Kodak Retina IIIc: A Tale of eBay and Vintage Cameras

The Kodak Retina IIIc is a beautiful piece of photographic history, a folding camera from the 1950s that promises sharp images and a nostalgic shooting experience. With its sleek design, Xenon f/2 lens, and uncoupled light meter, it’s a gem for collectors and film photography enthusiasts like me. However, my journey to acquire a working Retina IIIc has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, filled with anticipation, frustration, and a few hard-learned lessons about buying vintage cameras online that I should have already grasped. Let me take you through my saga, from the thrill of clicking “Bid Now” on eBay to the heartbreak of a broken cocking rack.

It all began about a month ago when I spotted a Kodak Retina IIIc listed on eBay. The listing photos showed a camera in pristine condition, nestled in its original leather case, with a promise of functionality. I was sold. I placed my order and eagerly awaited its arrival, imagining the stunning photographs I’d soon capture with its legendary Xenon f/2 lens, known for its sharpness and beautifully shallow depth of field.

The seller, based in Washington state, opted for USPS’s cheapest ground shipping option. What followed was a logistical nightmare that could only be described as a comedy of errors. The package embarked on a bizarre cross-country journey, starting in Washington, making a pit stop in Portland, Oregon, then heading to Los Angeles, California, before finally landing in Phoenix, Arizona, an hour and a half drive from Payson. Nine days after the order, I was thrilled to see it had arrived in Phoenix. My excitement was short lived.

For reasons unknown, the camera sat in a hot desert distribution center for three days before being inexplicably shipped back to Washington state. I contacted USPS, hoping for clarity, but they were as baffled as I was. “We don’t know why it was sent back,” they told me, offering little comfort. Another week passed before the camera began its return journey to Phoenix. Two more days, and it finally landed in my mailbox three weeks after I’d placed the order. A week’s delay is understandable, but three weeks? That’s enough to test anyone’s patience.

When the package finally arrived, I tore into it with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. The camera looked impeccable, still snug in its leather case, with no visible scratches or dents. It appeared to be the pristine specimen promised in the eBay listing. Eager to test it, I cocked the shutter and fired it. The satisfying click of the shutter was music to my ears. I tried it again and nothing. The advance lever refused to budge. My heart sank.

Determined to diagnose the issue, I carefully removed the top cover of the camera. What I found was devastating: the cocking rack, a critical component of the Retina IIIc’s film advance mechanism, was damaged beyond repair. For those unfamiliar, the cocking rack is a delicate part that engages the gears to advance the film and cock the shutter. It’s a testament to the brilliance of the Retina’s engineers, but also its Achilles’ heel.

The Kodak Retina line, produced between 1954 and 1957 for the IIIc model, is a marvel of mid-20th-century engineering. These cameras were ahead of their time, offering compact designs, high-quality lenses, and features like the uncoupled light meter on the IIIc, which I was particularly excited about as a tool for manual exposure calculations. However, the cocking rack is a notorious weak point. From my research and discussions with other collectors, I’ve learned that several factors can lead to its failure.

The most common issue is the guide screw that keeps the cocking rack aligned. Over time, this screw can loosen, allowing the rack to shift and misalign with the gears. This slight movement can wreak havoc on the delicate mechanism, causing irreparable damage. Another frequent culprit is old grease in the shutter mechanism. In colder months, this grease can harden, essentially turning to concrete. If someone forces the advance lever when the shutter is stuck, the rack can be pushed over the gears, bending or breaking it in the process.

There’s also the possibility of human error. The Retina IIIc is over 70 years old, and many have been serviced (or “CLA’d”—cleaned, lubricated, and adjusted) over the decades. An inexperienced technician could mishandle the delicate components, leading to issues like the one I encountered. As someone who’s also over 50, I can sympathize with the Retina IIIc—things start to creak and break down around this age, don’t they?

Despite this setback, my affection for the Kodak Retina IIIc remains unshaken. I already own a Retina IIc, which I adore for its compact size and stellar image quality, but the IIIc offers something extra: that uncoupled light meter. For someone like me, having a built-in meter is a godsend. Plus, the Xenon f/2 lens is a dream, delivering tack-sharp images with a creamy bokeh that’s perfect for portraits or low-light shooting.

The Retina IIIc is a folding camera, meaning the lens retracts into the body when not in use, making it surprisingly portable for its era. It’s a blend of form and function that feels like holding a piece of history in your hands. When it works, it’s a joy to shoot with, offering a tactile, deliberate experience that modern digital cameras can’t replicate.

Faced with a broken cocking rack, I weighed my options. A new old stock (NOS) cocking rack on eBay was listed for $40, but there’s no guarantee it would solve all my problems, and installation requires precision I wasn’t confident I could muster. Instead, I took a leap of faith and ordered another Retina IIIc from a different seller, this time for a bit less than the cost of the replacement part. It’s set to arrive in a few days, and I’m cautiously optimistic (fingers crossed) that it won’t suffer from the same issue.

This isn’t my first rodeo with vintage cameras gone wrong. A few years back, I went through a similar ordeal with a Mamiya Six, buying four of them over the course of a year in hopes of finding one that worked decently. Frustration eventually got the better of me, and I sold them all. I’m determined not to let history repeat itself with the Retina IIIc.

Despite the challenges, there’s something magical about shooting with a camera like the Kodak Retina IIIc. These machines were built in an era when craftsmanship was paramount, and every click of the shutter feels like a connection to the past. The Retina IIIc, with its blend of engineering ingenuity and optical excellence, embodies that spirit. Yes, my first attempt at owning one was a bust, but I’m not giving up. The promise of capturing stunning images with that Xenon f/2 lens keeps me hopeful.

As I wait for my second Retina IIIc to arrive, I’m reminded why I love film photography. It’s not just about the final image, it’s about the journey, the quirks, and the stories that come with these vintage treasures. Here’s hoping my next Retina IIIc will be a keeper. In the meantime, I’ll keep my fingers crossed and my eBay alerts on.

If you’ve got your own tale of vintage camera triumphs or disasters, I’d love to hear it. And if you’re eyeing a Retina IIIc, tread carefully but don’t let my misadventure scare you off. When it works, it’s a camera worth chasing.