The Little Red Dot

Instant recognition through a product feature or logo design is the goal of any brand strategist.  The Chevrolet Bowtie, the seven slatted grill of a Jeep vehicle, the Coca Cola wave, the Target icon all point to a specific product or store that would not be confused for another.  In computers a little red dot points to the tracking spot of the finger mouse as well as the dot for the i in Thinkpad computers.  In cameras – the little red dot is the calling card for the Leica logo on the front of an iconic piece of photographic equipment.  I imagine that is what you suspect this post is about.  It isn’t.

When I think of little red dots on cameras, I think of something less well known, but more emotionally significant to me.  To me, it is the little red logo on my Petri 2.8 rangefinder camera. 

The Petri brand of cameras is one of many namesakes forgotten by an industry that has left so many by the side of the road.  Petri was the western facing brand entity of the Kuribayashi camera company. In 1954 it released the Petri 35 as the first model in a new rangefinder platform.  The 2.8 was released in 1957 and the end of the platform came in 1960.  The Petri 7 line that replaced it hid the little red dot and subsequent lines and models removed it completely.  Petri entered into the SLR market, but faded when electronics entered the picture.  They still produce telescopes.

I am nostalgic for some of the cameras I’ve owned.  I still have and care for the Minolta Autopak 450e 110 film camera that was a Christmas present when I was 12.  Looking back, that camera was formative for me.  It was a little fancier than most 110 format cameras of the time.  It had a focus adjustment slider, a red LED in the viewfinder let you know if you had enough light, if not you could adjust another slider and let more light in, there was a pop out flash and coolest of all, a slide in place close up/macro lens.  That camera taught me that there was more to photography than point and shoot.

But it had its limitations.  It was a 110 camera and in my Junior year of high school, my photography teacher let me take my first couple rolls of B&W with it, but there after I needed a 35mm camera to learn the exposure triangle.  We didn’t have a 35mm camera, I could borrow one from the school but could only use it on school grounds during that class hour, limiting subjects available to me.  In a pinch, my mother called my Uncle Tom, he could help. 

My father passed away when I was a year and a half.  My Uncle Tom was perhaps the most important father figure in my life growing up.  We drove the half mile to his house.  We walked down the front hallway to the closet and he started digging.  Relatively quickly he pulled out a camera bag, in it his Nikon F3.  My hopes took a big leap, but no, I didn’t get to use that camera.  He dug deeper into the closet.  It took a while but finally he pulled out an old camera bag made of faux leather backed with dense fiber board, inside, the Petri 2.8. 

The Petri had history.  Tom had purchased it in the Army PX while stationed in Japan in 1960.  He wanted something to remind him of all the sights he was seeing overseas during his stint typing memos for the Army (Tom was 6’6”…and clumsy).  He used it for 20 years until he needed something newer and better and the Petri was forgotten. 

The Petri came with accessories!  Screw on wide angle and telephoto extensions with an accompanying alternative view finder, a flash unit and a leather weather cover.  What there wasn’t however, were any electronics.  It was fully manual.  Focus, shutter and aperture adjustments all surrounded the 45mm lens housing.  Like the Minolta before it was a perfect vehicle for growth.  For the next two years I was to learn the expensive lessons of incorrect exposure and lack of attention to precise focusing.  For those two years, everything I took was with that camera.  Graduation from High School brought with it a present - a Ricoh KR30 Program.  But I did not forget the Petri, it became my dedicated B&W body. 

Eventually both cameras ceased working.  The Ricoh lost the spring that returned the mirror over the film.  The shutter release on the Petri gummed up.  I stopped shooting for several years until the Olympus EPL1 introduced me to the digital form of the art.

My Uncle died two nearly two years ago, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  Like my mother, he suffered from vascular dementia and the decline was painful to witness.  At one point he wanted to talk about serious matters.  A lot of things were said.  I made a point to let him know that giving me the Petri was one of the greatest gifts I ever received.  Around the same time I had the desire to begin working with film again, as a sideline to digital.  I wished I could pursue that with the Pertri.

The Petri wasn’t broken – it was just dirty, really really dirty.  I suspected that if it were cleaned up it would work as well as the day my uncle gave it to me.  I didn’t know where to take it though.  I knew that Derrick Story worked with film cameras refurbishing them for his store to help fund his podcast.  I reached out to him and he said he could take a look if I covered return postage.  I was in.  I packed up a box of everything that I owned that resembled a 35mm film camera sent it to him.  Told him to make best use of everything that he could, just send back the Petri.  He did.  He thought the shutter release was still a little sticky, but once home that went away quickly with a little use. I am thankful.

I plan to dedicate some future posts to documenting my renewed journey with this camera.  I am very excited.  A part of my photographic memory has returned to me, as well as the memories of the Uncle who is no longer around.