An early Nikon SP with its original motor and a unique battery pack

My black Nikon SP with motor & battery pack

Original black Nikon SPs from the late 1950s and early 60s have always been rare and today are sought by collectors. Nippon Kogaku (NK) and the American marketer, Nikon, Inc. aimed the black paint finished SPs directly at professionals, who bought them, used them hard and, in many cases, wore them out. This is an example of such a camera. Its condition and accessories are a reflection of its once use by such a working professional photographer. 

 The Nikon SP, was announced by Nikon, Inc.  with a new price list on September 1st, 1957. This lists included the new camera in black or chrome finish and its new motor, but no price for the motor appeared. Why? Because at that date, only a few prototypes existed. According to Rotoloni in his The Complete Nikon Rangefinder System (2008) at the time NK announced the Nikon SP, 400 cameras had already been manufactured., all part of a first run (code 26F2B-1). At least fifty of the first one hundred were in black finish. Most of these went to working professionals, many with the new motor drive—available that November as a kit for either the SP or the S2. A black Nikon was the only way anyone initially could get a motor. Even the Nikon Inc. price published the following May indicates that the motor was only available fitted to a black Nikon SP or black S3. Not until the 1959 price list was it possible to purchase a motor separately to go on any Nikon SP or S3. Of the first 150 motors, we know that thirty-two got fitted to black Nikon S2s and were sold in Japan as Nikon S2Es. Their motors are the same as those sold with black SPs and their serial numbers overlap with numbers of motors found on Nikon SPs.

Top of early Nikon SP

Serial # 6200077

The camera: The Nikon SP here is number 6200077, the 77th completed and in the first lot of black SPs finished (numbers 6200035-6200084). It has several of the early characteristics mentioned by Steve Gandy [https://www.cameraquest.com/nrfspv.htm], including a brighter rangefinder patch, a cast then machined-out advance lever, shallower rings on the counter cap and a black outline frame for a 35mm lens that is at least twice as thick as found on later SPs.

The thick outline for 35mm lens is found on early SPs

The cast and ground-out advance lever is found only on early SPs

The camera as received, covered with tape

When I received it, the focus helicoid was rough and would hang up at 3.5 feet. Shutter speeds below 1/8 of a second all sounded like a 1/15th and T fired as B. The flash sync ring wouldn’t lift or change. Several days of exercise and a spot of lighter fluid to the helicoid and the focus works fine. All shutter speeds work except that T still thinks it is bulb every other firing. Go figure? Sync setting is now easy. In other words, we have a camera that received heavy, heavy usage for at least half-a-dozen years, then probably sat stored for over 50 years, and yet it still works! And takes great pictures.

THe well-worn bottom of the motor back

 The S36 Motor: This motor came mated to the camera and would have been sold with the camera. As noted above, as far as we can determine, all the first black Nikon SPs were only sold with motors. It is number 940062— one number earlier than the motor that came with Tad Sato’s Nikon S2E. A type one motor, it would have originally shipped with a black two-wire cord and a small battery pack that took AA batteries—the so-called “sardine pack.”.

The two types of motor plugs. This motor uses the two-wire type on right.

The operation of the type one motors is quite different from the later types—which are three-core, three-wire and closely resemble the F36 motor for the Nikon F. A close look at the plugs for the type one (two wire) and the later three wire plugs shows one difference. The hot wire inside pin is the same as later plugs, but the three wire metal sheath has two parts: one closes the circuit for continuous firing, the other allows single frames from a battery pack. With only a two wire connector, a remote triggering on this type one only allows continuous firing. Single firing is also different. Set the knob on the back of the motor to the white dot and the camera fires when one uses the standard release on top of the camera. Lift the finger and the motor advances to the next frame. The dot setting is also for continuous shooting when the button set in the knob is held down.. Set the knob to K (for 継続的な [Keizoku-tekina]—the Japanese word for continuous) and the motor will fire the camera by itself until the counter winds down or the film runs out. The K setting is also for continuous shooting when the battery pack is set for remote. Note: The K mark changed to ‘C’ after about the first 200 motors.

The unique battery pack

Back of camera fitted with motor & battery pack

NOTE: Copies of the original instructions are downloadable from Pacific Rim Camera’s web site. This particular motor is as worn as the camera with equal evidence of hard usage. Despite rust in spots on screws and the blade springs for the pressure plate, the interior was clean and the motor does fire from the cordless battery pack.

The Cordless battery pack: This pack appears to have been designed specifically for this motor and is probably one-of-a-kind. No serial number or any name on it. It is similar to the Jacobson cordless packs built for the rangefinder Nikons and the Nikon Fs, but differs in many details. A front-mounted  release allows remote operation in a continuous mode—or single shots if your finger is

quick enough.

The open battery pack before modification and after for use with 9 volt battery

A mini-phone jack on the side allows for remote firing via a cord with a switch. The battery pack adds only 3/8th of an inch (8mm) to the overall height. Most of the pack is in front of the motor. That part is 2.5 inches deep (65mm). The front rises 1 3/8 inches (35mm) in front, and overall width is 5.5 inches (140mm). The wide bottom provides a stable base and the camera will not tip over. It offers two quarter-inch tripod bushes. one centered and a second to the right which appears to have never been used. Three small screws hold its lid in place. Remove the top and there is a place for seven AA flat-top, nickel-cadmium rechargeable batteries. Seven? Yes. Flat tops yield less power than standard AAs, so seven were needed to bring the power up to the nine volts the motor needed. The original batteries are long gone and the contacts corroded, but the combination hints at the age for the pack since Nic-cad batteries did not become readily available until 1960. My local battery store soldered in a connector for a standard 9 volt battery and it works! But a single 9 volt battery has little humph and the motor runs slowly. I’m lucky to get two rolls of film through the motor before the voltage drops too low for the motor to complete a cycle. Oh, well. What can one expect after sixty-five years? We’re all slower than we used to be. I’m just happy it works at all. 

The 21mm f4.5 Zeiss Biogon lens that came with camera

The 2.1cm f4.5 Zeiss Biogon lens: The camera came with this lens and its presence indicates what the original owner eventually used the camera for. With the cordless pack, this would have been an ideal combination for a newspaper photographer to grab “Hail Mary” shots by raising the camera high, pointing in the general direction of a speaking politician or a crowded event and pressing the release again and again. This super wide-angle would have made certain that he or she would have gotten a few usable shots in focus. In the early 1950s, Zeiss Ikon called its great lens designer, Ludwig Bertele, back from Wild in Switzerland and commissioned him to design one last lens: the 21mm Biogon. When Zeiss brought it out in 1954, it was the widest lens for any 35mm camera anywhere in the world. The Contax version fits a Nikon rangefinder camera and even couples to the rangefinder—although why anyone would ever try to focus it is a good question since even wide open, focus is from infinity to 4.5 feet. It was the inspiration for the 21mm f4 Nikkor-O that would be NK’s widest 35mm lens for many years.

The camera’s history: The camera and motor kit came from an ebay seller in Hillsboro, Oregon—a suburb of Portland. Other than that, we have not been able to discover its history.

Number 063 on interior of faceplate is either evidence of a past repair or a company production number

The west coast of the United States was a leader in the use of Japanese cameras in America and it is possible—even likely—that this combo was purchased for a staff photographer working for either the Portland Oregonian or Portland Journal—Portland’s two daily newspapers—in late 1957 or early 1958, or as soon as that camera-motor combination became available. The Portland Journal would die in the 1960s after a long, bitter labor strike, and if that is where the camera was owned, its use might have died with the newspaper. This may be one of the first Nikon SPs sold in Oregon. If anyone has any ideas as to who its owner might have been, I would certainly welcome that information. Whoever owned the camera must have grown concerned over the brassing of the black paint because at some point he or she carefully covered all the exposed edges and much of the camera surface with 3M’s “decorate and repair” tape. This type of tape can do an excellent job of protecting metal and painted surfaces provided it is not left on too long. I have used this kind of tape on other cameras in the past and it works well, but left to cold, dampness or heat, the adhesive can harden, making removal without damaging the paint underneath almost impossible. On this camera, the tape had become ugly and was peeling in places. Careful removal resulted in some loss of paint, including most of the serial number (no, I’m not the one who did that peeling). However, the number is still readable under magnification.

Dead hemlock taken with 21mm Biogon

Camera set up for use. Handles nicely.

House taken with 21mm Biogon

Akarette 1 from 1947

Akarette 1 from 1947 with 45mm Xenar

In an earlier post, I covered a general history of the Akarette/Akarelle cameras made by the German company of Apparate und Kamerabau GmbH. <http://wesloderandnikon.blogspot.com/2021/05/akas-akarette-and-akarelle-compact-35mm.html> Here I want to point out some features of the earliest Akarettes as well as display the range of quality Schneider lenses AkA offered for the camera at one time.
  

Akarette with 7.5cm f3.8 Tele-Xenar. Finder covers both focal lengths.

 This is an Akarette I. Serial number is 175, which would date it to early 1947—among the first cameras the company produced while still operating out of a hotel room in Wildbad in the Black Forest of southwest Germany. The earliest Akarettes used the 24x32 format—the same as the first Nikons and several other early Japanese 35mm cameras. However, despite its low number, this particular Akarette is in the 24x36 format. Fine with me. Easier to get slide film processed and mounted. Was it always 24x36? Was it modified later? Counter runs to 40 and the standard lens it came with a shorter 45mm, so who knows?
  

Serial number behind back chart plate.

 Serial numbers on early Akarettes are hard to find. The camera body consists of two cast aluminum shells with the back shell overlapping the front shell around the edges to make a nice light-tight body. The serial number is stamped on both shells. On the back it is located under the back plate chart with its wide range of exposure factors. You need to remove the chart to find the number. The number for the front shell is inside—behind the shutter/finder module You need to remove the module to see it. Why AkA hid the numbers this way is a question I cannot answer.

Serial # behind shutter module in front casting.

    Although the finish is a bit crude, in some ways it has held up better than the later Akarette II and Akarelles. No chromed top or bottom plates. Instead, the castings are directly finished in a glossy, hard, black enamel. The front plate is polished aluminum. Not pretty, but in better condition than the nickel-finished brass plates on later models that almost always show brassing. Shutter is an early Prontor with the Gauthier mark on top. Speeds from 1/250th down to one second plus B. A respectable shutter for 1947, and probably the best that Gauthier offered at that time. Frame counter is easy to see, which is more than I can say about later models.
The dual finder is clear and the rotation between 45/50 to 75 easy. I just wish it had an accessory shoe so I could mount a finder for the 35mm f3.5 Xenagon wide angle.
Sadly, the original lens for this camera is dirty, stiff and hazy. It is unusable without major surgery. It is also uncoated and most of the black paint is missing from the beauty ring. Still, I like the camera’s compactness and easy to use controls. If one can get used to zone-focusing and mounted a lens in better condition, this could be an easy camera to put in a coat pocket and head out to take pictures.

Snowdrops, 45mm Xenar

South view, 35mm Xenagon

Linda splitting wood. 45mm Xenar

Full range of Schneider lenses for the Akarette. 3.5cm Xenagon, 4.5cm Xenar, 5cm Xenon, 7.5cm Tele-Xenar, 9cm Tele-Xenar

AkA was determined to offer a camera with a full range of accessories and optics. All of the first lenses came from Schneider, an optical company capable of producing first-rate lenses. Here is a picture of the various Schneider lenses initially offered in the Akarette mount. Except for the 90mm lens, all are compact, solid, unit-focusing lenses. The 90mm f3.5 Tele-Xenar isn’t really that big, but compared to the other lenses, it’s a monster, twice the size and twice the weight of the 75 and with its focus direction the opposite of the others, it feels out-of-place.
    Later lenses included front-element Xenars and optics from ISCO and other cheaper sources.

German 90s and 135s from the 1950s

Why were the German 35mm rangefinder camera manufacturers so wedded to the 90mm focal length? Was it because Leitz led the way with its 90mm f4 Elmar? Was it an easy focal length to fit on a mount with a behind-the-lens leaf shutter? Perhaps part of the understanding as to why the German 35mm camera industry largely failed in the late 1950s can be seen in this picture of a range of various 90mm lenses and a equivalent 85mm f2 Nikkor-P from the same period. The five lenses here are arranged by size. The smallest is a 90mm f4 Color-Telinear with a close focusing distance of 1.8 meters (6 feet). Distance is marked in both feet and meters, the body is mostly aluminum with chromed brass at the wear points. It is a nicely-made lens but a close focus of only six feet a loser and the maximum aperture hardly inspiring. Next is a 90mm f3.5 Tele-Xenar made by Schneider for the Akarette/Akarelle. Beautiful construction in heavy chrome-over Brass. Focuses down to one meter (39 inches). Again, nice lens but tiny controls are hard to read even in good light and small maximum aperture makes available light photography challenging. To the right of the black-finished Nikkor is a 90mm f4 Schacht-Travenar for the Leidolf Lordomat. Relatively light weight with a largely aluminum barrel and focuses down to one meter. Again, a nicely-finished lens but the small maximum aperture limits dim-light shooting. Finally we have a Leitz 90mm f2.8 Elmarit from the 1960s. A long-focus design instead of a a telephoto, it is notcably longer and larger. A flexible design but being Leitz, expensive. Now compare these optics with the 85mm f2 Nikkor-P in mount for the Nikon rangefinder cameras. It focuses down to 3.5 feet (sligtly over a meter), but with a maximum aperture of f2, it puts all the other lenses to shame by at least one full f-stop. Only the Zeiss 85mm Sonnar matched that. So what was happening? Japanese companies like Nippon Kogaku (Nikon) and Canon were selling lenses that were lighter, faster and generally closer focusing than the German equivalents. Customers were looking for those features and finding it in Japanese products at competitive prices. Part of the problem was that, except for the Leitz lens, all these optics were made to fit in front of a behind-the-length shutter which allowed only small rear optics in order to clear the shutter opening without vignetting. As long as the German companies were limited in what shutters they could use due to patent restrictions and Zeiss Ikon's promotion of Compur and Prontor shutters, customers could only buy slow speed optics.

The same holds true for the 135mm lenses these same companies sold. Here are three 135mm and one 130 lens from late 1950s and mid-1960s. The Schacht-Travenar and the Tele-Elmar, both f4 lenses, are similar in size to the 135mm Nikkor-Q f3.5 lens. All have similar close-focusing capabilities. But look at the Agfa 130mm f4 Color-Telinear with its huge 62mm filter front. Again, a need to compensate for a small exit pupil led to a big front and a no-where-near close focus of three meters!

The Lordomat standard [Primus], an interchangeable-lens 35mm camera from the 1950s

Lordomat standard types 2 and 3 with 50mm f2.8 and 50mm f1.9

History: The Leidolf company was founded in 1921 by Rudolf Leidolf in Wetzlar, Germany. Leidolf had trained as a “precision mechanic” at Henson & Son. He was later joined by his son-in-law, Fritz Meinhardt, who had also trained as a precision mechanic for E. Leitz. The company started business machining parts for microscopes for Leitz. Meinhardt would in time take over management of the company and he may have been responsible for many of the camera designs.

    Leidolf got into manufacturing cameras after World War II (starting in 1948-49) along with many other optical firms trying to take advantage of the high post-war demand for German cameras. Its first camera were a simple, metal-bodied cameras called a Leidox that used 127 size film. Leitz did not like that name and under threat, Leidolf changed the name to Lordox. Following popular trends, the company turned to a 35mm version in 1952.
  

Notice of Lordomat sold by Widina, 1953.

  In 1953, Leidolf announced a new 35mm camera with a behind-the-lens Gauthier Prontor shutter and offering complete interchangeability of lenses. This became the Lordomat “standard.” It was supplemented by the more sophisticated Lordomat C35(luxus) with an additional finder and a built-in meter in 1956. Leidolf would later produce many different versions of their camera that would use the same basic body-shape, layout and controls. Some, such as later Lordox, had non-interchangeable lenses. Other versions included built-in light meters and bright-frame finders. The company ceased camera production in 1962 but lingered on as a part of Wild Heerbrugg before disappearing into the Leitz Holding company in 1990.

* For a through review and many images of the different models, I recommend Cees-Jan de Hoog’s website <http://www.cjs-classic-cameras.co.uk/leidolf/leidolf.html> Mike Eckman also has an excellent review of a Lordomat in his series on older cameras <https://www.mikeeckman.com/2015/11/leidolf-lordomat-1953/>. For a detailed and accurate history of the Leidolf company. I recommend the December 15th, 1998 issue of Photographica Cabinett which is totally devoted to a history of the Leidolf company and its cameras.

    Leidolf does not appear to have ever manufactured anything for their cameras other than the bodies—with the possible exception of their 35mm finder. Other accessories came from Wedena in Bad Nauheim.
    Wedena was a marketing firm founded by Willi Diehl. Originally a company called “Widina” for Willi Diehl Nauheim, it served as the exclusive sales department and marketer for the Leidolf cameras. All the German advertising and even the camera instructions identify Wedena as the company responsible for the Leidolf cameras. Wedena also marketed other photographic products such as the Taco Universal flashgun which was actually manufactured by Erich Kaiser. The Lordomat’s turret finder, filters and closeup lenses all bore only the Wedena name.
    Wedena based its sales strategy on getting major mail-order and photo supply companies to sell the Leidolf products instead of working to get the Lordomats into specialty stores. Starting in 1957, most of the German sales were made through Foto-Quelle, part of a huge warehouse-catalogue-sales chain that in 1970 would claim to be “The largest retailer in the world.”

Quelle ad for C35

      The Leidolf camera sold throughout Europe, including England, but breaking into the critical North American market proved more difficult. Initially several small, New York based firms picked up the franchise, but none appear to have lasted long. In March 1955 the Minifilm Corp is listed as selling the Lordomat. By September 1956, Royal Photo Distributors are the “Sole Agent.” By May, 1957, Camera Import Corp. was handling sales. In 1958. Montgomery Ward was claiming “Exclusive import rights and sales” for the Lordomat. To do this, the major catalogue company added less expensive versions of the Lordomat with an “Adams” label. In 1959, importation would shift to Unimark Photo, Inc. which added its name to the cameras.
    This outsourcing of marketing and dependence on catalogue sales was to prove fatal. With Japanese camera sales growing in the United States and a shift in public demand to single-lens reflexes, companies like Wards and Foto-Quelle insisted on lower and lower prices in order to maintain sales. By 1962, margins had narrowed to the point that Leidolf could no longer make money. When Meinhardt, now the company’s president, refused Foto-Quelle’s latest demands, Foto-Quelle cancelled the contract and, with no German market, Leidolf stopped manufacturing cameras and most of the workers were let go.  Rudolf Leidolf and Fritz Meinhardt both died in 1964.

Cover for Wedena & Royal Photo Importers

   All of the Lordomat’s lenses came from two small optical firms: Enna Werk in Munich and Albert Schacht in Ulm. Both companies manufactured a wide range of lenses in a variety of focal lengths and in a various mounts, particularly in the M39 and M42 thread and in the Exakta mount.
    Enna supplied the Lordomat’s normal lenses, either a 50mm f2.8 Lordonar or a 50mm f1.9 Lordon. It also made a 35mm f3.5 Lordonar and a 90mm f5.5 Telordon plus others. Schacht made a 35mm f3.5 Travenar/Travetar, a 90mm f4 Travenar and a 135mm f4 Travenar. Except for the Lordon, all were four-element optics.
    A three-element 50mm f2.8mm Triplon in the Lordomat mount was sold with the cheaper Adams camera and also appeared on the non-interchangeable Lordox and other Leidolf cameras.

    The Lordomat standard came in three versions. All three featured a Prontor SVS shutter with speeds to 1/300th of a second and included a self-timer. The first shutter type used the old progression of speeds and did not have click stops. Later versions use the modern speed progression, have click stops and feature a button that needs to be depressed to shift the flash sync/self-timer setting.

    The first version of the camera has an orange-red film over the rangefinder window. It is the least common version. It also came with a smaller 50mm f2.8 with a chrome front and taking a 34mm filter size. By 1955, the red filter for the rangefinder window was gone and a larger normal lens taking 40.5mm filters was standard. In the third version, strap lugs were added. Otherwise, all three versions are alike.
    The first impression one gets is that this a simple, compact camera with clean lines. The wide-based rangefinder and the symmetry of the front with its centered lens mount and equal-sized windows give it balance and helps the handling. The clean top—with all controls except the counter/rewind knob set into the surface—is attractive. The viewfinder is a simple optical finder but bright and clear. No parallax correction. The rangefinder patch in the ones I have seen is bright with a yellowish tinge. The double stroke, reverse wind advance lever is different but easy to get used to. The back comes off with a turn of a bottom lock. Tripod socket and accessory shoe are both centered. Lenses exchange via a threaded collar that fits over a male thread on the body. A notch and pin allow alignment. A simple design similar to the mountings also used by the Akarette/Akarelle and the Diax cameras.

The Lordomat lens mount.

      Film loads with a reverse curl, but I find the slot on the take up spool difficult to work with and don’t trust the film is advancing correctly until I have observed the rewind turn with an advance. The film counter sets below a plastic-covered window. In almost all cases, the plastic has turned yellow, even a dark orange, making the frame numbers difficult to read.
    Removing the top requires only a set of screwdrivers and a spanner wrench. Be careful. A tiny bead acts as a click stop for the film reminder built into the rewind knob. The socket for the rewind may contain tiny brass shims. Two of the Lordomats I handled have their rangefinders off vertically. There is a way to adjust, but it is not easy. The weakest part of the camera is probably the return for the film advance. A wire loop attaches to the capstan and, in turn, connects to a spring that extends half the width of the camera’s top interior. If the wire breaks, the advance lever has to be manually pushed back to the front. I fixed this using 10 lb. monofilament fish line with super-glued knotted loops at each end. Seems to be working for now.

    German leaf shutters, Compur or Prontor, all seem to have problems with sticking and slow speeds getting too slow. The Lordomat shares this problem. Exercise and application of lighter fluid seems to help, but keep shutter the blades clean. Focus and aperture rings on my normals and wide angles all seem to be fine, particularly the 50s which still turn smooth as silk. The Schacht telephotos I own had stiff focus and in two cases were completely frozen. Hair dryer heat and lighter fluid got them working again, but focus remains rough.

    Final observations: This a camera I find a pleasure to shoot with. The low profile, compact size and easily-set controls are strong points. Despite an all-metal construction, the camera does not feel too heavy. Lens controls are easy to set and on the 90 and 50mm f2.8, f-stops click into place with precision. All but the early Lordonars take readily-available 40.5mm filters and hoods. In tests, I particularly like the 50mm Lordonar and the 50mm Lordon. Schacht lenses have a mixed reputation, but the 35mm Travetar performs well. I am not impressed with the 135mm Travenar.

    Because it was imported into the United States, Lordomats show up in this country on ebay regularly, but prices tend to run higher than my budget will allow. These are good cameras and both users and collectors like them. The accessory lenses are harder to find and finding ones in usable condition may be difficult. If you are looking for a easy-to-use 1950s rangefinder 35, you might want to consider a Lordomat.

Two 35mm lenses, Travenar & Travetar with cases

90mm f4 Travenar with finder

A bevy of lenses, except the 50mm, all from A. Schacht

Interior 50mm Lordonar

Interior with seamstress. 50mm Lordonar

White oak and beech

Wood must be split. 35mm Travetar

Child's castle. 50mm Lordonar

Wineberry canes at dusk. 35mm Travetar

Masonry heater. 50mm Lordonar

A Constellation of SPICAs

Named for a first-magnitude star in the constellation Virgo, the 3.5X “SPICA” was Nippon Kogaku’s second post-war product to make it into production, probably in late November or early December 1945. A 2X sport glass named Capella soon followed. Both names would be registered as trademarks by Nippon Kogaku on April 19, 1946. “Opera glasses” or “sport glasses” are binoculars with no prisms to twist the light path into a shorter housing. They typically consist of single or doublet front components that provide the necessary magnification, and negative rear elements that both allow focusing and rotation the image to one that is upright and un-reversed. By avoiding prisms, these binoculars save on weight, but compactness can only come from limiting the designs to low magnifications, usually less than 4.5X. The Spica opera glass is no exception. Four by two by one-and-a-quarter inches (95 x 50 x 35mm), the light-weight, uncased glass slips readily into a coat pocket. Its all-black finish combines clean lines with a feel of precision and quality that most opera glasses lack. In short, this is a glass that is a pleasure to hold and to use. Unlike NK’s first post-war prism binoculars, the Novar and the later Orions, the Spica was a new design. One wonders where NK found the resources to place such a product into production so quickly. But the Occupation forces were looking for quality optics at low prices. Perhaps NK felt that this might be a best seller. It is also possible that it was able to grind down glass that had been molded for use in the military Type 93 4X glasses. Sales of NK opera glasses must have been strong enough initially, for SCAP records indicate a production of 709 in 1945 then 10,426 in 1946 with September the biggest month with 2190 produced. That high may have been in anticipation of that year’s upcoming Christmas season. Almost all of these sales would have been to the CPO (Central Purchasing Office) which provided the stock for the military occupation stores. But then sales slacked. SCAP reports indicate production of only 2926 Spica the January 1947 to February 1948 period—a drop of 50 percent. Of these, 1,050 Spica went to the CPO. An additional 1,000 Spica were sold to the Continental Merchandise Company in New York City. So, only a few—no more than 426 Spica were sold domestically that year. I can find no record of any NK opera glass production for 1948 and only one final run of 569 in December 1949. The Spicas have no serial numbers, so actual production numbers can not be certain, but all these numbers in the SCAP records would suggest a total production of all NK post-war opera glasses, both Spica and Capella, of 21,539. That should make them more common than the post-war Orions, but far rarer than the plentiful and popular Novars. This short span of production explains several features of the Spicas and Capellas. All seen so far feature the older Nikko logo that would be phased out in early 1948. In addition, the body coverings are the same glue-cork or sawdust composite that the early post-war Novars and Orions used. In addition, few seem to have the “Made in Occupied Japan” mark that is seen on almost all post-war Japanese export products. Why? Because that mark was not required until February 1947—at which time the production of the NK opera glasses was drawing to a close.

The typical Spica that shows up on ebay or in auctions has a black glossy finish over an aluminum cast body with a rough finish where hands would naturally grip. The back face is engraved with the “Nikko” mark and TOKYO to the left and SPICA and 3.5X on the right. A central focusing knob to the front moves the back unit for a focus range from infinity to around three feet. Most of the Spicas and the Capellas came in unlined leather cases with a snap flap and a short unadjustable carrying strap. But at least one Spica has been seen with a canvas case. Three basic variations of the Spica seem to come up for sale. The most common type has no MIOJ markings on either the glasses or the case. The second type has MIOJ stamped on the case under the flap, but no markings on the glasses.

The third version, which must date from 1947 or maybe 1949, has MIOJ engraved and white-filled across the top of the focusing arm.

But there is an even rarer version, and these are the Spicas not finished in black. So far I have seen only eight of these: four in red, three in green and one in blue. Were these sold to the Japanese domestic market as children’s binoculars? Were any, ever sold in the PXs? Who knows. They are certainly rare, but except for their paint jobs, they are the same as the black-finished ones.

It is unclear as to what was the antecedent for the Spica design. The optical design is similar to many other opera glasses, but the black, serious finish is in contrast to most opera glasses which tend to feature fancy bodies and multiple metals or finishes. The most popular post-war Japanese opera glasses were the 2.5X Prides manufactured by Tokyo Kogaku in huge numbers (11,815 in 1947 alone). These featured fancier polished chrome trimmings and leather-covered bodies. Why did NK discontinue what had been a lucrative range of products? Since we do not know what the originals sold for, it is hard to know, but competition from other Japanese manufacturers is the probable explanation. Even in 1946, NK’s management insisted that all of the company’s products had to meet NK’s high standards. But by late that year, dozens of tiny startup firms in Japan were attempting to ride the train of Japan’s growing optical reputation by assembling and selling cheap opera glasses. These used aluminum focusing screws, stamped sheet metal housings and marginal optics. Many were simpler copies of the brass and lacquered models that had once been the favorites of theater attendees in Europe and the United States. They were impossible to keep in optical alinement and most soon showed rust along their barrel seams. But they were cheap, much cheaper than NK’s own products. NK wasn’t making much money on the opera glasses—only $3.10 per Spica and only $1.74 per Capella sold to the CPO. Overseas sales were not much better. NK got only $3.40 for each of the Spicas sold to the Continental Company in 1947. That may not have been enough to justify continued production. Another factor may have been a decision to promote the much-better finished Mikrons. These 6X binoculars took up little more space in a pocket than the Spicas did, but with their fine, brushed chrome finishes and obvious quality, they could demand a higher price which Occupation troops were willing to pay. The Mikrons were certainly popular items, so much so that when NK brought out a new range of binoculars in 1950, they called them all Mikrons. The Pair of Spica opera glasses we see here is typical of NK’s line. At first glance, the Spica hints at fine quality and finish, but a closer examination shows evidence of the problems NK was experiencing with getting any manufacturing done that would meet the company’s own high standards. What at first appears to be a leather reveals itself to be merely a baked-on material molded onto the metal barrels themselves. Disassembling the focusing unit, reveals a beautifully-machined brass focus screw, but linings were cut from red cloth ornamented with white and green flowers(!)

[see illustration closeup]. Hardly the most obvious material to use. Still, the alinement has held and the view is sharp and clear, even after sixty years.