I love cameras. If you venture onto some of the forums, you’ll find people telling you that the camera is just a box who’s main purpose is to hold the lens. And most of all it is the lens that matters. Probably true … but … for some … and I am one of them … there is something about using the camera itself as a key element of the photographic making process. The camera as a tool, the tactile pleasure … its use, a linkage to the greats that came before us, and the ones we admire today. I have succumbed to all of this, and it is not necessarily all that bad.

Several times the allure of the large camera has been overwhelming, only to fade away based on the results or other less tangible reasons … only to return again. I am a great admirer of Adams, Weston(s), Strand and other great large format masters and I have taken excellent workshops with some of the outstanding large format artists of our time … John Sexton, Michael Smith and Paula Chamlee. I’ve visited the temple and stood on hallowed ground of Ansel Adam’s darkroom (not sure I have ever fully recovered from that experience!!!!). Knowing that these and many more great photographers used these wonderful tools made me have to own them too … several times during my photographic life.

It was during one of those periods of weakness when the GAS was strong that I lusted after the great Deardorff 8×10. The history, the wood and nickel construction, the size… the opportunity to make contact prints. Yes I had to have it!

It was the Eighties. My Shutterbug magazine was delivered to my front door every month. Forget the articles, it was all about the mega classified section that seemed to make up about half of the printed pages of each issue. I scoured them. Remember when your local newspaper had a decent classified section? Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday I would look at the classified section of the Washington Post first, before I got to the front page, or even the sports section! It was a much different time … perhaps a better time, but I digress.

So I am eating breakfast on Saturday morning, but before leaving with my wife to do some important things I had promised to take care of with her that morning I look at the classifieds. There it was … “For Sale: Deardorff 8×10 View Camera” along with a phone number!!!!!

As my wife was getting ready to leave with me I made the call. He answered. Did it have front and rear swings … YES! Ok, breath deep … how much was it? Twenty-Five. My heart sank … not $2500, which was the upper end of the going rate. OK, another deep breath … do you mean $2500? No … $25! He explained it needed a little work and wanted it to go to a good home. I told him not to go anywhere; I would leave my house in 5 minutes. Needless to say my wife wasn’t all that happy as I ran out the door, scuttling our plans to buy another camera that was a 45-minute drive away. I didn’t deserve her then and probably still don’t.

I got there as fast as I could, rang the doorbell and out came an older gentleman. He showed me the camera and yes it was in need of repair, but certainly worth more than $25. I offered him much more, but I guess when I told him I worked for the government and he asked my age, that he realized the obvious … I must be poor! So he insisted I buy it for the stated price, and I promised I would return it to its former glory.

Next step was to get this beauty restored. After all it was manufactured in 1954, the year I was born. Surely a sign! After some research I found someone that specialized in bringing old Deardorffs back to life. So I sent it off and waited for its agreed upon return. In the meantime I signed up to take a workshop in Carmel with John Sexton and Henry Gilpin. These are truly two of the greats of the West Coast School – wonderful photographers and teachers (Henry sadly passed away in 2011)!

The Deardorff was supposed to be back to me several weeks prior to the workshop, but as luck would have it there was some kind of problem and it wasn’t going to be ready until I arrived in California … $#@!%^&!

I wasn’t going to cancel out of the workshop, nor was I going to take a 35mm along with me as a substitute for either a large or medium format camera (Henry made exquisite photographs with a Hasselblad that were often mistaken for large format images). So it was agreed that it would be shipped to my hotel in Carmel.

The second day of the workshop it arrived. I quickly unpacked it, but I had only enough time to barely savor the smell of the of the newly varnished wood or examine the perfect creases of the brand new custom made bellows … I was robbed of one of the most fun aspects of this passion — a proper and slow unboxing of a new arrival!

The Deardorff has a beautiful and sturdy large diameter metal plate on the bottom of the camera in which the screw of your tripod head or quick release attaches. I had my sturdy Gitzo tripod, lenses and loaded film holders with me. I picked up the camera at the hotel desk and left for the remainder of the day’s activity at the workshop. Everyone met at the lovely beach at Point Lobos, one of the world’s great seascapes. I had been there before with a Leica, but now I was going to conquer it with my Deardorff!

I was nervous, yet extremely excited as I began to mount the beast atop my tripod on the very beach that Edward Weston once stood. The anticipation was almost too much … until … the screw on my tripod head would not fasten to the treaded hole in the metal bottom plate of the camera … $!#@%^&*()_}+|}!#$@%^&!!

It was not to be; the threads were somehow stripped, and I was screwed (pun intended!). Needless to say I didn’t make any pictures. I did however learn a powerful lesson. Never venture out into the world with the hope of making something meaningful or at least having a meaningful experience without testing your equipment and materials (proper film speed and development time), and carrying extra batteries if you use them. In other words be prepared so you will have a fighting chance to succeed.

Suffering a major embarrassment was the least of my problems. What really hurt was the opportunity that was squandered on several levels.

I learned my lesson. So take it from me; always be prepared!