Notes From Safari

TJ is a school teacher in Los Alamos, and I have his typewriter, an early-1950's Smith-Corona Silent. It used to be mine, until I sold it to him (or, more precisely, his school system) for use in his classroom. Sometime last year he told me some of the key levers had been bent, by overly-eager (I'm assuming) students. TJ was able to drop the machine off to me for repairs later in the year, during one of our Sunday ABQwerty Type Writer Society meetings. I easily managed to put the key levers back into good order, but since then it's been difficult arranging for TJ to pick up the machine. And now, with everyone (supposedly) in lock-down it'll have to remain with me for a while longer.

But today I decided to set the machine on my workbench and test it out, to make sure there were no other nagging issues. It does type very well, no mechanical issues of note, even the ribbon is sufficiently fresh. And I'd forgotten how much I like the typeface. But I needed a piece of paper to test-type with, so I grabbed an instruction sheet from a pile of clutter on the bench, for a safari rack that me and my grandson had installed earlier this week on his truck, and I was sufficiently inspired by the word "safari" in the instructions to hurriedly compose this vignette on the reverse side. Afterward, I read it to my wife, and she was sufficiently impressed that she's now encouraging me to continue this story in installments.

No, I don't really know if you can weld broken steel in the bush with a makeshift thermite furnace, but hey, a little exaggeration never hurts! And don't go four-wheeling with that Smith guy, he'll get you in more trouble than you can shake a stick at.

The other day I'd felt sufficiently cinematic (is that a real feeling?) that I wanted to record some B-roll black & white video on my Lumix G7 with one of my Minolta MD lenses. It was snowing lightly, a rather rare occurrence in April (though our mile-high altitude doesn't preclude such an event) and the inclement weather was rather inspiring, since sunny days are rather commonplace. For adapting manual focus lenses to my digital camera I'd already been using the 7Artisans 25mm F/1.9 lens and the Minolta MD 50 F/1.7 at various times, but had never given the 58mm Rokkor lens a real test. After some test shots around my office and outdoors, I decided that the 58mm was at least as sharp as the 50. Naturally I'd need to reduce the light incoming to the sensor if I hoped to use the lens wide open at F/1.2, so I put on a variable ND filter, after futzing around with finding the proper adapter rings.



By itself the Panasonic G7 isn't that big of a camera, but with that big 58mm lens and even wider ND filter hanging off the front it's rather sizable. But it has a reassuring heft, and the haptics are about perfect for manual focusing, since the G7 has focus peaking and the G-series cameras pioneered the "tilty-flippy" screens (that other manufacturers pretend these days they invented), that makes these cameras so convenient to use.

One thing led to another, and before I knew it I was creating a motivational video on creativity and writing during this unsettled period. I thought the B-roll intervals between shots worked pretty well for the video.

Impromptu Birthday Bash Type-In

Post-Script: The niece's husband tried his hand at the little Olympia SF, and he blazed away using the middle finger of each hand. It turns out his first book was written, years ago, on a larger Olympia, using the same typing style.

He asked her why a typewriter, isn't a computer more efficient. Her answer was something along the lines of wanting to get into typing again; she also has a desire to do some serious writing, and feels a typewriter would suit her best, as least in the initial phases.

They both live an hour up the highway in Santa Fe; I told her in my letter that should she need ribbons or other assistance, just call.

I think she made the right choice of the SM9 as a serious writing tool. Nothing wrong with the Smith-Coronas, except they're older, have seen a harder life.



I also had her try Adobe Rose, the Royal QDL, seen above next to the Brother Charger 11, which still had its lid attached, one of her other choices. Unless portability were her main concern, she was wise to steer clear of the Brother, as it's not nearly as easy to type on.

She made some interesting observations about the feel of the keyboards of these various machines. The spacing of the keys, and slope of the keyboards, has a lot to do with typing comfort, as she wisely discerned; to her, the SM9 felt easier than the Hermes 3000.



Above is the 1930 Underwood Portable with a roll of paper; we used it during the birthday party for people to type comments upon. Always a great machine to have handy.



This morning I stopped in at Rust is Gold, a new coffee shop + artists collective, on Eubank near Constitution, with the Olympia SF, for some blog writing and coffee slurping. Fun was had, and I struck up a conversation with a fellow patron who was interested in the typewriter. I didn't have business cards with me, so typed him one on a scrap of paper.

A Bit of T.L.C.

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!

"An Interesting Day in Area 36"

Post-Script: A bit more from the Losers Blend mythos, inspired by the look and feel of this old Smith-Corona Silent sitting in its half-case on my lap in the afternoon shade. Perhaps not entirely compatible with the theme of Easter/Resurrection Sunday, but one has to strike when the iron's hot, creativity-wise.

I snapped the top picture on my front patio, hoping it might look something like a coffee shop patio table at the fictional Losers Blend coffee shop, inspired by my local Winning Coffee; but I didn't have true fanfold printout paper, so I had to punch some Circa binding holes in an old Freestyle Photo receipt instead; plus add a bit of sci-fi look to the image in post. Kind of reminds me of the color tone of that old 1970s movie Soylent Green.

The thought was running through my mind, as I was writing this, how easy would it be to find typing paper in this fictional future world. Recycled paper seemed a logical solution, typing between the lines of someone's old printout. You'll notice I didn't address the issue of typewriter ribbons; maybe they just soak the old ribbons in a bit of Synthspresso syrup? Hmm, now there's an idea...

The Proof is in the Pudding

Post-Script: After we arrived back home from last week's vacation to Jerome, Arizona, the first typewriter I used was the lovely Corona Standard. Not only is it a true "looker," but its typing feel is wonderful. It's probably the one machine in my collection that has it all; aside from not being a true ultra-portable. But then I set this Olympia SF on my lap and began some random typing, and really enjoyed its touch, too. Yes, it does have that one little issue with the line advance, but my temporary solution of back-rolling the platen one click after a conventional carriage return seems to make it a practical writing tool.

Comparing the Olympia with the Brother Charger 11 taken on the Jerome trip, I'd say the Olympia has a more solid feel, though weighs more, but also makes a nicer imprint. And its clam shell lid latch components are made from metal, so they should be more reliable than what I've experienced with the Brother. I know some people criticize these Brother portables, but aside from the broken lid latch, I've found them to be rather reliable. But the Olympia is a more solid machine; and you could argue perhaps has better aesthetics going for it, too.

It's interesting that in all my travels with typewriters I've only ever taken with me an ultra-portable typer. Yet room in one's vehicle shouldn't limit oneself to just those diminutive models, since there's plenty of space in the back seat for at least a medium-sized portable. The real issue is how easy the machine is to lug from car to hotel room, or in the case of last week's trip, from our room to the garden for some private typing. The Brother was a good choice in that respect, as it is light in weight; but I can very much see myself on a future trip taking a medium-sized portable like one of my Smith-Corona Silents. The fancy Corona Standard I think will stay safely at home for the time being.

Since I mentioned the Smith-Corona Silents, I should also make mention that I did a bit more investigation into the intermittent escapement issue plaguing the Super-Silent. I've had promising results by comparing its inner workings with the more reliable Silent stablemate, and documented my findings in a video:

Transformation

Post-Script: I didn't have carbon paper with me when I wrote that impromptu piece for our hostess, but I did snap a poor-quality photo afterwards, which I'll transcribe here:

She holds court this morning, like she does every morning now for over 25 years, the Queen Bee in her hive of a kitchen, every tool and implement at hand, mixing bowl readied, concoctions being poured and blended, things baking in the oven. The sunlight streams in from across the vista separating there from here, as if one could fathom the tremendous distances involved.

We, her guests, carefully descend the creaking staircase from our nests of Victorian rest to warm our gullets with coffee or tea, while outside a cool wind blows from last night's storm as a hummingbird mother perches in her golf ball-sized nest warming her eggs against the onslaught; nurture or nature? Perhaps that's not even the relevant question.

What is it that makes our hostess Andrea invite us to become, if but for a night or two, one of her brood? It would be too simplistic to declare mere commerce as the primary motivation; even though, out on that tree limb those chicklets, once hatched, will require to be fed every fifteen minutes. Are we that needy, too?

The Surgeon's House was intended, when built in the years of the Great War, as a place of healing, of wellness; the home of the one who brings solace in a time of great need. There are times in every person's life when a helping hand is needed, even though they might not realize their plight; perhaps that is why we secretly come to these places - not just for a bed and board, for we could find some simulacra in any Inn for sojourners - but that we secretly long to be nurtured back to some inner wellness.

Here, as she holds court in her kitchen, we find a gentle touch here and an insightful word spoken there, a sparkle in her eye and wholeness for our being in the gratitude of the meal served before us. We lounge amidst a life's gathering of living leafy beings while books and paintings feed and nourish our souls. Outside, the roar of Harleys and pickups, headed to nowhere, is but a gentle reminder that, if but for a night or two, we are home.

The broken latch on the Brother typewriter case I remedied by the application of a $5 tourist-quality leather belt, purchased at a local gift shop. Where there's a will, there's a way.

We found a neat antique store in Jerome, and I immediately spotted a mid-20th century typewriter sitting on the floor in its case. It turned out to be a Smith-Corona Silent, an exact mate to one already in my collection. It was a bit dirty and in need of some service. The platen was very hard, and it has pica-sized font. They were asking $28, which is a pretty good price for a tourist town antique store, as I've seen some sellers asking twice that back here in Albuquerque. I almost picked it up, but passed on it, as I already have one in my possession. And by passing on it, I was able to prove to my better half that, yes, I do have some degree of self-control when it comes to typewriter collecting. Perhaps this gives me more sway when I do find a model I really want in my collection, at some time in the future. Grease the skids, and all that! Any of you Arizona Typospherians in need of a Smith-Corona Silent might want to make the trek up to Jerome this weekend. The antique store is just across the street and up hill from the post office.

This typecast was written while seated in the passenger seat of our Subaru, somewhere on Interstate 40 between Flagstaff and the NM border. It proved to be a good way to while away the many miles of open country with something productive.

There will most likely be a video coming in the near future about car typing on the road; and also about using typewriters, as I was fortunate to do so, as tools for creative writing.

Notes on Lap-Typing

Post-Script: As you can see from above, I did end up making another video, on lap-typing. I happen to love portable and semi-portable typewriters, and what I find most distinctive about them is their relatively compact size and weight makes them ideal for moving out from the traditional office/desk setting, into more creativity-spurring environments. After all, this is why they are called "portables" in the first place.

I was hoping to try my hand at making a medium-size portable like the beloved Smith-Coronas Silent into a more take-anywhere machine, by removing the top of the hard case and, keeping the machine secured to its base, enclose it in a soft material like an old pillow case, then slip into a backpack, for carry-anywhere portability. But alas, my little day pack is a bit too narrow for that idea to see fruition. Perhaps a slightly wider back pack. Of course, a person could lug the case by its handle, but who wants to do that for more than just a few minutes at a time. I was also brainstorming some idea for attaching straps to the hard case, so it could be portered on one's back, but no winning ideas have yet to see the light of day.

Speaking of Smith-Corona Silents, yesterday I brought out the Silent-Super for a bit of test-typing, and noted that, after it's been sitting for several months unused in the cold garage, the troublesome escapement issue returned. I spent several hours yesterday afternoon with it and its stablemate non-Super Silent next to each other on the bench, as I used the less problematic machine for a comparison, and found a few mechanical adjustments needing to be made, and some hardened pivot linkages needing to be freed up. Afterwords I spent an extended period of time with the machine and it hasn't skipped once. But that doesn't necessarily mean that it's fixed, no sir, because one has to remember where it came from: a Craigslist ad from a fellow who I'd generously describe as a "hippie," living in the filthiest house I'd ever stepped foot into (and I used to do TV repair service calls, years ago, and have seen a few grungy dwellings in my time). I spent several days initially cleaning and degreasing this machine. Even now there's a bit of funky odor emanating from the hard case, just a subtle reminder of its colorful pedigree.

This typecast was via the recently acquired Brother Charger 11, a humble but willing writing companion, and truly fit for lap-typing.

Spring Tension

Post-Script: Here are links to the videos mentioned above:

Episode 45, Hermes Rocket:


Episode 46, Escapements:


Here's a link to the TypewriterJustice channel on YouTube, a great typewriter resource.

Photo via Fujifilm X10. Typecast via Facit 1620.

To Stay on the Straight and Narrow

Post-Script: Do you remember, just a month or two ago, all the time I spent cleaning, adjusting, typing and typecasting with my more recently acquired Smith-Corona Silent Super? Well, this is its older stablemate, the venerable non-Super Silent, the one with the fixed tabs, and a bit more drab color scheme but in better mechanical condition. In terms of "haptics," this one feels every bit as good as the best mechanical typewriter, but is more compact in size than the larger Galaxy 12s or Hermes 3000s. And, being of elite-sized (smaller, 12 characters per inch), it just works better for me as a first-draft typer, especially with the seemingly endless roll of teletype paper threaded up. It is because of machines like this, situated in my patio room upon the tray table, ready to type up a storm, that I can, at a moment's notice, be creating words upon paper. An imminently practical, pleasurable writing instrument.

I've been taking a liking to this teletype paper. No, it's not a fine quality foolscap of rich vellum, it's instead more like rough, leathery, thicker newsprint. But I like the look it gives to printed words. They're meaty and physical. You can more easily see the ink impressed upon the paper's fibers. The paper's off-white tone looks like it's already aged half a century, like these freshly typed words could have been from a previous era; some sort of typewriter time machine at work, words from the present appearing as if they've come from the past.

The best part of using the roll of teletype paper is not having to thread up a fresh sheet of paper after an all-too-brief session of typing. No interruptions, just pure, nonstop writing pleasure.

The top photo shows a Bic Cristal medium-point in blue ink, one of my all-time favorite writing instruments. If it weren't for fountain pens, this is what I'd be writing with. I've taken to liking these pens so much that I go out of my way to stay stocked up on them; the larger 1.6mm tip versions are also very nice writers. Oddly, they're rather hard to find at my local big-box retail stores. Luckily there's Amazon to the rescue.

Talking With Your Fingers

Post-Script: The reference in that last paragraph to Kerouac's On The Road was unplanned, but perhaps inevitable, given the nearly identical method of composition. I've read On The Road numerous times, but never in the context of it being a work specifically wrought onto teletype paper via manual typewriter, in some manic act of marathon muttering. Perhaps a reread is warranted.

I find the smaller font size of the Silent Super to be ideal for this kind of writing, as it seems more like letter-writing, more personable, requiring an up-close read, an intimate squint into one's own soul.

Misspellings and typographic errors courtesy of the author.

Teutonic Type-Off

Post-Script: Yes, I know the title's inaccurate, since neither the Hermes nor Smith-Corona can accurately be termed "Teutonic;" but I needed an alliterative title and that was the first thing that came to mind. This was a fun comparison to do on a windy and cold Sunday morning. As I indicated in the concluding remarks above, it serves as an informational test that might help me decide for or against any potential future typewriter purchase I might consider. I don't see myself buying another Galaxy-series machine, for example; not because they're bad machines, but because I already have a nice one, and they're rather large - and both H3Ks are more preferable. I'd rather, if the opportunity presented itself, consider another Silent or Silent Super model, in a different typeface and body color, since these are smaller, more portable machines. And should another Hermes 3000 come my way, I'd be hard pressed to pass it up, especially if it had a different typeface.

Another thing to consider in conclusion are the sample-to-sample variations between otherwise nearly identical machines. While there are subtle differences between my two Hermes 3000s, they're pretty close together in quality, which is as one would expect of a machine made to exacting standards - as long as they've been treated gently throughout the years. The Nekkid-Riter, it should be noted, came to me in much worse condition than the blue H3K, which was purchased from a typewriter shop some years ago. Despite those differences in condition and provenance, both machines type very nicely, which says something significant of their design and construction.

Typefaces are another point of comparison, even between identical models, as evidenced by my two Hermes presented herein. This becomes another reason to consider purchasing what would otherwise become a redundant member of one's collection, if the typeface were more pleasing as compared to a machine already in one's possession. This was one main reason why I decided to sell off the older, standard-carriage Olympia SM9, as the typeface was less pleasing to me.

This might be a fun test to do with my ultra-portable machines, so look forward to that in the coming days.

Nekkid-Riter Storage Box + More

Post-Script: Typecast via Hermes 3000 Nekkid-Riter. I wrote that last paragraph partly in jest, earlier today after having completed the storage box for the Nekkid-Riter. But later on, I decided to take a look at the electric Coronet Automatic 12. I used an old extension cord to replace its original power cord (that was spliced in two places, badly frayed and with an intermittent open near the plug). Upon powering it on, lo and behold it works! I spent the next hour or two cleaning, degreasing and lubricating. The insides are still not entirely clean, since I only hit the critical areas where debris and residue might affect the machine's operation, rather than spotlessly cleaning every surface.

The carriage rails were grinding, so a thorough cleaning, degreasing and re-oiling has smoothed it out nicely. I spent a lot of time cleaning the type slugs with alcohol, swabs and toothpicks, the result being that, with its new ribbon, it types very nicely. The body and storage case were filthy, so plenty of window cleaner, swabs and paper towels were consumed, but the results are enticing.

I'm not certain I like the chocolate-brown color, but I suppose it's less drab than that of my older Smith-Corona Silent. I was originally thinking about calling it the "Brown Streak," from its speedy operation and color, but my wife, in her wisdom, convinced me that this term might be misconstrued as being somewhat scatological. Yes, it's a fast typer; darned if I can't throw words on paper at a speedy clip. This is certainly an office workhorse machine, but it's rather loud; I can only imagine what an office of these machines sounded like, back in the mid-20th century. I suppose if the room were clouded in cigarette smoke (which they often were), it might dampen the racket. Actually, it's not quite as loud as my brother's Hermes 10 electric (that, you might recall, is on permanent loan to the Guild Cinema).

The rear, hinge-side of the case is badly rusted. It looks like it sat up on end in a wet environment. This is one of the few circumstances where I had no qualms about applying some WD-40, followed by a wire brush and plenty of paper towels. It's better than it was, certainly.

So, am I going to keep it? I suppose ... if someone were to twist my arm ... perhaps. I can imagine if, needing to put some high volume of words down on paper at a speedy clip, and the noise were no objection, having one electric typewriter wouldn't be so bad, especially one having the wide carriage and ergonomics of this series of SCM, and with a standard cloth ribbon. But that's it! No electric collection for me, no sir!

Here's a glamor shot of the new clan member. I still need a name for it, something combining its chocolate appearance with speedy operation. It does have that two-tone espresso/coffee look, so perhaps some caffeine-themed name would be appropriate. Jitters? Hmm ... I'll think more about it.

TWVS Episode 7: Typing on the Road