It started about seven years ago when I was involved in a Calgary area camera club.  I normally had infinite patience when I was teaching my “introduction to photography” class … but the young kid pushed me a tad too far.  He had a freshly-minted Nikon F5 - the uber-camera of the day - and scoffed when he saw my Nikon F that was older than him by about two decades.

I let the first few remarks go, but bit hard when he asked if I could afford anything better than that “old clunker”.  My patience worn flat, I told him that the camera had little to do with the quality of the shots, and that a skilled photographer could take better pictures with an old Russian SLR than a novice with an F5.

The problem was: I didn’t have an old Russian camera.  eBay came to my rescue, and in just over a week I was holding a Zenit-E - the John Deere Model D of the camera world.

Using a Zenit-E is a lot like the John Deere, in fact.  Both shake like some sort of agricultural sex toy.  Both have the ergonomics of a pallet of bricks.  And nuclear holocaust wouldn’t be enough to stop them from working.  (or so, I thought)

You can guess what happened in the Zenit-E versus Nikon F5 shoot-off.

Now, before I wax poetic about using the Zenit-E, I’ll let you in on the bad part of this story.  The sad conclusion.

Buoyed by my Canon Demi EE17 excitement this morning, I decided to shoot a roll through the old Zenit.  As I was removing the film from the shoot, the camera tumbled from my fingers and - you guessed it - did the fatal jumping-jack off the pavement.  I heard the sickening mechanical sound that no photographer wants to hear; the uncontrolled snap of a mainspring, the crunch of chromed brass, and  the breaking of glass.

Yes, the Zenit-E is dead.

I put exactly three rolls of film through this camera in the time that I owned it.  Prior to today, the last roll of film that went through it was at Ed Worthy Park in Calgary, back in 2001.  Now, it’s sitting on my desk in fatal repose, waiting for its last great journey to the North Wake Landfill.

We bow our collective heads and mourn the loss of a great old Russian camera, and prepare to enjoy the last photos this great beast took.

First up is an old bell.  The old Pentax screw-mount lens on this Zenit did a pretty good job of close-focusing, and I enjoyed the textures on this old bell.  The light was remarkably flat this afternoon, and I didn’t have to play with any of the levels to get a pleasing contrast.

Next up is the ubiquitous creepy alley shot.  I was interested to see how foolish the light meter would act in this camera, but it did remarkably well, all things considered.  The meter isn’t even coupled to the camera’s aperture; it’s a “match meter” that requires considerable effort and luck.  Matrix metering be damned - I don’t think Russian cameras would have TTL metering for at least a decade or two after this Zenit was made.

Who doesn’t love a bargain?  North Carolina was once the furniture capital of the United States, and it’s not difficult to find these old 1950’s furniture stores.  Sadly, most of the furniture sold here now is made in the far east, and the factories have long since closed.

Textures have long interested me, and I was curious to see  if this would work.  I think it did, even though the saturation is a bit flat.  These odd concrete textures seemed to be popular in 1960’s and 1970’s architecture, and they are fairly abundant in downtown Durham.

A lone maple leaf at Duke University.  And the very last photo taken with the Zenit before its fatal fall.  The metering and depth-of-field really came together in this shot - I’m especially pleased with the pine needle that leads the eye in - that was an unintentional surprise.

The last photo needs no interruption.  Sydney has been a loyal and compassionate friend to me, and enjoyed this afternoon’s outing as much as I did.

Is it any strange coincidence that this Russian camera died 44 years (to the day) after JFK?  Parting thoughts …