A 117 Year Old Camera, a Roll of Expired Film, and a Second Chance
Every now and then an email lands in your inbox that makes you stop what you are doing. A few months back, a family reached out after cleaning out their attic. They had found an old camera, and not the charming kind of old. This one looked like it was destined for the local landfill. It was a mildew covered box that creaked when they tried to open it. They were ready to throw it out but hesitated. Maybe someone might want it. They did some digging online and found a few news stories and articles that led to me. They reached out, and eventually the camera ended up on my workbench.
It turned out to be a Kodak 3A from around 1909, but it had seen better days. In fact, I regretfully did not even bother to take before photos because everything about it suggested a lost cause.
A Camera Built for Postcards
The Kodak 3A is a funny piece of history. Kodak introduced it in 1903 and kept it around until the early 1910s. Its whole purpose was simple and clever. It was designed to make postcard sized negatives. Kodak sold paper that was light sensitive on one side and pre printed as a postcard on the other. You could shoot, develop, contact print, and mail your own postcards. No enlarger needed and no complicated darkroom work.
It was not a camera for photographers. It was a camera for people. Travellers, explorers, business folks on the road. A close cousin of this model even made it to the South Pole with the Scott Amundsen expeditions.
This one carries patent dates up to 1909, so that is what I am calling it. A 1909 survivor.
The Restoration
When it arrived on my bench, it looked tired, and that is being kind. The leather case was covered in green mildew. The aperture blades were stuck. The shutter barely moved. The leather bellows was black with dirt and felt like old cardboard that might break if you breathed on it. Everything needed attention.
The first question with any folding camera is the bellows. If they are full of pinholes, you are in for a long week. Despite the grime, I could not see anything obvious, so I brought it into the darkroom, put a light inside, closed it up, and checked. It was actually light tight. That was the moment I knew this camera was not done yet.
From there it was a full teardown. The shutter came apart. The ancient oil, now closer to glue, was cleaned out. The bellows got a careful treatment with saddle soap, conditioner, and many hours of work. The brass came back to life. The lens cleared beautifully. Even the tiny viewfinder cleaned up.
When I put the shutter on the tester afterward, it ran at 1/25 of a second. Exactly the way it left the assembly line in 1909.
The Film Problem
There was still one problem to solve. The Kodak 3A was built for 122 film, a format that has not existed for decades. Modern 120 film is easy to get, but it is too small. The spools do not fit and the film will not sit flat.
I designed and 3D printed spool reducers and a set of guide rails to keep the film aligned. With 120 loaded, the camera shoots a panoramic 6 by 14 centimetre frame. It is a monster of a negative.
Loading the Most Interesting Film I Could Find
Fresh film would have been the sensible choice. Sensible is not always fun. Instead, I loaded a roll of Ilford Pan F that expired in 1985. It had definitely not been refrigerated for most of its life. Pan F is gorgeous when fresh, but at nearly forty years past its date, I rated it at ISO 20 to give it a fighting chance.
Whether it would give me images or heartbreak, I had no idea.
Out to Pitt Lake
Pitt Lake is one of my favourite places to shoot. Over one thousand square kilometres of pure wilderness and only minutes from my door. It was the perfect place for a panoramic camera, even one that is more than a century old.
I set up the camera on a tripod and metered the scene. Aperture at f/11. Fire the shutter. Five half turns of the crank. Bracket at f/16. Repeat.
Five exposures per roll. That is all you get.
Back in the Darkroom
With expired film, especially film this expired, development becomes a negotiation. I went with semi stand development in Rodinal 1 to 100. A little agitation at the start, then let the chemistry do what it wants. Come back at 30 minutes, agitate again, leave it another 30.
It is a forgiving process. Perfect for film that has had a rough life.
Then the lights went out, the film went into the tank, and I waited.
The Results
The negatives are enormous, and honestly, they are beautiful.
The lens has that early twentieth century look. Sharp in the centre, gentle at the edges. The expired Pan F gave a soft, luminous contrast that suits Pitt Lake perfectly. For a camera that was almost thrown away, the images feel like a small miracle.
There was one issue. Frame spacing. Because 120 is smaller than 122, the red window on the back is useless. I counted crank turns instead. It worked for the first couple of frames, then drifted. Images on one end overlapped. Without frame numbers on the old film it was hard to tell whether the frames at the beginning or the end were off.
In hindsight, it is obvious. As the take up spool grows, each turn moves more film than when the spool is small. Next time, and there will be a next time, I will adjust the turn count as I go. More experimentation will help to nail that down, but at least I know the camera works beautifully.
117 Years
This camera was built around 1909. It made postcards for travellers and families, then vanished into storage, then into an attic, and nearly into the landfill.
But it survived. It came back to life on my bench. It made new photographs at Pitt Lake. It proved it still had something left to give.
Not many things last 117 years. Even fewer get a second chance. This one did, and I am glad I was there when it asked for it.
Bringing it back reminded me why I love this work. Old cameras are more than tools. They are stories waiting for someone to turn the page.
If you want to see the full restoration, the field test, and the darkroom results, the video is up on The Film Experience on YouTube, and more is at sollows.ca.
