Remington 16 typewriter instructions / user's manual

Here's a Remington 16, manufactured in February 1934. It's an old-fashioned typewriter for its time; it's still essentially the same as the no. 10, Remington's first visible model, introduced in 1908. The no. 16 was first manufactured in September 1931. The completely new, basket-shifted model 17 was introduced in January 1939, and production of the no. 16 slowed to a trickle in April of that year. But it continued to be made until production stopped during the war in April 1942—"except occasional machine for export fanfold," according to company records. The no. 17 went on to become the basis of the KMC and all later Remington standards.

This particular no. 16 was badly beaten up when it got to me. Many functions didn't work, and the poor thing was dirty, rusty, and chipped. I've gotten it to the point where it doesn't look new, and not everything works, but it does type, and it's pretty handsome. A few techniques came in handy:

• Use black paint marker pens for quick, easy, and effective touch-up.

• A yellow paint marker pen can be applied over silver decals to restore them, more or less, to their original gold appearance. Getting the paint even is tricky, and the result is not perfect.

• Red and white paint marker pens, along with the black, helped restore the ribbon color indicator.

• To clean flat black paint, rub Turtle Wax hard shell wax onto the paint with a soft rag, again and again and again, until the rag doesn't come back looking brown. As a final touch, you can try smearing some Pledge onto the paint, letting it dry, and buffing—or spraying with a little Endust and wiping until it's not slick. (I did both.)

• When some mechanical functions just aren't working, consider where you can add a little spring or a little rubber piece that will nudge parts into place.

I don't know where to find an original user's manual for the no. 16. This is often the case for standard typewriters, even if they're common models. Remington made 247,083 no. 16 typewriters, and must have printed at least that many copies of the manual, but nearly all of them must have been discarded, lost, or ruined over the years. So here is my attempt to explain all the functions. If you have questions or corrections, please bring them on, so that I can improve this user's guide and add it to my online collection.

Automating life

Outstanding graphic artist Christoph Niemann recently published a textual/visual essay on AI art in the New York Times which is one of the most thoughtful, nuanced reflections I've seen on the topic. One of his points reminded me of this passage in The Typewriter Revolution: 

For a planet desperate for conservation, for a mind starved for concentration, inefficiency starts to look like nourishment and life. Maybe to save time is not to lengthen life, after all. Maybe the more efficiently you speed through life, the quicker you reach your death.

It’s not efficient to cook a meal from scratch. 

It’s not efficient to ride a bike down a country path. 

It’s not efficient to learn an instrument instead of downloading a song, or to sketch a landscape instead of pointing your smartphone at it. 

Why do we do inefficient things? Because sometimes we don’t want life to be seamless—we want to feel resistance, we want to take our time, we want to savor the experience. When what you’re doing isn’t just a means to end, you’re in no hurry to get it done. 

For the typewriter revolution, writing is one of those intrinsically valuable experiences.

Here is Niemann's reflection:

 

From Sketched Out by Christoph Niemann

A second printing for The Typewriter Revolution

 

First printing:

Second printing:

Errata

A Marxist Valentine: the Marx Adventure children's toy typewriter

Here's a close look at the Marx Adventure I found yesterday. Only a few photos of this toy typewriter (and its rebranded twin, the Sears Adventure) exist online, so I'm happy to be able to provide more views.

It's the back of the typewriter, with its handle, that is most obviously like the Olivetti Valentine. The rest of the typewriter might be a child's drawing from memory of what a Valentine might look like. Of course, the bright red plastic is also Valentine-inspired.

Like the Valentine, the Adventure fits into a vertical case.

The metal case latches are superior to the Valentine's rubber latches, which are usually broken by now.

The Adventure is BIG for a child's typewriter. Here it is next to a Voss, for instance.

Robert Messenger showed us his Sears Adventure next to a Valentine. (Robert also points out that I alerted him to this typewriter when it appeared on eBay in 2011. I'd forgotten!)

Note how much taller the Adventure is than the Valentine.

Here are a few more views of the Adventure's very distinctive design.

The type slugs are plastic (as on some manual portables coming from Shanghai today).

Even the key levers are plastic!

But here is a mechanical feature that blew my mind. I have never seen another typewriter that does this. The possibility never even occurred to me. Maybe other Marx typewriters do this (does anyone know?). 

What am I talking about?

The typewriter uses a carriage shift mechanism for capitals, and a completely separate segment shift for figures. (Both can be activated at once, so that both carriage and segment rise together, effectively keeping the typewriter on its lowercase setting.) Fascinating.

Now for a little historical background.

If you look again at the above photo of the underside, you'll see an upside-down JAPAN stamped into the plastic at the top of the photo. So that's where it was made.

Now let's look more closely at the other information stamped on the bottom:

I assumed J-5415 was the serial number, but then I discovered Benjamin Esh's Adventure, which has the same J-5415 sticker.

Here are links to the US patents listed:

3,197,011 for "sponge rubber typewriter key biasing means" by Shigeaki Kuramochi (his other patents)

3,223,220 for "typewriter having sliding universal member" by Willis Rexford (1914-1992; he was designing for Marx as early as 1936)

3,308,915 for "comb construction for typewriter" by Willis Rexford

3,338,369 for "typewriter key operated mechanism and mounting and guiding structure therefor" by Willis Rexford

3,572,488 for "shift and shift lock mechanism for typewriter" by Shigeaki Kuramochi

3,611,586 for "instructional typewriter" by Shigeaki Kuramochi

Design patents:

D209,352 for "typewriter" by Shigeaki Kuramochi

D212,057 for "typewriter" by Frank C. Fusco

D216,339 for "typewriter" by Frank C. Fusco

D216,602 for "typewriter casing" by Frank C. Fusco

But none of those designs look like the Adventure! Robert Messenger discovered that the distinctive Adventure design was among the "patents pending" referred to on the typewriter. Frank C. Fusco and Bill Gold applied for the patent in 1971, but were granted the patent only in 1974 (D230,087). Their application refers only obliquely to the Valentine—when it refers, weirdly, to "Shell Oil Co. Cat., '24 Selected Gifts for 1971,' rec'd March 31, 191 [1971?], p. 4, Olivetti typewriter item." This catalogue (which I can't find online) may have been some obscure internal publication for Shell employees.

Another oddity is that the back of the typewriter, with its handle, is not shown, nor is the vertical carrying case. These are, of course, the most Valentine-ish features of the Adventure.

Robert also discovered that the Adventure was advertised only once by Sears, in the 1972 Christmas Wishbook, with some help from Dennis the Menace. 

The "ultra-modern Adventure" was "our most versatile" children's typewriter, and the most expensive at $24.99. Ironically, that's exactly what mine was priced at yesterday! But with inflation, $24.99 in 1972 is worth around $192 in 2025.

Robert speculates that Olivetti was not amused by the resemblance. He may well be right. In any case, by the time Fusco and Gold got their design patent in 1974, the Adventure was probably not being made anymore.

And now for the moment we've all been waiting for.

Does the thing type??

Um ... sort of?

If you were a parent in 1972 who spent the equivalent of our $192 on this Christmas present, would you feel you got your money's worth?

A successful safari

A fresh crop of typewriters at the antique mall!

One of them—you'll see—had to come home with me.

Here's a WIDE carriage Underwood with some issues. Looks like the seller rubbed oil on the paint and the rubber. On sale "as is—for display or refurbishment" for $59. Hmm. Fair enough.

A cute li'l Dial index typewriter, with wear and tear, for $29. Made by Marx. Remember that name ...

A beefy Underwood Master, not in the best shape, $97.

Smith-Corona Super Sterling from the early ’60s, $64.95.

In a "smalls" case that rarely has typewriters, here's an Underwood four-bank in brown woodgrain for $179. Missing the nuts that hold down the ribbon spools. Includes a sticker with an illustration of the typewriter on the inside of the case.

Remington Ten Forty, mildly yellowed, $97.95. I've seen it here before.

Royal "Quiet Deluxe" (actually HH), on sale for $99.

Wasn't this here last summer and this spring? Nobody is biting. Certainly not me—in the storage closet at WordPlay I've already got five brown HH's!

A classic Underwood no. 5 for $125. This looks familiar too.

This L. C. Smith ($65) has nice keys and would work pretty well if I replaced the missing drawband ...

... but this L. C. Smith ($30) is very rough.

Here's a good machine, a snappy Royal KHM made in 1937 for $39. Good deal, even though the side panels are missing. But did I go for it?

No. Instead, look what I spotted when I'd already given up hope and was heading for the exit!

It's a kid's imitation of the Olivetti Valentine, made by Marx. I've seen photos of a couple of these before. It was also sold as the Sears Adventure. But it's rare—I have never before, in 31 years of collecting, spotted one in the wild. And the price? A mere $24.99.

Stay tuned for a full report on this super-cute little 'writer.