Roll film numbering began with 101 in 1898. the still-common 120 spool film was the 20th roll film format. Common 35mm film is also called 135 -- the 135th type of roll film.
122 film, produced from 1903 to 1971, was designed to take photos with negatives 3.25 inches by 5.5 inches. That negative size is solidly in the large format range. Depending on who you ask, two-by-three negatives may be large format. To me, two-by-three is medium format, but that's a discussion for a different day.
124 film, produced from 1905 to 1961, was designed for negatives 3.25 inches by 4.25 film. The negative is slightly smaller than 122, so there's a full inch between negatives instead of just an eighth or quarter, as normal. I have an unexposed roll of 122 in my fridge, now, too, and hope to use it in a few weeks in the Brownie. There will be a lot of negative waste, yes, but I'm not interested in picking up a camera that uses 122 film.
These 3.25X5.5 negatives were called 'postcard format' because the negatives were designed to be contact-printed onto a postcard. But the film is a high-quality film can can be enlarged nicely with a good enough lens in front of it. Of course, the cameras that 122 and 124 film were designed for didn't have great lenses. The Kodank Brownie No.3 has a simple meniscus lens. The Kodak Brownie No 3. was a very simple camera (in fact, here's my YouTube video about it, rather than re-hash the whole script here.)
My first issue when developing these images was that I don't have any equipment for 122 or 124 film. I decided to tube-develop the negative because I couldn't devise a way to create a spiral. The first challenge was obtaining a large enough tube. For that, I took a CADD printer paper core from a recycle bin at work.
Cardboard, though, does not have the best ability to retain fluid. To make the tube water-resistant (I didn't think I could make it waterproof), I sprayed the inside from both ends with 3M Photo Mount Spray Adhesive, 10.25 oz. (Google Affiliate Ad). While that was wet, I sprayed in black spray paint. I used a LOT of each. Then I set the tube on a fan with the air coming up through it to dry the glue and paint. This, in the bathroom overnight with the ceiling fan to suck out the fumes, led to as water-resistant a vessel as I could muster from the material.
To make the bottom, I used five layers of Reynolds Wrap Extra Heavy-Duty Aluminum Foil Roll, 24 inches x 500 (Google Affiliate Ad), each taped over with electricians tape. I also wrapped layers of electricians tape around the base to make a water-tight seal (this wasn't exactly perfect.) After that, I used almost a whole roll of black fabric tape to wrap layer after layer around the base. My thought was that the added layers would make any seeps slower.
After that, I had to add a lid that I could use to pour fluid in and out of. My first thought was to do the same at the top as the bottom, but I'd have no means of changing fluid. Also, standard developer tank lids were too wide and couldn't nest properly. My final solution used my first plan and the developer tank lid. I used a number of aluminum foil and tape layers to make the tube's top wide enough for the lid to seat snugly. Then I taped the heck out of the lid to hold it on.
An initial test indicated that the tube would hold about one gallon (four liters, to be exact). So that meant using my remaining D-76 at a 1:1.6 dilution. I had other film to develop that night, so I developed it all at 1:1 and then re-used that developer (with additional water) to make two gallons.
I only had a bit less than one gallon of fixer, though. So I had to use a slightly watered-down fixer, too.
I removed the lightbulbs from the bathroom vanity about 20 minutes before I needed the darkness. My bathroom has GE Mini Spiral Compact Fluorescent Lamp - 26 watts - Lightbulbs (Google Affiliate Ad) compact fluorescent bulbs, and I needed to let the remnant glow dissipate to avoid film fogging.
I planned to simply 'taco' the negative roll and let it rest against the tank (emulsion layer inside, of course.) This turned out not to work as the film had developed a roll-like memory after 50 years on the spool. So I needed to weight it. I couldn't find my fishing leads, so I used two large magnets. This sacrificed about 0.75 inches of the last negative, but added enough weight for the film to remain unrolled in the developer.
Another problem I discovered was that the negative strip was about six inches longer than the tube. This was a more serious problem, obviously. Using electrician's tape, I affixed the end (sans magnets) to the developing tank lid and closed the 'tank'.
I poured 2,000 milliliters of developer into my two liter graduated pourer, and added it to the tank. It sat there while I filled the pourer up again and finished the pour. Already I did not expect much of a positive result. To minimize the mess in case of a catastrophic tank failure, I did the entire developing process in the bathtub. Now, with the tank sealed, I was able to have the lights on. So I knelt over the tub edge rolling the tank back and forth in the tub. Every two minutes I would rotate it on end, a harrowing task that caused the aluminum underside to bulge, droplets of developer to stream out from tape seams, and the tank's cardboard seams to seep developer droplets. After an extended developing time with near-constant agitation (I think I developed for nine minutes, maybe eleven), I emptied the developer. I decided, then, that this experiment had no chance of success as small pieces of paint and glue streamed out of the tank lid with the developer. These pieces were destined to be all over the film, if anything were to even turn out.
I washed the film and added the slightly dilute fixer. By this point the base had so many serious leaks that after adding 4,000 milliliters of fixer the tank was only about 80% full. Fixer seeped out through the cardboard body and I used more tape to reinforce it. When I rotated the tank on end during the fixing state, the tank visibly bent under the developer solution's weight. I rotated it only four times before decided a fifth would likely be the tube's demise.
After the fixing cycle, I untaped the lid and let the fixer drain. The tape from the lid had come unattached and I couldn't see how far down the tube the negatives were. At this point, I realized I had just wasted a bunch of otherwise-good chemicals on film that had no chance of turning out. I tilted the tank and the magnets' weight brought the film out. Much to my surprise, each image had turned out. Here they are:
After the shots turned out, I e-mailed the eBay seller from whom I bought the film. I shared the photos and he said that the had bought the roll at a northern D.C.-area estate sale. The sale had been for someone who clearly loved the Baltimore and D.C. trolley systems as his estate had maps and engineering drawings galore.
Dating these photos proved challenging, but not impossible. Having lived in D.C. for three years (on Capitol Hill for one), I recognized Union Station (photo 5) and The Capitol Building (photo 6) right away. The other four locations still mystify me and I may never know where they were taken.
One clue of the images' age is that the D.C. trolley system stopped running on 28 January 2962. So these photos had to have been taken before then. The Kodak 122 film was produced from 1903, so the window is from 1903 to 1962.
The cars in the picture give a better hint. In photos 2 and 3 (3 especially), you can see late-fifties cars, probably 1957 or 58. So that narrows the window to 1957 to 1962. Then you get to image six. Kudos to my good friend Rick for spotting and correctly identifying that car (on the spot!) as a 1960 or 1961 Renault. So, these were taken within the final two years of the old D.C. street car system's operation. My guess is they were probably taken the summer before the system stopped operating.
The D.C. transit system was doomed on 18 July 1956. Oscar (O. Roy) Chalk bought the system for $13.5 million and as part of the agreement with Congress had to phase out trolleys in favor of buses. A great decision, we can all agree, since buses are clean, run quietly on electricity, and aren't like trolleys which belch out thick diesel exhaust from engines louder than cacophonous myriad super novae. I may have those two confused.
So in 1956, Congress decided that by 1963 D.C. would be an all-stinky-diesel city. This would certainly have been known to whomever took these photos, so it would make sense that he might have wanted some photos from the trolley's final summer.
On a personal note, I wish D.C. had had trolleys when I lived there. Trolleys are amazing. One of the things I miss about working in San Francisco (I work in the suburbs now) is the trolley system. I used to take the new Munis to work every day, and they're great, and then ride the historic ones a couple times a month to see the city. Sure the old trolleys are loud, but riding one is such a fantastic experience. Knowing that for decades these trolleys have carried hundreds of people every day and that riding them makes one a part of a much larger human chain connecting from that moment on the trolley back trough history, Presidential administrations, major world events, personal successes and tragedies, back to a time when cars were beautiful, life seemed simpler, and the world was less focused on efficiency and economy than on design and usefulness.
But with what camera were they taken? Kodak designed the 122 film roll for their Kodak 3A folding camera. Based on image quality, detail characteristics, general tone neutrality, and substantial depth of field, I suspect that's a likely candidate for these photos. An interesting fact, if you re-spool 120 film into a Kodak 3A, you get a 6X14 panoramic camera that yields acceptably nice, and artistic, images.
Have a good weekend!
No comments:
Post a Comment