Springtime typewriter safari

I just reduced my typewriters by about 2/3: in approximate numbers, I sold 100 machines and gave away 100 parts machines, leaving 100 in my collection. But of course that doesn't mean I'm not interested in typewriters anymore! It's still fun to go on safari and see what there is to be found in the "wild" of the local antique mall. This morning was a great time to do that, right after getting cortisone shots under my patellas (I barely felt it, the doctor knows his stuff).

Well, here's an Underwood no. 6, I believe, with 11-inch platen, that has been through some dramatic price reductions: from $380 to $249 to $199. With the stern warning "please do not type or play," I think it's going to linger longer.

Another reduction: this Sears Scholar went from $95 to $79. It remains a model that will excite very few.

Another Underwood, this one a beefy Master, proposes a price of $97. The rust is free.

A portable Underwood, for a change. ... What's this? A fresh concept in typewriter sales! You can buy the machine for $59.99, and underneath it there happens to be an "Empty typewriter box" that you can get for a mere $22.50! Gee, I wonder what used to be in that case....

Here's a reasonable price, for once: $49 for a Royal FP. With some cleaning and care, this could be a workhorse once again.

Another Underwood no. 6, this one with a 10-inch platen, is offered for $65.

And yes, it's yet another Underwood. Maybe a model S or SS, for $90.

Here's what has been typed on the page. 

Isn't it amazing that "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country" (or "party") is still a familiar sample sentence for many of us? According to Charles Weller's The Early History of the Typewriter (1921), he and others who were early testers of prototypes of the Sholes & Glidden in the late 1860s used this sentence to test the Type Writer! Whether or not this is true, evidently the sentence was a cliché by 1921, now 105 years ago.

At this point my luck changed! In a booth that has never included typewriters before, I spotted an Oliver no. 3 (1902-1907) for $129.99, in typical condition.

Next was ... yet another Underwood. But at least it was a visually interesting Jewell from the '50s. Price: $75. Feel: kind of rickety, like most Underwood portables of the period.

And still another Underwood! A rather "amazing," as the seller says, wide-wide-carriage model for $110.

That was it for the typewriters. No, I didn't buy any of them. If I were a beginning collector, though, I would have gotten the Oliver for sure. How about you?

There was one more item that did tempt me. This Burroughs Calculator is so cute and well-preserved! It's strictly an adding machine, with no other arithmetic functions, and it works quite simply. As you input amounts on the keyboard, the display facing you immediately updates the total. The crank on the right resets the device to zero.

You never know what — or Whom — you'll find at the antique mall . . . . . .

All Hallows' Day safari

What's at the crowded antique mall today?

A Smith-Corona Cougar Deluxe for $32.95:

A dirty Underwood no. 5 reduced to $125:

A clean Underwood no. 6 (?) reduced to $349:

A Royal KMM for $39:

And another Royal KMM for $29.99:

And yet another KMM for $29:

And yet another ... wait, what??

Reader, I bought it.

QWERTYbound safari

I took a couple of days to drive to Milwaukee's QWERTYFEST from Cincinnati, stopping to see an old friend and, of course, hitting a few shops in this antique-rich part of the country. Here are some places I drove through, and some typewriters I spotted. Can you guess which one I couldn't resist? Leave a comment. I'll tell you in my next post.

Odd Fellows' Hall, Gratis, Ohio:

Gratis:

West Alexandria, Ohio:

Lewisburg, Ohio was the first town with an antique mall. There were no typewriters, but they did serve good coffee and a tasty slice of cherry pie.

A familiar sight in Midwestern towns is banners honoring "hometown heroes" who served in the military, some as far back as World War II.

I followed US 40, the "National Road," to Centerville, Indiana, where a four-story antique mall occupies a magnificent building with tall ceilings and steep stairs:

Here's my first typewriter sighting. A familiar no. 10 Royal with glass side panels, priced at $135:

But it has segment shift (the typebars move up and down when you shift, not the carriage). The serial number tells me it's an SX (segment-shifted no. 10) made in 1932, according to The Typewriter Database. I think this was Royal's first segment-shifted model; that was the single biggest innovation in their roughly 60 years of making the no. 10 and its successors.

The same mall had a sparkling Remington no. 3 portable, at $200:

... and this wide-carriage Underwood that has seen better days ($125):

Cambridge City, Indiana has quite a few antique shops. 

For only $24.95 you can get an Olympia SG3 teaching typewriter with blank keys (now painted with the characters they type):

Typewriters are tucked between miscellaneous collectibles:

A place with a heavy maple syrup scent offered an Underwood lamp:

A hometown hero from Cambridge City:

The residue on the keys of this Quiet De Luxe isn't exactly a treat:

"It's not hoarding, if your stuff is cool," says this antique shop housed in an 1830 log cabin:

Outside Cambridge City, I pulled over at the "Eternal Garage Sale" sign. That could include office equipment!

Soft-spoken, Santalike "Pop" was happy to show me around.

Here's a piece of office equipment indeed!

But the only typewriter Pop had was a '70s Sears electric in a plastic case that he offered me for free. He had tossed it into a pile destined for the dump. I felt some pity for it, but I did not rescue it. I don't want my own eternal garage sale.

Next stop: Lewisville, Indiana, a hamlet that includes one antique shop:

Intriguing, cluttered storefront. But as soon as you go in, you're hit with the reek of cat urine. The proprietor, hunched over a computer, seemed surprised at my presence and made chitchat. I prowled the dark and smelly premises and encountered this:

Ugh. Supposed to be amusing?

The place did have one standard typewriter, a Super-Speed:

And one toy typewriter, a Simplex Special Demonstrated, "priced at $40 if you want it—and if you don't." Ha ha.

I got the heck out of there and went on to the much more appealing Knightstown, Indiana:

A '60s Smith-Corona electric, much like my dad's:

A chest ...

... tells me that Pettibone Bros. in Cincinnati used to supply regalia for "secret societies." (Would that include the Odd Fellows?) They were located on Main Street, in buildings that were torn down sometime in the early twentieth century. The 600 block of Main Street also housed the late, lamented Spitzfaden's Office Supplies, in what I call Cincinnati's typewriter row.

I am interested in metaphysics, but I don't think this shop stocks editions of Aristotle:

The next day, I had time for just one more antiquing exploration, in El Paso, Illinois. This wrinkle-painted Royal is a "firm $124":

A Royal FP and one of those talking fish, ha ha:

Aha! I love it when shops create a designated typewriter area:

All are priced to sell, $25 or so, except this nice Remington Noiseless at $175:

There's also a very different shop in a cavernous warehouse crammed with stuff. They, too, have a typewriter area:

What's this?

It's an Oliver no. 5:

There's an even more cluttered area, off limits to customers, where they told me there could be some other Olivers and other typewriters. They have promised to text me if they find them.

OK, time for you to play the safari guessing game. Which typewriter is now in my car trunk?