I remember the first time I ever heard the name Leica. It was 1975, over lunch with a retired RAF Wing Commander at Rules restaurant. Thomas Rule established his eponymous restaurant in 1798 and it is reputed to be London’s oldest restaurant.
Rule breaker
I was part of his staff and having completed our business for the day at the Ministry of Defence, I was to be treated to lunch – an essential part of my training in the noble art of mixing business with pleasure.
He was in an expansive mood, regaling me with a story from his time during World War II, whilst at a border checkpoint in some foreign land. A sign on the wall expressly forbade photography.
“However,” he said with a knowing smile, “because I had a Leica with a quiet shutter, I was able to fire off a quick frame when the guard turned his back.”
He was clearly pleased with his accomplishment. I smiled at his daredevil ingenuity, though at the time, I had no idea what a Leica camera actually was. Nearly 50 years later, that moment remains as fresh in my memory as if it happened yesterday.
A forgotten interest rekindled
Just over a decade ago, my childhood interest in photography was rekindled. But a Leica didn’t grace my camera bag until a Q2 arrived for a weekend loan. Frankly, I was bemused by it — a fixed lens, ludicrously expensive, simple menus.
On paper, it had little to recommend it. Particularly when you compare it to more “sophisticated” cameras with interchangeable lenses and endless menu options. I was to be proven very wrong. I was completely won over by the feel of it in my hand. With a whisper-quiet shutter, and stunning image quality, it simply delivers sheer joy in use.
When history is both profound and humanitarian
As I learned more about Leica’s history, its actions to save lives during the war, and its commitment to photography through gallery spaces in its stores, my admiration of it’s humanity only deepened.
And as a lifelong student of business strategy, I was also astounded by Leica’s almost miraculous ability to command a premium price for cameras that still relied on a focusing system first introduced in 1932 – despite the widespread availability of much cheaper autofocus cameras from other brands.
This past year, after my wife graciously added a Q3 to my Christmas stocking, it has become my go-to camera, capturing some of my favourite family photos while my previous kit sits largely ignored.
Humanity wrapped inside technology
So, what does Leica mean to me? It reminds me of that day, 50 years ago, at the start of my career, and of a war hero who remains one of the best bosses I ever had. Every time I pick up my Q3, I hold in my hands the result of a century of innovation, from a company that valued humanity and moral responsibility in the darkest of times.
But above all, Leica reminds me that photography is what truly matters. Their galleries don’t just showcase cameras; they inspire us to try harder, to do better and to see the world with an honest eye.
Thank you, Leica.
A cup of coffee works wonders in supporting Macfilos
Did you know that Macfilos is run by a dedicated team of volunteers? We rely on donations to help pay our running costs. And even the cost of a cup of coffee will do wonders for our energy levels.
A wonderful portrait at the end of the article. Is that an SAS badge on his hat? If it is his badge then he could tell some remarkable stories!
A very interesting story, Andrew. Whatever photographic experience you have acquired during your lifetime in business, has transferred seamlessly to operation of the Leica Q family. Well done and continue to find enjoyment with your Leica.
The opening scene sounds incredibly romantic: could be from a film of the 50’s. After lunch you’d be flying off to a secret destination somewhere east of Suez. Probably played by David Niven…
I don’t remember it being romantic, … but I do remember one point that stayed with me. I’d recently relocated from Gloucestershire to Surrey and started a mortgage for the first time – I was, predictably, always looking forward to the end of the month for another injection of funds. When the Wing Commander wrote the cheque in settlement of the bill, he made no note of the cost on the stub. For those of you old enough to remember cheque books, you’ll also note that completing the cheque stub was an essential part of tracking your expenditure – something that, at the time, in my impecunious state, was an obsession. The Wing Commander had an undeniable cavalier streak in his character. He was, and probably always had been someone with an eye on the big picture, rather than ‘sweating the small stuff’ and the cheque stub incident was just another illustration of his nature. He was, as they allegedly say in military circles, ‘a jolly good chap’. From my perspective, he was a great boss and always good company.
Thank you for expanding on that lunch — it adds a great deal to the description of the lunch (Rules still speaks for itself).
I have to say, you’ve a remarkable memory for detail, after 50 years. Given that — I can see why you’d like the Q3 🙂 The portrait of the bearded gentleman is just wonderful, and I believe the detail helps.
Best Regards,