Post-Script: We ate breakfast at the hotel cafe, then after loading up our gear and checking out, we headed over to the eCommerce Goodwill to pick up Kevin's Ideal model A2. I was surprised when I saw it, since Kevin has lately been collecting ultra-portables, but this one is a wonderfully crafted machine from 1901. I'll have to do a more detailed review of it once it's cleaned.
From the Goodwill in Tucson we drove over to Mesa, a two-hour drive, and spent most of the day at Mesa Typewriter Exchange with Bill Wahl and Ted Munk. A fun time was had, as Bill spent the majority of his time talking with Kevin about the Ideal, and Ted entertained me with a show-and-tell from Bill's ultraportable collection. I really need a cameraman to do a more thorough job of documenting these encounters, as I barely had time to shoot much footage with Bill.
Also, had I not been feeling so under the weather we might have stayed the evening and spent more time with Bill & Ted; but we got on the road by 4PM, and arrived home by 11:30 at night.
I'm still recuperating today, and feel like I may have to call in sick tomorrow. Oh well, so it goes.
I enjoyed using the Silent-Super for this trip, despite it being heavier than a Rocket or Skyriter. The new rubber rollers really make a difference. This is the closest it's come to functioning like a new machine since it was, well, new. A far cry from its origins as a grungy, stinky, broken typer. I've probably spent more time over the years working on this one machine than any other in my collection. But now it runs like it should. Good bones, good design.
Post-Script: A big thanks to Ted Munk for identifying it as an SM3. And later I checked the Serial Number Database and found it was made in 1957, the year of my birth.
Which reminds me: do as I say, not as I do. If you have any kind of typewriter collection, you should register them, in serial number and photos if possible, on Ted Munk's site. I've been remiss. Really need to get this done.
Post-Script: Ted Munk's thermal paper roll holder was much more pragmatic than mine. As is usual for these kinds of projects, I rummage through a bin in my work shop for just the right bits. Usually they aren't ideal, but I figure a way to make them work. In the case of this project, it took several iterations to get a simple, workable holder system that easily breaks down flat enough to fit inside the front pouch of the Brother EP-20 carrying case, along with a roll of thermal fax paper.
When it comes time to cut or sand wood, I like to open the garage door and air out all that sawdust. But cold weather kept me from doing so, and now I have a cleanup job to do when (or if) it does warm up sufficiently.
Here are the components to my paper roll holder, disassembled:
To assemble, first one end of the brass rod is inserted into one of the side brackets:
Then the paper roll is slipped onto the rod:
Then the other bracket is installed:
There's enough clearance for the bottom of a full roll not to drag on the table:
The bracket has a low profile and sits conveniently just behind the machine. In practice it helps to pull out a "service loop" of paper and drape it behind the bracket, so the paper has enough slack to easily feed into the machine.
I thought the experience of writing using this system was actually rather good; better I think than using a manual typewriter in public, which for me is fraught with constant worry about what other people think about the noise. Definitely a usable writing system, and easy to tote around.
Post-Script: Today I took the EP-20 in its carry bag up to the cigar store ("up" in ABQ meaning uphill, easterly, closer to the Sandia mountains) and had a chance to work with it, along with the roll of 8.5" wide thermal fax paper. Nestled in my lap, the paper sat comfortably on my knees behind the machine, though it would work better with some bracket to keep the paper from falling on the floor should I move the wrong way. Yes, I do have the wooden paper roll holder, but it's too bulky to take in the little carry bag with the machine. I'll therefore have to fashion some kind of wire bracket thingie sometime soon.
I had to remember to give the paper a "service loop", so it would be free to feed through the machine during a carriage return, else the line spacing can get wonky.
In actual practice, I would keep the machine powered off (I was using D-cells) until some thought struck me, at which point I'd turn it on and start typing. The correction feature of the 16-character LCD display is pretty handy for ironing out most typos, though a few snuck through anyway.
I thought I was going to do some profound writing, but being seated next to the TV in the cigar lounge that was blaring some obnoxious court show, it was all I could do to remember my own name. I did end up with some journal notes, not a total waste of time.
After I got home with a bit of writing, ready to archive in my notebooks, I figured out the best way to bind these long scrolls of paper is to hole-punch the bottom edge, crosswise to the paper along the 8-1/2" width, then insert in a 3-ring binder and fan-fold the paper scroll so it fits snuggly in the binder. It can then be unfolded to be read. The width is enough to permit being punched by two of the three holes in a 3-ring binder punch, sufficient to be securely bound.
I don't think this little thermal typewriter is a real substitute for a good manual typewriter, but what it has going for it is: light weight; small size, nearly dead-quiet operation and quick response between pressing a key and seeing the characters printed - better than most daisy wheel typewriters I'd estimate. Its negatives are being electric (though the D-cell batteries work well enough) and having to use thermal paper; the original carbon film ribbon cartridges are not being manufactured, and online are exorbitantly expensive; another reason to treat it as a thermal-only machine.
Here's a printout from Ted Munk's Canon Typestar 4 thermal printing typewriter, that I tested when in Mesa, AZ last week. The Brother EP-20 predates the Typestar machines. Note the Typestar line offers more fonts and font sizes than the little Brother machine:
For more details about this machine, see the video:
Test-typing someone else’s typewriter collection is often a messy business. You aren’t thinking about finely crafted prose or pristine impressions of ink upon paper. Often - or at least in my case - it’s more like a hurried flurry of poorly typed letters, hardly representing real words at all.
Such were my attempts at test typing on some of Ted Munk’s collection of typewriters, during my recent visit to Mesa, Arizona.
In case you haven’t seen it, here’s a video summary of my trip to Arizona:
First up was the Canon Typestar 4. This is a machine resembling in form an early 1990s laptop computer. The Typestar line features a small LCD display for editing-as-you-type; a carbon film ribbon cartridge (that’s no longer in manufacture, but examples can be purchased online at exorbitant prices) and a thermal printing feature. It’s this latter ability to print onto a roll of thermal paper that makes these machines still viable.
In actual use, we had an issue getting the text to show on the small LCD screen as we typed; it may have been due to some cryptic setting on the machine. As a result, and because of the location of the thermal print head, it’s somewhat like using a blind typewriter, where you can’t see what you’ve written until after a line advance.
Still, the laptop-like feel of the keyboard, and diminutive form-factor, made for a writing experience somewhat like an AlphaSmart device, with the added benefit of a print-out on thermal paper. No, this isn’t considered an archival medium, but for rough-draft writing it’s more than adequate. You’d want to transcribe your draft onto archival typewritten text once back home; or into a word processor for more formal editing.
In use the machine is nearly dead-silent; you wouldn’t have an issue typing in a quiet coffee shop or on an airline tray table next to a finicky flier. Powered by four D-cell batteries, it’s a nifty little unit. There were a number of machines made in the Typestar line. I couldn’t find a convenient online synopsis of the various models’ features, however. Perhaps Rev. Munk has some resources.
The Brother EP-20 is like a small brother (pun alert) to the Canon Typestar. It too used a now-obsolete carbon film ribbon, and also features thermal printing. Its keys are more like calculator chicklet keys, but the machine is even thinner than the Typestar. It’s thermal printing isn’t as nice as the Canons, obviously more dot-matrix in appearance, but essentially dead quiet.
The tradeoff with the Brother is an even smaller form factor for less sophisticated text - which may not be a bad thing, considering thermal-printed text is essentially a temporary medium anyway.
The Royal Companion is a cute little depression-era machine that takes up a small footprint. Ted’s sample has a wonderful finely textured black finish. I was enamored by the small size. It’s kind of like a miniature QDL. The typing action was pretty darned good, too. I can see why it’s one of Ted’s keepers.
The Remington Scout was an interesting machine. The type bars lie flat for storage, then are raised up by a lever for use, resembling in my overly-active imagination like a ready-to-strike velociraptor in Jurassic Park. This example has a wonderful Art Gothic typeface.
Of special note is the function of the carriage return/line advance mechanism, where the main lever rests toward the rear, with a separate lever for advancing the line spacing.
The bright red Olivetti Valentine stuck out on Ted’s shelves like an Italian starlet in the spotlight. This was my first time seeing one in person (typewriter or Italian starlet) and I was duly impressed. From online reports, I’d expected the feel of the keyboard to be less than impressive, but I was surprised at the touch. If they’re all like this one, I can see why they’re so popular. Of course, you’re not going to go out typing in public with one of these unless you’re purposely trying to attract attention to yourself. Best to spend time with your hot little Italian in the privacy of home.
The Triumph Perfekt was the biggest surprise of the day. I loved the no-nonsense curves of the machine and its solid build quality. But the feel of the keyboard was most impressive. First, the slope and spacing of the keys was perfekt. But the action of the keys was great - kind of like a cross between a Hermes 3000 and Olympia SM-something. The resistance of the keys was steady and consistent throughout the entire keystroke. Smooth. Wonderful. I was smitten. Reading back on Ted’s blog, he picked up this beauty for all of $10. The typewriter gods certainly smiled on him that day.
It’s nice to see and use in person machines you’d otherwise only read about online. And I’ve gained a bit more insight into Ted’s typewriter collecting preferences. Another good reason to associate yourself with fellow typewriter enthusiasts - we all can learn from each other.
Post-Script: We arrived home this evening after enduring a loooong line of traffic in Gallup, NM, due to a traffic accident; it added about an hour to our trip.
It was nice having the Rocket back, after Bill did his magic to it. I did a bit of journal typing at the hotel breakfast room before we left. One of the wait staff stopped and told me she loved the sound of the machine, and was surprised at how small it is. Along the way we stopped in at Common Grounds Coffee in Payson, AZ for a cuppa, where I worked a bit on this article, during which a fellow patron also commented on the typewriter. She mentioned that she had an old pink Corona back home, I encouraged her to break it out and start using it.
While my wife drove the first leg of the journey back home, I tried writing in my journal (with the new Rotring 600 mechanical pencil), but the vehicle's movement made my handwriting even more sloppy than normal. Another good reason to do road typing instead. I like the feel of the machine on my lap, as I pause, look out the window and think about my next line of text. There's no hurry, as the miles fly by; and the machine is plenty patient - it's not like batteries are being spent.
It was great seeing Ted, Bill, Cameron and Erik again. This business of smuggling typewriters back-and-forth across the Continental Divide could get risky, but no black helicopters were noted. I prefer the drive rather than flying, despite the time it takes, as I don't want to risk flying with typewriters; plus, there's more junk you can stuff in your car than what the airlines would allow you to take onboard.
Okay, time to start uploading video footage and see what kind of story I can piece together.
We brought our entire espresso kit with us. Because that's what you can do when you drive instead of fly. When you're coffee snobs like us!
Sometimes it's the little things that count. (Holbrook, AZ)
The Underwood atop the typing platform on my workbench.
Ko-Rec-Type pack, Olympus Pearlcorder, headphones and cigar accoutrements. Had the garage door open to air it out while smoking. And a fan blowing.
I missed my opportunity to get a free gift from 1988!
This must be where all the letters go that you type, when they don't show up on the screen!
Only a bit of residue from the Ko-Rec-Type. Mostly blows off with a can of compressed air. It goes down more reliably than those rolls of correction tape.
Some results from today's Afghan box camera testing, along with typewritten notes.
I'm thinking about an americanized name for these devices, other than "Afghan box camera", or "camera minutera". I kind of like "wet box camera".
I considering getting a set of small bookshelf speakers for the garage, but had a good time today with Ted's tapes just wearing headphones. And I can blast it without bothering the neighbors, or my wife!
Thank you Ted for the care package. Now I'll have to get busy, acquire an analog video capture device and get you some footage of those experimental videos from the late '90s - early aughts. And maybe even an episode of "The Joe Show" from the late 1980s.
Post-Script: There are too many other adjustments on these machines to cover in a reasonably-sized video; best to get your own Typewriter
Repair Bible, if you're interested. I didn't cover the adjustments for the two positions of the escapement dog rocker, which involve bending some arms to set them such that, when engaged with the escapement cog, the teeth of the cog and rocker dog both align properly. There is also advice for adjusting the escapement trip point based on the heaviness of hand, or technique, of the typist. Another good reason to favor these 5- and 6-series machines in your collection: not only do they perform well, but they are perhaps the easiest to service, with the most complete service literature available - and many of these machines also sport the easy-to-remove platen feature, for gaining access to clean the rubber rollers, paper pan and ribbon guides.
Here's the video that covers this adjustment in detail:
Post-Script: I carried the Skyriter in my green shoulder bag that normally holds the blue Webster XL-747; I can easily tell the Skyriter is lighter than either the Webster or my other shoulder bag typer, the Olympia SF. While the wide cloth strap is okay when motor-scootering, I'd prefer the padded computer bag strap I use for the Nekkid Hermes 3000carrying box. It was a warm day, so wearing a summer shirt and shorts felt pretty good on the scooter.
I've liked eating at the Range Cafe for years, so it's nice to know that The Standard Diner is owned and operated by the same family. While my favorite breakfast at the Range has been their huevos rancheros, made with blue corn tortilla and featuring pinto beans, white cheese and fried/baked potatoes (and ordered with red & green Chile - what we call "Christmas"), The Standard Diner's version has a white corn tortilla, black beans and hash browns. I really loved it, especially mixing both chile sauces into the hash browns and breaking the eggs over it. Yes; you can blame me for your sudden appetite.
Sitting in the high-backed, padded booth, I didn't find the Skyriter's noise especially bad; although I think I grasped a bit of conversation across the room involving the word "typewriter," so perhaps they were talking about me? Hmm...
Regarding this issue of narrow-width typecasting, so as to make the words more prominent on-screen, Ted has mentioned the use of 3-1/8" wide thermal paper as a good medium. I'd like to try it, but will wait until I can find some cheap rolls at the thrift stores; otherwise I'd have to spend lots more money on a 6-pack of rolls, enough paper to probably last me a lifetime. For elite-sized font machines, this range of 3-4 inches seems almost ideal for the purpose.
I also remember reading on their menu that The Standard Diner has an old typewriter back by the restrooms, though I didn't take an opportunity to check it out. Which gives me reason to return once again, perhaps with better video equipment than the little iPod Touch. Even so, perhaps that makes this venue a bit more typewriter-friendly.
Now, regarding motor-scootering. Yes, riding two-wheeled vehicles is intrinsically riskier than being enclosed in a metal cage, especially in today's world of phone-distracted drivers. What would be a fender-bender crash in a car can easily become a trip to the hospital, or morgue, on a motorcycle. Even so, there's a particular enjoyment to riding. Always wearing a helmet is an essential habit, even in hot weather; though I find the helmet keeps the sun off the fair skin of my ears and face; while in the winter it keeps my head and neck warm.
There are also some good defensive driving habits to invoke when riding, that you normally wouldn't consider if in a car. Visibility is a primary issue, especially when passing cars or going through intersections. Staying out of blind spots is something I'm always conscious of, which involves momentary speed changes to put myself in a more visible position relative to neighboring vehicles. Watching a neighboring vehicle's lane position and speed can give you clues as to their intent to suddenly change lanes. Even on such a diminutive vehicle like my Honda PCX-150 scooter, my head height relative to the road is easily as high as a medium-sized SUV. Regardless, when being followed by a vehicle I try to stay in the left side of the lane, so I'm directly in front of them, in their central zone of vision. When passing through intersections where there's a left-turning vehicle in the opposite turn lane, I will adjust my lane position to the right side so they can see me as early as possible. And watching for cars jumping out from side streets is easier if you watch the spoked rims of their front wheels, where you can more easily detect slight rotational motion indicating they're beginning to roll forward. All these are tactics I've learned that help me stay safe.
If I ever feel especially nervous about riding in traffic (which I usually don't, since I learned to ride on scooters in city traffic), I have the advantage, in northeast ABQ, of taking side streets to almost anywhere else in this part of town, like I would if on a bicycle. That is the essential advantage of living in a grid-like city, the network of side streets between major roadways.
Here's the Ted Munk interview video. Stay tuned on my YouTube channel for the upcoming interviews with Ryan Adney and Bill Wahl.
*About downtown Albuquerque. My grandparents' old house in on Edith near Central, just two blocks up from The Standard Diner.
Post-Script: Yes, we had fun. Do you blame us? No. But you should be jealous. The thing to do is organize your own Type-In, build your local typewriter community. After my first visit to the Phoenix Type-In several years ago I was inspired to start similar events here locally. Because no one else was going to do it, and I want to see a vibrant community closer to home.
I posted an overview of this event, the embedded link is below. I'll also be posting follow-on interview videos, stay tuned for that.
What do you talk about when you're driving cross-country with a fellow typewriter nerd? Typewriters, obviously. Sometimes the conversation goes far afield. Like when Kevin was driving and I was daydreaming, and came up with the idea that perhaps I could figure out how to build a prototype typewriter out of mainly wooden parts, something a crafty person could do at home with basic tools. Wood, some metal bits, strings or wires. What would be the point, you ask? Why, to start a DIY typewriter movement, of course. People more skilled than I would 3D print the parts, but I see it essentially as a piano-like mechanism. Start simple: upper case only, perhaps carbon paper at first to negate the need for a ribbon system. An all-mechanical device, bigger than a real typewriter at first. Maybe sell kits that people could assemble. Would I actually do this? Hard to tell. I'm a dreamer, always coming up with hair-brained ideas. Maybe you can take this idea and run with it.
I spent a bit of time this morning, between editing video, working on the Skyriter. It took a lot of degreasing and cleaning to get it running right, plus I had to fix the line advance problem. It's pretty good now, except a few letters are not perfectly aligned. But for an elite (12 CPI) machine it has a pretty decent imprint, so I probably won't mess with it further.
Post-Script: On the subject of the AlphaSmart, there's been some discussion recently on the Flickr AlphaSmart forum about alternative devices that offer a similar non-distractive work flow with a great keyboard and battery life. So far, you can't beat a used Neo on eBay (or wherever).
I'm wanting to start making more impromptu blog entries, spur of the moment, off the top (or side, or wherever) of my head. This motivation was prompted by a recent blog entry by Ted Munk, who spoke of the apparent decline of typewriter blogs, from their heyday in the mid- to late-aughts. Part of this is that blogging in general is in decline; but also our attention is being redirected to social media. I wonder also if mobile platforms are just more cumbersome for both consuming and creating blog content.
Whatever the reason, I've decided to get my act together. I know with my focussed concentration on YouTube these last few years, my blog now plays second fiddle. Whereas it once was the primary medium into which my creative thinking was expressed, it's often been used to just advertise a new video over on YouTube; there's rarely new content expressed herein.
There are often little thoughts that break the surface of my consciousness, not big enough to warrant a full-blown (or even half-blown) video production, but something worth tossing into the pond of public discourse in the Typosphere. Little thoughts that might prompt further discussion about things. Or just little observations that might, for no other purpose, serve as entertainment for a few brief moments. These often have been discarded or abandoned. But perhaps they deserve to be preserved here in. The life of the blog doesn't have to be just big articles. There's also little snippets and observations. It is a log, right? A web log.
My older blogging methods were rather meticulous about using a flatbed scanner for type-casts, to eek out the last bit of quality in those images; I've always wanted those images to look like ink on paper, where you see not just black letters floating against a nondescript white background, but you also see the texture, wrinkles and folds of the paper itself. But having to fire up the scanner is often a chore, and chains me to the office computer.
Lately, I've been trying to photograph these pieces, either with the camera in my iOS device, or using a dedicated digital camera. The challenge is always the light, especially evenness of illumination. Even the least bit of shading, from one side to the other, is exaggerated once the levels are tweaked in post-processing. Like today's example; I had flood lamps on either side of the sheet, with a white reflector card helping to even out the exposure. Even so, you can detect that left-to-right shading.
I've decided, on this matter of photographing type-casts, that perfect is the enemy of good enough. It needs to be legible, for certain. Good contrast between the background paper and the ink. It needs to be sharp, both in focus and lack of motion blur. But a bit of geometric distortion (key-stoning, from shooting off-axis; or pincushion) is okay I think. We're not archiving documents for the Library of Congress.
I like more and more the way Ted Munk makes his type-casts, with narrow typed columns and hence large letters on screen. Very legible and readable.
I keep threatening to make a dedicated copy stand for these pieces; perhaps that's the way to go, so I can guarantee even lighting. But would that end up being just as involved as firing up the flatbed scanner? I'd still have to import the images into my computer from the camera and do some post-processing, like levels, rotation and cropping. Well, by using a camera to digitize them, I have the option of not only importing them to my computer but also to my iOS device where I could do the post-process and upload to Flickr, as an alternative method. The only place where the copy stand would be impractical would be blogging while on the road.
Okay, enough about the minutia of the process. What's important is to make the process streamlined, efficient and effortless enough that one (this one) can focus on doing it as often as possible. With results that are "good enough." You might not always like what you read, but hopefully you'll come back more often and visit, to see what I've been up to.
