The Deardorff folding wooden view camera is a relic of a time when precision tools were made by hand, one at a time. The cameras were built to last, and thousands of them are still in use or in collections. The manufacturer, L.F. Deardorff & Sons Photographic Equipment, usually turned out only around 300 of the cameras a year in its near-west-side factories, and since the company went out of business in 1988 they’ve become something of a cult item.
Laben Deardorff, the camera’s designer, grew up in Ohio among the Dunkers, a sect not unlike the Amish, and some people see their influence in the elegant simplicity and fine craftsmanship of the Deardorff, with its bellows stretched across a polished mahogany and metal frame. It’s light compared to metal view cameras, and it folds into itself, becoming its own surprisingly compact case. Photographers must drape a dark hood over their heads to see the dim image projected on the camera’s ground glass, but the front and back move independently, allowing maximum control of perspective and focus; among other things, that control keeps the vertical lines of skyscrapers from receding to a point like railroad tracks when an architectural photographer takes their picture. The resulting images are remarkably rich in detail.
Ken Hough, who bought his first Deardorff at an estate sale while he was still in high school, remembers the first time he saw the factory. It was 1982, and he was in his mid-20s, working at a Valparaiso camera store. A former classmate brought in an eight-by-ten Deardorff he’d taken apart and couldn’t figure out how to put back together. Hough has always found such things easy, and when he saw that a few parts were missing he called L.F. Deardorff & Sons. Merle invited him to come to the factory, then at 315 S. Peoria, and show off his restoration work.
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American demand fell off during the recession of the early 80s, but demand was rising in Japan. The camera was a status symbol there, seen as superior to the local knockoffs.
“There’s never been anything to substantiate that,” says Mitchell. “It seems incredibly far-fetched.”
In the early 90s Hough was restoring old Deardorffs for a Chicago dealer, Jeff Trilling, who was selling them primarily in Japan. When Trilling heard that the Komamura plant was going to close he decided he wanted to buy back the L.F. Deardorff & Sons name and hire Deardorff and Hough to manufacture the classic camera again.
