If
you’ve read Ivor Matanle, you know that this is his favorite SLR. When
the 101 first appeared back in the 60s, Modern Photography gave it a tepid reception.
They liked the CLC metering—sort of--but they complained that the higher shutter speeds were off the mark. Consumers ignored the magazine, apparently, for the 101 sold better than any Minolta
camera to that time. It had too much going for it to be ignored.
What’s
so great about it? First, it is solidly constructed and feels good in the hand. It’s just heavy enough. Second,
it has a very bright viewing screen with a match-needle display beyond the right margin.
There's also a display of your shutter speed. Third, it provides a simple
means for not only depth-of-field preview but also mirror lockup. That’s why I use it for macro work and slide
copying. Fourth and best, it accepts all of Minolta’s fine MC and MD manual-focus
lenses.
I became acquainted with Minolta through mishap. I wanted to do some night-time
cityscapes, and borrowed a couple of cameras from a wealthy friend. One was an
Olympus OM-2 with 500mm mirror lens; the other was a Minolta XD-11, also with a 500 aboard.
I set both cameras on tripods, and—fumbling around in the dark—toppled both of them onto a concrete surface. The Olympus and its lens were shattered. The Minolta and its lens just bounced.
After I finished paying $165 for the Olympus to be repaired and $200 to put the lens back into shape (at 1978 prices), I had even more respect
for Minolta gear. Besides, I really liked the XD-11: before I returned it to the owner, I put it on a tripod in my living room so I could sit and admire it. I couldn’t afford my own XD-11, so I bought its cousin, the XG-7, and shot thousands
of frames. This got so expensive that I had to stick with Tri-X, bulk-load it, and do my own darkroom work. I shot a little color on the side--mostly chromes. After I got into vintage equipment, I bought
the SRT 101. Woody Schwartz had one, so I had to have one too.
The
101 is not a stealth machine: its shutter is noisy, and the camera is large enough
to be conspicuous. As a general shooter, however, it is reliable and fun. For a year, I used the XG-7 and 101 both with a normal lens. These were my first SLRs. After a time, I yearned for more
flexibility, so I bought a 24mm 2.8 MD and a 135mm 3.5 MD. I almost ended up
with a 135 MC, because the camera salesman slipped me one even though I had asked for the later model. He figured I wouldn’t notice. Actually, I didn’t
notice until I got home and inspected the lens more closely. I trudged back to
the store, and the clerk sullenly made the swap. He never apologized, just looked
annoyed by the terrible labor of getting another lens off the shelf. When that
camera store went out of business, I gloated for a week.
After
using the 101 for a time, I noticed light streaks on the prints. Back to Mr.
Park. He found a pinhole on the focal-place shutter and put a patch on it exactly
as if repairing an inner-tube. After another decade of use, the instant mirror
return stopped working at the slower speeds. When you tripped the shutter, the
viewfinder went dark, just like the Contaflex’s. I’ve never bothered
to repair this. I don’t shoot handheld at the lower speeds; and when shooting
macro, I have no need to see the view again instantly. So I and my Contolta
are still compatible.
Some
people back off the 101 because it requires a mercury battery for its meter; these are no longer available. I have a stash of these batteries myself; but when those run out, I will use a CRIS adapter and keep shooting. Some people use inexpensive hearing-aid batteries with rubber washers to make them
fit.
Minolta
improved the SRT line over the years, and the cameras reached a pinnacle with the SRT 102. But unless a hot shoe
and double-exposure provision are important to your ways of working, you will like the 101 just as well. It has pizzazz. And the match-needle metering allows you to cut things very fine when you are under-
or over-exposing. The meter has one quirk: as light increases, the needle responds by going down.
This allows you to turn the aperture ring of a lens in the same direction the match-needle goes, but I still find the action
counter-intuitive.
And
the CLC? The idea of it is to even out contrasty scenes, and it does that to a certain extent. Mostly, like all
Minolta's in-camera meters, it's very accurate.
Another interesting thing
about this machine is the view through the finder. With all other SLRs, I find myself simply looking through the camera,
unconscious that I'm seeing a reflected image on a screen. With the 101, I feel as though I'm looking at the
screen and seeing a picture on it, not the reality out front. Because of this, I shoot differently. I am more
aware of composition, and feel disconnected from my subject and what's around me. It's somewhat like shooting with
a TLR, but that comparison is limited because the 101 has the size and lenses of an SLR. What's the major effect of
this? You become more objective about your images, and work more slowly. Oddly, though, you can
get so interested in that little movie screen that you space out. The Rolleiflex effect.
One warning. If
you like to shoot with anything shorter than 50mm, you might want to pass on the 101. The shorter you go,
the harder it becomes to focus on this camera's central-grid scene. There's no split image to help you. You telephoto
people will have no problem here, as the central-grid system gets easier as you go longer. There may be a way to resolve
this problem with the right diopter on the viewfinder.
I
bought an XD-11 when the electronics in my XG-7 went out, and I want to discuss this great machine. However, it is a definite step out of the vintage/classic eras and into the automatic, plasticized period. As a transitional machine, it has much of the charm of the old stuff; nonetheless,
it is more an electronic than a mechanical device. You could compare it to Nikon's F3.
I'm straining the word "vintage" to discuss the XD-11, but I don't want to omit interesting old cameras by being a stickler. I
do realize that the circuitry in electronic cameras can fizzle and there may be no replacement chips and boards
around when that happens. A sad day will certainly come when these mighty transitional machines--broken down
in their electrical workings--will be obsolete in a way that no mechanical camera will ever be.