Dutch Date - Part 6: The Minolta Autopak 700 and the GAF Anscomatic 726

Every so often, I'll get really frugal and ask a couple of cameras to share a roll of film.  Though there are problems here and there, they'll usually agree.  I call these "Dutch Dates" and usually try to pair cameras with something more than simply the film format in common.  Below is a look at just one such pairing...

So would the two early Gen X'ers find that their classic American staple tasted like a finely aged Bourbon or stale beer?  Read on to find out!

Camera Models: Minolta Autopak 700 (ca 1966) and GAF Anscomatic 726 (ca 1969)

Similarities: Both are Japanese made 126 format auto-exposure rangefinders of early 1970's vintage with the capability of full manual control.  

Differences: The GAF has a higher top speed (1/500) than the Minolta (1/250) and, from limited previous experience, is much more accomodating to use of 35mm film spooled into a 126 cartridge. 

Film Shared: Expired Kodak Gold 200-126 expired in January 1992. 

It was just last May when I first elected to pick up and use a camera in the favorite format of my mom: none other than 126 cartridge.  Though it seemed my initial tries with this film and format encountered more challenges than conquests, I ultimately discovered a new love and respect for this largely forgotten film format, and some of the machines designed to utilize it.  With cameras in 126 format available for next to nothing, I snapped up a small sampling of various "Instamatic" type cameras to get a better feel of all that the 126 format once was. 

Kwentisentially Kompact - Agfa's Karomat 36

For as long as I have successfully been able to use it, I have loved my Kodak Bantam Special 4.5. Its incredibly compact design and intuitive manual controls make it one of the easiest fully manual cameras I have yet to use. Add in that it is a family heirloom and this basic little camera that few employ today in their photo taking regimen sits uniquely as a favorite of mine.  
And while I do like the quirky and unique attributes of the 828 film format, even I can admit that I'm not always eager to cut down 120 film to respool to fit into my small cadre of 828 film cameras. Yet, with no Kodak-made 35mm equivalent to this trim Bantam model, I elected to look about to see if there was an affordable Bantam-like imposter made by anyone. So when this camera showed up on my radar for about $20, I knew I had found a contender for my 35mm Bantam. 

The look of the Agfa Karomat 36 is in some ways simple and elaborate at the same time. 
The Agfa Karomat's structural resemblance to the Bantam is certainly not just coincidence, as both cameras have their origins rooted in compact design practices of the era. With the Bantam, this came in the form of the 828 film, among the smallest of roll film sizes at the time of its introduction in 1938.  With the Karomat, the lineage reaches back to the use of Agfa "Rapid" cartridges, a spool free cassette using 35mm stock that was the basis for some of Agfa's earlier attempts at 35mm.  Coincidentally, Ansco, with which Agfa would collaborate, also used a similar cassette for their Memo box camera.  

Spell it Out: The Ricoh Five·One·Nine

Camera model designations are a curious mix.  There are numbers, combinations of letters, names, and amalgams of any and all of these.  There is also the occasional camera model that actually spells out a single digit number, such as the Olympus Six.  However, I've never seen any other camera model that spells out a multi-digit number than the handsomeness that is the Ricoh Five·One·Nine.

Adorned with a lovely script face for it's logo, this camera has one of the more unusual model names among cameras, and is said just how it is written.  This is not a "Ricoh Five-Nineteen."

Minolta's Metropolitan: The A5 Rangefinder

"Wow, but you're handsome."  That was my very first thought. 

As someone who owns rangefinder cameras made from the 1940's through the 1970's, I tend to be a bit dismayed to see how the outward appearance of this genre of cameras gradually grew to be a bit less attractive as the years went onward. The svelte design of a flagship camera like the 1948 Konica I had become less endearing by the time the Auto S2 was released less than two decades later. Both are excellent cameras in their own way, but the earlier camera possesses a sleek design that had been jettisoned as the camera took on a faster lens and improved functionality in the form of exposure metering. 

Looking at some of my other rangefinders of the 1960's, I'm not particularly smitten by the overall look of the Ricoh 520M CDS, Taron Marquis, or Yashica M-II.  But then I happen to acquire a little gem of a camera from the 1960's that really impresses me with its outward appearance...

Simple and elegant, the Minolta A5 puts forth an attractive and clean look. 

I call it my "Metropolitan" as the gorgeously raised "M" logo, looking more like an upside down "W," strongly reminds me of the solitary "M" logo associated with New York's Transit system during the later part of the same decade.  It's clean, simple, and even a bit elegant. It seems right at home in the decade in which it originated.  It's specifications are more or less identical to most decent Japanese rangefinders of the era, sporting an f/2.8 lens and a capable shutter that shot as fast as 1/500 of a second.  Another spare item generously granted to me for trial by Mike Eckman, the A5 impresses me with its clean look.  

From Russia with Lovely Bokeh: The Zorki 4

The camera sat on my shelf looking sort of lost among a handful of Japanese, American, and German counterparts, bedecked with its incongruous Cyrillic lettering on its face plate, and looking every bit the fish out of water.  It certainly didn't beckon to me, resulting in a feeling that was anything but love at first sight. 

I picked it up and briefly peered through the combination viewfinder and rangefinder, and my eyes literally began to hurt to try to focus on a nearby object, as the entire field of view looked both bright and fuzzy to me.  I placed it back on the shelf, a tad overwhelmed by the operational nuances of this interesting but somewhat puzzling machine, but also confused as to why its benefactor thought I would appreciate it.

So, fellas?  Heard any good state secrets lately?

The camera in question was the Russian made Zorki 4, a generous loaner from Mike Eckman, who also runs a great site featuring vintage cameras.  Though I certainly appreciated the kindness of the gesture, I had yet to grasp just what was so enthralling about this Cold War relic that emerged in 1957 from behind the Iron Curtain.

Trying not to GAF with the Memo EE

Ever shot a photo with one hand with the other bracing a pole?  Over a blind fence? Panning a moving subject due to a slow shutter speed? Or how about simply using a scale focus camera and no meter to shoot a roll of film?  

Sometimes one best shots are taken in situations where there may be little in the way of guidance or control.  And sometimes, photography can be at its most fun when it's not a cake walk of perfectly metered exposure and/or easy focusing.

In the Summer of last year, as my frugality was ramped up to about the same degree as my Gear Acquisition Syndrome, I stumbled across a cheap listing for a compact little rangefinder camera produced under the GAF name, and couldn't resist.  For about $14.50 total, I snapped up the GAF Memo EE rangefinder in unknown working condition and not knowing just what to expect from this model.

Admittedly, I knew I was flirting with danger with this pickup.  Unlike some compact rangefinder models of the 1960's and 1970's, the GAF does not offer a manual mode, so snapping one up in an "as-is" condition leaves one at the mercy of the longevity of the rather primitive electronics within its confines.  And neither that mercy nor any luck were on my side when the GAF arrived.  I discovered a dead meter in this budget pick up.

The particularly tiny GAF Memo EE is loosely related to the Konica C35, and also has some near-identical twins with various other nameplates. 

Ricoh Rarity: The 520M CDS Rangefinder

Rarity and value in the film camera collecting world can often have no seeming relationship.  One can head over to ebay and see a huge quantity of "rare" cameras for sale at the same time, and see people snapping them up at extreme prices.  And then there are those unknown models with truly small production runs that appear for sale only on rare occasion, and for a comparative song.  Witness the following:

Simply adorned but easily navigated, the Ricoh 520M CDS, occasionally seen as a model of the Sears 35RF, is an infrequently spotted example of mid-late 1960's rangefinder.

The camera model depicted here is Ricoh's 1966 vintage 520M CDS, and it is a surprisingly rare find on the film camera marketplace.  Head on over to eBay, Etsy, or Goodwill right now, and I can largely wager that you won't find one for sale. Heck, even searching the web for ANY mention of this camera model or its older sibling that lacks the "CDS" suffix will yield a pitifully modest bit of results.  As such this review for this rare camera that few seem to care much about is likely to sit about as the only formal review of this camera model on the web for some time, provided that late 1960's Japanese styling doesn't suddenly become the must have in late 2017, and the 520M CDS doesn't become the next big hipster thing.

Innocuous and Impressive: The Konica I

The hobby of film photography on classic cameras is a road often fraught with perils and temptations, particularly when it comes to resisting expensive items with prestigious name plates.  Fortunately, my budget and sensibilities are right about in line with each other to keep this in check for the most part, leaving me to stay with more affordable cameras and options, rather than to splurge on fancy models such as those that begin with "L" and end in "ica."

However, the form factor of an early Leica is certainly intriguing, and has often been mimicked by other makers, particular in the 1950's and 1960's.  I found a stellar buy back in the Summer of 2016, in which I found a camera with the Leica form factor and which also ended in "ica" but started with "K" rather than "L."  And with a $22 splurge, I elected to become the owner of a Konica I Rangefinder!

The classic rangefinder look is handily accomplished by the Konica I, seen here in its "collapsed" state.

While the 1948 vintage Konica I is hardly a candidate for a complete doppelganger for a Leica, it certainly bears a favorable resemblance to early model 35mm cameras of Ernst Leitz.  It has a collapsible lens that gives it a very compact form factor when folded up, and a nicely polished set of finishes that evoke a very stately look.  Pulling out the compact Konica I, extending the lens barrel, and then getting a photo feels very satisfying photographically.

Tightwad's Trailblazer: The Taron Marquis

Battery powered exposure metering is something that the vast majority of today's photographer's take largely for granted.  Today's sophisticated systems can do matrix metering, spot metering, and often include older standards such a "center-weighted" and "evaluative" as well.  Simply put, there is often little need for one to give much thought to exposure when armed with a camera, and can elect to concentrate more on composition and or focus in taking photos.

But this wasn't always the case.  One need only go back to the early 1960's to find a very different world photographically.  In-camera meters were themselves hardly universal, and those cameras that did offer metering typically did so via selenium cells that had a somewhat limited life expectancy and didn't really function adequately in lower light situations.

Interestingly enough, the advent of "CDS" cell metering powered by a battery didn't start with a well known name in photography today such as Nikon or Canon or Fuji, but rather a lesser known Japanese maker by the name of Taron.  Their release of the Marquis in 1962 was a significant leap for photography, and one whose effects are all too well known today, even if their own significance regarding this milestone has since been forgotten.

There are a number of Japanese camera makers of the 1950's and 1960's that were unable to adapt as global marketplaces and the camera industry changed through the decades.  Aires, Samoca, Petri and Taron are four such makers.  Taron's specialty was in 35mm rangefinders, and offered models such as the JL, MX, Unique, Robin, and EyeMax.  None of these other models were quite as groundbreaking as the Marquis however, whose CDS equipped body was the first such camera in the world.

The Minister is My Friend: The Yashica M II

Friendships are always a mixed bag.  Some are marked by a certain sense of overreaching influence, where a person tries to give you guidance, whether solicited or not, and then that person all but expects you to follow their guidance to the letter.  Then there are those aloof friendships that lack any real involvement or guidance whatsoever, in which either party just does as they please without any mere mention of what might be best.

The best friendships however, in my humble beliefs, are the happy medium of the extremes listed above; those in which you are given some gentle guidance that is clearly spelled out, but are still given the latitude to make your own decision, knowing you are ultimately responsible for the outcome of your decisions.

Cameras can often run this same sort of gamut of influence.  There are those that are overbearing and force you to set exposure settings as they choose, or even to focus upon what they see as the focal point, with little to no latitude to change this up as you see fit. Conversely, other models offer you little or no assistance in your photographic mission, having no assistance in focusing, composition, or exposure settings. 

And then there are those which also strike that perfect balance between helpful and obnoxious, handily giving you all the information you need to make a great photo, and allowing you to choose what bits of these vitals you elect to implement in composing and shooting your photo, and letting you relish or revile the outcome, while patiently ready to give you that guidance again whenever you call upon it.  And to me, there are few which do this as successfully as the Yashica M-II rangefinder camera.

Three extremely similar cameras in build and specification, though only one truly carries the "Minister" moniker. 

A Bolsey Move: The B2 Rangefinder

"Less Filling! Tastes Great!" was the tagline of one of the more memorable TV ads of the 1980's, meant to highlight the seeming impossibility that the same product (in this case beer) could achieve two things that couldn't really happen in conjunction with each other. I don't know if Jacques Bolsey was much of a beer drinker, but I'd like to think he would appreciate the tagline nonetheless.

Born in Kiev, Bolsey emigrated to the United States prior to the second World War, and had already established himself in the field by inventing the Bolsey movie camera and in assisting with the design of at least one still camera.  During the War, he developed a combat still camera, and upon the war's conclusion, adapted that design to a consumer model that would become the "Bolsey B" line. Bolsey's objective was to create a quality camera with sought after features at an affordable price.

The Bolsey B2 is a pretty capable camera with a modest form factor, seemingly ideal on the surface for portable on-the-go shooting.

Boxy Beasts of 127: the Bell and Howell Electric Eye and Revere Eye Matic 127

Resistance was futile.  

I kept telling myself I had no need to go into the format of 127.  I continually insisted that there was no benefit or interest in my part into making a mad foray into yet another largely forgotten format.

Resistance was futile.  

I discovered one really neat camera (article forthcoming!) that made the perfect gateway into this rather obscure format, so I snapped it up, dipping my feet into the 127 pool in the process.

And then with the format being formally introduced to me, I dove in.  I should have known just how futile resistance really was.

Often known originally as "Vest Pocket" format, the 127 roll film format provided snapshooters of the early part of the 20th Century with a truly compact option for photography when compared with the substantial cameras in 116 and 122 format also available at the time. The format was in many ways the most interesting of any, particularly given that it had a unique tendency to fade in interest, only to rise again as camera makers were able to create new ways to capitalize on its film size or convenience to reinvigorate interest in the format yet again.

As my own interest in the 127 format began to grow, and having finally made the leap into this sort of "mini-120" format, I happened upon a pair of square format 127 cameras that hit the market in 1958, both making use of selenium cell "Electric Eye" technology to be able to provide a rudimentary automatic exposure on its images, making them easier for the casual snapshooter to use.  The emergence of the fad of"Super Slides" around this same era helped to give both of these cameras an initial boost in the market when they were introduced.

And while many 127 cameras made through history were created with designs that emphasized portability and compactness, neither of these tend to follow that mantra. Instead, adjectives such as obnoxious, obtrusive, or even ungainly may come to mind when seeing the form factor of these cameras that make use of the miniature roll film format.

Meet the Bell and Howell Electric Eye 127 and the Revere Eye Matic EE-127!

Fast, Cheap, Good - The Konica Auto S2 Rangefinder

I recall something in the frame of workplace logic that says "Fast, Cheap, Good - Pick Two." The implication behind this is that having all three of these things is just not possible.  At best, one will sacrifice one of the three qualities in order to have the other two.  

While the "fast" in this analogy refers to the amount of time in which something is produced, the logic does roughly carry over to the world of photography where "fast" is an extension of quality that tends to refer to a lens with a good maximum aperture compared to other lenses of similar focal length.  In most cases, one can get a good camera with a fast lens, but they may carry a hefty price tag. Thankfully this isn't always the case, and with a little searching, one can pick up a good film acquisition with a pretty fast lens for a very good price whose quality is exceptional.

I had gradually been turning my sights to Japanese made range finders, and was nearly to the point of pulling the trigger of a $7 Samoca camera of unknown working condition, when I elected to give the online marketplace one more look.  I was pleased to discover before me the option to buy a camera with a faster lens and more shutter speeds for just $18 including shipping.  Its working condition was also unknown, but it looked to be in great condition, so I took the chance.  And with this chance, I added a Konica Auto S2 to my collection.

A tad blocky, but certainly still manageable, the Auto S2 provides an affordable and quality entry to the world of Japanese Rangefinders in a sensible package.