["Open Mike" is the Editorial page of TOP, which is sometimes off-topic but not today.]
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In no particular order, but roughly chronologically:
Zeiss Ikon Contaflex B. This belonged to my father, who let me use it when I was a kid. It was an SLR with a fixed 50mm ƒ/2.8 Tessar lens, and I believe a leaf shutter. I loved it, especially the shutter sound. I had a job at a Kentucky Fried Chicken stand when I was 14, and left it on the electrical junction box outside when I was unlocking the store one morning to open. I took my bike inside but not the camera. When I finally remembered and went looking for it, it had vanished. I was interested to learn that the cop who took the report was semi-illiterate—he had a lot of trouble writing his brief description of the theft, and I'm sure he didn't appreciate me helping.
Contax 139Q—A budget model, the 139 Quartz was still elegant and even had some cutting-edge tech. Early Contax (brand, not model) cameras had been a clean-sheet collaboration between Germany and Japan in the mid-1970s. Zeiss, which had been chased out of the camera business, made the lenses, and Yashica, a Japanese maker of popular consumer cameras, made the bodies, which featured industrial design by Professor Ferdinand Alexander ("Butzi") Porsche, grandson of the founder of Porsche and designer of the fabled Porsche 911. This was the camera I went through art school with, so of course I used it constantly. I had to change brands when I joined a professional studio after graduation; everyone else used Nikons, and the equipment was effectively pooled. If I had continued to use Contax I wouldn't have been able to borrow equipment from my partners, or lend mine to them.
The Wista 45DXII, designed by Sadamu Wasutake
Wista 45DXII of sainted memory—it was rosewood, and gorgeous. Wista cheapened these considerably through time; recent ones are nowhere near as nice as the one I bought by mail order from an outfit called "Fields and Views" in Old Chatham, New York, in the 1980s. Mine had real leather bellows that had a heavenly aroma. I was never much of a view camera photographer, but I still miss that camera. A significant use of it, for me, was as a teaching aid. It also got me out of being mugged once—I was being threatened by three "inner city youths," and in an effort to get them on my side I let them look through the camera. As soon as the first one saw the miraculous image on the groundglass, he transformed into an excited kid. His two friends started clamoring to see too. I explained to them how everything worked, and the four of us parted friends. Sadly, I had just used my last sheet of the film for the day, so I missed the chance to make a portrait of the three of them, a big regret.
Mamiya 6—One of my earliest writing assignments was reviewing medium-format cameras for the old Darkroom Photography magazine, and it opened up a treasure-chest of toys I would previously have had no access to. I was pleased and amazed when Mamiya sent li'l ol' me their then-new Mamiya 6 with its clever collapsible lensmount, including all the lenses and accessories. It was allegedly the pet project of the then-President of Mamiya, who was a Leica fan. I was an impoverished ex-student living in a shabby Georgetown, D.C. walk-up, and the value of the outfit exceeded my net worth at the time I got to use it. I bonded with it, and even did some good work with it in the short time I had it, and for a long time afterward I wished I could have continued to use it forever. But it was well beyond my pay grade for a long time. I did own one much later, but the moment had passed.
Canon EOS RT—Fascinating story behind this camera, which I'm sure I've written about. I was an insider with Canon for a time, having written a long article called "The EOS Revolution" at the time of the changeover to the EOS lensmount. For the article I got to meet some bigwigs in Canon USA and was loaned all (all) the new equipment. Canon reprinted the article and distributed it for several years (despite my poverty, I refused the very generous payment they offered because I felt it would compromise my editorial integrity). I feel a little guilty here for not naming the Nikon N8008 which I used for far longer, but I was really more enamored of the slick, elegant RT with its pellicle mirror, a wondrous technology that camera makers love and camera buyers do not. I shot one of the only weddings of my career with that camera, and the EF 35mm ƒ/2 lens taught me about bokeh.
Leica M6—I bought this when I quit professional photography around 1992, with 35mm and 50mm Summicrons. It wasn't the first Leica I had used but it was the first one I bought new. It was a wonderful experience—the pictures really did have that special Leica look, the super-solid, tank-like body was a special pleasure to handle, and I was fully susceptible to the lore and legend of the marque, which imbued my appreciation with a luster other cameras couldn't provide. I was very proud of it. Owning it imparted a seriousness to my sense of personal mission and also inspired me to work harder. Alas, a year after my son was born in '93, money had gotten tight again—this was right before I got hired as the Editor of what became Photo Techniques magazine—and I decided I couldn't keep that much cash wrapped up in one possession, especially when I had to drape it on my body and risk losing it by one means or another (cf. several of the stories mentioned above). And away it went.
Olympus OM-4Ti and Zuiko 40mm ƒ/2
Olympus OM-4T—I've realized that in the past I tended to obsess about cameras and lenses as a distraction and diversion from bigger problems in my life. So in the troubled years of early sobriety (today is my 30th anniversary sober, by the way) after my son was born in dramatic circumstances, I obsessed about Olympii like I have no other marque before or since. I learned everything there was to know about Yoshihisa Maitani and the development of the OM system, virtually memorized The OM Lens Handbook, and resolved to "settle down" my camera-nomad tendencies by sticking with my next camera (the Leica's replacement) for a minimum of three years. That camera was an OM-4T, and I ended up keeping it for five years. I had a darkroom in my kitchen, which is probably not ideal from a food-safety standpoint. If I had to pick one camera as the most favorite of all the ones in this list, the OM-4T would be it. (Although, curiously, the OM-2N had everything I needed.)
Sony F-707—My favorite of all my early digital cameras, although I loved the 6-MP Konica-Minolta 7D too. The F-707 had something that camera makers just don't even pursue any more—namely, it was great fun. The camera was early enough that it had a lot of problems, most notably that its noise effectively maxed it out at ISO 400 and reds were oversaturated, but it had a lovely Zeiss zoom, its swivel-body design was very useful, and it even had an infrared mode that allowed you to literally shoot in the dark. Using it was a blast. I've been sorry ever since that Sony abandoned the form-factor, which was really very nice. A modern F-707/F-717 with a square sensor in the 1" size range would be a very successful camera, I'm convinced.
Fuji X-T1—when I got it in 2014, it was Fuji's flagship. And it was my first Fuji. I bought it out of embarrassment! I had requested a review sample from my friendly contact Issac Buchinger at B&H, and when he asked for it back at the end of a month, I had not even used it. So he kindly let me keep it for another 30 days...at the end of which time I still hadn't touched it. Finally, three or four months in, with Isaac pleading with me to return his employer's property, I bit the bullet and bought the thing just to save face. So in the early days I felt like I had kind of backed into ownership. As with my current car, though, it's one of the only possessions of its type I've liked better as more times goes by...usually you like things less as time goes on because the "new" and the "special" wear off. But the X-T1 is extremely comfortable for me. I use it with the largest hand grip, and every feature seems just right to me now, from the easy-to-use AE comp dial to the flip-up viewing screen. And 16 megapixels is fine. From time to time I even consider buying a second one.
So that's the list. You might notice that there are only nine cameras on this top ten list...that's because I'm sure I'm forgetting something. It's a particular mental glitch that I've noticed over the years about the way my brain works—if I need to remember a set of things—pretty much any set of things—I'll blank on one of them. I learned, for example, never to go around a class naming each student, because, inevitably, one name, which I otherwise knew perfectly well, would vanish from my consciousness just at the wrong moment. And I almost always return from the grocery story with one item I meant to get missing. So I'm pretty sure that as I think about this list over the next few days, I'm going to have a faceplant "duh!" moment, and one more fondly remembered favorite camera is going to pop into my mind.
If and when that happens, I'll tell you about it, of course.
Mike
*Every writer has pet grammatical and usage peeves, and "...of all time" is one of mine. Things like "Top WWE Hall of Famers of All Time" sound ludicrous to me, in this example because the WWE Hall of Fame has only been around for 27 years (André the Giant, who played Fezzik in The Princess Bride, was the inaugural inductee and the only one I know of). I myself sprang into existence in 1957, which kind of renders moot the numberless millennia and geological eras before that year for purposes of the current listing. Not to mention that cameras themselves are somewhat limited in the reach of time as well. But oh well—people know what you mean by "of all time," so I guess I'll relax and shut up.
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Featured Comments from:
[Ed. note: Rob's comment below is longer than I would usually "Feature," but I liked hearing about his experiences as a golf photographer. Hopefully you will too.]
Rob Griffin: "I know that you have written about the Canon RT a few times here at TOP. The RT made my working life much more enjoyable. Working in the golf industry, I used to shoot professional tournament golf action quite often. When I first started shooting sports, I was a Nikon guy for sure—a majority of sports shooters were. When shooting tournament golf, one major problem with SLR film cameras is noise. The mirror flopping around and the shutter going off make a lot of noise. In the dead quite that tour players demand while playing their shots, a SLR with a motor drive chugging along at five or six frames a second sounds pretty much like a hay bailer coming down the fairway.
"The rule when taking photos of golfers during a tournament was that you don’t dare press the shutter button until the golf club has made contact with the golf ball. Photographers would try to time the release of the shutter so that the ball would be in the frame just after leaving the clubface. Hit that shutter button just a fraction too soon and you could easily be yelled at by a very angry golfer and his caddy, not to mention that the spectators would let you know what a miscreant you were. Sometimes, even though you had been sure not to fire before the ball was well on its way, the golfer, after hitting a less than perfect shot, would look and point in your direction to let everyone know that it was that camera guy and his noisy camera that caused the errant shot. That was a problem a golf photographer just had to live with.
"The first time I was shown an EOS RT at a camera store, I was amazed. It seemed almost silent, even at five frames a second, compared to any other SLR available at the time. The lack of noise sold me. I bought it on the spot. It became 'my' camera. Life as a golf photographer became much more enjoyable.
"While the quietness sold me, I also found that there was more to like. The RT was a bit smaller and lighter than most SLRs, always a help when hauling two or three cameras and lenses around a golf course for eight or ten hours. The pellicle mirror meant there was no black-out when the shutter fired. I had not realized how distracting the mirror jumping up out of the way of the shutter was. Now, with mirrorless cameras, many photographers can enjoy that benefit.
"I think the lack of viewfinder black-out was the also the reason that I felt that I could hold the RT steady at a full stop slower shutter speed than SLRs I had used before. It's sort of like, in baseball, how a catcher has to learn not to flinch or close his eyes when the batter swings the bat.
"One of the drawbacks to the pellicle mirror was losing about a 1/3 stop of light, so ISO 100 became in effect, ISO 80. I also know that there were concerns that the light passing through the mirror lead to a loss of sharpness. I never felt looking at my photos that that was the case. [I second that —Mike]
"I tried to tell other guys shooting tournament golf what a great tool the RT was for the job but I don’t think I convinced anyone other than myself. So maybe I was wrong about it all along [you weren't! —Mike]. I know that Canon did not sell a whole of lot of them, then closed the model out at a very discounted price. Today, on the used market, I think the price is usually pretty low.
"I still have one RT. With the Canon STM 40mm ƒ/2.8 lens it makes a fairly compact go-anywhere rig. I have been shooting a roll of film every now and then. I also have an OM-2N so I was happy when you mentioned that model in your section about the OM-4Ti. Sorry, I got a carried away a little and this comment got a bit long.
"Oops, one more thing to add: I always wanted a Mamiya 6, but now they are pretty much out of my price range. Rats!"
Mike replies: The Canon EOS RT was the opposite of most products. They're designed to sell, not primarily to satisfy buyers after the point of purchase. The important thing is that the idea of them has to appeal to prospective buyers. They have to check boxes off the shopping list and not appear to have any obvious downsides. The RT had two big turnoffs for prospective buyers, both of which you point out here. But most people who used them learned that they were great. The problem was that you had to use one for a while to understand how great it was. And that the apparent downsides were actually not. So Canon started out convinced that the camera would sell by the bushel, but learned otherwise, as buyers never got to the point of understanding what Canon already knew.
