whirred and clicked. […] It was a battlefield circus. Masses of PLO [Palestinian Liberation Organization] supporters were firing weapons and armament of every sort, artillery airbursts promised to make Vietnam-era knees buckle instinctively, automatic weapons chattered, loudspeakers blared, the crowd surged and the situation seemed always on the brink of raging out of control. […] There was no time for the “F/8 and be there” philosophy, no time to be shooting 20 shots in the hopes one would be good[…]”

As for the mantra’s popularity over time, Google Ngram Viewer attributes the first mention of the phrase to have occurred around 1968. Incidentally that’s the year that Weegee died. The phrase appeared more and more frequently throughout the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s. It peaked in popularity around the year 2004, dipped considerably throughout the aughts, and climbed back to popularity throughout the latter half of the 2010s. According to Google Ngram Viewer, F/8 and be there is as popular today as it ever was.

How To F/8 and Be There, and Why?

With the lens aperture set to F/8, sufficient light enters the camera to create a proper exposure in most situations. If we set the lens to the lens’ hyper-focal distance (using zone focusing), F/8 also provides sufficient depth of field that everything up close and far away alike will be rendered sharply focused in the photo. That’s the “F/8” part of the phrase.

With the lens aperture set to F/8, the lens focus set to hyper-focal distance, and the shutter set to a general purpose speed, it’s possible for the photographer to completely ignore the camera. With the controls set in place, he or she can instead focus their attention entirely on what’s happening around them. That’s the “be there” part.

The result, supposedly, is that photographers attempting to capture a story, for a newspaper, let’s say, will have the best luck doing so by following the mantra. F/8 and be there and they’ll get the shot.

In the heyday of film photography, and to the many hobbyist photographers who idolized the reportage of the famous photojournalists who often said the phrase (apocryphally or not, who knows?), F/8 and be there came to stand for a certain photographic philosophy. It asserted that taking good photos was less about technical ability or innate talent and more about being in the thick of it, amongst the action with your eyes open and your senses tuned. To F/8 and be there was to be knee deep in the mud and up to your elbows in the drama. All you needed was guts and an eyeball.

F/8 and be there. That’s all it takes. Press the button and watch for falling Pulitzers.

What F/8 and Be There Means To Me

There are plenty of photographers who live by the mantra today. I’ve seen it written on countless blogs and heard plenty of YouTubers mention it. I’ve seen t-shirts branded with it (I’ve even considered making one myself). For many, I’m sure the motto still conjures images of the ideal photojournalist (whatever that means).

For me, F/8 and be there means something else.

I’ve long ago given up the idea that my photography will mean anything to anyone outside of my family. My photography isn’t anything special. I’m not a fashion photographer or a celebrity portrait artist. I don’t have a high concept in mind when I reach for my Nikon SP. I’m too old to be cool and too young to be interesting. As I have said on my YouTube channel and in other articles, I shoot photos so that someone I love might someday look at them and think I was pretty good.

But I can still wring some use out of the mantra F/8 and be there.

I focus on the last part. Being there. On vacation. At home with my girls. When I was in the hospital after my daughters’ births. At Disney World. I always have the camera. But I don’t really care about it. I don’t worry about it, or focus on it. Or pack it away delicately between shots, or bother with a lens cap, or bring too much gear, or obsess over getting the perfect photo.

I just shoot the thing and spend my time being there. There with my wife and kids. There with my thoughts. There for them. Just being there. For me, being there is the best part of photography.

[Below: times I was there, not necessarily at F/8.]

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Created on a (relatively) low budget of $10 million, the original Star Wars of 1977 was a famously cobbled-together work of art. The film contained a galaxy of characters, stories, creatures, and mythology, and every one of those factors needed to feel real. Star Wars creator, writer, and director George Lucas conceived that his created galaxy should feel lived-in, used, and hastily-repaired. This aesthetic was far different from the clean and futuristic sci-fi that had dominated stories and films preceding Star Wars.

To help achieve this worn and battered aesthetic (and to work within the constraints of the budget) Lucas’ prop masters built their props from truly humble components – droids were made of discarded trash barrels, spaceships were built by mashing together off-the-shelf toy model kits of aircraft and military equipment, laser pistols (known in canon as blasters) were made from broken WWII pistols, and the Millenium Falcon was made, in part, out of drainage pipes and broken down airplane parts scavenged from the local junkyard.

In similar fashion, many props were made out of camera parts sourced from local camera shops. In fact, one of the most famous movie props of all time was made from an $8 camera flash and parts from a broken calculator. Let’s look at that one first.

Luke Skywalker’s Lightsaber / Graflex Flash Gun Handle

The story goes that Roger Christian, Star Wars set decorator, was hunting through a used camera shop in London for components to create props for the film when he discovered what would become one of the most iconic weapon props in cinematic history. There he found a Graflex camera from the 1940s with its attached 3-cell flash gun, a long metal cylinder with a used, industrial style. This he purchased for about a few pounds, along with other pieces, and returned to the prop shop. With the Graflex flash gun handle, some reflective chrome tape and pieces sourced from a broken calculator, he created Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber, the “laser sword” which Star Wars‘ main character would use in the original film and its sequel The Empire Strikes Back.

In an interview on Starwars.com, Christian expounds on creating the saber :

“I knew it was such an amazing invention by George and I knew this, if anything, would be the iconic image of this film. Just as Excalibur is as important to Merlin and to King Arthur. It confounded me to find something, because by then I had to find found objects to base things on, and I realized the advantage of that is there are things that you don’t or wouldn’t necessarily design. […] I was under huge pressure because everything had to go in advance on trucks to Tunisia, because that’s where we started shooting. They were pressuring me to get this and it was pure accident.

“[…] I went to the camera shop that we always bought all our equipment from, in central London. […] the owner was just there. I said, “Do you have anything I could look at that might be odd or strange or different, that might be to do with cameras or flashes?” And he said, “Well, look, there’s a whole load of boxes under that shelf there. I haven’t looked in them for years, I don’t know what’s in there.” It was literally the first box I pulled out and pushed the dust off the top of it and opened it. And in the tissue paper there was this Graflex., I just took it out and knew that I had found the holy grail.

“[…] I got in my car and ran back to the studios. I thought, I’ve got to have a handle. So I stuck the t-strip that I’d used for the handle of the stormtroopers’ weapon. I stuck that around the handle. I had broken-down calculators, and I loved the little bubble strip which illuminated the numbers underneath, and magnified them so you could read it on the screen. That fit perfectly into the clip. And I called George over and he just held it and smiled. That’s the biggest approval from George that you can get. He doesn’t have to say, “That’s great,” or “Do this.” The only thing we agreed was [Luke] wouldn’t use it in Tunisia, but he would have to hang it on his belt. So I stuck a d-ring on the end of it, and that was it. Then I made five or six of them. The two that I made went out to Tunisia, and then that’s the one that Obi-Wan brings out of his box and gives to Luke.

“When he says, “This is your father’s weapon,” you know this is a turning point in the film, and it’s a beautiful object.“

In the mythology of the films, Luke’s lightsaber first belongs to Luke’s father, Anakin Skywalker (who later becomes Darth Vader). The lightsaber is then seemingly lost forever when, in a lightsaber duel, Vader severs Luke’s hand, sending the saber plummeting into the Tibana gas clouds under Bespin’s Cloud City. Luke’s lightsaber returns shrouded in mystery (yet looking the same as ever) in 2015’s Star Wars Episode VII : The Force Awakens when it is given to the sequel trilogy’s hero Rey by a mysterious comrade, Maz Kanata.

The Graflex flash gun lightsaber is a special piece of cinematic history, and this has been reflected in the price for Graflex flash guns in the used camera market. Star Wars fans and people who love replicating famous movie props often engage in bidding wars with camera enthusiasts over the would-be lightsabers. Photo nerds bemoan the ruination of these photographic relics to make a dumb laser sword, while Star Wars fans can’t understand who wouldn’t want to make their own lightsaber. Truly a war of galactic scope.

Luke Skywalker’s Macrobinoculars / Cobbled Together Out of Parts from Five Cameras

Another wonderful prop created by Roger Christian for the first Star Wars film is Luke’s binoculars, which he uses to search for the wayward droid R2-D2 on the sands of Tatooine. Luke scans the horizon and finds more than he bargained for when he’s ambushed by Tusken Raiders and knocked unconscious. Presumably his binocs are then stolen by the Tuskens, because they’re never seen again.

These binoculars were made out of pieces of medium and large format cameras and their lenses. The exact components list is extensive, and expensive. The binoculars were made from two Kalimar Six Sixty cameras with their lenses, a Seagull Box camera, a Eumig Unilectric 8mm motion film camera, a Bell & Howell Two Twenty camera, and a handful of other miscellaneous parts. Dedicated fans spend upwards of $2,000 sourcing all of these rare cameras to try to make their own binoculars, or more frugal prop fans piece together their own take on Luke’s binocs using cheaper, similar camera components.

Poe Dameron’s Binoculars / Bell and Howell Director or Speedster 8mm Movie Camera

In 2017’s Star Wars Episode VIII : The Last Jedi (an excellent yet divisive movie) one of the main characters, Poe Dameron (played by Contax T2 holder Oscar Isaac) peers through a set of binoculars on the salt-world Crait. Like Luke Skywalker’s binoculars mentioned above, this prop is seen briefly and then discarded. The first time I saw the film I immediately said “Oh, that’s a Bell and Howell movie camera. Neat!” Sure enough, the binocs were made from a Bell and Howell Director 8mm movie camera with a three-lens attachment from a Bell and Howell Speedster added for visual interest.

This prop is another example that has caused the prices of the previously almost value-less camera to skyrocket. Nice examples of the three-lensed Speedster now sell regularly for a couple of hundred dollars, where before the film they sold for about $10. This prop is one of the easiest to replicate, actually, requiring not much more than a few extra parts and some paint/distressing. So if you’re planning on trick or treating as Poe Dameron next year, add this camera to your shopping list.

Andor, Navigation Device / Polaroid SX 70 Sonar

In the recent Disney+ Star Wars Series, Andor, we see a heavily reskinned Polaroid SX70 Sonar. The moment I saw the iconic folding SX70 shape on screen, I nearly shouted. At the very least, I Leonardo DiCaprio Once Upon A Time In Hollywood point at the television meme’d.

The dialog around the SX70’s screen time is kind of funny, as well. As the owner of the “Navigation Unit” pulls it from its case, the show’s main character, Cassian Andor, watches with incredulity.

“That’s an old one.” He says.

The nav unit’s owner concedes the point, and extracting the tool with the motion so familiar to Polaroid SX70 users, adds, “One of the best navigational tools ever built.”

Whether intended or not, and it most certainly was not intended, this dialogue brings a smile to the lips of any classic camera nerd. Polaroid’s folding SX70 film cameras, the original and the Sonar featured in Andor alike, are truly among the finest instant film cameras ever made. And for me, a camera nerd and Star Wars nerd, it was a pleasure to see it featured so prominently.

I love Star Wars, and I could go on and on about the props in these films, but this article is threatening to reach lengths similar to the opening crawl of all nine main-line films put together. If you know of any other camera-related objects used as props in Star Wars, let us know about it in the comments.

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Toward that end, Nikon recently announced that they have ceased production of the 135mm f/2 “defocus control” portrait lens – a legendary member of the company’s AF-D lens series that has been in production since the mid-1980s.

In a market notorious for the speed of its changes, it’s worth noting and celebrating when any consumer electronic product remains in production for so long. Similarly, Nikon’s F3 was more than twenty years old when Nikon shut down production in 2001. This may seem trivial to some, but for Nikon users like myself it is a testament to the quality of Nikon optics and the company’s commitment to its customers.

Buying My First AF-D Lenses

When buying my first DSLR, I took my time and looked at what was available on the used market. I was not blessed with a lot of disposable income, so with a brand new camera off the table, I bought a Nikon D90. Sitting at the top of Nikon’s consumer camera line, the D90 offered a lot of options when choosing lenses in the future. Not long after getting my D90 I had saved enough to buy my first autofocus lens, the Nikon 70-210mm f/4-5.6 AF-D.

My decision to buy this particular lens was driven by its affordability and my existing lens lineup. I already was using my Tamron Adaptall 2 28-70mm f/3.5-4.5 that I had originally purchased for use on my Pentax SP500. The 70-210mm lens was the logical choice to give me an excellent focal range without needing to buy additional lenses. (How wrong that turned out to be, as I was soon succumbing to gear acquisition syndrome!)

[You can learn more about AF-D lenses from previous articles we’ve published.]

The AF Nikkor 70-210mm is a consumer grade lens designed for use with Nikon’s range of autofocus 35mm cameras from the 1980s, such as the Nikon N8008 and Nikon F4. It’s push/pull zoom design was as old as zoom lenses themselves, but the autofocus technology certainly wasn’t, and it proved to be both reliable and simple to use. As I got to know the capability of the lens and became more comfortable using it, I knew I had to go all in on these D lenses.

The Tamron was put on reserve and the 70-210 was soon joined by a 35-70 f/3.3-4.5 and the legendary, “plastic fantastic” 50mm f/1.8 AF-D. With these three lenses I had all the focal range I could want with a dedicated normal lens thrown in.

Life was good and was about to get a whole lot better.

Soon my D90 was joined by a Nikon F-801 (with a 50mm f/1.8 AI-S attached), which was gifted to me by a dear friend. I quickly came to enjoy the versatility of the F mount and the ease of switching lenses between film and digital bodies. I would have remained happy with my cameras had I not been allured by a Nikon D700 (which Jeb reviewed here).

The D700’s legendary full-frame sensor was a revelation as I was finally able to use my AF-D lenses and see through the viewfinder the focal length printed on the lens. I marveled at the D700’s dynamic range and was able to fully take advantage of the synergy between my film and digital cameras.

I spent a large part of 2019 out and about with my D700, F-801 and my three AF-D lenses, but I soon came to the conclusion that I wanted a walkabout lens – something all-purpose that I could attach to any of my cameras and reduce the weight in my camera bag. Having enjoyed my AF-D lenses, I knew I wanted to stay in that lineup and soon found a perfect fit – the Nikkor 24-120 f/3.5-5.6 AF-D.

The Nikkor 24-120 is not a light lens and when fitted to my D700 it means I’m lugging around five pounds of kit. It’s a heavy combination for sure, but also a good deterrent to any potential muggers looking for a quick score. Both the D700 and 24-120 are so well built I have no doubt that they could knock a man out and would still function perfectly.

There’s a wide range of options in the AF-D lens lineup. From the more plasticky, variable minimum f-stop zooms, to all-metal pro-spec primes, there’s something here for everyone. Unlike other manufacturers, Nikon kept its F-mount when they made the switch to autofocus. For the D line, Nikon also kept an external aperture ring, allowing the lenses to be used across the greatest number of Nikon cameras. Until 1992, the lineup was marked just as “AF,” until the lenses were given the ability to tell the camera at which distance the lens was focused. Thus the “AF-D” designation was born.

The lenses range from the legendary, such as the 135mm f/2 and 35mm f/2 to the underrated 70-210mm f/4 and 60mm f/2.8 and the most budget friendly 50mm f/1.8, which for many years has been one of the cheapest new lenses offered by a major manufacturer. It remains a vast collection of lenses from pro grade down to entry level optics designed with the best available coatings and manufacturing methods.

This was Nikon’s flagship lens series until the release of the G (gelded) lenses at the turn of the millennium. Among other things, G lenses removed the external aperture control and embraced the industry trend of more and more plastic construction. This didn’t spell the end of the AF-D line however. In fact, it ensures that these quality lenses will be available and affordable for years to come.

The Demise of the D lenses

The writing has been on the wall ever since Nikon pivoted to its mirrorless cameras and its new Z mount (which James used during a tour of the Kodak factory). This was the first major step away from the F-mount in more than half a century, and we D series shooters knew that the days of D were coming to an end. This fear was confirmed when it was announced that the mirrorless Z-series F-mount adapter (which allows F mount Nikon lenses to be used on the new camera system) doesn’t support screw-driven autofocus lenses (like the D series). For the first time in the past seventy years, customers who had invested in AF-D glass would not be able to enjoy the newest Nikon cameras with their existing lens kit.

Other blows followed, as Nikon ceased production (albeit very limited production) of their last film camera the F6, and later announced a discontinuation of that legendary AF-D portrait lens, the 135mm f/2. This seemed to finally bring the curtain down on the AF-D lenses after thirty great years of production. 

But all things end. And the decades of lenses which comprise the D series ensures a vibrant used market for AF-D lenses. Nikon photographers who seek a perfect mix of quality, price and compatibility should look no further than this series of lenses. It’s an appropriate time to raise a glass in salute of these products, which were so long in production and continue to produce outstanding images for countless photographers (myself included).

As Nikon (and the greater photography industry) moves in a new direction, many of us will continue using old glass. Now more than ever they’re an excellent choice for photographers on a budget seeking to maintain as much quality as possible.

With the film renaissance bringing new photographers into the medium who weren’t yet born when film was ubiquitous, they can rest easy in the knowledge that they have such a vast inventory of great lenses out there waiting. I know that I and other Nikonians will continue to benefit from the D series lenses for years to come, even if Nikon must move on. 

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If you are at these venues as often as I am, you will eventually start to notice which products are more likely to fly off the shelves. Brand clothing and 1980s records are top sellers. Point-and-shoot and foldable cameras do not sit for long, either. But certain things are real shelf warmers: Konica cameras, for example. Like brightly colored 5XL suits and Swiss folk music CDs, Konicas don’t get a lot of love. Outside of the thrift shop, among the blogosphere and on camera culture YouTube channels, Konica seems a bit overlooked. 

As a result of this tepid enthusiasm (and my own innate curiosity), I’ve always been left wondering what hides behind the brand. So, I did some research. 

A Very Brief History of Konica

Konica’s history dates back to 1873, making the company older than Kodak. At that time, the pharmacist Rokusaburo Sugiura started to sell photographic and lithographic products in his store called “Konishi-ya” based in Tokyo. After passing the business on to his younger brother, he founded a new venture to design and build a camera. This new business was called “Konishi Honten.” 

While photography had started to gain popularity in the 1890s, many people where still hesitant to use wet plate cameras. Dry plate cameras, on the other hand, made photography more accessible. And it’s this type of camera which Suguira’s company would develop first. 

Konishi Honten’s first camera was called the Cherry. It debuted in 1903 and sold for about 2 Yen. It appealed to the Japanese masses thanks to its simplicity and low price. Although the name below the lens was written in Latin letters, the product was never intended to be marketed internationally. This decision was likely made because international competition was just too numerous – Sugiura had patterned the Cherry after the British “Little Nipper” which was already a copy of a French camera called “the Gnome” – yes, the market for dry plate box cameras was pretty saturated. In Japan, however, the Cherry sold strong enough that Konishi Honten soon became the country’s leading camera maker. [Editor’s Note – no surviving examples of the original Cherry are known to exist in the world today.]

The first Cherry was followed by a second and a third version, which were manufactured and sold until about 1920. Shortly thereafter, while still holding the lead position for Japanese camera makers, Rokusaburo Sugiura’s eldest son took over management and changed the company’s name to “Konishiroku Honten.” 

The company would go on to release the first Japanese-made color film called “Sakura Natural Color Film” in 1940 and follow up with the original “Konica” camera in 1946. Interestingly, it wasn’t until 1987 that the company officially decided to change its name to “Konica.” 

For decades, Konica was the fourth largest film manufacturer in the world, behind Kodak, Fuji and Agfa. But in the end, it suffered the same fate as Miranda, Petri and Topcon. The company floundered as sales of single-lens reflex cameras declined dramatically in the 1980s (in favor of compact electronic point-and-shoots largely made by other Japanese brands). Konica eventually ceased production of its SLR systems and finally withdrew from the SLR market entirely in 1987. 

Konica’s point-and-shoot cameras stood little chance against their competitors, especially in Europe, even though many are of pretty good quality. Not long after ending their SLR production, a decision had to be made. In a last attempt to save themselves from going out of business, Konica merged with Minolta in 2003. But this only delayed the inevitable. On January 19, 2006, Konica-Minolta announced its intention to withdraw from the photographic business. The total withdrawal was completed by the end of the same year. Konica’s film business was abandoned and the camera division sold to Sony. While the recipes of Minolta lenses continued to be incorporated into new Sony lenses, Konica’s centuries-old name (and expertise) has vanished. 

Konica’s Legacy Today

Today, as film photography and film gear reaches popularity not known since Konica’s heydey, the brand’s products are often overlooked. But while the products of its hundred years of manufacturing are overshadowed by more popular competitors, Konica hasn’t entirely faded from memory. A handful of their cameras have regained some popularity in the 21st century – the Recorder, the Tomato and Pop, the Big Mini, and the Hexar RF. But there are many more excellent and important Konica cameras and lenses that have simply been forgotten.

There’s Konica’s very first SLR, the quite rare Konica F, which was also the first 35mm SLR in the world to achieve a shutter speed of 1/2000 of a second. It is the only Konica with interchangeable viewfinders and was introduced with some serious glass worth collecting. Then there is the more popular Konica Auto-Reflex, which was one of the first 35mm SLR cameras with an automatic exposure control. It is a very standard SLR but also a pretty reliable one. Its successors can be had dirt cheap and are pretty good companions for anyone looking to start their film photography journey (Jeb touched on this in his review of the T3, and the 40mm Hexanon lens which often comes attached). The FS-1 was the first 35mm SLR with a built-in motor for film advance. It set the trend for all other cameras after it. And Konica even made the first production autofocus camera, the Konica C35 AF. 

Konica was a true brand of firsts, but somehow the name gets little to no recognition for it today. And we’ve only talked about the cameras so far. The story’s the same for Konica’s lenses.

Oftentimes the Konica lenses we encounter at flea markets or thrift stores have been stored horribly, and they suffer fungus or damage. That is why they are regularly overlooked. But knowing about the demands the Japanese have towards their technology and manufacturing, you should definitely reconsider the brand’s lenses if you find one in good condition. 

The AR-mount lenses produced from 1965 come in four variations. The first version distinguishes itself through a silver collar between aperture and focusing ring. It is probably the most sought after, although the second and third versions look sleeker in their all black appearance. The two successor versions differ optically through their focus ring, which in later lenses is no longer completely made of metal, but covered with rubber instead. The automatic aperture control on version one and two is indicated with the orange letters “EE” standing for “Electric Eye”. In the latest version, the markings are very similar to those on Canon’s FD lenses. The mark is now green and says “AE” for “Automatic Exposure”. We could go into much more detail here but for anyone looking to build a full film camera kit, this information should be enough to start digging. If the glass elements or blades look dirty: do not worry. These lenses feature no electrical components and disassembling them is easy enough. Just make sure you have the right tools. If you give Konica lenses the love they deserve, they will quickly regain the beauty that once made them so popular.

If They’re So Good, Then Why Are They Dead?

Don’t sleep on Konica or other obscure Japanese camera companies just because they’re no longer around. Competition in the Japanese photographic technology industry was (and remains) unbelievably fierce, and many companies died even though they had impressive products and potent designs (even Olympus recently called it quits). The likes of Miranda, Petri, Topcon, Minolta should not be discounted out of hand. These and others made countless contributions to the field of photography through smart engineering and innovative technologies. What’s more, each of these brands has a history that’s as interesting as any other, once we do a little research. 

Take Topcon for example. This lesser-known Japanese camera-maker emerged from the measure instruments section of Seikosha, the predecessor to Seiko, and was a photographic supplier to both the Japanese Army and the United States Navy. Their flagship, the Topcon RE was the first camera in the world to offer a through-the-lens exposure meter. Josh wrote a review of the RE Super which reinforces many of the points I’ve made here about Konica. CP editor James, about the Topcon, wrote this – “The RE Super is one of the finest-made mechanical cameras of its era. It’s a beautiful machine, impressively over-built, and I think it should get more credit in classic camera-liking circles.” 

We admire and covet cameras and lenses from Nikon, Canon, Olympus or Pentax  because their quality and versatility are world-class. The equivalent products from these less-lauded brands are easily their equal. You simply need a bit more research to find these gems. So the next time you see a Konica lens or camera on the shelf of your local thrift store, take a look at it and check the price tag. Is that not one hell of a bargain? I bet it is. And now excuse me, I have to go thrifting! 

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