Post-Script: Months ago, I'd started recording footage intended to be used in a video about the behind-the-scenes planning that goes into organizing a typewriter event. I'm not sure I'll make that video, as the quality of the footage is subpar, but at least I have those scenes available for personal reflection. I do want to eventually make a how-to video, as I'm certain there are others out there who want to organize a typewriter event in their area and perhaps don't know where to start.
We had a sizable assortment of electric machines this time, including an IBM Selectric II; Olympia Report Electronic; 5-series Smith-Corona Electric; 6-series Smith-Corona Coronet Automatic 12; Smith-Corona daisy wheel from the 1980s; and an IBM Wheelwriter. The electric machines seem to attract "ordinary", non-enthusiast people, as many of them make comments that they are reminded of high school typing classes.
As indicated in this video (see embedded link at the top), these Type-In events have seen mainly "regular" folk from the community attend, who might have a casual interest in typewriters but wouldn't necessarily be considered part of the Typosphere, or typewriter fanatics. Therefore I tend to choose machines for the event that are better suited to novices, reliable workhorses, rather than more exotic or fragile specimens, such as my Rooy. But I'm hoping in the next year we can begin to grow a more typewriter-focused social group in the community, with more people participating in organizing these events.
Having said that, I continue to be amazed at finding "hidden" typewriter collectors in the community, people who may not be connected via social media to the larger Typosphere. One such gentleman showed up early for the event, an elderly man and his wife, who's been collecting for many years and retains almost 30 machines. Would the term "crypto-typer" be appropriate? Hmm, perhaps I've just made up a new word. I look forward to making connections with more such crypto-types in the coming months.
Our friend Jerrel showed up again, this time with a handful of standard uprights, including his latest, an L.C. Smith. He's quite a young man for having such a collection of older machines. I look forward to seeing what he does in the coming months.
As I observed ordinary people from the community interacting with these machines, it once again had me thinking about the lifecycle of typewriters, and the intrinsic fragility of the remaining fleet of machines still out there. There seems to be a growing interest in them, fueled by events such as this, yet the total number of machines isn't being supplanted with newly built machines of acceptable quality. So it will be natural to expect them, in the coming years, to become more rare and valued. I hope we can save as many of them as we can for posterity.
A big thank you goes out to Kevin and Andrea Kittle, and the staff at Pennysmiths Paper, for all the help they provided in planning this event. I'm looking forward to the April 2019 event.
PPS: I wanted to talk about blogging, and specifically Blogger. I've been having problems leaving comments on other Blogger-based typewriter blogs. Maybe it's my computer, or browser (Safari), but many such blogs only offer a "Google ID" login, which doesn't work for me. Other blogs offer an option of a name/user ID login, which does usually work. From mobile iOS devices, I usually can't leave a comment on a Blogger-based blog, even when properly logged in to my Blogger account. I have no such issues when commenting to WordPress-based blogs, as long as I log into WordPress first.
Perhaps this is a tinfoil hat rant, but is Google trying to kill Blogger, or merely allowing it to decay into irrelevance? Or maybe I just need to try another browser? Despite the preponderance of social media like Basefook, I still find blogging to be far superior, for what we need it to do. Let me know in the comments below what you think. If you can leave a comment, that is!
Post-Script: What a fun time we had! As you get older, by the time you're my age (I'm 60), you often don't have as many friends as you once had. So these social gatherings become even more meaningful.
It was David who initiated this event, to whom I'm indebted. And it serves as a kick in the pants for me, because I'd made some noises, after the April 22 Type-Out, of wanting to have more frequent typewriter gathers, of a more spontaneous nature. I do want to continue these kinds of meet-ups, but also have to balance the fact that if you show up at some venue with, say, 25 people, all with at least one typewriter, you might not find they have sufficient room. All that to say that I have a small email list of people who attended the April 22 event, whom I'll be inviting to the next spontaneous (or as close as we can get) typewriter gathering, and just hope all works out well enough without some restaurant manager saying "it'd be better if you didn't come back."
Of course, your wallet is your passport, so the cardinal rule is to buy plenty of food and drink, and tip your waitress well.
It was fun working on this Royal QDL. The adobe-like color scheme immediately reminded me of our southwest-styled home and its adobe-like stucco finish, hence the christening of the machine as Adobe Rose. But I don't think it'll be complete without a little magnetic trinket to sit atop the ribbon cover, like a little howling coyote with bandana, or perhaps a colorful cactus. Perhaps a visit to the tourist shops in Old Town is warranted.
As for the repair itself, I was very pleased to find the missing screw was secured inside the case by David himself. But there was one other screw I found lodged precariously in the left side of the carriage bearing rail, and I haven't yet found where it goes; but nothing seems amiss regarding the machine's operation, so I'll hang onto the screw in case its needed at some future date.
The elite-size type face reminded me immediately of my Smith-Corona Silent-Super. It might be a fun comparing the two. I think the Royal weighs a bit lighter, and doesn't have the Smith's patented feature whereby the key caps remain horizontal throughout the full key stroke. And while the Royal doesn't have the Smith's action and feel, it's still very nice, just a bit different. There might be a slight difference in the spacing of the keys, which I've yet to measure, but I suspect the Royal's are slightly further apart, less crowded, which makes typing more comfortable for me. It's a very easy machine to type fast upon, and the alignment of the type slugs is pretty good, better than the Smith's, but not perfect. Still, it makes a dark imprint and works virtually flawlessly.
I've found in my experience there's always a breaking-in period after servicing a very neglected machine like this one. Often you have to type on it for a period of time to discover those lurking intermittent problems, often related to the escapement, such as letters piling atop one another (especially when using a fast, staccato-like action), or alternatively skipping spaces. More pointed degreasing and cleaning of the escapement is often needed, along with the segment slots of certain individual keys that might be apt to hang up on their return stroke and prevent the machine's reliable operation at full speed.
The hard case has a nice fabric outer finish, but the inner aluminum rails show a bit of white oxidation, along with a few rusting rivets. There's also been an addition set of rubber feet added to the bottom of the case by some previous owner, who might have been using it in its case and didn't want it sliding around the desktop.
I didn't spend a lot of time trying to get the textured paint finish pristine-looking, as it's too easy to begin taking off color in the process of removing grime and residue. Perfect is the enemy of good enough, in this case. Its patina reflects its history, like an elder's wrinkles and blemishes are clues to some personal archeology.
It's on! The spring 2018 Albuquerque Type-Out. What's a Type-Out? It's a Type-In, done outdoors. Specifically, under the covered breezeway in front of Pennysmiths Paper, 4022 Rio Grande Blvd, in Albuquerque's historic north valley. We supply the typewriters and paper, and you supply your creativity. Or bring your own machine. Fancy writing & typing papers, and other writing accessories, available at Pennysmiths Paper. Grub and grog available at nearby Flying Star Cafe. Be there or be square!
Always wanted to write that novel but never got a start? Too distracted by Facebook and cat videos to put one word in front of another? You need a digital detox! Sit down at one of these classic machines from our eclectic collection of manual and electric typewriters and have a go. Just one letter after another, just you and the typewriter. And dozens of other people watching; and maybe the local news media, too - but don't let that bother you!
Springtime being what it is in New Mexico, outdoor events can be tricky, unless you like blowing dust and tumbleweeds. Hopefully the weather will cooperate like last year. See ya there!
There was a particular moment at yesterday's ABQ Type-Out, while standing under the shade of the portal in front of Pennysmiths Paper, being interviewed by a local television news crew, when I had to formulate an answer to the question of "why typewriters." I answered that it was their ability to provide a non-distractive writing experience, a quip rather rattled off the top of my head, but which in retrospect was probably the right line to use.
There are many diverse reasons why a person, in the year 2017, might want to use a typewriter, and thus there isn't just one correct answer to that question. I'm not even certain now whether that was the best answer for myself. Is that really why I type, because I'm so easily distracted? I'm actually not sure.
In theory, the idea that typewriters provide a non-distractive writing experience and thus by implication can make you a better writer is at best an assumption and at worst a straw man argument. There are many competent professional writers who seem to possess the self-discipline required to use computers for writing, among them people like Stephen King. Perhaps the real problem here is not the lack of typewriters, but just an issue of discipline. If a person can't shut off the Internet browser and hunker down in a Word document, maybe there are deeper issues at play.
For example, I know of one writer who uses typewriters, and is constantly on Facebook, morning to evening. First thing in the morning will be posts including some meme about staying out of the way until after that first cup of coffee. Then will come posts of memes about writing, how hard it is. Later will be something about how little progress has been made on that book, and how it's such a struggle. On and on it goes like this, all day long, into the evening when will still be more posting to Facebook, either about typewriters, or coffee, or the writing life and that ongoing struggle to get the book done.
I think I know the problem, and it isn't Microsoft Word; and typewriters aren't going to fix it. Just get the heck off the damned Internet and Facebook, and hunker down and write.
Yes, I do believe typewriters can provide a quality of writing experience different from computers; an intentionality of purpose and a laser-like focus. But let's not kid ourselves. Being a writer is a discipline as much as a skill. By discipline I mean a purpose-driven life, not merely the image of a bootcamp drill sergeant, barking for you to get down and give him fifty more pushups. I mean the kind of discipline you'd see in some lone craftsperson, toiling away in the obscurity of their silent studio to the acclaim of no one but themselves. Constantly honing and refining their craft. Removing the distractions from their life that would prevent their continuous improvement.
Too many would-be typewriter users try to justify their typewriter hobby with the idea that, by writing with typewriters, they will achieve some level of writing they'd otherwise not reach through more conventional means. Maybe they're obsessed by the image of the beret-clad typist, holed away in his flat on the Left Bank, typing and smoking to the sounds of jazz and a steaming espresso machine. Romantic, yes. Realistic, no.
I think it's okay to collect and dabble with typewriters without feeling the need to somehow justify owning them under the pretense that they'll somehow make you a better writer. What might actually make you a better writer is to spend less time on the Internet and Facebook, jibber-jabbering about typewriters, and get down to the serious business of writing. Pen, typewriter, computer - whatever works for you. But toying with typewriters isn't writing. It's toying with typewriters for the sheer joy that typewriters provide. There's nothing wrong with that, no guilt trip needed. Just enjoy typewriters, collect them, whatever. But don't pretend like they're a substitute for the real work required to be a good writer.
Am I saying that typewriters can't be used by serious writers? No. Far from it. If that's what works for you, then keep doing that. But don't shoe-horn typewriters into your work flow just because you're romantically enamored with the concept of writing by typewriter. It might just not work for you. Sure, go ahead and try it. Build a realistic working methodology that includes the typewriter, than use that for a while. Examine the process, see what's working and what's not, then make adjustments. And if, in the course of making those changes, you find typewriters no longer work for you, then ditch them from your writing methodology. Don't just keep using them because you somehow feel obligated because you've labelled yourself as "that typewriter writer".
Mankind, we're a tool-making species. That's what distinguishes us from other animals, discounting the chimpanzees who fish termites out of their nests with a stick. We could probably do that too, if we had the appetite for termites. I think the crucial idea here is we need to be wielding the tool, not having the tool wield us. We need to be in control, to make the choices.
Constant refinement and tweaking of our creative process is just part of being a creative person. It comes with the territory. If you aren't curious about "what if," then you aren't alive enough to call yourself a creative. The crux of creativity is curious exploration. You see something, you prod and poke at it, like that chimp with his termite stick, and see what happens. You observe the results, then modify your prodding technique, or find a better stick, until you see improvements. And on it goes.
Back to the scene yesterday at the Type-Out. We had us some darned nice termite sticks. Portables, medium-sized machines, larger uprights. Manuals and electrics, spanning a range of ages from the WW1 era to the 1970s; from the tiny Hermes Rocket to the hefty IBM Electric and Olympia SG1. Sticks, big and small, a diverse collection able to satisfy the aesthetics of even the most discerning typist. I didn't feel then, and don't now, the need to justify typewriters. That's usually the first thing people ask when they find out you use typewriters. "Isn't it so difficult to use?" "Aren't computers so much easier?" "Gawd, why would you want to use a manual typewriter when a computer is so much better." On and on the complaints go. And that's fine. People can just complain, no sweat. Everyone to their own opinion. But in their complaining, let it be known that most of these people don't understand why it is that we do use typewriters.
As an analogy, let me use classic automobiles. "Why would you want to commute to work in that old thing? It doesn't even have air conditioning, it barely gets off the line, it sucks gas and the brakes are shoddy." Yes, all that is true. Yet people collect antique automobiles and are thrilled to own them, to tinker with them, to polish them and take them out for a Sunday drive. But you won't find them commuting to work in them on Monday morning, that's not why a person collects antique automobiles. And much the same with typewriters. We enjoy tinkering with them, polishing them, getting together with other, like-minded typewriter owners, even take them out for a spin and write with them once in a while. But few are willing to take them to the office and use them, in the way that computers have replaced typewriters. Things have changed, the old order has been replaced with the new, and with those changes typewriters are used in new ways. Back in their day, Model A Fords were the working man's family transportation. The horseless carriage. A practical improvement upon the equine variety. And since then, people who still have Model A Fords use them differently. They are no longer one's daily commuting car or family runabout, but are classics, to be preserved and honored and cherished and tinkered with and fussed over. And driven on Sundays, slow and smooth like, not with the efficiency of that latest Toyota Camry, but with purposeful, deliberate intention, enjoying the experience for experience's sake.
So go ahead and write that Great American Novel with your Smith-Corona. Or drive cross-country with that Model A. But do so knowing the journey won't be the same as with that slick word processor or Toyota. You won't be cruising the Interstate at 85mph, pulling over for a quick Big Mac and fill-up, then back on the highway. Your's will be the backroads of life, more purposeful but also more pedantic. You won't be measuring your progress in sizable chunks of the continent devoured in one day's time. You'll more likely be going from one small town to another, one small piece of writing to another, savoring along the way each nuance of the road, each paragraph and new phrase laid down on fresh paper. It'll be a real adventure, not just a quick jaunt out to the coast. But along the way you might discover something you'd otherwise miss if you took the Toyota.
The single biggest mistake I saw people making at the Type-Out was attempting to touch-type. We forget what it was like before rubbery keyboards and slick software took all the toil out of typing. Then, it took training, weeks and months and years, before you could call yourself a competent typist. Now, people are expected to sit down at a computer and, with virtually no training at all, produce professional output. Bam, whiz, whir and it's done. There's good reason why the image of the old newspaper reporter, banging away on his typewriter with two fingers, his cigarette ash dangling precariously, is so persistent. It's because that old two-fingered technique, as denigrated as it has been over the decades, is so efficient at producing error-free, quality copy. In the end, you'll write quicker using two fingers, given the reality that mistakes will require correction, or even retyping of the entire document. The tortoise over the hare.
"But, but..." you'll exclaim. "My typing teacher drilled into us the importance of touch-typing, yada, yada, yada..." Yea, I remember that, too. Actually, the thing I remember the most from high school typing class, being one of the few boys present, were all the pretty girls. But this ain't 1971 and you aren't learning electric typewriters so you can get a secretarial job. Nosirree. This is 2017, and I'm telling you that those old gin-reeking reporters knew what they were doing when they pecked away on their writing irons with two fingers. They didn't have time to stop and correct, and maybe they had a carbon underneath and weren't about to correct the second copy, too. They had to get it right the first time, error-free.
And here's another thing you might want to think about before criticizing those two-fingered monkeys. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome wasn't a "thing" until computer keyboards. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, will you! I think this is an important point. Touch typing on flat keyboards all day is bad for you, plain and simple. Just because you CAN, because the finger force required to operate a rubbery keyboard is so light, doesn't mean you SHOULD. Where I work, at a major Fortune 500 corporation, the issue of ergonomics and at-risk keyboard behavior is a big deal. People go out on MLOA (medical leave of absence) because of wrist injuries. The company looses money, people's lives are upended, they live with pain and suffering and take a long time to heal. Touch typing might be quick (but is it, really; consider how often you quickly backspace and retype over mistakes, just because you can, hare-like, when you could pedantically and accurately two-finger type with no mistakes and fewer wrist-injuring keystrokes, tortoise-like), but is it safe?
A deeper question might be, do we really need the speed offered by touch-typing on a slick rubbery keyboard? The typical keyboardist rushes through their document, constantly rat-a-tat-tating with the backspace key to erase those frequent mistakes, then stopping suddenly to discover the whole damned paragraph makes little sense because the speed of thought is so much slower than their fingers, and then fondle the mouse and click, highlight, drag and drop words and phrases here and there, having to revise and edit the whole ugly thing until it resembles, somewhat, a well-written piece. Alternatively, you could slowly, methodically think your way through a piece, carefully two-fingering those words into place, in the end requiring less editing and revision and in the process giving your wrists a well-needed break. Take it easy, write slowly and carefully - that's the fastest, safest way to write.
The best thing about typewriters as tools for the writing process is that they teach us to slow down, just slightly faster than the speed of thought, and think before typing, then type slowly, carefully and safely. They also teach us the value of ink on paper, about paper as a valid form of archive and backup, as a way to document the writing process.
I've no real bug about manual typewriters being intrinsically better than electrics, other than their portability and reliability, and the economy of their ribbon system. Actually, given the reality of manufacturing in 2017, a newly designed typewriter, aimed at the enthusiast writer, might look more like a hybrid between electric daisy-wheel plastic wedge and AlphaSmart Neo. For my aesthetics, it would have a standard-width carriage, accepting paper no wider than standard letter sized. Forget those ginormous wedges that took up a majority of one's desktop. It should have a simple and reliable print mechanism, like a daisy-wheel system, but be quick in response to keyboard inputs, with little or no latency. For my needs, it wouldn't require spell check, a thesaurus or even a correcting ribbon and memory system. It would preferably have a cloth ribbon that auto-reverses, for economy over print quality. I can imagine ways to make a cloth ribbon system that advances and auto-reverses, even on a daisy-wheel system, while being designed elegantly simple, using tiny solenoids or stepper motors. It would have a great-feeling keyboard, like the AlphaSmarts have. It needn't be much wider than a Neo, just a bit deeper and thicker to account for the print mechanism. It could be controlled by something like an Arduino board. And it could be lithium-ion battery powered for portability, along with household AC. An electronic typewriter aimed at the enthusiast writer market, not the professional office. A writer's tool that accepts paper as a valid medium for the initial stages of the writing process, but does so nimbly, economically and portably.
Alas, but one can only dream. Back in the 1980s, when I had a Smith-Corona daisy wheel wedge, the thing I liked about it was the quality of imprint from its carbon film ribbon. And the thing I didn't like about it was the frequent replacement cost of those same carbon film ribbon cartridges, which were one-time-use only. I recall that's the thing that motivated me into getting my first manual, some gray Royal with the red badge logo that unlocked the ribbon cover. Yes, I liked the economy of its ribbon; but no, I didn't like the low-quality cloth ribbon imprint. Today, I feel differently. I'm okay with cloth ribbons and their imprint quality, because I harbor no presumptions about a typed page being the equivalent of a professionally printed document. I understand better the place that typewriters have in my writing life. They're like that point-and-shoot film camera. The negatives might be gritty and grainy, but they're raw and real and physical.
These are the things that resonate with me after the Type-Out: answering the question of WHY? Dealing with those issues of intention, and the writing process, and the discipline of being a writer. Dealing with the ergonomics of manual typing, and finding what works best for one's self. And electric typewriters, especially those 1950s-era Smith-Corona Electrics that are small and sexy and so easy to work, with economical cloth ribbons.
I'd like to briefly mention that fellow conspirator Kevin Kittle and I will hopefully be getting together soon to do an in-depth video review of his newly acquired Godrej, recently arrived from India.
Thanks too for all the hard work Kevin put into the organizing the Type-Out; and a hearty shout-out to the staff at Pennysmiths Paper for their support.
I was pleased to see in my inbox a link to this Associated Press article about the typewriter revival. I knew it was in the works when I was interviewed, back in early April, by the article's author, Russell Contreras, who I met again at the Type-In later that month.
These kinds of stories come out once every few years, it seems. Just do a quick search and you'll see that the typewriter revival has been ongoing for at least a decade. They're fueled as much by the novelty and romantic ideas of these classic old machines as they are by the reality of more and more people rediscovering and putting them to practical use.
Which gets us to the subject of a new project I'm starting on my YouTube channel, Typing Assignments. This is inspired a great deal by Ted Forbes's photo assignments series on his The Art of Photography channel, where he gives an assignment, permits time for participants to create the required images, then culls them from social media and presents a slide show of the results.
I'm going to be using a similar method, but will be asking participants to post a link to the online image of their one-page typewritten piece as a comment to an accompanying blog article, to be posted here every Monday, along with the YouTube video of the new assignment.
As the series progresses, I will be showing highlights of people's work as a slide show in the next week's video. This will be the most challenging part of the project, getting images of sufficient quality from the participants' postings and including them in the video.
What interests me in this project is the idea of promoting creative uses for typewriters. Sure, we love to look at them as a form of decor; and many of us also enjoy tinkering with them; along with the thrill of the hunt for new specimens, for our museums of mechanical wonders. But it's the practical use of typewriters as catalysts for creative writing that I'm interested in pursuing - a subject that has been visited repeatedly on my Typewriter Video Series.
Here's the kickoff video to this new series:
And here's a how-to video on scanning and photographing typewritten sheets for online posting:
There was a pile of typewriters still sitting on my workshop bench from Sunday's Type-In, most needing to be stored away but several needing to be looked at: both Smith-Corona 5 series machines, especially the Silent-Super, purchased late last year from what I've described previously as a "hippie." Both machines performed fine during the Type-In, but since I'd last attempted to service them, I've acquired the Smith-Corona Floating Shift Typewriter Repair Bible, published by Rev. Ted Munk. I figure this would make for a good opportunity to revisit the somewhat intermittent escapement issues with that machine, and see what effect a good service manual would have upon my tinkering experience; while also serving somewhat as a mini-review of the book itself.
The book is divided into various sections, from the earliest Floating Shift models up to the Series 5. It did take a bit of flipping around to find where the sections begin and end, as they don't have clearly marked dividers; I plan on installing some tabs to the pages for that purpose. Once I found the Series 5 adjustment section I started at the space bar alignment procedure and worked my way through the escapement to the touch adjustments, using as my test subject the somewhat troublesome Silent-Super mentioned previously. It has been performing much better than when I'd first acquired it, due to the "service" I'd performed previously, but I didn't know exactly what I did to make it better. Now with the service manual, hopefully I'd find out, along with any further improvements to be had.
The space bar itself was well-centered in the frame of the machine, with no hanging up or rubbing, but the trip point of the space bar linkage upon the escapement was a bit too close to where the space bar stops at its rubber bumpers; the adjustment was to reform (bend) a linkage arm, to permit the escapement to trip earlier.
Next was checking the escapement pivot arm for freedom. You lock the carriage in the stored position, which also disables the rack gear from the escapement, then disconnect the spring on the pivot arm. It should freely pivot with no binding. I found it necessary to loosen the pivot points a bit, made with a precision open-end wrench and small screw driver; I'm still needing to acquire some gun-smith drivers for this purpose (or, more ideally, a legacy set of typewriter tools - as rare as hen's teeth). Now that the pivot arm was moving freely, I reconnected the spring.
Next was checking the freedom of rotation of the escapement star wheel itself, which is again checked with the carriage locked and the pivot arm manually moved out of the way. Here too I found it necessary to loosen the star wheel shaft nut a bit, to provide freer rotation.
Next was to check when the escapement is tripped as letters are typed. This is done by slowly moving a type bar toward the platen and noting at what position the type slug is relative to the type guide when the escapement trips. It should trip when the slugs are adjacent to the tip ends of the type guide. I found it necessary to reform a linkage to adjust the trip point.
The rest of the escapement-related checks were in good order, which encouraged me.
Subsequent testing on several sheets of paper with random nonsense typing showed marked improvement, with virtually no skipping or piling up of letters. But I did see another section in the adjustment manual about the touch selector, so decided to take a look and see if any improvements could be had there. It turned out that there was some unevenness of touch tension between the left and right sides of the keyboard, which was easily adjusted via the two screws on the touch spring lock bar. Once they were balanced from left-to-right, I then loosened both evenly about a quarter turn, making the overall touch of the machine a bit lighter, something I like in good portable machines.
None of these adjustments could have been made without the service manual, and the nagging escapement issues this machine had been experiencing I feel are resolved. There was not just one adjustment that fixed the problem, but a whole series of adjustments. The manual proved absolutely invaluable.
Once emboldened by my success thus far, I proceeded to the much trickier task of realigning the type slugs for even imprinting. This took me far longer than I'd anticipated, mainly because I lack the special tools designed for precision bending of the type bars. But I can say that, finally, the type imprint is much better aligned vertically, while the upper case imprints are clearer than before. I found that subtle misalignments would still deliver good lower case imprint, but with the type slug hitting one side of the type guide slot it would cause a smearing of the upper case imprint.
I feel this machine is finally in a condition where I'd be comfortable with anyone using it. And credit is entirely due to Ted Munk for making these resources available to the layperson typewriter community.
After servicing the Silent-Super, I proceeded to tackle the much less troublesome Silent version, and I didn't find too many issues to speak of, other than the escapement trip point was a bit too far toward the type guide, so it had to be backed off a bit; just the opposite of the previous machine.
I haven't gone through every area of these typewriters with this book, since I haven't been experiencing other issues. But I can rest assured that, if need be, I have the technical resources to tackle virtually any problem.
Another item of interest in the adjustment section was doing custom adjustments to compensate for individual user's typing styles, specifically what they call "Follow -Through, Hang-on Typists" and "Speedy Galloping Typists." Some of these adjustments involve reforming parts, while others involve measuring tolerances of clearance between neighboring parts and, if necessary, machining parts or ordering replacements.
Aside from the adjustment section, I found it interesting in the section on model features that various platens were once available for these machines, including extra hard platens intended to be used for stencils or thick sheets of carbons; and also slotted platens of various sizes for typing on smaller cards. It makes me wonder, when I read about someone's super hard platen, that perhaps they have one of those purposely-made extra-hard platens.
Any person owning one of these Floating Shift models owes it to themselves to get this manual, because these service adjustments are written with the technician in mind, using down-to-earth language that is rarely found in tech manuals of today's era. I especially love the way that terminology in the text is underlined, then the underline is connected to a call out arrow that points to the exact part in the associated diagram on the same page, making it easy to locate the part being described.
Keeping these machines running into the future is going to be much easier with this factory-supplied service literature available to anyone. What we still need, however, is a supply of replacement parts, currently only found from donor machines too far gone to fix. Perhaps some machine shop will rise to the challenge and start fabricating these rare and unique items. But until then, we need to keep these machines in good working order with a bit of tender loving care. Thanks, Reverend Ted! Yesterday I couldn't spell technician; today I are one!
It's been a busy several weeks, though that is not in itself adequate justification for ignoring this blog for nearly two weeks. There's a certain amount of irony in the observation that a recent video was about the power of blogging; a power which I've apparently ignored.
This week I've produced four videos for my YouTube channel, three of them about photography. The first two were about the Stearman Press SP-445 sheet film developing tank, a new product which promises sheet film processing in daylight, using a changing bag. In many ways it offers a similar result to a rotary tank, with the added benefit of not requiring constant agitation, as is the case with rotary processing, and thus permits stand development methods to be employed. I found my test results using the SP-445 to be satisfactory in terms of uniformity of development, but did note a bit of emulsion scratching along the very edge of the film, due to the way the thin, ABS plastic holders clamp the film. I didn't think this was a "deal-breaker," however.
I did experience one negative detach from the holder sometime during either the five minute fix (using continuous agitation) or the initial rinse cycle. But the image results were fine. My biggest concern with this system, aside from a few dribbles of liquid leaking from the o-ring sealed lid during inversions, is the seeming flimsiness of the internal plastic baffles and film holders. Longevity will only be proven over time, I suppose.
I produced another video, at the prompting of a viewer who liked the camera I'd been using for the film development tests, presented as a 75 year-old camera review of the Graflex Anniversary Speed Graphic, which has been my primary workhorse for large format and experimentation with adapted lenses; since it has a functional curtain shutter, any lens that projects a usable image can be employed, even if it lacks its own shutter. I've over the years employed several decidedly unphotographic devices as lenses, such as the front objective to a 7x50 binocular, a plastic, credit card-sized fresnel magnifier, a Xerox machine lens and a brass pinhole. Certainly newer field cameras are lighter in weight, but they don't offer the flexibility of a functional curtain shutter, along with a wire frame viewfinder to augment the ground glass view screen. This camera I had purchased from a local camera store years ago, and it's been worth every penny to me in return.
It's been several weeks since I made a typewriter-themed video, and as I was looking through my video production notebook I found a post-it note I'd made to myself about a potential video idea, that being making a log book for one's typewriter collection. The idea is to have a separate section for each machine, with detailed data on date of acquisition, serial number, age, past service, present mechanical issues, date of last ribbon replacement and one's own personal observations about the machine. It might also be of value to include a log of how each machine is getting used, in the form of a list of entries documenting the date of use and for what purpose - letter writing, blog article, short story, etc.
The video itself ended up morphing into more of a Confessions of an Office Supply Junky theme, as I delved into using the Staples Arc system (compatible to Levenger's Circa) of disc-binders for making customizable notebooks. Since making that video I've decided to also update my ad hoc video production journal with the Arc binding system. So now there are a plethora of little colored paper chads dotting the floor in my office, as the cheap little Arc hole punch likes to spew chads intermittently.
My wife and I spent several hours of the last three days spreading posters and fliers around town for the upcoming ABQ Type-In, scheduled for April 23 at 1 PM at Nexus Brewery. One downtown coffee shop we wandered into resulted in us meeting a poet who writes via typewriter, whom we invited to the event. You just don't know which venues will lead you to meeting creative people who employ typewriters in their work; one reason why I wanted to visit as many coffee shops as I could, since creative types and caffeine seem to go together.
At a downtown bookstore we talked to the proprietor about the Type-In, who in turn suggested we contact a local poetry collective, many of whose members might also be interested. All of a sudden I'm getting this feeling that our venue might be too small; a good problem to have, I suppose, but I can remember just a few weeks ago when it seemed like I was worried about nobody showing up.
I've contacted a local alternative newspaper about getting a notice for the event in their paper, and I'll also be contacting more local media in the next few weeks.
I'm also amassing a small stack of letters and postcards from new pen pals. This is another good problem to have, since I haven't been in regular correspondence with out-of-town folk in many years. Time to get that fountain pen filled and the Facit 1620 typewriter's type slugs cleaned and readied for use.
I've also been working on making my small video studio more efficient. It's funny with television production, you can't tell from the perspective of the viewer what a studio looks like off-camera. My local PBS station, for example, has a dumpy, cluttered studio, having visited on numerous occasions; but you can't tell from watching on TV.
My own production studio is in a corner of my bedroom-based office, where I employ some dark blue curtains in front of the closet doors, and some LED lighting in metal hardware store reflectors, clamped to wherever I can manage. I had been using a folding wooden tray table as my presentation table, but that's proven a bit too small, and also I've been needing to change the height of the table relative to my seating position, in the case of presenting some object on the table where I still want my face to be in the frame.
My solution was to employ an old Bruneau's Pneumatic Tripod, that I've had for decades, with the large metal mounting plate attached to a sheet of wood, atop of which I can set my new carpet-covered plywood tabletop, now wide enough to cover the camera's 16:9 field of view and able to move up or down with the tripod's pneumatic elevation system. I also attached two hardware clamps to the back corners adjacent to the camera, upon which I can now clamp my lights. And best of all, the whole shebang disassembles and stores away, for when I'm at work and don't wish for the office to appear quite so cluttered. Perhaps a future video will be a show-and-tell of my new video digs. Until then, have a great week!
Post-Script: Another theory is that I'm sufficiently unskilled at typewriter repair that I have to use these kinds of justifications to live with a collection of machines that's less than pristine. But really, as soon as you drive that new car home from the dealership, it's beginning its long decline into decrepitude. All it takes is sufficient time. And so it is with typewriters, whose parts are essentially no longer being manufactured; in contrast with antique automobiles where you can assemble an entire 1930s-era Ford Coupe from parts ordered from catalogs. And thus we find ourselves, as typewriter lovers and users, living with little nagging problems, the essential ingredient being not letting them nag you to bits.
I think this is one key factor in the phenomenon of uncontrollable typewriter collecting (I'm a recovering addict), that we'd like to find some specimen with that ideally perfect combination of typing action, appearance, features, functionality and reliability, all rolled into one. It's fairly easy to find two or three out of the five, but all five? A perfect typewriter? Not gonna happen! Thus the mantra indicated in the title of this piece.
But I did take the Olympia SF out to the work bench today and performed more tinkering. When I'd first cleaned it last week the foam insulation pieces glued inside the side panels fell to dust. So today I replace them with 1/4" thick black craft foam and double-sided adhesive sheets. I also added some to the inside of the top ribbon cover, which never had any from the factory. There was enough clearance between the inside of the top panel and the ribbon spool axles to permit installation without interference, which hopefully will further reduce the noise level; not that it's so excessively noisy to use, but it's also not the quietest in my collection; and being small and easy to carry, I'm more apt to use it in public.
I also looked into the wobbly carriage bearings, which I made mention of in Episode 60 of the Typewriter Video Series. I tightened the rear bearing track a bit by adjusting the set screws, then reoiled the bearings with gun oil. Now there's a bit less wobble. Afterwards I did a half page or so of test typing, and this afternoon I'm going to sit in the front patio, drink more coffee and do some stream-of-unconsciousness typing.
This morning I took the Olympia SF, in a shoulder bag on my motorcycle, down to Michael Thomas Coffee in Nob Hill and did some indoor typing at the bar adjacent to their fancy siphon coffee machines. The combination of mad scientist-looking glass lab ware, manual typewriter and wood-&-metal counter somehow fit nicely together. I didn't get any negative feedback from my typing, as I'd asked the waitstaff ahead of time, and the gal indicated another of their customers also types there. I did overhear some customer point out my typing as they walked inside, but it didn't sound all that negative, probably some snide remark about hipsters. Imagine me, a nearly 60 year-old hipster!
I also handed out more fliers for the April 23 ABQ Type-In. Now I need to get more printed up.
I have a couple of typewriter-related things to share with you today. The first concerns my seemingly perpetual and tenuous planning for what I hope to be the first ever ABQ Type-In. Since I first had an inkling about planning such an event, late last year, it seems I've dragged my feet, not quite knowing how to go about planning such an event. I needed to decide on a date, time and venue, while also needing some idea about how many people might be expected to show up with typewriters, which dictates the size of the venue.
So earlier this year I put together a simple flier, soliciting interest in attendance, and posted it around town, hoping for the best. I've thus far received about a half-dozen replies to the affirmative.
I also created a gmail account for this project (abq.type.in@gmail.com), through which I put together an informational email packet about Type-Ins, to be sent in reply to any respondent to my fliers.
The biggest hurdle has been finding a suitable venue. I've visualized the event as taking place on a Sunday afternoon at a public place with food and drink, the kind conducive to creatives and the general public alike. I needed it to have some separate meeting room big enough for a sizable turnout (not knowing how many people might show up), yet able to attract people who might just wander in for lunch.
Initially I had limited my search to the area of Nob Hill and UNM, the part of town where one might expect to find creative peoples in mass, but I widened my search after realizing that the ongoing reconstruction of Central Avenue, due to the ongoing Albuquerque Rapid Transit project/fiasco, would hamper access and parking. I also wanted to avoid the time when the NCAA basketball tournament is being televised, while also wanting to avoid Good Friday and Easter weekends.
Then this last weekend I had lunch at Nexus Brewery, in north-central Albuquerque near I-25 and Montgomery, and discovered they have a suitable meeting room, a great selection of award-winning brews, and a good food menu, including the ever-popular chicken and waffles. So today I called their business office and was able to confirm a date and time, that being Sunday, April 23 starting at 1 PM.
I'm excited that this major hurdle has been passed. Now I have to wait on my graphic designer to finish the poster and fliers, and to get some media attention. I'm not a publicist by nature, so this is all new territory for me.
The second typewriter-related item to share with you is that last week I spent several hours at my home being interviewed by an Associated Press reporter for a story about the typewriter revival. He had found me through one of my fliers left at John Lewis's Mechanical Antique typewriter repair shop; where he was having one of his two typewriters serviced. I won't know for several weeks how the story ends up, or in what venue it will be published. During the interview we spent considerable time discussing my background and how I came into typewriters, and why I like and use them. He also was shooting video during this time, much more than taking notes (in a Staples-branded reporters notebook, for those of you office supply geeks). I don't know if the video will be used in some footage online, or if he uses the camera as an alternative note-taking device.
This week I got back to making another episode of my "Confessions of an Office Supply Junkie" series, this being about handmade letter envelopes. Since I'm engaged in several pen-pal correspondences, I use envelopes and preprinted address labels every week. I got to thinking that if I could make my own envelopes I could preprint the addresses via laser printer and dispense with the cost of labels. I ended up with a novel design that is folded from a standard letter-size 8.5"-by-11" sheet of paper, uses only two small cuts and is taped shut for closure. It ended up being just a bit larger than the so-called "6-3/4" small letter envelope size. I did a cost comparison, using for prices the Staples brand of copier paper and premanufactured envelopes. The paper is about 1 cent per sheet, while a premade envelope is around 6 cents per. Of course, the cost of a few inches of adhesive tape also has to be factored in; but it is still less expensive for this homemade version, even though it looks a bit novel in design (the term "novel" being a more polite alternative to "weird").
Speaking of YouTube videos, while I'm nowhere near being a heavyweight in the YouTube arena, I was heartened to see the Samsung commercial at the beginning of last Sunday night's Academy Awards telecast, featuring YouTube star Casey Neistat, who played himself giving a mock awards presentation in a dark, rainy, empty parking lot (implying the huge gap between established Hollywood personalities and us small-time YouTubers). His short speech honored all of us unknowns who follow our dreams of creativity through video production; unlikely to be walking down any red carpets in designer clothes anytime soon. Of course, it was a Samsung advertisement about mobile phone tech, we must remind ourselves - ultimately for commercial purposes, but I felt heartened by it anyway.
I'll keep you informed of any further developments pertaining to the upcoming ABQ Type-In. Happy typing and envelope-making.
Post-Script: Here's my video on handmade letter envelopes:
Here's a link to the Samsung commercial about us YouTubers:
Final thought: The lead photo in this post has me posed in front of my video camera setup (Lumix GH3), adjacent to the Facit 1620 typewriter. Even though the focus of the shot was intentionally directed at the screen of the GH3, with the background left soft, you might be able to tell that the Facit is sitting propped up on some kind of wooden platform upon a folding tray table . This was a cobbled-together contraption to get the typewriter at a more ergonomic position while seated in my office chair, whose height I didn't want to keep adjusting between my main desk, which is higher, and the tray table, which is lower. The platform is very stable, and the newer typing position is much more conducive to extended typing. This post's first-draft was composed using the new setup onto the roll of teletype paper. I would have made it a typecast, but I didn't want to interrupt my stream-of-consciousness typing with correcting my numerous typos; and I'm too self-conscious to post that messy of a typed sheet.
Post-Script: I'm a newbie to this whole organizing an event thing, so I've lots of learning in store. But there are some good resources available, such as Ted Munk's excellent Type-In page.
Albuquerque's a funny town. It's hard to predict the response to a Type-In event. News of popular fads and new customs seems to travel here slower than one might expect, inland from the west coast to the high desert. We're usually a few years behind everyone else when it comes to popular culture; although the Internet-based media has helped to reduce the delay.
In my rounds today I stopped in to Field and Frame for a roll of black gaffers tape and talked to Alan Fulford about my ABQ Type-In fliers. He was interested, and permitted me to leave a few for his customers. He also mentioned he had several manual typewriters in the back room. I took a look at one, an Olivetti Lettera 35, that has dirty type slugs and needs a new ribbon. I'm going to bring one by on my next visit, with perhaps a little kit to service his machine. He also has (are you ready for this?) an Olympia SG-1! OMG! It turns out that Alan tweets typewritten poems to his friends. Who woulda thunk?
