Walk into any thrift store or high-end estate sale and you'll likely spot a heavy, metallic beast tucked away in a corner. It’s usually olive drab or a crinkled grey. That's a Bell and Howell projector, a machine that basically built the visual language of the 20th century. Before we had 4K streaming and pocket-sized lasers, we had the "Filmosound." Honestly, if you grew up in a certain era, the distinct clack-clack-clack of a 16mm reel is a sound you can feel in your teeth.
It isn't just nostalgia. These things were built like tanks because they had to survive school kids, military briefings, and sweaty projection booths. Founded in 1907 by Donald Bell and Albert Howell in Chicago, the company didn't just make cameras; they standardized the very size of the film we use. They’re the reason 35mm became the global standard. Think about that. Every Hollywood blockbuster owes its physical dimensions to these guys.
The Engineering That Refuses to Die
You’ve gotta appreciate the sheer mechanical audacity here. Most modern tech is designed to be thrown away after three years. A Bell and Howell projector from 1955? It’ll probably still run if you give the gears a little oil. The 16mm Filmosound models, particularly the 300 and 500 series, are legendary among collectors. They used a "worm gear" drive system that was surprisingly quiet for the time.
But here’s the kicker: the audio.
💡 You might also like: Syracuse NY Google Maps: Why Your GPS Might Get Confused in the Salt City
Most people don't realize that the amplifiers inside these old projectors are actually gold mines for guitarists. It's a weird subculture, but "Filmosound conversions" are a real thing. Musicians like Bernie Junior or companies like Tex-Bernie take the tube amplifiers out of old Bell and Howell units and turn them into boutique guitar amps. They have this warm, gritty distortion that you just can't replicate with software. It's a second life for a machine meant for classroom documentaries about the water cycle.
Why Collectors Are Hunting Them Down
It's not all about the tubes, though.
If you're a film purist, a Bell and Howell projector is often the entry point into celluloid. 8mm and Super 8 were the "TikTok" of the 60s and 70s. Millions of hours of home movies are trapped on those tiny reels. To see them, you need a machine that won't shred the film. Bell and Howell’s "Autoload" feature was a game-changer back then. It used a series of teeth and guides to pull the film through the gate automatically.
Earlier models required "manual threading," which, honestly, was a nightmare for most people. One wrong move and you’ve got a "burnt frame" because the film stopped moving in front of a scorching 500-watt bulb.
The Dark Side: Common Fails and Flaws
Let’s be real for a second. These aren't perfect machines. If you find one at a garage sale for twenty bucks, there are three things that are almost certainly broken.
First, the belts. The drive belts in these units are made of rubber that, over fifty years, either turns into a brittle rock or a sticky, black goo. Replacing them is a rite of passage. Second, the capacitors. In the tube models, old paper capacitors can literally explode or catch fire if you just plug a 1940s machine into a modern 120V outlet without checking it. Third, the "worm gear" in some later models was made of a plastic that shrinks and cracks over time. If that gear is gone, the machine is basically a very heavy doorstop.
Navigating the Different Formats
You can’t just buy "a" projector. You have to know what you’re looking at.
- 16mm Filmosound: The heavy hitter. Used by schools and the military. These are the ones with the amazing tube amps.
- 8mm and Super 8: These are smaller, consumer-grade units. The "Filmosonic" line handled Super 8 with magnetic sound strips.
- Slide Projectors: Bell and Howell also dominated the 35mm slide market with their "Cube" system. It was a weird, proprietary attempt to beat Kodak’s Carousel. It didn't really work, but the machines are everywhere.
The 16mm models are where the real value stays. A working Filmosound 385 or 285 is a piece of industrial art. They weigh about 40 pounds. Lugging one around is a workout, but the image stability is usually superior to the cheap plastic projectors that came later in the 80s.
The Modern Utility of "Obsolete" Tech
Why would anyone bother?
Because digital is too perfect. There is a specific aesthetic to 16mm film—the grain, the slight weave of the image, the way the light hits the silver halides—that a digital filter can't perfectly mimic. Filmmakers still buy these projectors to "loop" footage or to project images onto actors for practical lighting effects.
And then there's the archival aspect. Universities and libraries rely on these machines to digitize history. Without a functioning Bell and Howell, a lot of 20th-century history would just be silent, dark plastic in a box.
🔗 Read more: James Gleick’s Chaos: The Book That Changed How We See the World
If you’re looking to get into this, don't just buy the first one you see on eBay. Look for "serviced" units. Ask the seller if the "lamp is good," because those vintage bulbs can cost $50 a pop. Better yet, look for LED conversion kits. People are now 3D-printing mounts to put modern LED lights into these old housings, which means you get a cooler, brighter image without the risk of melting your grandpa's wedding footage.
Practical Steps for Success
If you've inherited a Bell and Howell projector or just bought one, do not just flip the switch. You'll probably smell smoke, and that’s a bad day for everyone.
Start by opening the side panel. Look for the "oil holes." They are usually marked with red paint. Use a high-quality sewing machine oil, not WD-40. WD-40 is a solvent, not a lubricant; it will ruin the precision bearings. Spin the motor cooling fan by hand to see if the mechanism is seized. If it moves freely, you’re halfway there.
Check the "gate"—the part where the film actually passes in front of the lens. If there is old, crusty "emulsion buildup," it will scratch your film. Clean it with a Q-tip and 99% isopropyl alcohol.
For those looking to digitize film, don't just point a digital camera at a wall. The "frame rate" won't match, and you'll get a flickering mess. You need a specialized "telecine" setup or a projector with a variable speed motor to sync with your digital sensor. It’s a rabbit hole, for sure, but the results are vastly superior to those cheap USB "film scanners" you see advertised on social media.
Those old Bell and Howell machines represent a time when Chicago was the center of the cinematic universe. They are loud, heavy, and occasionally smell like ozone, but they are built with a level of mechanical integrity that we just don't see anymore. Whether you want to hear that vintage tube distortion or finally see what your parents were doing in 1972, these projectors remain the most reliable bridge to our visual past.