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:
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.
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):
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:
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?
