I can’t imagine anybody in our club, or any other club, saying with conviction: "I never make mistakes!”. It’s laughable to think about and small dangers will often cause a laugh. But a bloomer not realised till after an event that you thought you had covered is not funny - just frustrating!

When I was eleven years old, just a year or two ago, I became extremely fascinated by movies. That Christmas I received an exciting present: a 9.5mm Pathe Bingascope Projector, and with it a number of short films in well-made mini-Pathescope cartridges. It was hand operated and the films only lasted about one and a quarter minutes. My brother and I lay in bed and projected the films onto the ceiling; we watched with excitement as a lion came towards us in the jungle closer and closer and cranked the projector more slowly as the face filled the frame! When, at a later date, I was asked what I would like for my birthday, I said: “Oh! I would like a longer film!”. My aunt sent me a four minute spool of 16mm film, but I couldn’t run that on the Bingascope! The mistake I made was not telling her it was 9.5MM, apart from forgetting that it would only take the mini cartridges. From then on I became interested in a larger gauge, especially when I saw a friend of my parents with a 16mm camera in a smart leather ease. I could only think about it, for it was a very expensive hobby in those days, but the mechanics of film fascinated me.

Once, a friend of my father gave us a 35mm projector, which was a huge, beautiful piece of equipment in smooth black oxidised finish; the fireproof boxes took thousand-foot reels.

It had a strong stand and a large transformer that got quite hot. Being silent it was surplus to the association who used it because they had purchased a 16mm sound projector. I began collecting 35mm films from various sources including dingy places in Wardour Street piled high with film cans. But it was so big. I also got a few electric shocks and the very flammable films made me nervous. Realising it was a museum piece and I hadn’t the space for a museum, it had to be sold!

I don’t know what happened to the reel of 16mm film, but a very long time went by and my next venture took me back to 9.5mm and I purchased a Coronet camera. I was fascinated by the mechanics, which had a Maltese Cross mechanism. This is normally a very efficient device for a smooth intermittent film pull down. So I took it on holiday with several cans of Boucher 9.5mm, each containing three thirty-feet rolls of film. This I loaded into the 9.5mm camera cassettes in dead of night -about a thousand feet all together. That was my big mistake! I didn’t test the camera on a short length of film first. The Maltese Cross mechanism was worn and the result was jumping up and down as if on a trampoline!

So I sold the Coronet and bought a Deko, a nice neat little camera which produced a steady picture. I took this camera on holiday and it was quite exciting to use. Next I purchased a Specto dual 9.5mm/l6mm projector (which I still possess), although I was really hankering after a 16mm so, in anticipation, it had to be a dual machine.
I browsed in various camera shops and picked up a very sturdy 16mm Bell Howell camera.

It was so simple to use. By pressing the one button down a little way it ran continually, or right down then releasing quickly caused it to keep running (normally on a tripod) for up to 30 seconds, or a quick press would expose a single frame. The picture produced was very steady; I almost wish I had kept it now as an interesting exhibit, but I still hadn’t got room for a museum! I decided that it would be interesting to examine the clockwork mechanism and give it a service and clean up. What a mistake to make! I somehow managed to dislodge the spring and it flew Out dangerously to form a three feet spiral. It took me some time, with difficulty, to get it back into place again!

I sold that camera in part exchange for a 16mm Bolex with a three-lens turret and variable shutter. It was the flagship lightweight camera both for amateur and professional use at the time. But, even in those days, colour film was so expensive that I had to make most films in Black and White. The picture definition was extremely good and it was a joy to edit.

Oh for those exciting days when film would break and you couldn’t find your splicer, the cement went off and, if not careful, your shooting ratio clocked up in pounds per second.

Hey Ho! Video seems almost boring after all that.

Happy filming!
 
John Woolmer