Midsummer miscellany

I don't have a well-developed topic for a post, but thought I would publish a few notes on my recent activities.

I continue to bike around Cincinnati in the early morning, before it gets too hot. Here's a view from Mt. Storm Park just after sunrise today. My new bike doesn't currently have the wherewithal to strap a typewriter onto it, but I'll work on that ...



Although Urban Legend Typewriters is officially on hold, some people in need find their way to me. I just finished restoring this Burroughs, which was very dusty and had a couple of mechanical issues. The main problem was that one cam that's crucial to reversing the ribbon was missing, and the other was damaged. Tyler Elliott on Facebook came to my rescue, and sent me the parts. As I've noted before, in general Burroughs are very robust machines—at least on this one, even the paper table is cast, not sheet metal! But their ribbon reverse system is finicky, and if it fails, it will put tension on a plastic (!) gear at the base of the ribbon shaft, which will break and render the typewriter inoperable. Every typewriter has an Achilles' heel, and this is a classic example.



I've also recently cleaned up an Olivetti Studio 45 and this 1929 Underwood no. 5.



This morning I discovered a review on Amazon that gives me hope that sometimes I can manage to be the person and the writer I aspire to be. It was posted years ago, but it's fresh to me and I very much appreciate it.



I received an advance reader's copy of the forthcoming, mostly typewritten novel by Lee Siegel, Typerotica. Eventually I'll publish a book review here.



Cold Hard Type III: Backspaces is proceeding well. I've received typescripts from most contributors and am lightly photoshopping them into publishable form. We may be able to publish around September 1. Here's a sneak peek at the cover, featuring a photo by Fred Durbin.



Finally, after a three months' wait, I received a historic typewriter that was shipped to me from Romania.



This 1932 Urania-Piccola is signed on the back, in a place normally hidden by the folded paper supports, "M. Heidegger." Martin Heidegger is the philosopher to whom I've devoted most of my research for over three decades. He didn't like using a typewriter, but in 1932, his assistant's Torpedo portable was stolen. Evidently Heidegger bought a replacement, and signed it in case of theft. The typewriter was sold by Strangfeld, a dealer in Berlin.



There is much more to say about this machine, and eventually I think I'll write an article about it. [2022 note: I did.]



In order to afford this typewriter, I sold this Sholes Visible which was a duplicate in my collection. It's shown here with the shifting portion of the carriage removed (an easy thing to do—you just unhook it and lift it out).



I guess it's been a pretty eventful midsummer. I won't even get into my professional news (in brief, I'm starting a three-year term as associate dean in the midst of the turmoil of the pandemic).

I hope my readers are doing well and putting in some good, healthy time at their typewriters.

Sholes Visible: native habitat redux

About 11 months ago I published this photo from Peter Weil's collection:



I'll repeat Peter's analysis of the photo:

Sholes Visible Typewriter #2 (1901); in the office of the shipping department of the W.R. McTurk Coal Company in the borough of Girardville (in Schuylkill County), Pennsylvania, in September 1910; subject is George W. Newton, a shipper who, perhaps with intended humor, is holding a rifle or shotgun; ironically, or maybe not, Girardville was called “Gun-Town” by locals; at that time, McTurk operated at least two mines in the area, about sixty miles northeast of Reading, PA; the mines were the Girard Bear Ridge and the Girard Mammoth; office is lighted by the shaded window in back behind the typewriter and the kerosene chandelier to the right; the Sholes Visible appears to be the second of the three models (carriage return lever but no decal, “Meiselbach” or otherwise) on the lower front of the frame, which also looks to be shaped differently than the same area of the frame on later examples; sitting on a desk that appears to be, at least in part, made out of a cotton spool thread cabinet; other office technology includes a stencil-based “mimeo” machine of indeterminate brand and a book press.

Now Peter has found a photo taken in the same office, with the same Sholes Visible, three years later.

Peter comments:

Amazingly, literally and figuratively, it's deja vu all over again. This small cabinet card showed up on eBay. It is the same office, three years later and re-arranged, as in the the first photograph I had ever found of a Sholes Visible typewriter in its natural habitat.  Here the Girardville (PA) Colliery has replaced the McTurk company, but the Sholes Visible is still there. The typewriter is now relocated to a central desk that now includes a candlestick telephone. Note that the Sholes Visible looks a bit bigger in this later picture. Of the men in this room, the one standing looks a lot like the man with the rifle in the September, 1910 photograph, but I may be wrong. The glare of the guy at the desk probably meant that no one messed with him. Now it is unclear just who George Newton is (see signs in photos). In the 1910 image, there was only one person, and I assumed that the name on the board was his. But now, I am not so sure. It is quite a group portrait of tough miners in a tough, often bloody time of the coal mining wars in Schuylkill County.

        It is dumbfounding luck to have found two related photographs that include so rare a typewriter taken three years apart and purchased by me from two dealers. By the way, this dealer is from a village north of Allentown, PA, only a few miles from Girardville. I think it must have been in the estate of some descendant of one of these miners. 


I figured readers of this blog would be interested. To see the whole story of my restoration of a Sholes Visible, just click on the "Sholes Visible" label below.

Sholes Visible: Resurrection

Before and after (click to enlarge):

Sholes Visible: With a little help from my friends

Some of the remaining gaps and flaws in my Sholes Visible are getting fixed, with a little help from my friends.

No more missing spacebar! My friend Peter Weil gave me a spacebar from a Remington 7, around the same age as this Sholes. Even the little wood screws in his spacebar worked perfectly to attach it to its new machine. You can see the depression where thumb hit wood a million times; it looks appropriate for this old typewriter with signs of wear and tear.



In the picture below you can see two new additions.

Master restorer Hermann Kerz of Germany sold me two Sholes Visible ribbon covers — one original, one reproduction, and both very nice. I expect Mr. Kerz is the only person in the world who could have supplied them (he's the man who restored Juan Ramón Gracia's Sholes Visible). By the way, by studying photos of other machines I now realize that this typewriter is not supposed to use metal ribbon spools at all, but wooden cores à la Oliver. That's something I can worry about later; for now, what matters is that the ribbon system works and is topped with appropriate  covers.

The other addition is a stopgap measure: I've slipped on a rubber foot to substitute, at least visually, for a missing platen knob.



Who can spot the other rubber substitute in the photo below? Everyone, of course. But it's better than nothing, and not too conspicuous if you're not looking for it (did you notice it in the first photo above?). Sooner or later I'll get a genuine black octagonal composite key, preferably reading "SHIFT KEY."



Finally, here's some help from my friends on eBay. I was missing a flat spring that does an important job: it's one of two springs that hold the feed rollers against the platen. I took a chance on a set of flat springs made for windows. It worked! With a little trimming, bending, and squeezing into place, the spring does its job and the paper feed system is now functional.




My loyal readers have been waiting a long time to see this typewriter actually do some typing. Guess what? It can. The next installment of the Sholes Visible saga will show you.

Sholes Visible: details, details

When you're restoring a typewriter it seems that there's always another little detail to be fixed. Every detail is both a frustrating delay in getting the typewriter ready and (potentially) a satisfying little experience in problem solving. Here are five examples.

(1) The Sholes Visible had no ribbon or ribbon spools when I got it, and it won't take any standard typewriter ribbon spool. It needs spools with relatively small diameters but large central holes. I took a ribbon spool cup and shaft from the typewriter down to Spitzfaden's Office Supply on Cincinnati's Typewriter Row with high hopes, but one spool after another failed to fit. Finally, in the last remaining drawer, I found the #64 spools, for Monroe 200 series adding machines. They're funny looking, with the square hole, but they fit!

Here are two spools. They came with red and black ribbons, but since the Sholes Visible doesn't have bicolor ribbon capability, I've put a black ribbon on them. That ribbon was new old stock, but dried out, so I rejuvenated it with WD-40 (almost the only acceptable use of WD-40 on a typewriter ... read on).



(2) Another problem was that the rubber had long ago crumbled off the feed rollers on this typewriter. I thought I found a solution at my local auto parts store:



But no, that hose was too thick, so the feed rollers wouldn't fit properly on the typewriter. Next, I looked around my local Ace Hardware store and found some latex tubing that you can buy by the foot.



This tubing is just barely stretchy enough to fit over the feed rollers. (Lubing up the feed rollers is the second legitimate use for WD-40.)



Note from 2020: I just looked at these feed rollers and see that the latex is coming apart. I can't recommend it as a long-term solution.

(3) I keep a large collection of photos of typewriters that I've seen on the Internet over the years, and sometimes they're helpful references. For instance, in a photo of the underside of another Sholes Visible I noticed a spring that was missing on mine. This spring works very simply, but is essential to the shift lock. For several years I'd had an appropriately strong spring lying around, but it was about twice as long as it should be, so I used my Dremel tool to cut it in half and I put it in place.



(4) I inferred the need for another spring by the presence of two little holes on the platen advance mechanism. (If there's a hole somewhere in a typewriter, there's probably a reason for that hole, and if it's a tiny hole, there's a good chance that a spring belongs there.) Sure enough, in some of my reference photos I could barely see a spring in that position. I turned to an Olympia SM3 parts machine and harvested a spring that fit (the one on the left in the photo below). Now the mechanism works very smoothly with this bit of added assistance.



(5) Finally today I'll mention the most daunting detail I've faced on this typewriter so far. The platen slides up and down in the carriage when you shift: the vertical rectangle you see in the photo above is an end of the frame that holds the platen, and that frame is supposed to slide up and down in two slots such as the one marked with an arrow in the photo below. (You can also easily remove the platen by moving a couple of hooks aside and lifting it out.) But the platen wasn't sliding smoothly, and it was particularly resistant to going all the way down in the slot. This was going to make proper shifting impossible.

I tried every non-invasive measure I could think of, with no result. Then I tried bending the platen frame, using clamps, so that it would take up a little less room. That sounds insane, I know, but you might be surprised at how many typewriter repairs officially involve “forming” some part into the right shape. Well, it didn't work and it clearly wasn't a good idea in this case. I was able to bend the platen frame back into shape by using toothbrushes as levers. (You'll have to make up your own picture for that one!)

I tried to think as logically as I could, and concluded that the remaining possibility was to make more room for the platen frame by grinding away some of the cast iron of the slot.


Why would such a drastic measure be needed? I'm not sure in this case, but metals can sometimes expand over the years, and I'm guessing that's what happened here.

I put the grinder attachment on the Dremel as shown above, and as carefully as possible, ground away at the left and right slots. Through trial and error, I finally found exactly where the platen frame was sticking. And when I finished grinding, the platen slid up and down in those slots as smoothly as you could wish. What a relief!

These little Mr. Fix-It moments give me pleasure. As you can see, I am making up lots of this stuff as I go along. I hope my experiences will help me, and maybe you, solve similar problems in the future. I'll also add that I was not born with mechanical aptitude. But I've learned that many mechanical problems, at least on typewriters, can be solved with a little courage, close observation, patience, reasoning, and yes, a touch of luck.

Sholes Visible: native habitat

So did anyone actually buy and use this strange invention, the Sholes visible typewriter, a century ago? We have ads from dates such as 1901 and 1905, but of much greater interest is this 1910 photo of a Sholes Visible in its original habitat. For all I know, this could be the very same machine that I'm now restoring.



This photo is reproduced with permission from Peter Weil's vast and wonderful collection of typewriter-related images, ads, stationery, and other cultural breccia (tip o' the hat to Dwayne F. for that phrase). Peter writes a quarterly "Ephemera" column for ETCetera, and he's a professor of anthropology at the University of Delaware. His notes on the image show us what an anthropologist can do with a photograph:

Sholes Visible Typewriter #2 (1901); in the office of the shipping department of the W.R. McTurk Coal Company in the borough of Girardville (in Schuylkill County), Pennsylvania, in September 1910; subject is George W. Newton, a shipper who, perhaps with intended humor, is holding a rifle or shotgun; ironically, or maybe not, Girardville was called “Gun-Town” by locals; at that time, McTurk operated at least two mines in the area, about sixty miles northeast of Reading, PA; the mines were the Girard Bear Ridge and the Girard Mammoth; office is lighted by the shaded window in back behind the typewriter and the kerosene chandelier to the right; the Sholes Visible appears to be the second of the three models (carriage return lever but no decal, “Meiselbach” or otherwise) on the lower front of the frame, which also looks to be shaped differently than the same area of the frame on later examples; sitting on a desk that appears to be, at least in part, made out of a cotton spool thread cabinet; other office technology includes a stencil-based “mimeo” machine of indeterminate brand and a book press.

What else do you see in this photo?

Sholes Visible: how fast will it go?

Here's the machine with its guide plate back in place. As you'll see, the typebars line up in two neat rows. This video illustrates the motion of the typebars and performs a speed test.

(Sorry about the static near the beginning, I must have been brushing my finger against the mike. I make these videos with my iPad, which is very convenient because it can upload the video to YouTube quickly and easily.)

Sholes Visible: video

I know some readers are eager to see this typewriter in action, so here's a video that may provide some insight. I apologize for the shaky one-handed camera work, but I think it gives you a general idea of the mechanism, which is really pretty simple.

In order to work correctly the typewriter needs the guide plate, which keeps the typebars moving in a precise path -- first slightly toward the center, then up to the platen, and then back to the original position. Of course, it also needs the escapement, the carriage, etc. But in this partially reassembled state, you get the best view of the fundamental mechanism.

Sholes Visible: the scary disassembly

OK, I now know my Sholes Visible well enough that I could tell you right away where all (er, almost all) of these parts belong.



But even more disassembly is required! In order to get the machine as clean as possible, there's no way to avoid taking the keyboard apart.



Each key lever needs to be pushed backwards and down, then forwards to disengage it.



Halfway there. Scary, isn't it?



Almost done.



This is what key levers look like when they're out of the typewriter. The L-shaped hooks on the right fit into holes in what I'll call the "pullers," which pull down and activate the typing mechanism. On the left, each lever has an adjustable screw that activates the escapement, and a spring that pulls the lever back into position when you type.



Yes, I'm taking notes!



Here's how the levers look a few hours later, after a bath in Evapo-Rust (which softens the rusty-looking grease and removes any actual rust), wiping dry, and touching up with steel wool.



The keyless typewriter:



The central mechanism can now be lifted out. NO, I'm not going to disassemble it!



Notice the little holes at the bottom of the vertical "pullers," where the L-shaped hooks on the type levers fit in.


Here's what the typewriter looks like now.



This weird set of contraptions can now be removed. From left to right you're looking at the ribbon vibrator, the guide for the "pullers," rectangular wires that activate the ribbon vibrator, and a mechanism that triggers the escapement.


Now, apart from a few pieces of hardware, we are down to the cast iron frame. Once I've cleaned it, it will await the return of all those pieces -- if I can remember where they go! (I told you, this stuff is scary.)

Sholes Visible: varnish

Previous installments in this restoration saga have shown how I remove rust with Evapo-Rust, remove dirt using Soft Scrub and remove hardened old grease from bare metal with steel wool. But a more challenging job faces me, a challenge you'll often have to deal with if you're restoring a typewriter that's over a century old.

Early typewriter factories usually applied varnish over their black paint, to create a deep shine. (I originally used the term "lacquer" here, but consulted Paul Lippman's American Typewriters: A Collector's Encyclopedia, where he writes that the underlying color is lacquer, applied in several layers, but the top surface is varnish.)

The varnish has often yellowed and cracked, creating a very ugly surface.

I haven't found a perfect solution, but Soft Scrub is helpful again. Here's the paper table of the Sholes Visible; I've rubbed the bottom half with Soft Scrub until most of the yellowed old varnish is gone.



Here's a closeup; you can see the cracks in the varnish, and you may also notice that there are still fine cracks in the cleaner, blacker surface below. The Soft Scrub has removed the bumpier, brittler, yellower level of varnish, but you still won't have a perfectly smooth and glossy surface. Applying polish such as Renaissance Wax will improve the appearance.



When removing varnish, you want to avoid removing decals and pinstripes (you can see in the photo above that the pinstripes were applied to the black paint and then the varnish was applied over the pinstripes). This is easier said than done. The best approach is the tedious one—applying the Soft Scrub with something like a Q-Tip, carefully working around the edges of the decorations you want to preserve, and applying Soft Scrub directly to the decorations only if it's really necessary to get the varnish off them.

Working around the edges of that "Sholes" decal (which was applied crooked at the factory) is going to be a job of many hours!

Sholes Visible: exploring ancient grease

Professionally cleaning a typewriter usually involves removing the external shell, immersing the mechanism in a vat of specialized chemicals, drying it off, and then carefully lubricating the machine at select points. But sometimes, typewriters seem to have gotten a quickie treatment: the whole thing was dunked in light lubricant and handed back to the customer. I bet this made everything look shiny and run smoothly for a while, but in the long run, you have a typewriter that's covered on every surface with a hardened film of dirty grease.

Terrible? Not necessarily! For the collector, this ancient grease can be a boon -- it can serve as a protective layer that fends off worse damage.

Sometimes what looks like rust on a machine is actually just a layer of grease. I was happy to discover the other day that this is the case on parts of my Sholes Visible. Check out what happens when you rub steel wool on what seems to be a badly rusted part. Under the "rust" (actually grease and dirt), the original nickel is still in pretty good, though not perfect condition.




The same is true of the key levers:



You may find a machine that looks bad when you get it -- such as my Crandall Visible no. 4, which looked like it had dull and damaged paint in this auction photo ...



... but you may discover that the appearance is simply due to a layer of grease. I was thrilled to find that this was the case with my Crandall Visible. I could just wipe off the grease with my fingertip and reveal shiny black paint underneath.



I'm not as lucky with the Sholes Visible, but my discoveries give me hope that eventually it's going to look good (though not new). I'll close this installment with a view of one part that I've restored. This is the slotted comb for the keyboard. I used Soft Scrub on the painted part and steel wool on the greasy metal. The shift lock at right had some real rust and needed to spend the night in Evapo-Rust. In the two special slots for the spacebar, you can see little cushions which consist of tiny pieces of leather, over a century old.