In the summer of 1934, in the midst of the Depression, an ambitious young man from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, wrote to the Agfa Ansco Corporation in Binghamton, New York, asking for a camera he could not afford to buy: the Ansco Memo, an adjustable, pocketable camera that made still photos on 35mm movie film. Weeks later, eighteen-year-old Irving Schoenfeld received a reply from R. F. Love, assistant sales manager. “It is absolutely contrary to our policy to make direct sales … at other than [the] full list price [of] $12.50,” he wrote. “We cannot offer you a discount.” But the manager had an offer. “The writer has a Memo Camera which is in such excellent condition that it cannot be told from new, and if you will send us $5.00 he will be glad to let you have this camera … together with a roll of film.” What moved the manager to make his offer, he said, was “your earnest plea and sincere interest in photography, and hope that you will get a great deal of pleasure out of this fine camera.”1
Apparently, Schoenfeld did. As a self-taught amateur photographer, Irv carried his Memo with him for the
