Revolution in the mailbox: Our agents are everywhere

No less than four new communiqués arrived at the undisclosed disclosed location of the Insurgency Poltburo in the last couple of days.

First we have a report from the K.C. cell on the appropriation of energy supplies:

Of course, the main energy we need is finger muscles, so even if these efforts fail (a very remote contingency), we will still be able to type.

Our next postcard shows three typewriters with broad grins:

Well done, agent P. of Magic City! And thanks for introducing me to Touchnote. This is truly a multi-platform communication: a digital picture of typewriters, transformed into a paper postcard and then re-digitized for the Web.

Next is a card from Down Under with typing on both sides:

Duly noted, Agent S. K., and keep that platen filthy!

Finally, a postcard with a scene from Poland, but it's not written in Polish:

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Hot off the Varityper

Issue 47 of Fred Woodworth's Mystery & Adventure Series Review recently reached me, along with a short essay by Woodworth on why he uses a typewriter to produce the publication. If all goes well, this essay will eventually be incorporated into my book, The Typewriter Insurgency: A Field Manual for the Typewritten Revolution.

Woodworth doesn't use just any typewriter, but a Coxhead DSJ Varityper -- just the magical contraption I recently found at the antique mall:

Woodworth writes in praise of this mechanical technology: "I can use it in every sense, instead of being used by it." In the same issue he makes the delightful observation that since the mainspring in an old typewriter or clock normally remains partly wound up, it contains potential energy that was put there by a particular human being decades or even centuries ago.

And then I found this in the Review's lively Letters department:

Thank you, kind sir! I haven't reproduced the name of this reader in Alabama since I don't know whether he wants it publicized on the blog. But I appreciate this well-written illustration of writing to the future and of a complex exchange among media. My January 2013 essay has now been referred to in a letter published in June 2013. An intolerable delay? Not at all—this kind of temporal distance can provide room for reflection and deeper consideration, whereas online, we're apt to forget what we read within hours. The thoughts exchanged here went from typewriter to blog to typewriter to Varityper-printed magazine to blog—a model of fruitful typewriter-computer interaction.

I have two copies of this issue of the Review. If you think this is a publication that might seriously interest you, be the first to request a copy in the comments and it will come your way.

My thoughts on typewriters and the future

More on the Mystery & Adventure Series Review

Sunday's safari

This rather ordinary craigslist ad sent me on a safari today. While my daughter was at a 3-hour birthday party, I decided to hit the road to Miamisburg, figuring I would at least get a nice Sunday drive out of it.

Miamisburg is a town on the Great Miami River (Ohio, not Florida) which I'd never visited before. I avoided the Interstate and took Ohio Route 127, passing through Hamilton. This is a rather decrepit industrial town that got the bright idea in the '80s of calling itself Hamilton! with an exclamation mark. It didn't work.

Still, it has some beautiful spots. I discovered the Dayton Lane historic district, with gorgeous houses like these.

One block away from Dayton Lane there's this:

I think these old factories have a decadent beauty of their own.

After Hamilton there was wide-open country road with almost no traffic—the kind of driving that lets me breathe free.

I passed through the metropolis of Gratis (pop. 881) and other villages I'd never visited before, finally reaching Miamisburg.

Well, the Royal was gone and there was not another open antique shop to be found.

The town is charming, though, and they have an excellent Masonic Temple. Yes, the sides really slant, forming the base of a very tall invisible obelisk.

My typewriter bone was still tingling. I figured I had just enough time to make it to the Ohio Valley Antique Mall, already featured in my February and April safaris. I zipped down Interstate 75 and  was soon in the mall.

Sure enough, many of the old typewriters had disappeared and there were some new ones, such as this wide-carriage Underwood for $42.50. Its serial number, 4654007-18, dates it at 1937.

Our next Underwood is S5575626-11, from 1942, for $38.

This Smith-Corona Galaxie Twelve from the late '70s (?) was priced at $45.

Back to the Underwoods. This one, 11-6630507, was made in 1949 and cost $74.95.

A Royal Companion (no tab, no touch adjustment, no Magic Margin), S3281457 from 1956, price $39.

A typewriter for 59¢!

No, actually, it was tagged at $75. Its serial number, UB-98322, identifies it as a Varsity model and dates it at 1939.

Not a very interesting machine, aside from its shift key for a shop on "Mad. Ave." in New York City. (I peeked on Google Street View; 624 Madison Avenue is a glassy postwar skyscraper that probably postdares the installation of this cute little ad.)

Here's an item for only $6 -- an empty Underwood case.

Well, I had 15 minutes left to get back to my daughter's birthday party, just enough. It was time to leave.

I was heading for the exit when I was brought up short by this:

A Coxhead DSJ (Differential Spacing-Justifying) Varityper. I have never seen one in person before, and like Robert Messenger, I've been curious. $120? ... Um ...... I'll take it!

The machine is now in my trunk, awaiting attention. The tag says it doesn't work, but we'll see about that, once I've thoroughly cleaned it. There's a nice set of type shuttles in the drawer under the keyboard. I'm excited to dig into this device and educate myself. I currently have this '30s Varityper in my collection, but the DSJ is a whole new level of complexity. Wish me luck!