Ever wonder how a cosmic alignment of vintage camera parts and sci-fi imagination birthed the ultimate iconic weapon? On a day when Mercury was flirting with Uranus—hello, unexpected genius!—a humble stroll into a London camera shop turned into a pilgrimage for a would-be lightsaber creator. Picture this: an avalanche of dusty Graflex camera handles hiding under shelves, waiting to be discovered like some kind of nerdy treasure chest. The ordinary became extraordinary when one silver handle, complete with a red button and the perfect heft, leapt out as the perfect spark for a galaxy far, far away. It’s a story that’s part luck, part magic, and all heart, just like today’s stars aligning in a dance of serendipity and bold creativity. Ready to dive into the tale behind the legendary glow?
So I went down to the camera shop where we got everything in London, and having got those, I said to the manager, “I gotta make this weapon. It’s a kind of science fiction weapon,” and he said, “Well, we’ve got some torches.” I said, “No, no, no torches.” The special effects boys had made some, and they looked terrible and were rejected by George.
The shop rented out Graflex cameras, which were the cameras that the press used from the ’40s on. They had a huge quantity of them to rent to period films. The manager said, “Under those shelves, there’s a load of boxes. Go pick one out and have a look; see if you can find anything.” So it was the first box, literally, and I pulled out this box and opened the lid. There was tissue paper, and inside were three of the Graflex handles. It was the Holy Grail moment for me; it was beyond what I could imagine. There was this beautiful silver handle that looked like a lightsaber, at least what I thought it should look like, and it had a red button, and it had the weight and the shape. So I grabbed all three and raced to my office.