Spartus Spartaflex

Spartus Spartaflex Overview

The Spartus Spartaflex is a medium format twin lens reflex manufactured by the Spartus Camera Corporation of Chicago. Although I found a print ad from the 1940s pricing this camera outfit at an incredulous $47.91 (well over $800 in today’s money), the Spartaflex is by no means a serious answer to the high-quality German TLRs (such as the Rolleicord IId) that had been dominating the market since the late ’20s.

Over the years, Spartus has produced several dual-lens cameras that are considered “pseudo TLRs” (like the Spartus Six Twenty) due to an unfocusable or independently focusing finder lens which essentially makes them over-elaborate box cameras. This particular Spartaflex, however, is a true twin lens reflex because its finder and taking lenses are coupled and therefore focus simultaneously. Both lenses have a focal length of 100mm while the taking lens has four aperture choices: f/7.7, f/11, f/16, and f/22 selectable via a switch at the 7:30 mark of the lens barrel.

The simple rotary shutter only has two settings set by a switch on the user’s right-hand side of the camera: “time,” which is actually Bulb (shutter stays open as long as the shutter button is held down), and “instant” (approximately 1/60 seconds). The shutter button is located underneath the shutter speed selector, just forward of the metal foldout eye-level viewfinder which is under the film advance knob. On the other side of the camera is a screw-on flash gun sync port and on the back, above the red window is a knurled metal knob which, when unwound, opens up the camera for loading and unloading film.

Since Spartus is one of the few brands that I actively collect, I watched eBay auctions for months before finally buying this relatively well-maintained specimen for $12. While it’s not nearly as beautiful or technically brilliant as a Rollei, I think the Spartaflex definitely has a charm of its own. I’m a big fan of its rugged, industrial appearance with lens housings that resemble spare parts for an airplane engine, and knurled metal knobs that wouldn’t be terribly out of place on a lathe, a fitting look considering Chicago’s position as an industrial powerhouse of that era.