Nikon Historical Society Convention 5, Tokyo, Feb 21- Mar 2 1996, by Mike Otto

This is the night before the day before I leave for Tokyo. I haven't packed. I still need to call the Japanese consulate about duty on cameras that I bring into the country. I do have their phone number now. I have someone I wish to visit in Japan, and I haven't even faxed them to let them know I'm coming, or to find out how to get there. I have to go to the credit union tomorrow to get money out to pay my property taxes, and my daughter has a dentist appointment at 1:30.

Most people would be losing it right about now. Not me. Somehow this is how my life seems to work, no matter how hard I try to make it otherwise. Yawn.

I think I'll go to bed.

Tuesday

I'm a little too busy to write.

Wednesday\Thursday - The Day of Perpetual Afternoon.

I got most of my packing done last night, I finished up this morning. I made all of my calls, got nothing resolved, and forgot to suspend my newspaper and mail.

My flight left Portland at 1:20PM, and arrives in Tokyo a little before 5:00PM tomorrow. Or maybe today. Not only do I not know what time it is, I don't know what day it is either. But it will be afternoon the entire ten hours of the flight.

According to the in-flight magazine, at one point we cross a time zone that results in a three hour change in time. Looking at the map, I see there are several places where a small island has a time zone unique in the world, one half hour off from the surrounding area. Is this a goofy world, or what?

I awoke from a nap that was just long enough to make me groggy. One thing I'm sure of, it's still afternoon. They've decided to feed us again. Lunch.

Customs was a breeze here. The customs agent was most concerned that my briefcase might have a false bottom. He also checked to see that the book I was reading wasn't hollowed out. Last convention, in the Netherlands, all of my cameras spent the trip locked up in a locker in customs, but that's a different story...

Aside from the fact that everyone is driving on the wrong side of the road, the traffic looks much the same as here in the US. When I was in Europe, it felt like you were in a foreign country because the cars all looked so, well, foreign. It was like being in a European film. There is a definite lack of pickup trucks, though. There are some miniature flatbed type of trucks, with short sideboards. And minivans. Lots of minivans. Minivans that are so small they give a new meaning to the term minivan.

I've found my room. At first I thought it was unusual that my door from the hall opened into my closet, when I noticed the bed. This isn't my closet, it's my room! Then it hits me, there is no way that there is a bathroom in here. But in the back, a small door that won't open all of the way because it hits the wall, leads to the smallest bathroom I have ever seen. I've seen portapotties that were more spacious than this. When you sit on the toilet, the sink really is in your lap. And the bathtub is only half as long as it should be, but twice as deep. It's actually quite comfortable once you get yourself into it, but getting out is a bit tough.

Friday - A Day on the Ginza

I start off the day with the complimentary breakfast at the hotel. The food is served buffet style, and is divided into western and Japanese. The western fare includes very bland scrambled eggs, excellent home fries, bacon, sausages that are more like little hotdogs, ham (or Canadian bacon, I can never really decide what the difference is), corn, green beans, and some form of tomato based vegetable soup. The Japanese side has rice (surprise), salmon (which is full of bones), mackerel (which is delicious) and a variety of things, none of which I can identify, many of which don't even resemble food. I end up eating lots of things that don't look like food. My standard breakfast becomes the mackerel, eggs, and potatoes.

I've headed off on foot towards the Ginza, the major retail area of Tokyo. One of the most expensive places on Earth to buy anything. I have a map with about six street names on it, out of about two billion streets. But that's OK, because most of the streets don't have street signs anyway. I have a business card for a camera store in Tokyo, which I've done a fair bit of business in the past, and I'm going there first.

About three hours later, I discover that Tokyo is a really big city. I've finally reached the Ginza, with no wrong turns. Whenever I pull out my map to see if I can find my location, someone always stops to help. Even if they don't speak English.

I'm beginning to wonder if I've walked right through it without knowing. With most of the store signs in Japanese, anything is possible. And then there it is, "Ginza" in fifteen foot letters on the side of a department store. Ginza everywhere. I've found it.

Well, OK, now I've narrowed my search down to an area about the size of downtown Portland. The business card lists the address as 4-Chome, and I see a sign on a building that says 2-Chome. I walk a little further and see 3-Chome. Then 7-Chome. I must be close. I stop and ask a security guard who is talking to a parking attendant ( I think) who is wearing white gloves. It seems everybody in Japan wears white gloves at work.

The card has English on one side, Japanese on the other. Like an idiot, I hand the card to the security guy English side up. Of course, he doesn't speak English. So telling him to turn the card over is a waste of time. He keeps staring at it as if he looks hard enough, it will suddenly make sense. Finally he tips it enough so that the parking attendant notices the Japanese. She says something in Japanese. (Yes, it's a she). His face lights up. He knows where it is. No, he's just happy he can read it. He gets a Japanese map, and his boss. They both study the map. The boss leads me deeper into the garage, to a car. He gets out a carphone and calls the store. The store gives me some directions, the best he can since I don't have a clue as to where I am. I write down the name of a police station that is next door, and he tells me to look for the Mikoshi department store as a landmark. This I don't write down, thinking I can remember it. Mikoshi. Matsuya. All of these Japanese names begin to sound the same. It's getting warm out. My legs are getting tired. This isn't fun anymore. And then I find a police station. English is spoken. All I need do is cross the street and walk three blocks. I am there.

The first thing that hits me when I walk up to Sankyo Camera is that there are about fifty Nikon rangefinder cameras in the window. Fifty. Not fifteen. Fifty. And even more Canon rangefinder. Inside were an astounding selection of Japanese cameras, lenses and accessories. This store only handles domestic equipment. I have a hard time thinking of anything Japanese as domestic. They have another store almost a block away that handles foreign equipment. Like Kodak Super Six-20's. And Leicas. Lots of Leicas.

I visited a few stores, Lemon Camera, Sukiya Camera , a couple I don't remember (including one that only carried Nikon, and had three Nikon M cameras) and Katsumido Camera.

Katsumido was quite the store. They had a Nikon I for $36,800, a Leitz Hologon lens for the M, boxed, for a mere $15,000 and a brightline finder for the Nikon stereo lens for over $3000. They also had a Tenax II outfit with the telephoto lens, finder and Contameter, a Leica 250 Reporter, two Zunow lenses, 35/1.7 and 100/2, both in screw mount and a, well, this could go on for a long time. Everything was very tastefully displayed. I even found in a stack of camera cases a case for the Canon Hansa for $600. All prices in this article are approximate, mostly to the best of my memory, and do not include tax.

About this time my legs realize that they have walked about a distance equal to that between Seattle and San Francisco. They suggest I try riding the subway. My map does have subway information on it. In English. So I descend into the bustle of the subway system. People are determinedly rushing about madly, kinda like ants in one of those plastic ant farms. I watch people buying subway tickets from colorful subway ticket vending machines. They have lots of buttons, all of which are marked in Japanese. I look at the fare map, all in Japanese of course. I am perplexed. I must look perplexed, because one of the hurrying millions stops hurrying, and asks me if I need some help. Next thing I know, I'm waiting for the right train, holding the right ticket, feeling like I've got a handle on this city. I don't, of course. But the people always save me, always get me on the right train. So in that way, yeah, I do have a handle on it.

Saturday - The First Day of the Convention

I wake to the fact that someone has filled the veins in my legs with cement. I don't think I can walk. The shower is too short for me too stand, and get the sprayer hose over my head. Once I settle into the half tub, I kind of relax, and enjoy the warm water. Getting out of that tub was sheer hell, though. For a while I was afraid I would need to be cut out of the tub with a chain saw.

Our first group travel is a walk to Mac Camera. Everybody has heard of Mac. It's a short walk from the hotel. I do a mummy shuffle for awhile until my legs loosen up. We get there, and it's housed in a new building with another camera store. I can't remember the name, but it's Japanese sounding. They are also both closed. We don't have time to wait around. It's off to Asakasa Camera.

We take the train to a more rural, well, maybe less urban setting. The sun is still low in the sky. The narrow alleys are full of bright colors, spectacular shots. Everybody is packing heavy duty camera equipment. We are loaded for bear. Everyone is taking pictures. People are taking pictures of people taking pictures of people taking pictures. It brings back a memory of the movie "Under the Rainbow", where the Japanese tourists are taking pictures of their bus driver as he's changing a flat, and of each other as they photograph him. Only we are Westerners, surrounded by Japanese, none of which have cameras.

In Asakasa camera, we buy Nikon's Amusing Lens set. We buy them in bulk. I buy one for Dale. You have to see these things to believe them. They are too weird for words. But I'll try. The set contains three lens components. They are all cheesy plastic, and aren't marked Nikon anywhere on them, although they come with a sheet of stickers. By taking them apart and reassembling them in different configurations, they make a 20mm fish-eye, a 90mm macro lens, a 120mm soft focus, and a 400mm telephoto. The box has a goofy drawing of a couple of ostriches on the cover. Really too wild.

Someone else bought a F3 Limited, which is basically an F3P, (a titanium high eyepoint camera, sealed better, with hot shoe, larger knobs, etc.) The F3P was only available to professional photographers who were members of Nikon's professional services group. This camera is limited in production, and available to anybody off the street - in Japan only. By the way, the Amusing Lens sets are apparently for domestic sale only.

I spotted an adapter from Contax rangefinder to Leica thread mount, but it turned out to be a very well made current adapter. The original Orion Adapters are very rare and desirable. And expensive.

Next stop is the Nissan building on the Ginza, for day one of the convention. Sugiyama-San and Naoi-San are our guest speakers. In Japan, most people use their last names rather than their first names, and following them with the suffix -San, as a sign of respect, similar to using the term "Mr." in English. Which means if Star Trek was a Japanese show, Bones wouldn't always be saying "Dammit, Jim!", he'd be saying "Dammit, Kirk-San!". Well, except it would be in Japanese.

Anyway, Sugiyama-San and Naoi-San edited the book "The Collectors Guide to Japanese Cameras", one of the most coveted books in the field. Sugiyama-San is a also a world renowned symphony composer and conductor, and wrote some of the music found on Nintendo games. Naoi-San is a camera repairman, one of few who can work on most any camera, fabricating parts when necessary.

They shed some light on the second version of their book, it is basically the same as the first version, with a few minor corrections. They did announce the second volume, containing a completely different selection of cameras.

Today's meeting is mostly an informal get together to meet some of the Japanese members, and for me, to also meet three members from Europe that I didn't meet two years ago in Holland. I believe it's impossible for NHS members to meet without bringing treasures to dazzle each other with. In fact I think most members carry some rare Nikon item on their persons wherever they go, just in case they bump into another member. The gem from this meeting is Nikon I, number 60924, which would be the third production camera off the line, ever!. As it is being handed around to be admired, Peter Lownds announces that it's his birthday, and he'd love to accept the camera as his birthday present.

We take the first in what is to be a long line of group photos. It seems to be a ritual, whenever a group of people get together, a photo must be taken. Our official group photo camera is a late model medium format folding camera. With no selftimer. We end up using one of those little self timer accessories that screw into the shutter release button. The self timer works, but it won't fire the camera. We finally ending up recruiting a self timer, who takes our picture. This will become the pattern everywhere we go.

For dinner tonight we are having Shiba-Shiba. I have no idea what to expect. We sit at an oval counter, in the center of which chef type people are slicing big chunks of heavily marbled beef into thin slices, arranging them on plates with vegetables. In front of each seat is a copper pot set into the counter, heated by gas from below, and filled with water.

To start with, I get a bowl of Jell-O, and a pair of chopsticks. The Jell-O has something in it, and I'm not real sure what it is. This is my first real experience with Japanese food. Do you have any idea how hard it is to eat Jell-O with chopsticks? And it's fish flavored Jell-O. It's not real bad, but I'm not recommending it as a new flavor to introduce here in the states. One of the chef people notices that I am getting little of the Jell-O into my mouth, discreetly gives me a pair of training chopsticks, wound together at the end with a rubber band and a wooden block. Even a small child could use these, although I notice very small children eating their Jell-O with regular chopsticks just fine. So without any excuses left, I eat up my fish Jell-O.

We take the thin slices of meat, and cook them in the water in the copper pots, which is now boiling, then dip it in Shiba-Shiba sauce (for which the dinner is named, I guess), and eat it. It's good. When you've eaten your beef and vegetables, they put some spices in the bottom of a bowl, and fill it with water from your cooking pot, and you have soup, one of the most delicious things I ate there. We also got rice (surprise!). Afterwards we get desert. I'm not sure what any of the choices are but the sherbert. I feel adventurous (after all, I did just eat fish Jell-O with chopsticks), so I order something that turns out to be a plum that had been marinated in something for about 800 years, until it looks like a prune, then is served on a bed of crushed ice. It is also hard to eat 800 year old marinated plums with chopsticks, even training chopsticks.

Sunday - Day 2 of the convention

We start the day off with a visit to the JCII Camera Museum. I'm sure most of you who've owned Japanese cameras have noticed the little oval gold stickers that said PASSED. Those are doled out by these folks. They also accumulated quite a collection for their museum. What has to be their most significant camera on display isn't even Japanese. And I can't think of any camera with more historical significance, nor one that would fetch a higher price if it came out on the market. The have an original Giroux, the camera made by Daguerre's brother-in-law, the first cameras ever made.

In Japanese cameras, they have many rare and wonderful examples, far too many to list here. A couple pieces of special merit are the 35/3.5 Nikkor for the Hansa Canon, and a giant telephoto lens, made by Nippon Kogaku, attached to a Graflex camera. Little do we know, this is just the beginning of what we will see today.

After lunch, we meet again, this time with Arawaka-san, Shizuo-san, and Awano-san. Of the speakers, Awano-san broke our hearts reading from his records the high prices he's paid over the years to accumulate his collection. As prices were in yen, from twenty plus years ago, it can be difficult to put things in exact perspective, but he lists a Nikon I for what would have been less than $200. He said he was unhappy having to pay so much for Nikons, he was picking up Hansa Canons for under $50.

Arawaka-san has a great treat for us. Life magazine ordered a small batch of special Nikon S cameras. They were finished in black, and had oversized knobs, for use wearing gloves. The historical significance of this camera is great. Nikkor lenses were stumbled across by Life photographer David Duncan Douglas, who introduced the cameras and lenses to his employers. Life magazines acceptance of Nikon equipment lent considerable credibility to Nikon in particular, and the Japanese camera industry in general, as capable manufactures of professional grade photographic equipment. Peter Lownds announces that it is his birthday. Again.

Not to be outdone, member Sato-san brought a couple of items along himself. One is the Stereo-Nikkor, complete with all of the accessories. The rarest of Nikon lenses, only 170 are believed to have ever been made, and 28 of those were destroyed while at Nippon Kogaku as surplus inventory, to avoid an inventory tax. This is a beautiful outfit, you have to see it in the flesh to appreciate it.

Then, in an effort to top himself, he brings out the nearly mythical Nikon underwater housing, the only one ever to be found. Although it is missing the frame finder from the top, and the rings and filters from inside, it is unique. And Peter Lownds announces that it is his birthday.

That night we have a reception in a double room that Bob Rotoloni was supposed to have by himself, but due to a mix up he was in a single, and the hotel was sold out Saturday. We got the room, stood one of the beds on end, as spacious is not one of the words I would use to describe this room. We have three kinds of Scotch, Conac, some wine, European candies, chips and some Japanese snacks. We need some extra glasses, as the room only comes with two. We go down to the front desk and ask for 30 glasses. This seems a bit excessive, as we couldn't get thirty people in that room if it was an orgy. They tell us they only have ten. This hotel has 1800 rooms, but they only have ten extra glasses. Yeah, right.

There are so many people, the reception spills over into the hall. I'm standing by the doorway when I hear the name mentioned of one of my earliest Japanese contacts. I ask him if he's who I'm hoping he is. He is, and when he finds out who I am, we are both almost speechless. True to form as a NHS member, he has a bag full of rare cameras for show and tell. He brought out a Hansa Canon, in the original box. I had seen one in the box earlier at the museum, and had seen pictures, but had never realized the box is wooden. I am stunned. I socialize for a while longer, then leave before I drink too much. The last thing I want on this trip is to miss a day with a hangover.

Monday - A Nikon kind of day

This is the day we visit Nikon itself. It is next to an odd looking building with small windows that look like ships portholes all over it. It has some "thing" on top that looks like a gold flame that fell over. The Nikon building looks nice. In the lobby is expensive looking modern art sculptures.

I've left my camera back in the room. I shoot with Canons, and although they have a shared early history (Nippon Kogaku originally supplied all of Canons lenses until around WWII, and even helped by building the focusing mount and rangefinder for the Hansa Canon, they are rivals now)

The meeting room is very modern, and I believe the curtains for the windows are run by little electric motors operated by a remote control. My job is to pass out pins and pens. I run out of pens before I finish, but I have lots of extra pins.

And now they are bringing the prototypes out. Oh my. There is the SPX, a rangefinder body designed around the F body casting, with a swing away meter cell like the Leica M5. But this was designed in 1960. This leads to an interesting story I learned at the convention. It seems the SP and the F were both on the drawing board at the same time. But the accounting department insisted that both cameras share the SP body casting. It took quite awhile for the engineers to convince them that they needed a deeper body casting for the mirror assembly. As a result, the SP was introduced in 1957, the F was not released until 1959.

But back to the prototypes. There are two distinctly different models referred to as the SP2. There are SP2 's that are SP's with the wide angle finders blacked out, apparently to cut costs. (One member brought one, but we'll cover that later). The model they brought out, and they displayed two, had a built-in zoom finder combined with the rangefinder. It also had a variable diopter in the eyepiece. Two versions were shown, differing only in trim as far as I could tell, one having chrome dials, the other black. One sported a larger mutation of the Olympic 50/1.4 lens, the other had a beautiful 35/1.4. I understand why they abandoned the design, and the entire rangefinder concept. Nippon Kogaku was a company with limited resources for production, and the F was so successful that they didn't have the production capacity to produce them. I have never seen a camera I liked better, strong words as I have seen more different cameras than most.

There are other prototypes, an F3 prototype that looks like an F2 with a larger finder that has a large green "A" on the shutter speed dial, a compact SLR with a built in motor ... and a rangefinder underwater housing. I would not have been surprised if I went my whole life without ever seeing one. Now I've seen two in two days. I think I have seen everything. Not quite, I learn later.

From across the room, i hear Peter Lownds announce that it is his birthday. Again. Our speakers today include Fuketa-san, the designer of the Nikon I and former vice president, Fukuoka-san, who worked on many projects, including the motordrive, and the SPX, and Koakimoto-san the inspection manager in the early days, who eventually became president. Opening remarks were made by the Nikon men, Bob Rotoloni and Peter Lownds. And I notice one of the Nikon hosts is walking toward me with a cordless microphone. He's trying to hand it to me. Inside I'm panicking. Outside, I'm paying real close attention to the speaker, and I don't notice the microphone. It's getting harder because he's holding it real close. If it's on, people will be hearing me sweat. I don't have a speech. What am I supposed to say. Why me. I don't even own a Nikon. Whew. He went away. He's going around to the other side. Now I find out we are to introduce ourselves. That's not so bad. Why didn't they just say so.

Bill Kraus does a presentation just before lunch on Nikon's early advertising. Right after lunch, Tony Hurst did one of his incredible slide shows. He lugged a matched set of professional quality slide projectors all of the way from Ireland for the presentation. He had last minute troubles with the lubrication in them, and had to miss lunch. It was the wrong lunch to miss. The restaurant is located high up on their building, with a spectacular view of Tokyo. It's a very elegant place, the waiters in tuxes, real silver silverware, with an extra little set for the desert. The food comes in courses, and is laid out almost too beautifully to eat. It's not just a meal. It is a work of art. Compliments of Nikon.

As I mentioned before, NHS members can't meet without sharing their treasures, and this was no exception. One member had a 50/1.1 in Leica thread mount, with the 50mm brightline finder. A half frame camera, based on the Nikon FE, one of a small batch made for the Swedish Post Office was shown and traded hands. Two collectors wanted it, and custody was decided by a coin toss. The camera stayed in Japan. Another collector brought an S3M, an SP2 (of the blanked out finder variety), a cutaway Nikon F, and four Nikon I's, one of which is black. Bob Rotoloni brought a prototype pistol grip for the S2 motordrive, and the 50/1.8 Nikkor, one of three known prototypes.

We had an interesting question and answer period, and much good discussion. Picture frames with the NHS logo were handed out, and were signed individually by Fukuoka-san and Fuketa-san. Al Brody had them sign everything but his underwear. Nikon gave us packages of gifts to go, Nikon counter mats like the ones used in camera stores and desk loupes that are engraved with the convention info and an image of the Nikon SP. Nikon did a very classy job of sponsoring this day of the convention. The only disappointment (other than not being allowed to take home an SP2) was when they were asked about putting out a special edition of a camera to commemorate 50 years of camera design. They acted like they hadn't even considered the idea.

Dinner tonight is in a more traditional Japanese restaurant. You have to take off your shoes before entering. I'm hoping I don't have socks on that my son stained by wearing them into our red clay mud. I dodge another bullet. Not only are they stain free, but no holes. This is my day. We sit on mats on the floor. Geisha girls cook unidentified foods at our table, and serve us. Chopsticks again. I can't eat fast enough with them to keep up with the cooking, and I'm slowing down our table. She slips me a fork. I am offered Sake. My experience with Sake has been the one time I tried it at the Newport (Oregon) Wine and Seafood Festival. It tasted like sweat filtered through very old gym socks. It was probably the most noxious tasting, foul smelling thing I had ever put in my mouth short of brussel sprouts. I'm not sure why, but this time I accept it. Maybe it was the euphoria I was feeling after having been given the fork ( or maybe my luck with my socks). I don't know.

This stuff is actually pretty good. And I know what you're thinking. Just because I broke my leg at a wine and seafood festival doesn't mean I always get drunk and break something. I wasn't really drunk when I broke my leg. Well, the alcohol didn't have anything to do with it, it was just a mild lack of coordination. It could have happened to anybody..

Anyway, I have plenty of respect for anything served in odd little thimble-like shot glasses, and even though the people next to me kept pushing it and refilling my glass, which my childhood training to eat everything put in front of you caused me to drink. No, I didn't break anything. I didn't even drink too much.

Tuesday - The last Nikon day

Today we head for the Oh-Yi factory, Nikon's original factory. There are guys everywhere wearing Nikon jumpsuits, khaki and light blue, with Nikon on the back. There are Nikon buildings all around us. It's like being in a Nikon village. We are told that we will tour the former factory, but we find that there is nothing to see. What was once the spot where Nikon history was made is now office space. As we walk around I peer into different rooms, and like most production and former-production-turned -office areas, I see places where boxes of unneeded extra parts might have been stashed. "Never know when we might need these", and a box of SP boxes for the camera and 50/1.1 lenses are stashed away and forgotten.

I desperately want to root around. But I can tell this is a no rooting zone. We pose for another group picture. The umpteenth one. This time we have a genuine Nikon self timer. He's even wearing a Nikon jumpsuit.

Wednesday - The Matsuya Show

The show starts today at 10:00. There has been rumor that we will get in early. I can't imagine us being a threat to the Japanese collector, as we are Americans. We are used to cheap prices, and we are entering the most expensive place to buy cameras on Earth. The rumor is quashed, there are people lined up four abreast around the block. And it's a big block. We go to the end.

The show is being held on the top floor of the Matsuya Department Store, which makes the best American stores look like Walmart. It is eight floors of everything elegant. I looked for a Kimono for my daughter there. I didn't realize the nice ones were $6800. I got her something else. This is a place of elevator girls with white gloves and cute little hats, speaking in very high voices, and dozens of people behind the counters bowing deeply everywhere you turn. They make you feel important and wealthy, like you have every right to be buying a $6800 kimono. OK, I did buy her one here, but it was a simple one, and was much less than $6800.

We go upstairs in the elevators in groups. The room is quite large. The cameras are all in glass display cases, arranged in islands. The dealers are from the local stores. Common folks are not allowed tables, due to tax laws or some such nonsense. The place is absolutely packed. And it is very hot. You have to work your way up to a counter, with no idea what it contains. They are full of every kind of camera you can imagine. Without exaggeration, there are thousands of Leicas here. Thousands. I've seen Hansa Canons, an olive green canon F-1 I'd love to have (but even with the box, I don't want it $1800 bad), black Nikon rangefinder. Leica copies I've never seen before. Not much wood, though.

I've been to most every major American show, and a couple of European shows, and I've never seen anything remotely like this. Almost every case has a better selection of interesting collectable than most entire shows. And the collectors working their way up to the counters aren't just gawking. Money was changing hands on a scale I'm not used to.

And this goes on for a week.

The buy of the show is made by an American in our group. It is nothing less than a Nikon underwater housing. And I thought this thing was supposed to be mythical. This one is complete, with the finder, and all of the rings and other goodies. And for a fair bit less money than the other housing sold for.

You'd think they would be out of stock by lunch on the first day, but they just keep bringing the stuff out. They even hold back nice items. On the second day I saw a Rectaflex Rotor, a 1200/11 Nikkor for Bronica, and a 1200/11 Canon FL. None of these were out on day one. They also buy from the general public, just like we do at American shows.

That evening we are invited to a reception for the opening of the Japan Classic Camera Club's photography exhibit. The photographs are taken with cameras made before 1960. Each photo is matted with a smaller picture of the camera that took it, with a brief description. Some are taken with expensive, exotic cameras. Others are taken using Leicas, with unusual lenses. Many are taken with the most unlikely of cameras, Vest Pocket Kodaks, a Lily plate camera, or box cameras. This is a good idea, and I'd recommend camera clubs in the US try this. Sometimes I think some of us forget what the cameras we collect are for.

I eat some Japanese snack foods, drink some Sake, a little Conac, and a beer. I shake countless hands and bow alot. I am photographed by a Melcon II. It's hot (the Japanese always keep their buildings uncomfortably warm) The trip seems to be winding down.

Thursday - A day of relaxation, and a lot of walking

Most of the Europeans head back today. John Millham and Al Brody are staying in Japan for another week. The three of us decide to stick together today. I have been invited to lunch by a collector Dale met when he was doing a show in New York. He flew to Seattle, and drove to Salem just to look through our stuff. He bought so much stuff that I ran him out of American money, and he had to pay the last $300 in yen. That was the first time I ever had 30,000 yen, and it felt impressive. Now I have 300,000. I saw him at the reception the night before. The invitation was extended to any of us who remained in Tokyo.

We head back to the show, as John has some lenses he wants to leave with one of the dealers. There is a line to get in, even on the second day. We are running a little late, and barely make the station where we are supposed to call from on time. Well, actually, we were late. This is my first experience with a Japanese phone booth. I don't know how much it costs, so I just put some coins in and dial. It works.

Anyway, we eat more Japanese food, many small samples of different things in lots of little bowls. The waitress slips me a fork. This is getting to be routine. We talk mostly about Nikons. After lunch we walk take in a museum. The afternoon is spent in pursuit of antique microscopes. We don't find any.

Friday - A day in the country

I was going to go to Yokohama with John and Al, but it is pouring down rain. So they've decided to pass on Yokohama, and are taking the train for Osaka. So I decide to go to Katamura, actually I go to Kita-Katamura, and walk the road to Katamura. There are several temples and shrines along the way, as well as and occasional gate. A gate is a big fancy doorway, but they never seem to be connected to a fence.

The rain stops as soon as I get off the train. I ask, and am pointed down the road in the right direction. It is cool and wet, this is the perfect weather to walk in, and I find it immensely relaxing. As I walk through the square, pigeons swirl around me in hopes of whatever it is the Japanese feed pigeons. The squirrels will let you pet them. They are a little nervous, but they let you.

I notice all of the temples are no smoking areas. One of the things I have noticed is that smoking is allowed most everywhere, at least by American standards. Almost everybody smokes, and I feel strange as I don't. But the temple signs say "No Smoking, No Bonfires". Is this a big problem in Japan, building bonfires where they are not permitted? Like on temple grounds?

I buy a coffee out of a vending machine. In a can. It's actually very good. There are vending machines everywhere that sell coffee, tea, soft drinks and Sweat. Yes, they have a drink called Pocatari Sweat (or something like that). The coffee is hot, always has both milk and sugar (even the Latte, which should only be expresso and steamed milk if I have my coffee drinks straight). In our hotel, they even sell beer in the vending machines.

By the time I get to Katamura the sun is shining and steam is rising off the streets. I walk through a district of small shops looking for gifts for my children. I find a replica of the short sword carried by Samurai in his sleeve. It's not even sharp. I find a small camera shop. The proprietor doesn't speak English. The store is cluttered, and while it looks like it's packed full, there really isn't anything in it. But on the top shelf, crowded to one side are some older cameras, an Asahiflex and three Nikon rangefinder finder cases. I can't communicate with him at all. I point at the cameras on the shelf, then pull a handful of money out of my pocket. He waves his hands wildly in a gesture of no, somewhat as if I have been improper in attempting to buy cameras from a camera store.

On the train ride back, I see a giant Buddha, carved out of what appears to be white marble, sticking up above the trees. Small schoolchildren are riding the train in their cute little navy blue uniforms. I'm craving Mexican food.

Saturday - The last day

I pack up and haul my bags down to check out. I can leave them with the bell desk. I head back to the Ginza, and the Matsuya show for one last look. It's still crowded. I can't believe it. At a two day show in the US, Sunday is usually dead. These dealers must have a lot of reserve stock.

I say my good-byes, and head back to the hotel. One of my Japanese friends comes to see me off. He brings more treasures to show off. A Nicca collapsible 50mm lens, and an NRIII Leica copy. I'm becoming unfazable now. He gives me two Japanese books on collecting that I don't have, and a kimono for my daughter. Now I'm fazed. I'm speechless, in fact. I thank him repeatedly, then I get on the bus.

I can see Tokyo Disneyland from the bus. The magic kingdom's castle doesn't look anymore out of place here than in California or Florida. I also see an indoor downhill skiing facility. What a country.

What impresses me most about this country is the friendliness of the people and the cleanliness of the city. Countless times I have been asked if I needed assistance before I could ask. As for the cleanliness, well, I saw a woman dash from behind the counter of a fast food restaurant to pick up a napkin that was laying outside on the sidewalk. We could stand to learn a few things from these people. I think I did.

The flight back was eight and a half hours. We left Saturday evening, and got back the same Saturday morning. Yes, I got hassled in American customs. No, it wasn't a real problem. Yes, I have thought about getting a haircut. Dale has even offered to pay for it.

Well, now I'm back, with the back-to-work-after-vacation-blues. I have no other major trips scheduled to look forward to. There was talk of having the next convention in Australia. But Bob doesn't think it could be done. Of course, he said the same thing about having it in Tokyo when I asked him two years ago in Holland. And here we are (or were). Actually, it will probably be on the east coast next time, possibly Miami.

So I guess I'll have to go to Australia by myself.

View photos from Japan