The Plastic Rocket Camera by Spartus.

Marcy's Rocket Camera Shoot Out:

Wow! I think the original tin Rocket camera review was my very first Junk Store Camera review. I know that little tin camera itself was my very first acknowledged junk store camera. Thatís one Iíll never give up. I just checked it today and itís got a roll in it. The counter says 6 and I think I might finish it off tomorrow, to see what the first 5 images are. Anyway, since that initial wondrous discovery of that tin Rocket camera many changes have taken place, for me and for the world at large. For one, thereís been the advent of digital photography. (Ha! ďAdventĒ! Sounds like digital just popped up out of thin airÖ or has something to do with Christmas.) For two, the globe has warmed. For three, the Spice Girls broke up. For four Ö I could go on and on. But instead, in celebration of the original Rocket, Iíll review a little plastic number that calls itself a ďRocketĒ. Made by Spartus. Very Herbert George. Got the DNA, you know? Itís a very cute little plastic (might be Bakelite) simple camera. Looks just like the Thunderbird. Difference is, it works. I know what! Iíll do sort of a comparison of the Tin Rocket and the Plastic Rocket!

The tin Rocket is elegant. Thereís no equal in my book.

Taken with the tin Rocket Camera:

A fruit stand near a campsite in Eastern WA where I was first introduced to Knob Creek. I remember the Knob Creek.


In the Redwoods right after Babe lost his head. Trees of Mystery.

Crescent City, I think? Hwy 101 anyway.

Paisano Pete, a Fort Stockton ,TX roadside attraction.

Billy The Kid's grave. Fort Sumner, NM.

Wind power museum. Lubbock, TX.

Okay... all of this is well and good. But you came here for the stupid PLASTIC Rocket.


The plastic Rocket is cute, as Iíve said, but Iíve seen this body style in many different incarnations. It accepts 127 film. I put a roll of expired 127 color film through it.

The Enchanted Highway, North Dakota.


Same. Same.


We happened onto Plains Days (or something like that) in ... oh Christ... what's the name of that town that's the geographic center of North America?


Well, anyway, during Plains Days, you can visit a rebuilt plains town. RUGBY! That's it! Rugby, ND.

Somewhere south of Fort Peck Lake, Montana -officially the middle of nowhere.

Fort Buford, at the confluence of the Missouori and Yellowstone Rivers.



Okay, to be fair. This film went through a horrible ordeal. Last December we had the Mother Of All Storms here. No storm in anyoneís memory rivals THE STORM. You refer to that storm as THE STORM. And everyone else knows what youíre talking about. And, believe me, folks still talk about THE STORM all the time! Over time though, Iíve noticed folks referring to it more and more as The Big Storm. Anyway, at the time The Big Storm hit, I was in the middle of building a new studio. A tree fell on the old work space and we ended up moving file cabinets and computers in the whipping wind and rain into the, yet to be finished, studio. So thatís what happened to this film. It got smooshed. Iíve got a roll of expired (like, 40 years ago) Verichrome Pan film I put through it that Iím going to process tomorrow.

Later... that film was very well traveled. Check it out:

Attack of the giant grasshopper. North Dakota.


Billy the kid's grave in some fort in Arizona.

Sculptures in Crescent City CA.

Somewhere in north eastern Montana. What appears to the untrained eye to be a metal pole building is actually the Log Cabin BAR & Casino.

At the National Ornamental Iron Museum in Memphis, Tennessee. (Yup. Heidi Jane got to see Graceland.)


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