Olympus G. Zuiko 1:2.8 35mm silver–nose is radioactive!

I recently bought a Radiacode 103 and one of its planned uses is to identify radioactive lenses. I already knew I had two: both older Pentax Takumar 55mm lenses which are well known to have thoriated glass. Great fun has been had recording a spectrum from one of them and confirming (of course) that the peaks are from the Th-232 decay chain. What a fantastic little device this is; just perfect for a massive nerd like me.

Where these lenses are stored, I also wanted to see how much radiation was “floating” about and whether it was detectable on shelves above and below (answer: it is!) as well as how they behave when mounted on a camera. On a Spotmatic there is still a very detectable amount of radiation at the back of the camera; not as much as near to the rear elements of course, but a surprising (to me!) amount. This is gamma radiation after all* so it will not be stopped by the camera body.

* The Radiacode does not detect alpha at all and only the very strongest of beta, apparently; it is primarily a gamma device which can detect alpha– and beta–emitters indirectly by the gamma photons that are also emitted in many cases.

The topic of radioactive lenses can be quite contraversial and there are many articles written about it, as well as forum chatter, so I shall not be taking a deep dive here; suffice to say these lenses pose no real danger unless a) they are placed directly up close to the eye, or b) they are ground up and eaten. Having said that, they do still make me feel slightly uneasy but I accept that, as long as I do neither of the above, they are quite safe to own and use.

So, back to my rummaging around my lens / camera shelves, I noticed a fair bit of radiation around my Olympus shelf, which is directly below my Pentax shelf (I know, but I like things to be organised). I took out the two Takumars and there was still some; a fair bit less but still way above background. Wow, I thought, the Taks had somehow contaminated the shelves themselves? No, of course not. I floated the RC over the Zuikos and it went wild right above the 35/2.8. A lens which I had no idea would be radioactive, especially as I had seen at least one set of tests online where the conclusion had been that the “silver nose” 35/2.0 was radioactive but the 35/2.8 was not.

Except that those tests used a later “black nose” version of the lens, whereas my 35/2.8 is an older silver–nose. I suppose I had always been a little suspicious because of the slightly yellowed second or third (I think; not sure) element from the front, but since I had not seen anything to suggest there was a radioactive version of this lens, I mostly disregarded and forgot about it.

Olympus Auto-W 1:2.8 35mm with Radiacode 103. Background rate is about 0.03 so this is about 200x the background rate even in this position.

The Takumars (55/2.0 and SMC 55/1.8) that I own have their thoriated elements towards the rear, whereas for this Olympus it must be closer to the front, since the count rate is significantly higher when held over the front element. The spectrum shown was captured over 4 3/4 hours with the RC resting on the front with lens cap in place. The pattern is typical of the Th-232 decay series, as shown, with the RC software identifying the main peaks.

The spectrum, with background reference overlayed in green, identifying the Thorium-232 decay chain. The peak highlighted is Pb-212 decaying to Bi-212.

I really like this lens, having used it mainly on my OM-4 with very nice results. Now that I know it has at least one thoriated element, I may try to reduce the yellowing like I did my Takumar 50/1.4 prior to selling it. The element yellowing over time, and its treatment, are topics in their own right but, in short, a swan-necked desk lamp from a certain Swedish furniture/homewear store very effectively reduces Thorium-induced yellowing, given enough exposure. Alternatively, I may leave it as it will act as a very mild yellow filter for black&white film. Used with colour film, I have never thought that it resulted in yellow images at all. Very slightly warm in some cases, perhaps, but never especially noticeable nor unpleasant.

Mamiya 645 Super

Shutter fault and mirror stop issue

Winder / speed dial side up.

If you’ve ever been interested in the Mamiya 645 “second generation” range – the 645 Super, Pro and Pro TL – you’ll be aware of the common issue of the broken mirror stop. Yes, it’s real, and yes, the first body I have encountered suffered from the same problem upon receipt.

Let’s step back in time a little, to the point where I realised I wanted to move from the Bronica ETRS to (ideally a Contax 645 but following a reality check) a Mamiya 645 Super, Pro or Pro TL. What I wanted was to have a focal plane shutter and the 1/000s shutter speed. I also wanted a slightly more modern body, a return mirror and lenses without internal shutters. The Mamiya seemed to fit the bill without the need to sell an organ to pay for it.

I’d had no prior experience with Mamiya at all, so whilst I was deciding what to do a spares/repair 645 Super popped up for cheap. It was in good condition externally but had an obvious shutter fault  – described as such – where the second curtain would not complete its cycle. Consequently, instead of fully closing there was a small gap at the side and the mirror didn’t return. I thought this would be a good opportunity to assess build quality, etc., maybe have parts for a potential future body, and to just have a good rummage without worrying about the consequences, since it was so cheap. 

I started researching shutter problems with these bodies and quickly found that, although there was some good information around which involved the Pro or Pro TL, there was nothing much floating around at all about the Super, internally. At that point I thought they must be quite similar inside and so decided I’d try to take the shutter out of the Super, when I had it. Maybe I’d spot a problem that I could fix or maybe I’d end up with a shutter-less body which could accept a shutter from an otherwise broken body. At this point I also became aware of the mirror stop issue and wondered whether this parts body would have an intact one that I could use in case I ended up buying another body with a broken mirror stop.

So the Super arrived and it was indeed very clean. The mirror box was immaculate – very clean with no paint loss at all anywhere, which seems quite unusual for these bodies, many of which have had hard use. Unfortunately though, the mirror stop was broken and the piece with the set screw was missing.

The hole through the centre of the cog middle-ish left is where the screw is that holds the shutter unit in place; remove with caution!

Turning my attention to the shutter problem, I took the covers off the body and was surprised to see internals that were quite different to those of the Pro/TL. I figured out that I could not use those guides to take the shutter out and so I was effectively flying blind. I tried every way to diagnose the shutter problem with it in situ, to no avail. I was able to fire the shutter and make the mirror drop using a sequence of lever movements but it would just never fully complete its cycle. I either had to give up here, or remove the shutter the hard way – by trial and error.

It was during this attempted diagnosis that firing the shutter on one occasion caused a horrible lock-up, where the mirror got stuck half way at a nasty, twisted angle. I thought it was toast and could not free it. Finally, some manipulation caused a small plastic part to drop out from somewhere and the mirror moved back down. At that point I wondered what it was and how important it must have been, then noticed it had been chewed up quite a bit by the gears. The penny dropped: this was the part that had broken off the mirror stop, still with the tiny set screw in. I wonder if it had been this that caused the shutter issue in the first place – but that did not rectify itself with the broken part freed and so it was obvious that something had been damaged, somehow.

On removal of the rear screws and wobbling the shutter unit around a bit, it was clear that the arrangement of parts was not quite the same as in the Pro/TL. The gearing around the winder looked much more complicated, too, and I feared taking all of that out (as is done in a particular video showing shutter unit removal from a Pro/TL). 

To cut a long story short, I found that the shutter unit can be removed by removing one screw and unsoldering six wires. The picture above shows the location of the screw and the picture below shows the wires that need to be detached. Care should be taken here as the solder points for some of these wires are tiny. Also, the screw should be removed from the hole slowly, making sure it does not drop back inside and get lost in amongst the gearing.

I wish I’d taken a picture of what I found with the shutter unit, but alas, I was too focused on getting it working and back into the body. To cut an even longer story short, what had happened was that a pawl, which accepts a protrusion on the cog that spins for the second curtain, had moved out of place so that the protrusion hit the side of the pawl instead of being accepted within it. The result was that the second curtain was prevented from returning to its proper resting place resulting in a gap. In addition, the lever that pushes against another in the body, which then resets the mirror, never got to do that because it only does that when the cycle completes. 

I moved the pawl and fiddled with the spring that’s set against it. I don’t think it was out of place but I re-set it anyway, just in case. The second curtain cog was then able to spin a little more, closing the gap and completing the cycle.

The wires that need to be de-soldered in order to remove the shutter unit. I marked one of the black wires with acrylic paint because the one next to it is also black. Remove white, black, marked black (LHS), yellow (middle), brown and white (RHS).

What followed was a bit of a trial. No matter how I set the curtains, cog positions, etc., when putting the unit back into the body the shutter would always fire when winding on and the curtain positions would go wrong. I must have tried about 20 times and was beginning to think I shouldn’t have taken the shutter unit out the way I did; I surely must have missed something. Then, finally, possibly due more to luck than anything, I must have had the right combination of positions and everything fell into place. I was a bit taken aback that I could wind on, it would click, I could fire the shutter (manual mode of course as wires were still disconnected) and the cycle would complete, with the mirror returning. I put it down, thinking it would be a one-off. Picked it up again and pointed the lens mount at the window (I still don’t have a lens for it!) and looked at the back. Shutter fired, curtains opened to what looked like a fairly uniform rectangle at around 1/60s, then mirror returned. I tried several more times: perfect action. 

Would the electronics still work in non-manual mode? I soldered the wires back in (note to self: I need a smaller tip for my soldering iron) and wound on again, setting a speed of 1/15s: noticeably slower to 1/60. Looked and sounded good. I set various speeds – all looked and sounded good. It would appear that I’d fixed it.

It’s still working but I’m mindful that it might go wrong again, unless what caused it to go bad in the first place was that little bit of broken plastic with a set screw in, working its way around the gears. I won’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that now I need to find a replacement mirror stop. Looks like 3D printing is the way to go.

Pentax-A 24mm f/2.8

I recently bought one of these on a well-known action site. The price was good and, after a quick look, all seemed well. I gave good feedback and continued with my work week, thinking I’d just give it a clean at the weekend and all would be well. How wrong that would turn out to be.

First problem: I saw significant fungus infection which appeared to be on one surface only. Do I raise an issue and send it back or tackle it myself? I decided on the latter and I have a strict policy for this kind of scenario (which happens more often that would be ideal): if I decide to “go in” then the item is mine and no returns. That’s fair and honest.

Second problem: the A-pin did not retract when the aperture was set to a value other than A. This means that any camera that operates on shutter-priority or program modes, or wants to control the lens aperture from the camera rather than the lens aperture ring, would be confused by the lens telling it that it was in A mode when it may not have been (i.e., the lens was always communicating A-mode, regardless).

To tackle the first problem I had to remove the front group and get to the middle of it. In short, instructions are: remove the rubber focus grip and undo the three screws that hold the front filter ring. Remove screws and ring. With a lens spanner, remove the whole front group. The fungus in this one was only on the surface in front of the lower, “fat” element and so it was necessary to remove the ring that holds the lower of the front group, remove the “fat” element and clean the surface above that. For this I used my usual methods (depends on coatings but several passes with isopropanol, impregnated cloths, cotton buds and distilled water) completely eliminated all signs of infection.

On reassembly problem 3 was discovered: whoever had bodged this lens previously had fiddled with the aperture lever and left it badly adjusted. What this means was that, when the camera was controlling the aperture value (i.e., the lens was set to A) the aperture was not stopping down far enough. This led to overexposed images at anything other than wide open at f/2.8. I had to do a trial-and-error set of adjustments to get this back to where fit should have been. That meant undoing two screws on the aperture lever block and trying again and again until it was right.

To address the A-pin problem I needed a part to replace the one in the lens. This assembly comprises a small, L-shaped plate with a tiny sprung pin and a protrusion that fits inside a channel around the inside of the aperture ring. As the one in the 24mm was not working, I wanted to see what happened if I replaced the assembly with one from a 50mm f/1.7 just as a temporary swap. No joy; the same always-A situation and I could see nothing wrong with either assembly. It then struck me that, in order to work, the assembly needed to be slightly shorter and so I wondered whether they were not of universal size throughout the A-series lenses. I have the 28mm also, whose outer body is quite similar to that of the 24mm and so I did a swap over from the 28mm. Bingo! The assembly of both 24mm and 28mm A-pins are identical and, crucially, slightly shorter than those in the 50mm (at least – I didn’t take apart any others to see). Obviously, whoever had been inside the 24mm before had lost the A-pin assembly – which, granted, is not hard to do – and replaced it with one probably from a 50mm and either not noticed, or not cared, that it was communicating A-mode in error. I needed a parts lens so I could harvest the A-pin assembly and, with that, the problem was solved.

So that’s three main problems: fungus. Sorted. A-pin. Sorted. Aperture adjustment. Sorted.

I paid a bit less than the going rate for this lens but I did have to buy a cheap, parts-only 28mm f/2.8 for the A-pin assembly so, on balance, I paid about the going price. Having said that, who knows what I’d have received if I’d paid more? As far as this one is concerned, I know there’s no fungus, it’s all clean and everything works perfectly now. And I have more experience with fixing these A-series lenses.

In terms of performance, it’s better than I was expecting. I had read reviews of this lens and it doesn’t appear to be at the top of the pile as far as its contemporary lenses go. I was not expecting much but I have to say that, so far, it seems at least good enough for a lens of this vintage.

Nikon DP-20 finder for the F4

Recently, as part of a beautiful, practically unused, late model Nikon F4s which (ahem) came my way, I immediately noticed a problem with the DP-20 finder. There was quite a heavy infestation of fungus on at least one of the internal eyepiece surfaces which was so bad it made viewing the lower meter readout difficult, blurring the LCD. I’d already knocked the seller down quite a bit (without knowing about this issue, of course) and so my initial reaction was not to demand a refund. I’ve fixed this kind of thing before – in lenses and more simple finder pieces – so how difficult would it be to eliminate the fungus from this otherwise pristine DP-20 and restore it to minty condition?

Well, as it turns out, quite difficult. But feasible, given care and patience.

This project required some careful planning, given the condition and obvious complexity of the finder. I got hold of the service manual for this finder which, unfortunately, is an x-generation photocopy scanned by an ancient scanner (probably) and so the image quality gives rise to a fair amount of guesswork. I was so determined to get this right that I bought a well-used finder for a cheap price, so that I could practice and note any caveats before working on the “real thing”. At worst, I’d spam it up completely and learn something in the process; at best I’d have a working spare finder that I could use for parts if need be. The practice run went very well in the end; a very grubby, fungus-infested DP-20 (though not nearly as badly affected as the minty one) with decomposing foam seals is now very clean, fungus-free, re-sealed and functioning perfectly, with just a few external scratch marks. I’m keeping it as a spare.

Now much more confident that I could do this, I set to work on the minty one. I’ll describe the steps I took in case this is of use to anyone else who wants to have a go at restoring their own finder. Note that this doesn’t require a complete disassembly but it’s worth mentioning that the finder optics and areas around are quite complex and fragile. With care there should be no need to de-solder any wires, but some patience is required.

The finder optics comprise three separate lenses in front of the prism (not including the screw-in eyepiece on the outside of the casing). The first lens is held in place by two small screws, whereas the second, which is able to travel forwards and backwards, is held in only at the top by the dioptre adjustment mechanism. The third and final lens, before we reach the viewing edge of the prism, is attached to the meter cell unit and is the most difficult to work on. The worst possible area for an infestation of fungus, if we were to try to remove it, would be the back-side of the third lens. Guess where it was in my finder.

Step one, a challenge in itself, is to remove the centre parts of the dioptre dial and meter selector dial without causing too much damage. These plastic discs cover the screws that need to be removed in order to remove the dials. They are held in with glue and are, frankly, a pig to remove because it’s likely that there will be some degree of marking to the outer parts of the dials during removal. To minimise this I covered the outer dials with insulation tape and then gently levered the covers out using a very small screwdriver. Once the screws are exposed both dials can be removed. Take care with the two washers for the meter selector dial: the white plastic one goes against the inside of the dial and the black foam one goes against the case.

After removing the four black screws of the outer case, the top can be lifted away from the body. A little bit of wiggling may be required here. The wires attaching the flash shoe to the main body are quite long and I didn’t need to detach them at all. With the main cover off the first lens can be seen directly, with the two screws holding it in place. 

Take the first lens off and inspect both surfaces; with luck any fungus will be here (this is where it was, mostly, in the “scruffy” finder with a tiny bit also on the front surface of the second lens). If there’s some on the back surface of the second lens then this can be taken out by first loosening the dioptre adjustment unit which sits on top. Notice the two small screws holding this part down (not the larger one; that can stay in place) and loosen them a a bit. Be careful here as the two mercury switches are held by this unit and they are glued to the unit underneath, yet there’s some play to take advantage of. The top adjustment unit may be lifted just enough to wiggle out the second lens, which is held there by the pin of the swinging arm. Again, inspect both surfaces.

If there’s fungus on the front surface of the third lens, it can be treated in-situ. If it’s on the back side, though, then the meter cell housing needs to be taken out. There are two screws holding this in place – a small one and a larger one, but this unit is the most difficult to get out so take extra care here. Remove both screws. Facing the lens, first lift the left side and then lift the right side a little. It may not appear to want to move much but persevere here, gently lifting either side and twisting slightly, firstly at the top, outwards, and then push up, swinging out at the base. Watch for wires snagging and gently lift them out of the way so that the lens/cell unit can swing outwards. Don’t pull it too far out. To clean the back side of this lens it will be best to turn the whole lot upside-down and move the unit out far enough to get at the surface, but no more. 

Lens no. 3 of the eyepiece group – clean and clear. Nearly half of the inside surface was covered in fungus.

Side view. Notice one of the mercury switches and wires going into one of the meter cells in the lower left of the picture.

Once clean, re-assemble everything in reverse and look for any wires that may have become detached. I had just one such casualty – the black wire of one of the mercury switches – which was a simple fix with a soldering iron.

Neither the fungus in scruffy nor that in minty had etched the glass coatings at all and so I was able to remove it completely, using my usual method. There’s no secret to this, although people tend to have their preferences as to which tools and compounds to use. I have cleaned fungus from photographic optics for a few years and I’ve never had any return, using simple, easily obtainable isopropanol, cotton buds, cocktail sticks and certain brands of optical cleaning wipes which are, specifically, impregnated with alcohol. It’s the cocktail stick wrapped in an optical wipe which really does the trick, with gentle rubbing over the affected area. If necessary, the area can be finished off with an optical-grade microfibre cloth. Perhaps stronger chemicals, such as hydrogen peroxide, may be required for very well-established fungus but I’ve yet to encounter any.

Minolta X-700

Unless you’re getting on a bit, like me, you probably won’t associate the Minolta brand name with photography equipment, or even necessarily have heard of them. They were a major player, though, particularly in the 1970s to 1990s, with at least a couple of firsts: the first multi-mode autoexposure SLR, the XD7 (a.k.a. XD in Japan and XD11 in the U.S.A.) and the first body-centric AF SLR in the 7000 AF. In addition, the Minolta “Acute Matte” focus screen technology was provided to Hasselblad for their 501/503 (and contemporary) series of cameras which, I can state from experience, makes a huge difference in terms of preview image clarity, if not ease of focus. Unfortunately, despite their innovations, Minolta couldn’t compete with the market leaders later on, and they merged with Konica before the camera division was entirely bought-out by Sony in 2006.

Sony continued with A-mount DSLRs, using the same Minolta AF mount (which differed from the pre-AF MD/MC mount) but are now concentrating on their E-mount which is the basis of their mirrorless system and is entirely different. There’s little doubt, though, that Sony’s ability to continuously innovate their camera line has been, in part, thanks to the knowledge and resources gained through Minolta and Konica Minolta.

Going back to 1985, I briefly owned a used XD7, for about a week, but had to return it because it was faulty. I’d gone in for the X-300, the only one of the current models that I could afford, and the shop had offered the second-hand XD7 as an alternative. I really liked it but it wasn’t usable in the end, so I opted to go with the original choice and enjoyed the X-300 for the next couple of years. Of course, the one I really wanted at the time was the X-700 but that was out of the question. The X-300 was fine if not ultimately a little too restricted but, by the time I was able to upgrade, instead of the X-700 I switched to Nikon. One thing I do remember is how much I liked the Minolta 50mm f/1.7, in terms of clarity and colour rendition, and how I found Nikon’s kit-50mm a little lacklustre by comparison!

In recent years, with memories of that XD7 and the 50mm on the X-300, I have been battling with the desire to buy back into yet another SLR system. I’ve been good and I’ve been sensible – until now. Whilst on holiday I wandered into an antique shop and immediately spotted (my camera radar is always operational with practically zero downtime) a Minolta X-700 in a case, with a Tokina AT-X 28-85mm 1:3.5-4.5 attached. They wanted £28 for the lot.

Let’s get the lens out of the way first. The AT-X range from Tokina was their top-of-the-line “pro” series and they are, reputedly, excellent. The one attached to this X-700 is pristine (now that I have given it an external clean-up) with no fungus or marks, whatsoever. Clean, clear and mechanically perfect; this lens alone is worth more than £28.

I was trying to test the camera in the shop but the owner didn’t know much about it. He has a “camera guy” who checks and provides all of his antique cameras and this person suggests prices accordingly. I, therefore, assumed the camera was non-funcional as this is how it appeared to be, despite trying some new batteries which the shop owner happened to have. I went away to have a think. Some quick research later and I discovered that the main reason for failure of this model is one or both of two certain capacitors – one in the base and the other beneath the top cover – which are prone to failure. I am fairly adept with a soldering iron and so the replacement of one or two capacitors is a minor challenge which I accepted. A quick negotiation down to £25 later and the kit was mine.

I immediately ditched the case. I wouldn’t normally do this but it was literally falling apart in my hands, leaving a trail of dust and debris in its wake. This is what happens when manufacturers cut costs and produce cruddy fabric cases covered in plastic faux-leather which disintegrates horribly. This is in stark contrast to the Pentax kit case for the Spotmatic range: real leather,  strong and beautiful (so much so that I have two). Even the Pentax case for the later ME series, also fabric with a faux-leather covering which has invariably cracked by now, is usually sturdy and intact. What were you thinking, Minolta?

Anyway, back to the camera itself. Once back indoors I nicked a battery from another camera I had with me and cleaned the contacts of the X-700 thoroughly. Battery in, power on and finger on the touch-sensitive button… the meter sprang to life and the shutter fired! No soldering necessary. As far as I can tell without having had the chance to test with film yet, this camera is fully functional.

There’s work to do, though. I have removed the decayed mirror-buffer foam, which was not easy. The issue, with Minolta in particular, is that they tend to favour having a baffle between the lens mount and mirror box, which obscures the top front of the mirror box and, therefore, the mirror bumper. I recently worked on a Pentax S3 which had the same and it’s a pig to remove old debris and replace with new foam. I now need to replace the mirror bumper and clean out the decayed foam making up the light seals around the film door, and replace all of those. Then it’s time to film-test.

 

Pentax ME

Not the ME Super, but perhaps the ME Better!

I think I struck lucky with this one. Found, by chance, when searching for a Pentax-M 50mm lens, the description of this item detailed the lens only and was priced at about the same as the lens alone would go for. But all the pics showed the camera too, so I asked the seller to confirm what was included in the sale. The answer: everything! I snapped it up even though I wasn’t sure I’d need the lens (see previous post) because the camera looked so clean. No knowing whether or not it would work, though, so it was another cheap punt.

This is the camera that led to the later, and much more popular, ME Super. The latter has many refinements but, as I have discovered, also involved some cost and weight reduction by replacing some of the metals with plastics. One of the reasons I prefer the look of the plain ME is the metal top cover with the ASAHI stamp; the Super has a top cover which is mostly plastic but plated with a metallic outer and, as such, has a slightly different appearance. There are no buttons near the shutter dial on the ME because it’s not possible to set manual shutter speeds on this model; it’s aperture priority only apart from a purely mechanical speed of 1/100s (x-synch for flash) and B. The shutter dial itself is more robust on the ME, compared with the all-plastic affair of the Super, and I prefer it even though it results in a more fiddly process to remove the top cover. Most of the remaining differences between the ME and the Super are inside.

So, upon arrival, the lens seemed fine apart from the fact that it was very dusty inside. No fungus (unlike the one that had arrived just prior to this) and mechanics were fine. This was a simple, half-hour job to dis-assemble, separate the main groups either side of the aperture blades and blow out the vast majority of the dust that had settled onto the two surfaces there.

I noticed immediately that the camera’s wind-on lever was loose when near the end of its travel and it didn’t click closed. The shutter, though, seemed fine as did the electronics and meter display. I knew what this meant: the “click spring” had broken off inside. The purpose of this spring is to secure the wind-on lever close to the camera body to, firstly, switch off the meter and, secondly, prevent accidental partial wind-on. Easily overlooked but should not be; the broken-off bit of metal can travel down into the workings or even shutter and seriously jam or permanently break something. I decided to resist the temptation to check shutter speeds any further and see if I could fish out the broken spring. Luckily, after removing the camera base plate, a few short shakes resulted in the piece in this picture falling out.

Broken-off click spring. Better out than in!

Safe now to carry on testing, I figured all seemed well apart from the usual need to replace the mirror buffer and light traps.

I ended up harvesting a click spring from a parts-only ME Super (the springs are identical) and installed it into the ME. The Super has a refinement, though, where a second, coiled spring is used to strengthen the main click spring and presumably make it less likely to break off. The coiled spring is held around a post and is sprung against a second post, neither of which are present in the ME. I discovered that both posts are direct replacements for plain screws in the ME and so I gave the ME the Super’s full click spring refinement job! Perfect.

With the top cover still off, all that was left was to remove and replace some crumbling old foam which was meant to cover the open area where the meter LEDs go, leading straight into the area between prism and top surface of the screen. This was a very fiddly job and resulted in more cruddy bits than I wanted to see when looking through the viewfinder, so when all was sealed again I removed the prism and cleaned the underside, the viewfinder side, the back of the viewfinder lens and the top surface of the screen. The prism itself is held in by two tiny screws – one on each side – and removal requires the electronic boards to be carefully lifted away from the top surfaces first of all. After loosening the two prism screws the entire prism will then lift out. It’s the same situation in the ME Super and it’s the only way to remove debris that has found its way into the space between prism and screen, since screens are not user-removable in these cameras. The eventual replacement for the ME Super – the Super A (Super Program in the U.S.A.) – does have user-changeable screens which, if nothing else, makes cleaning much easier.

I have renewed the mirror buffer now and will soon replace the light traps in and around the rear door so that I can run some film through. I love the mirror/shutter sound and feel of this camera; there’s something very reassuringly 1970s about it and that’s only meant in a good way. It’s ever so slightly less dampened in movement compared with the Super but it’s certainly no Spotmatic in terms of noise or vibration. And that’s not to say that the Spotmatics are bad, either – far from it.

Something worth mentioning is that I get the distinct impression that the ME suffers much less from the very common shutter and wind-on issues that many Supers will suffer from now, if not serviced. Perhaps because it’s slightly less refined internally, with fewer plastic parts. My Super had the wind-on issue (film winds but shutter won’t charge), which I appear to have fixed without the need for a full service, and my (much more shabby) parts body has the same issue which can’t be fixed in the same, relatively simple, way.

So, is the ME better than the ME Super? Purely in terms of functionality, not really, and yet I prefer it. If you’re on the lookout for a fully working ME Super and don’t care much about manual shutter speeds, give the ME a go.

Saving Pentax-M

I’ve just spent pretty much the entire day restoring a Pentax-M 50mm f/1.7.

Fungus-free!

I not able to do much moving about at the moment and so, rather than mope around and feel sorry for myself all weekend, I thought I’d spend an hour or two doing this. Lesson number one: estimate the time required to clean and restore a lens as bad as this was and then multiply it by three.

The lens arrived this morning from a well-known auction site and my expectations were fairly low from the start; it was at a buy-now price which was about half that of most others, with no real description to speak of and no way to see close detail from pictures. This was a cheap gamble and I was expecting to do some work on it, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the state of the thing when I examined it. Not that it needed close examination to see that it was completely infested with fungus – the worst I’d ever seen.

The outside barrel wasn’t too bad; a little grubby but easily cleaned. The elements, though, looked completely stuffed. Just about every glass surface inside and out was covered in masses of threads and patches of mould. Nasty! I’ve had success at cleaning fungus from elements before but I have to say I was close to giving up on this as it was so badly affected throughout. Pretty much unusable, optically.

OK, so it may take more than an hour, I thought. More than two, even. All in all, it took about six hours! Was it worth all that time, considering price difference between this one and a good one? Well, yes and no but I favour the “yes” because it gave me a project to do whilst unable to go out and, more importantly, I have saved a now-decent lens from the scrapheap. Make do and mend!

Often, it’s said that fungal infestation of lens elements is the end for them: the fungus etches into the coatings and, sometimes, the glass itself, causing irreparable damage. Up to now, though, I’ve been lucky as I’ve been able eliminate fungus on a few old lenses without leaving much permanent damage, if any at all. This lens turned out to be no exception but it’s been the most laborious lens-fix I’ve ever done, without any mechanical fixes, even, as everything mechanical worked perfectly. It was necessary to separate all of the individual elements and clean all surfaces which is very, very difficult to do because, even with fungus all gone, getting truly crystal-clear cleaning results on internal surfaces, without any smears whatsoever, takes a lot of time and patience. Still, time is what I’ve had and it did pay off in the end. Lesson number two: do not use a blower bulb with a metal end too close to an internal surface because one small slip could result in a permanent coating mark. Doh! Thankfully tiny and won’t affect anything but still, a swear-inducing moment.

I wish I’d taken a “before” picture but I honesly didn’t think I could salvage it so didn’t bother. Believe me, it was horrendous! Here it is again, in its fully restored state (I restored the filter, too, which was also in a very sorry, mouldy state but it’s a nice Hoya one so worth saving. I had to take the glass out of the frame to clean everything but all’s well and clear with that now, too):

When elements and groups are taken apart and re-assembled it’s always a good idea to check for any misplacement or decentring as a tiny amount of misplacement of any individual element can have profound optical consequences. I’m glad to say all is well, wide-open and at high magnification (digital test). I replaced the front name ring and cleaned the barrel exterior thoroughly.

One clean and clear lens to add to the collection, and a very good one at that. I could now sell it for twice the amount I paid but it’s definitely a keeper.

Praktica MTL 3

I spotted an old friend looking back at me from a charity shop window the other day. Together with a case and lens, looking nice and clean, was a Praktica MTL 3 for a donation of just £20. This was a very popular and affordable system camera of its time; a fairly robust, all-manual camera with the common M42 lens mount. The MTL 3 was the second SLR that I had owned, after the Zenit EM, from around 1981.

The shutter seemed fine and the wind-on was sure and solid. Unfortunately, though, there was a huge blob of dark fungus showing through the viewfinder which I could see was not on the mirror nor underside of the focus screen. This would mean that the body would need to be dismantled in order to clean it inside. Also, the lens aperture was stuck wide open which would mean a complete dismantling of the lens. The challenge was accepted. 

Once back at home the lens was taken to pieces, helicoid and all, and optical groups separated. I carefully cleaned each aperture blade, a couple of which had grown an impressive coating of fungus, with cotton buds and propanol. Surprisingly, there was no fungus at all on the elements near to the aperture blades; unexpected because fungus normally loves to infest coated glass, seemingly in preference to anything else. The Pentacon 50mm 1:1.8 is a relatively easy lens to work on as it’s very simple in design; the job took about forty minutes and a working aperture was restored. 

Next was the more challenging task. I needed to get in between the base of the prism and the upper side of the focus screen, which would be tricky if the prism and screen were glued together as they are in the B series (the BC1 at least). I removed the top cover after first taking off the shutter speed, wind-on and rewind assemblies as well as the flash shoe. The prism was held in place by a single clamp and I was relieved to find that the prism lifted out easily, on its own, revealing the condenser lens which sits above the focus screen. The mould blob was on the top surface of the condenser lens, at around 5mm in diameter. I carefully cleaned it with cotton buds and propanol, being especially careful not to knock the meter needle, and it was removed entirely. A very satisfying job! 

Then I noticed (only with the aid of a bright light) that the eyepiece lens had some fungus threads growing. I managed to eliminate all traces of that, too, which required some more effort than expected but that’s the way it goes with that stuff; at least it did all come off and it hadn’t etched the glass as can sometimes happen. 

The optics are now all clean and clear, the shutter seems to be fine and the meter works, although I need to check it for accuracy. A nice trip down memory lane. 

Hassy

How did this happen?

I blame it partly on my discovery of Vivian Maier a year or two ago but, if I’m to be honest, medium format has been in the back of my mind for many years. I’ve seen the odd Hasselblad when scouring various camera shops over time but admiration was really as far as it went. The desire to try a larger format than 35mm never went away and it seems the Maier effect must have accelerated the inevitable. Drawn more to 6×6 than any other (645 too much like 35mm, 6×7 too bulky) I purchased a TLR* quite cheaply, restored it and love the results on film. Square format it would be, then, so a Hassy was bound to happen eventually.

This is a 501CM which was made in 1997 and came as a boxed kit with A12 film back, 80mm Zeiss Planar T* “new-C” f/2.8 lens, Acute-Matte-D crosshair screen and waist-level finder. It was less expensive than expected, partly due to the lens and partly the external condition. The lens is essentially a CF with the F bit removed (to distinguish from the original C-type), introduced to cut costs at the expense of a feature that not many would apparently need. Both body and lens were coated in a layer of grime which, thankfully, I was able to remove thanks to my OCD-fuelled cleaning but, unfortunately, years of filth has caused some pitting in the chrome. There’s nothing much I can do about that but I’m satisfied that both body and lens are now clean (the lens looks almost new now).

Of course, no auction-site purchase would be complete without an issue or two (OK, perhaps I exaggerate) and the first of these was immediately apparent: the screen was distractingly grubby and no attempt at cleaning would make it good. After some research I discovered that the shockingly-expensive AM-D screens are made of two layers, and it became clear that the dirt was in between. “Don’t ever take the screens apart or you’ll ruin them” was the message I was reading over and over, so I took it apart and very gently but thoroughly cleaned both layers. Whatever it was has actually permanently etched the top glass layer, sadly, although I was able to drastically improve things. I can only imagine that the screen had become wet at some point and some glass-etching fungus had grown in-between, where it had stayed damp for some time. Anyway, re-assembly was much more difficult; it can be done as long as swearing is permitted.

Issue #2 was more tricky because I was still getting a feel for how the camera operated as a unit. I put the occasional wind-on jam and A12 winder looseness down to my inexperience but more research indicated that there could be problems with sticky old grease in the back’s mechanics. Off came the cover (with this latest A12 the dark slide holder needs to be removed first: four screws hold it on to the rear of the magazine casing) to reveal no sticky grease but one gear wheel with two missing teeth! Said teeth were floating around inside but hadn’t caused any mischief themselves; the problems were down to the gap in the gear, resulting in it sometimes catching and sometimes another cog free-wheeling inside the gap. No idea how two teeth were sheared off without causing damage to another cog as well, but that was the situation and I can understand why the seller had missed it. I actually managed to glue the teeth back on – talk about intricate – and everything worked perfectly, but it didn’t last, of course. And, because I’d taken the back apart to check and fix what was meant to be a common issue, I couldn’t return the kit even if I’d felt inclined to. I couldn’t find any A12 parts here and the alternative seemed to be to pay for a full service and repair.

Whilst away on holiday I managed to find a service manual, the cog part number and a nice chap in the U.S. who happened to have one new. The part was waiting for me when we returned home a few days ago. I used SPG to lubricate the teeth of the new wheel, because the description is similar to that of the grease specified in the service manual (and I already have SPG!) and spent an hour or so fitting it and making sure all the bits were working properly. Success!

I’ve fixed the light trap (temporarily: it needs a new foil part but don’t have that yet, so I trimmed a small breakage to stop it catching on the dark slide) and I’ve adjusted the film progress indicator because its rotation was slightly off. This indicator should be red when no film is in, white when it’s freshly loaded, and should gradually turn to red as the film is used up; mine was slightly off and fixing it was more difficult than it sounds. Not essential, but since it’s there I want it working properly.

One last thing has been done prior to the imminent film test. I bought an extra screen (pre- Acute-Matte as I’m not made of money!) with a split prism. This confirmed my suspicion, when using the AM-D screen, that infinity focus (and, therefore, everything else) was ever so slightly off. At the lens infinity stop a distant image was still not quite aligned. I’ve corrected for this with a tiny adjustment of the mirror stop (right side whilst facing front of body).  I’m aware of the factors which can contribute to focus alignment in Hasselblads and have confirmed that focus is correct across the whole screen, so I’m quite confident. Aside from impact damage (no sign of that) the mirror stop is the most likely factor following hundreds or thousands of shots and there are, thankfully, no foam pads to deteriorate under the gliding mirror of this model. Testing will confirm. If something such as body length needs adjustment, I’ll send it to a specialist. If it’s instead the lens, I’ll soon find out. Optimistically, though, I think this mechanical marvel is all good to go now.

*TLR = Twin Lens Reflex. Eg., Vivian’s Rolleiflex or, in my case, a Yashica Mat.

A return to M42

I started with 35mm SLRs when I was 11 years old. The first was a Zenith (or Zenit) EM, followed by a Praktica MTL3 for which I traded the Zenith (I wish I hadn’t but I had no choice). At the time I looked longingly at cameras I couldn’t possibly afford – the Fujicas, the Olympuses (Olympi?), the Pentaxes – but it wasn’t until a few years later, and well into the 1980s, that I moved to a Japanese brand. By then it was Minolta and their budget X300 model; a good camera but with fairly typical 1980s-style replacement of some metals with plastics.

For a while now I’ve been trying to find an excuse to return to those early cameras with their screw-thread M42 lenses, for no other reason than what is presumably the result of a mid-life crisis. For me, as a youngster, the arrival of the Zenith, which had followed some fairly dodgy instamatic-types, was a revelation and I remember the excitement, the heft of the thing and even the smell of the leather case. I could change lenses (the ones I had were terrible, apart from the Helios 58mm) and I could actually view through the lens that was going to take the picture! Changing lenses was a bit of a faff – they were prone to fall if the thread hadn’t taken on the first twist – and stop-down metering was awkward. I loved it. And now I wanted some of that back.

Zenith EMs don’t appear to have aged well, it seems, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to buy into a camera that I’d be unlikely to run a film though anyway. One day, maybe, if I see a mint one for a reasonable price, but in the meantime my attention turned to Pentax. I started initially looking just for a lens or two to use with digital, but found that many of the Takumars were attached to Spotmatic bodies. Those cameras looked really nice and so the decision was made: this would be my re-entry into the land of M42.

After some research, the Super Takumar 55mm f/1.8 was to be the lens of choice (to begin with!) and I managed to find a SMC version attached to a Spotmatic F for not much more than the lenses alone typically go for. The body looked dusty but was described as fully-functional; the lens was described as optically good but with an aperture ring that was somewhat stiff to move. At the asking price (the body was practically free!) I took a chance but then I saw another SP F which looked nice and was very cheap, and so I thought I’d have that as well, just in case the first one turned out to be bad. And then I saw a SP500 at a ridiculously cheap price. It would have been rude not to.

So, here are the latest arrivals in various sates of restoration. Some details are below but in summary: these are real beauties that are built to last. They are such fine pieces of precision engineering that they are a joy to use, with a reassuringly heavy heft and refined controls. With very few exceptions, cameras aren’t made like this any more; even the SP500 (1971-1973), the first budget SP model, feels every bit as solid and well-engineered as the SP F. I’m looking forward to running some film though these.

L-R: SP F w. SMC Takumar 1:1.8/55; SP500; SP F

Spotmatic F with SMC Takumar 1:1.8/55  (picture left)

Arrival state: dusty and grubby camera body. Lens cosmetically better but the aperture ring was very difficult to move, then jammed completely.

Work done on body: cleaned the outside of the camera body only for now. Meter tested and all correct. Shutter tested and fires without any problems. Needs a total clean plus all light seals and mirror bumper changed, which I shall do myself.

Work done on lens: dis-assembled after the aperture ring totally jammed. I expected to find a broken/bent lever or something inside, but upon inspection it became clear that the lens had been dropped and the impact had bent the aperture ring ever so slightly in a 1 cm portion, as well as affecting internal aperture mechanics. I milled the aperture ring so that it was no longer grating hard against the lens body underneath. An internal ring which is driven by the external aperture ring was also grating badly on the inside, so was bent a tiny amount using a vernier calliper as a guide. Ultimately, I cannot get the lower part of the body totally back into as-new shape, which would be ideal since smooth operation requires tiny tolerances. I made it the best I could and re-greased the inner and outer components. Re-assembled (checking to make sure I had infinity focus set correctly before the final steps) and now have a lens which is quite usable. It’s still not ideal – the aperture ring needs more force than usual to rotate, especially at the extreme values – but it does now rotate all the way from 1.8 to 16. Unlike many Nikon lenses, some of which I’ve fixed before, these have to be taken apart from the front. Here it is with name ring, filter ring and focus ring removed. I got some tips from this article which was good enough, even though mine is the newer SMC version.

Spotmatic SP500 (picture middle)

Arrival state: sorry.

Work done: I thought this was a goner. Outside it was superficially nice except for the base plate, which had clearly been the victim of a leaked battery in the past, although to be fair the worst of the damage had been cleared up. Meter tested and found to be working in reverse! The needle went up (+) for under-exposure and down (-) for over. This was easy: the battery had been installed the wrong way around by the previous owner/seller, so I reversed it. Outer body cleaned up nicely. Moving inside, the mirror was absolutely filthy and the focus screen had crud on it, so both were cleaned (the mirror using sensor swabs and sensor cleaning fluid with next to no pressure applied; the focus screen using a dry sensor swab). Someone had done a bad job of replacing the mirror bumper foam which contributed to some of the crud inside; I have cleaned it all up, including an unidentified deposit on one side of the mirror box – no idea what it was and it was a pig of a job to remove. The meter then stopped responding altogether, so I removed the base plate and cleaned the contacts underneath the battery chamber. All OK now.

This one needs a bit more work, to remove the old door seals and replace.  Also (maybe) to fix the aperture actuator at the bottom inside the mount which doesn’t spring back as it should. That’s not a major problem, though. What I thought would end up as spare parts is now a clean and functional camera.

Spotmatic F (picture right)

Arrival state: nice! Needs new seals but apart from that, cosmetically the best of the lot.

Work done: Nothing much so far. This one very occasionally sticks with the mirror up but I can only reproduce that at 1/60th. Winding-on and taking another frame cures it until the next time. The wind-on feels slightly rougher than on the other two bodies, so it could do with a full CLA (clean, lubricate, adjust) service, I think. Meter checks out fine. This one will probably be sent off for the proper treatment.