Anderson Business Technology, a fixture in Old Pasadena since 1912, joins Advanced Imaging Solutions
They’re tremendously busy with the transition at present, but I had a short conversation with the Andersons this afternoon to check on what’s happening with their typewriter-related business. Fortunately it seems there’s nothing to be worried about!
The third generation family-run business is being sold to an independent owner operated business. The new owners do have an appreciation for vintage machines and will likely continue their relationship with typewriter repair person Pedro Diaz, who although partially retired, still repairs mechanical typewriters for the company. It’s already been several years since the store has gotten rid of their old dunk tanks and flammable cleaning equipment on site.
The vintage typewriters on display at the store, including an original Sholes and Glidden, have been catalogued and will stay within the Anderson family. The family currently hasn’t decided what will happen to the collection though donation to museums or possible auction might be considered in the coming months following the transition of the company. Until a decision is made, likely after September or much later this year, the typewriters on display in their Old Town Pasadena location will remain at the shop.
If you’re in the area and curious to see their collection, try making an appointment after mid-August (following a family wedding) when the transition handoff will hopefully have settled down a bit and you better catch employee attention.
An uncanny coincidence that I picked up a 1958 Olympia SM3 typewriter today (with a Congress Elite No. 84 typeface, 11 pitch, 2.3 m/m and a custom math keyboard) and this awesome t-shirt shows up on my doorstep 20 minutes later???
I was casually browsing vintage typewriters yesterday (as one does) and came across something which immediately jumped out at me.
It was a Weimar era Orga typewriter which looked surprisingly like the 1/2 typewriter Orga Modell 10 (1947) which appears in the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Paramount Pictures, 1971). These typewriters were manufactured in Germany from 1923-1950 and some were distributed in Britain, typically under the brand name A.M.C. Given that the film was shot primarily in Germany, this shouldn’t be too surprising.
I’ve yet to see an Orga for sale in the United States much less a Modell 10. Buying and shipping any Orga from Europe is generally quite expensive, and I wouldn’t trust that it would arrive intact. This one was a short drive from me at a fantastic price, so naturally I couldn’t pass it up. It appears to be an older Orga-Privat Model 5 (circa 1928-1933) which is labeled in English as a “New Orga”. (It also reminds me a bit of Francis Bacon’s Novum Organum too.) Rather than the typical German QWERTZ keyboard, this one has an English QWERTY keyboard and appears to be in great condition. Sadly it won’t come with the original case. From what I can see in the typewriter database, it’s one of the few that has English badging with the name Orga on it. This leads me to believe that it was originally sold in the British market, so it could easily have been the sort of machine that Grandpa Joe might have used.
I’ll be able to pick it up later this week and can’t wait to clean it up. The tougher portion: how to cut it precisely in half!?
Let’s think about a few of the factors at play when it comes to cleaning and oiling advice for typewriters. Two major factors at play are knowledge (and its dispersal) and the availability of materials and tools.
Most typists are hobbyists coming to the space with little to no knowledge. Often they’re further hampered by the fact that they don’t have the original manual for their machine and so can’t look up the original equipment manufacturer’s recommendations even if they existed in the original manual. Hint: few manuals gave good advice about this other than to wipe them down weekly and not to let eraser cast-offs go into the machine—anyone who’s had a few typewriters knows how that advice went over historically. Other manuals will recommend regular or annual servicing by technicians who aren’t as ubiquitous as they were back in the day.
Perhaps we ought to harken back to early World War II when typewriter manufacture ceased the first time, typewriter donations to the war effort went up thereby making them more valuable on the domestic front, and the typewriter repair workforce went off to the front? The U.S. Government made a concerted effort to help preserve and protect the machines in circulation with both the War Department making and circulating films and the Treasury Department publishing manuals like Typewriter Care (1945).
When modern typists do get information, it’s often colloquial and under-informed or it’s based on someone’s everyday experience elsewhere or grounded in some small amount of common sense. Many times its outright bad. This is why so many people will turn to everyday household items like rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs, gun oil, sewing machine oil, 3-and-1 oil, and WD-40 to clean and lubricate their machines. These items have been used for these purposes in other arenas and they’re often readily available in the average users’ homes. This readiness to hand will almost always beat a trip to a specialized store to purchase custom solvents, oils, and/or appropriate cleaning tools and dispensers with which they have less first-hand knowledge.
Worse, solid cleaning and lubricating advice by modern day typewriter repair people isn’t easily found or uncovered. (Though it does happen sometimes.) Even if it were, they’d all have a variety of suggestions and practices which were individualized based on their own experience and training as well as the time period in which they learned and practiced it. There are a few good ones on YouTube, but broadly they’re not recognized by a more mainstream public. The few in the type-o-sphere who are better known also have a variety of techniques and methods, and frequently have more custom tools and dispensers at hand than the average home mechanic/typist.
We also don’t have books like Hints for a Happy Typewriter (Bryan Kravitz, 1983), which dispenses some relatively useful advice to the average home typist when manual typewriters were still in use, but about to wane with the increasing ubiquity of electric machines, and the advent of word processors and computers. Even in this brief primer, some of the suggestions would seem quaint for the current home typist-mechanic who now ought to have more knowledge at their disposal and may not be able to rely on a local repair shop being just around the corner.
A search for “how to clean a typewriter” unearths a variety of really good resources in the top 10 hits including the typosphere’s Richard Polt‘s excellent advice. Yet somehow people want to ask on Reddit everyday without searching either the internet or the Reddit sub itself because advice from complete strangers with no bona-fides is somehow really valuable in a field of practice which hasn’t advanced a lot in the last 50 years.
Many years have passed since the Original Equipment Manufacturers (OEM) made these machines, and during that time, materials for cleaning and servicing them have shifted and changed. In some cases they don’t exist anymore, or have changed and become better.
As an example, in the early years, typewriter manufacturers including this Underwood manual from 1920 recommend using gasoline to clean one’s type slugs. This was common practice until Stoddard’s formula (aka Varsol) was invented in 1924 for safer use in dry cleaning. Surely no one is using gasoline anymore despite the ubiquity of gasoline in our environment. It’s highly flammable, it’s difficult to dispense, and it smells dreadful. Surely it had gone out of vogue by the time of the OPEC oil embargo in 1973.
Later on people used Roytype Typewriter Type Cleaner in 2 ounce bottles which was touted as “non inflammable”! I’m sure that 2 ounces of Roytype cleaner was priced higher than a gallon of mineral spirits today. If you’re a purist, perhaps you’re buying new original stock (NOS) online, but at a crazy mark up?
Another bygone example comes from Kravitz’s 1983 home handbook mentioned above which, in addition to alcohol, recommends the use of trichloroethane as a solvent for cleaning type slugs and internals. Trichloroethane manufacture and use has almost completely disappeared since 1996, when it was identified by the Montreal Protocol as a contributor to ozone depletion.
When mineral spirits, lacquer thinner, and other industrial solvents are reasonably available, they’re often in large cans and require transfer into smaller bottles with custom tips for more easily dispensing into typewriters. Taking the time to do this with a good brass-bristled brush is additional work when compared to the alcohol and Q-tips or extra toothbrushes that most people already have at home.
Then most of the common advice about these more caustic degreasers includes the fact that they shouldn’t be put on platens, plastic, paint, decals, or other surfaces which can cause them to dissolve, melt, or otherwise damage them. How many home mechanics are going to remove the requisite typewriter body pieces to properly clean their machines when most are afraid of taking off even the most easily removed screws on body panels? Fear of destroying the exterior of their machines is demotivating. It’s even more demotivating when you take it all off, clean it out, put it back together only to realize the next day your keys are still sticky and need an additional treatment (or two). Was blowing the solvents and dissolved dirt and oil out with compressed air really that necessary? (Yes) Why didn’t anyone tell me I should wait a half a day or more to make sure it would really be fully cleaned out?
Storage and usage conditions also need to be taken into account, both for the products as well as for the typewriters themselves.
Many solvents are not only toxic, but highly flammable. In the case of most (and especially substances like gasoline and naphtha, which is literally used as lighter fluid) care needs to be taken to prevent potential fires as well as having proper ventilation.
On the typewriter side, their frequency of use and the conditions in which they’re stored are going to vary widely from the person who has one on display for infrequent use to the collector who has hundreds which are also in infrequent use to typists who have one or more in regular use, but who also aren’t using them with the frequency of a transcriptionist from the 1950s who typed for eight hours a day.
For the uninitiated, Mineral spirits (US) or White spirit (UK), also known as mineral turpentine, turpentine substitute, petroleum spirits, solvent naphtha (petroleum), varsol, Stoddard solvent, or, generically, “paint thinner”, is a petroleum-derived clear, transparent liquid used as a common organic solvent especially in painting. Just the number of names and varieties of mineral spirit become off-putting to most typists. Which one is the “right” one? (In daily practice, really any of them for sale at the local hardware, paint, or art supply stores will work.) Add this to recommendations of other types of automotive degreasers (like carburetor cleaners, engine degreasers, etc.) which come under the brand names of a huge variety of companies all of which have different ingredients and you’re asking for a mess, particularly when these enter the colloquial advice space. And how many are regularly warning their users that some of these degreasers stink to high heaven in comparison to mineral spirits?
Naturally the underwhelming advice to try isopropyl or rubbing alcohol and Q-Tips seems lovely and expedient. No serious typewriter mechanic would recommend rubbing alcohol of any sort because it contains water and is more likely to cause subsequent rusting to typewriter internals. Even industrial grade isopropyl will have a water in it as well as keytones and acetones which, again, will tend to strip paint and melt plastic. It doesn’t help that isopropyl isn’t the greatest degreaser, though with some mechanical friction, it will certainly help clean up and wash some material out when it’s the only thing available. The better advice is to use one of the family of mineral spirits.
Some materials may be used more frequently by some typists solely because of their alternate uses in the home/garage and thus ease of accessibility. Susan, who likes working on her ’65 Corvette on weekends, may be more likely to have carburetor cleaner out in the garage, so naturally that’s what she’ll want to use to degrease the internals of her typewriter. Meanwhile, her husband Bob who loves his matte Batman-blue fingernail polish is more likely to use his nail-polish remover (aka Acetone) to clean off his type slugs on a weekly basis. Once they’ve appreciated having done this, they’re far more likely to recommend these methods to others. Perhaps if their 10 year old son Jimmy was consulted, he’d recommend the expedience of his Silly Putty for typeface cleaning because he knows it’s a reasonable facsimile of Eberhardt Faber’s Star type cleaner from the 1940s. (And it can be fun to play with when the muse isn’t visiting your typewriter desk.)
Now, the worst of the problem is that most of the sources of misinformation spread are typewriter fora on the internet. Every day someone shows up on one of the common typewriter spaces on Reddit or Facebook asking how to fix and or clean a typewriter. (No one thinks to search these spaces to see the answer from the day before.) The answer they get will naturally default to the lowest common denominator because professional typewriter repair people and mechanics are almost never the ones showing up to answer the question. They’re going to get the same regurgitated colloquial and anecdotal advice everyone else got or used. It will continue to spread on this way until someone aggregates actual advice from trained typewriter repair people. If only we had a solid wiki for documenting, footnoting, and referencing all this sort of advice? Fortunately most of the colloquial advice is close enough, easy enough, and works relatively well.
Even if typists were advised to use WD-40, things wouldn’t be horribly bad as long as they were daily typists who protected their machines against dirt and dust and had them serviced occasionally. WD-40 has been and can be used as a form of degreaser and lubricant for some applications and as long as it isn’t set to dry out and freeze up in combination with dust and dirt most typewriters might fair well enough with it. The bigger problem is when one uses it temporarily and then leaves their typewriter to sit for months or years at a time at which point the isoparaffin, dust, and dirt are going to have solidified and frozen the machine up again, potentially worse than before. I shudder to think of the number of perfectly good dirty typewriters people have thrown out over issues like this. (Hopefully only marginally more than those who disposed of machines because they accidentally had them on the stencil setting.)
Certainly typewriter shops love buying these “damaged” machines for pennies on the dollar, spending a few minutes dousing them with mineral spirits, blowing them out and marking them up hundreds of dollars. (At least this is better than the bottom feeders buying them from Goodwill and marking them up significantly without any repair work at all.)
Oiling Typewriters
When it comes to oiling advice all the same factors about knowledge and materials come into play. What should be oiled and what shouldn’t? What types of oil should I use? 3 in 1 oil, silicone sprays, mineral oils, gun oils (like Rem Oil), sewing machine oil, or other forms of light machine oil? Most people are sure to have one or more of these available at home already, but they’re also likely to have it in larger quantities either in liquid form or in spray can form which means they’re going to dramatically over-oil their machines.
Generally, over-oiling isn’t a problem when the machine is in regular daily use and some level of service is given to it every few years. It will get flushed out and re-applied frequently enough not to be an issue.
But are all modern typewriter users using their machines every day like they were in the past? When a machine sits on a shelf for too long, this oil is going to pick up particulate matter and tend to gum itself up again. As a result, collectors with large collections are probably well-advised to stay away from heavily oiling their machines in much the same way that they don’t want to leave ribbons on their unused machines as they’re prone to dry out over time or leave their paper release levers engaged which is prone to flattening out your platen and rubber paper rollers over time. (You’re guilt of these, I know you are. Go ahead and fix it now on those dozens of typewriters sitting idle in your collection.)
Here the best general advice is to provide very light machine oil in very small quantities and placed in targeted areas including the carriage rails, ball bearings, and, when necessary, on type bar linkages.
What you don’t want to end up with a decade hence is “Frozen Facit Syndrome”, a description common to old Facit typewriters which frequently have a frozen escapement mechanism because, as is sometimes colloquially stated, “someone at Facit thought it would be fun to use cod grease”.
Oiling the segment can be the most problematic as most typewriter segments were machined with incredibly close tolerances for movement against them. Any sort of oil (and especially WD-40) will tend to not only dry out over time, but because the segment is the most exposed internal part of the typewriter, it will gather more dust and dirt than other parts. The close tolerances then close up with gunk and the type bars have more friction eventually causing them to freeze up.
Where to from here?
Colloquial advice is sure to continue apace online. How, then to keep it reasonably solid?
Perhaps we might design a questionnaire to send to typewriter repair shops to see what the state of the art was? Then future hobbyists and typewriter repair schools will have better resources for teaching the cleaning and maintenance portions of their curricula.
Maybe someone will aggregate all the cleaning product recommendations and order them from least abrasive to most, from least toxic to most? This would allow the novice to start simple and increase the power as necessary or appropriate.
Maybe a more comprehensive wiki like The Typewriter Wiki will fill the space for long term advice with proper referencing and supporting materials?
Hausrath, Alfred H., and Eugene L. Dahl. Typewriter Care. Edited by Walter K.M. Slavik. Federal Work Improvement Program United States Civil Service Commission and Government Division, U.S. Treasury Department, 1945. http://archive.org/details/twcare-1945.
Being more than a dozen typewriters into collecting and having had an impromptu set of tools and implements from around the house, I figured it was long since time to invest in some better quality maintenance, cleaning, and repair tools.
I discovered a few weeks ago that Crawford Tool has a few convenient and relatively inexpensive typewriter-related tools in their offerings which otherwise primarily cater toward the printer and electronic service repair spaces. In particular, they offer a variety of spring hooks, e-ring & c-clip tools, a nylon bristle brush, Lube-All oilers in a variety of sizes, and even some black canvas tool pouches to hold your screwdrivers. Naturally they’ve got screwdrivers and wrenches galore, but I think my current set is more than adequate. I made an order that showed up on Friday, just in time for some work on the weekend.
The Lube-All oilers will be excellent for dispensing both lacquer thinner and mineral spirits as well as minute quantities of oil in a far more precise fashion and with less potential splatter than my impromptu plastic condiment bottle. They also have cap closures so that volatile liquids are less likely to evaporate.
The spring hooks will be a dramatic improvement on my bent paper clip. The set I got includes a captive-style spring hook, an IBM-style spring hook (push/pull), an 11 inch long puller, a 6 1/2 inch long spring hook puller, and a 6 1/2 inch spring puller with a handle loop.
The black canvas pouches (a steal at their $2 closeout pricing) are better than wrapping everything up in an extra cotton wiping cloth.
If you’re expanding beyond your everyday tool-set and want to go beyond what’s available at the local dollar store, the handful of harder-to-find offerings at Crawford seem pretty solid.
Now its time to start saving up for the bar benders, the keyring pliers, and maybe a nice leather vintage bag to carry it all in.
Now I’ve got some better tools to use with my home study materials:
I’m now a full two years into using my variation of the Memindex/Bullet Journal on index cards and starting a third. I still find 4 x 6 inch index cards more freeing and flexible than using the more common notebook format. One big difference since a year ago: I’ve moved into using a significantly bigger box for increased storage which also includes lots of space for project notes, my zettelkasten / commonplace book practice, and an index for all of it.
I sometimes use one of the four typewriters behind my desk for logging. (Another benefit of using cards.) I put in a new card in the morning and add/cross out as I go throughout the day. I often use one of the other typewriters to write out slightly longer mini-diary entries about particular things as I go. This helps me get away from computer screens, even if it’s only for short breaks throughout the day.
Happy to answer any questions people have about the practice. (Prior AMA here.)
My New Orga (S/N: 149251) typewriter manufactured by Bing Werke A.G. in Nuremberg, Germany (Bavaria) sometime between 1928 and 1933 arrived today.
It was originally manufactured in Germany and distributed by “New Orga” the “Sole Concessionaires, The Durable Supply Coy” which the label indicates was at 45 Bedford Row, London WC1 at the time. Coy here is obviously the U.K. abbreviation for Company. The Typewriter Database states that The Orga was called “‘A.M.C.‘ for the British market and ‘Nagri’ for the Indian market.” My model may pre-date that convention, but I’ll have to do some additional research to see when the British market began distribution. After flipping through all of the Orga exemplars at the Typewriter Database, I can report that mine is the only version with the “New Orga” badging in English. All the other ones listed there are badged either as “Orga” or “Orga Privat”.
Based on the Typewriter Database details and serial number as well as photos of other models, I’m going to guess that my model is a Privat 5. Certainly it doesn’t predate the 4 which changed the location of the bell on the rear of the machine to where mine is. I’ll add it to the database as the 7th documented Privat 5 where it will be the 4th oldest listed in that line. Based on a purely linear distribution of the serial numbers from those years, I’d guess my model was likely manufactured around February of 1931.
Orga made an early standard typewriter before switching to their “Privat” line. While the connotation of the model name is “private”, it really translates more like “personal machine” (versus a business machine). While most of the Privat models seem to come with wooden bases and metal case tops, they’re really at a point in typewriter history that predates the idea of a truly portable machine. This one clocks in at 22.7 pounds, so it’s lighter than most of the bigger standards that tipped the scales at 30+ pounds, but it’s also a tad heavier than some of the later 1940s and 1950s portable machines. One source indicated that Bing Werke specialized in toy manufacture prior to starting into typewriters in 1922, and their thinner metal panels from the toy division were used in their typewriters to help make them less expensive so that they could compete in the space better. In any case, I’m expecting that this one will live in one place and not move around a lot once I’ve cleaned it up.
Condition
At almost a 100 years old this typewriter is in surprisingly good condition. I’ve seen all the variations on the TypewriterDatabase.com, so I know I’m missing an original “case”, one of the ribbon spool covers, both original metal spools, and the spool nuts which held the spools down. Except for some heavy wear to the black paint on the front by the space bar, the paint and the decals are in exception condition for their age. I’m expecting that after a solid cleaning and polishing this model should really shine.
The platen is pockmarked with lots of typing and particularly periods as if someone typed periods for years on it. The rollers are cracking and have flat spots from sitting tensioned for decades. The bell creates a clarion song of it’s own, but is likely going to need some work or a spring to bring it back to life. It feels disingenuous to call any of the metal on this machine “brights”, but I’m guessing that after degreasing and polishing, they’ll light up once more. There’s some fun green corrosion going on at the edges of the platen knobs that may take some work to clear up properly.
The typeface is as grimy as I’ve ever seen. In general the internals are going to require a serious deep clean and degreasing, but there are really only about 6 sticky keys. I will say that the general typing mechanism makes one of the most satisfying and resonant clacks I’ve ever experienced.
The keyboard is in generally good shape for it’s age. The key legends are in a lovely shade of vintage yellow with a handful of legends being a darker yellow color than others. I doubt the metal keyrings were ever cleaned or polished in their lives, so they have some serious patina.
Curiosities
Many of the standard functionalities on the carriage are mirror reversed with respect to more modern US-based typewriters. The return handle, variable spacing mechanism are all on the right hand side and the manual margin release lever and the paper tray lever are on the left. (I’m going to have to do some sleuthing to figure out the proper use of the return mechanism which doesn’t seem straightforward to me.)
The New Orga has a shift lock, but in this case it’s so early that it’s effectuated by a metal switch on left side of keyboard rather than a key as became standard later on. This makes switching between lower case and upper case far more difficult for the touch typer.
This Orga is a carriage shift to be sure. I find it fascinating that there are highly visible and adjustable screws on both sides of the carriage right next to the platen knobs for controlling how high up and down the carriage can be shifted.
The machine has small knurled knobs on both sides which allow one to push from side to side to switch between the two ribbon spools. Additionally twisting these knobs causes ribbon to be picked up from one side to the other and vice versa after actuating the ribbon switch.
The keyboard is a QWERTY layout and has a pound symbol rather than a dollar sign symbol, backing up the fact that it was intended for the British market. It has a variety of fractions including 1/8, 3/8, 5/8, and 7/8 as well as the traditional 1/4 and 1/2, but on this machine the ! shares the slug with the 1/2.
The machine isn’t so old that the metal typing line doesn’t include two small ‘v’ cutouts for drawing straight lines across the page.
Naming
I’m torn by what name to give this particular machine. I’m tempted to name it Wonka after the movie appearance of it’s younger brother the Privat Modell 10. The alternate is to call it Roger, a proper British sounding name, after the Englishman Roger Bacon who wrote the book Novum Organum (1620) which is often translated as The New Organon, a name I can’t help but think of every time I see the New Orga badge on the paper table of this machine.
Perhaps if I can’t get it up and running properly, I’ll use it as a boat anchor and call it the Wonkatania?
Thoughts?
I’ll continue to post photos and updates on this typewriter as I begin some of the cleaning and restoration process. If you’ve got access to a parts machine from this era, do let me know.
I got impatient since it’ll be a while before the 1931 New Orga will be operational again, so in a highly manual exercise, I threaded, advanced, and pulled out a type sample from the machine to see what we’re looking forward to:
The Orga Privat 5‘s mainspring and drawband assembly is very similar to that of the Smith-Corona 5 series, but is imminently more accessible and easier to attach. You can see and access all the major parts for basic repair without removing anything.
The mainspring here seems to be fine. The catgut-type drawstring seemed long enough to work, though it seemed a tad damaged from having been pinched into the mainspring hub assembly. I tried looping a slipknot to attach it at the metal tab/channel on the right side of the carriage (left when looking from the back). However when adding tension to the mainspring, the drawstring predictably broke about halfway through.
I’ll need to get some fishing line to completely replace the drawband and get this working again.
Looking from the back, the silver knurled wheel on the right can be turned clockwise to tension the mainspring and there’s a silver thumb lever right next to it that can be used to slowly let off tension when necessary. I recommend using either rubber gloves or some similar scheme to protect your fingers against the thin knurled wheel which gets tougher to turn/tighten as you progress.
I realized tonight that I’ve got some reasonably thick waxed cord for use in leatherwork hiding in the craft drawer. (I chose purple in honor of Willy Wonka.) I’ve strung it up on the new New Orga and gotten the carriage moving again as it types! Hopefully it’ll last.
More progress on the 1931 New Orga (Privat 5): he types! I found some compatible spools and ribbon. Given the Orga typewriter from the movie, I thought this Willy Wonka quote was apropos both as the first type sample and as encouragement for the remainder of the restoration mountain ahead.
Since April 3rd I’ve been acquiring a new typewriter on average every six days. 🙈 I think after the last three I just picked up, including a Remington 666 and Ten Forty I’ve been hunting for, I’m taking a hiatus unless I see a local Olympia SG1. 🤞🏼
On Friday, August 16, 2024, I picked up a dreadful looking cur from GoodWill. On Sunday, I spent several hours the afternoon and then again in the evening pulling the machine apart, cleaning all the external and internal parts and flushing it out with lacquer thinner. A quick and very light oiling and a rubdown with WD-40 to make the exterior shine later, and I’m now the proud owner of a wonderful, and sparkling little Corona Zephyr.
Design
The Corona Zephyr manufactured by L. C. Smith & Corona Co. of Syracuse, NY was produced from 1938-1941 before being superseded by the Smith-Corona Skyriter. Both the Zephyr and the Skyriter were meant to compete directly with the Hermes Baby. Meant to be used on the go, these typewriters are compact and light.
My Zephyr with full spools and the case cover on weights 8 pounds 14.7 ounces. Typical standard (desktop) typewriters of the day weighed a ponderous 30+ pounds and even the burgeoning market of portable machines usually clocked in in the low 20s. In it’s case, the Zephyr measures 11″ x 12″ 2 11/16″. These were the OG laptop machines.
Overall condition
This machine has the appearance of having once been at least moderately used. There were some bits of paint knocked off the corners (common with portables of this size) and the machine had more than it’s fair share of dirt and grime inside. Fortunately it was full of eraser shavings like my Smith-Corona Skyriter was.
Based on the way several screws were inserted, I suspect that the machine had been serviced at least once in its life. But it was definitely used well and put up wet. My guess is that in the late 70s or early 80s, as with many typewriters, this was put into storage and forgotten about until it was donated and made its way into my stewardship. Somewhere in that journey it was housed back-down in its case and exposed to some level of moisture causing some moderate rusting on the bottom of the case and to the back of the typewriter. I spent some time removing the worst of of the rust, but wasn’t overly aggressive on it. With the modest treatment, I’ve hopefully arrested most future damage.
In addition to the rust, I had to repair the ribbon vibrator which was bent out in front of the typing guide, and I’ll have to address the ribbon pick up moving to the left which isn’t working. The model came with broken 2 inch universal plastic spools and dried out ribbon which will need to be replaced with the correct smaller spools.
Richard Polt has posted a contemporaneous manual for the Zephyr typewriter for those who’d like to see what originally came with the machine. My favorite is that the manual appears to be typewritten. It has all the keystone markings of a pre-WWII manual with sparce diagrams and a wall of text.
Keys
The keyboard follows the general format of Smith-Corona’s American No. 20A set up. As was the case for most pre-World War II typewriters, the Zephyr came with round glass keys. The machine has 4 banks of keys which had become standard by mid-century. With 46 keys, the observant typist will notice that there are no shift lock or margin release keys. The shift lock can be effectuated by pushing down either of the shift keys and then moving them to the side where their metal levers can be “locked” into a metal slot under the key lever. If there’s a way to easily release the margin lock, I’ve not found it.
Other functionality
Obviously, it’s light weight and portability means that corners were cut including features like margin release, tabulation and niceties like touch control or a paper guide. Presumably this was meant for writers, journalists, and students on the go rather than accountants.
The machine features a carriage shift, which is quick and light, particularly because of the small size and weight of the platen and carriage.
The Zephyr doesn’t have the typical bichrome settings, but only features monochrome functionality. However, it’s still capable of doing stencils. While many typewriters have a specific mechanical setting for stencils, they can all generally do stencils by unhooking the ribbon from the ribbon vibrator. It bears mentioning that the ribbon vibrator here is effectuated by an unconventional method in the form of a metal bar which is attached at the left side which arcs up and down rather than a central mechanism as seen on the majority of modern machines which only moves vertically.
The Zephyr uses the typical 1/2 inch wide ribbon, but requires a smaller ribbon spool of 1 3/4 inches in diameter rather than the universal 2 inch spool. This gives the writer closer to 12 feet of ribbon rather than 16, but is still very functional.
To my knowledge, these machines came with body-colored spool covers. Sadly, like many I’ve seen in the wild, mine are missing.
One of the clever features is a miniscule carriage return lever. (As a point of comparison, I think the “ice cream scoop” return lever on the Royal Empress standard may weigh more than this entire machine.) It’s a tiny cupped nub the size of a thumb or finger tip which can be used to press it in to do the line space and then slide the carriage back home. To save on weight and engineering, the machine only has a single space ratchet, but it does have a switch for allowing variable platen spacing for filling in forms. The paper bail is also a simple metal arm, which means it’s not great with thicker card stocks like post cards or index cards, though it will work passably with a single card finger next to the typing point. One would not be happy doing lots of index card work on this machine.
One of the curious features of the machine is that it doesn’t have a traditional universal bar to engage the escapement. Instead there’s a thin, but sturdy simple wire right at the typing point that is hit by the typebars when typing. Pressing this bar in trips the escapement and moves the carriage to the next space.
Also particular to this machine is the “jacket” or exterior enclosure into which the typewriter chassis slides for protection. The machine is so small and tight that getting it into and out of the case can be a bit trying compared to its close cousin the Skyriter. To get the Zephyr out, one removes six screws and two small nuts to free the rear panel from the jacket. Then there are four screws which hold the jacket on to the chassis—two on the sides at the carriage and two in the keyboard near the shift keys. Then one needs to press down the top row of keys to carefully wiggle the unit out. However, the felt on the bottom of the jacket can impede the sliding of the metal. As a result one is best advised to insert a few thicker (index card weight or heavier) pieces of paper between the metal chassis and the felt and another between the top of the case and the keys to ensure they don’t get caught or scratched up. When re-inserting, similar care must be taken for the felt as well as for the (now brittle) plastic feet.
As also seen on early models of the Smith-Corona Skyriter, the Zephyr has a thin metal case that has two metal prongs which fit into the rear of the typewriter and then comes down over the typewriter and clicks into place with two metal spring bars with buttons that depress from the front of the case. It’s a simple and no frills case/cover, but far more effective and functional than some of the similar integral covers of typewriters in the late 60s and 70s. It’s not present on my Skyriter, but this case does have a very fine velvet-like interior which I suspect was somehow sprayed into the inside of the case as it doesn’t seem like it’s fabric glued into it.
Typeface Sample
The typeface on my Zephyr is Smith-Corona’s ubiquitous Pica No. 1 face with 10 characters per inch and types with 6 vertical lines per inch. A type sample from my machine with an overly wet, new ribbon appears below.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return with more typing on my 1940 Corona Zephyr:
