172,000 index cards * 150 words / card [average maximum, using front only] * 1,200 bytes / 150 words [rough average with Unicode encoding] * 1 kb / 1024 bytes * 1MB/1024 kb = approximately 200 MB of text storage
Having it well organized and indexed… Priceless.
It’s a very common complaint/worry/issue when people new to the typewriter world get their first machine and realize that as they’re typing, their typewriter slowly moves or “walks” across the work surface upon which they’re typing. It’s often easy enough to just move it back to center and continue on, but when you’re composing something and you’re in the zone, it’s an added niggling distraction that many who use typewriters were hoping to get away from in the first place. Often this issue is worse with some of the later model electrics (I’m looking at you Smith-Corona Electras) which have a motorized auto return function which in combination with carriage inertia can cause one’s typewriter almost to jump across a desk. It might also be an issue if you’re using a 40 pound standard machine on a writing drawer on your mid-century tanker desk and the machine tips off onto the floor, though I’ve yet to hear someone complain of this problem.
So we’re presented with the question of how to remedy this typewriter “walking” issue? Fortunately there are a handful of common and inexpensive remedies.
The primary reason we see this walking issue now and it wasn’t seen in the past is that the rubber feet of vintage and antique typewriters have hardened over time. As a result, the feet on the typewriter don’t have the grippy-ness they originally did. Their almost plastic-like current form allows the machine to slide across the table with the force applied to the typewriter as one types as well as the use of the return lever to reset the carriage at the end of a line. This makes for an easy fix by replacing the rubber feet on one’s typewriter.
Because the original manufacturers aren’t making new stock any more, replacement can take many forms which are outlined below.
There are a handful of repair companies and hobbyists who have created molds and pour new rubber feet for a variety of makes and models. These are generally excellent and will give your machine another half century or more additional life. Prices for replacements can often be found in the $15-50 range.
With the advent of small and inexpensive 3-D printers, many hobbyists will replace their old, hardened, and cracked or disintegrating rubber feet with newly printed ones. While these often provide a lot more grip than the ones they’re replacing, they may not be quite as solid as rubber replacements. Prices for replacements can often be found in the $20-60 range.
Depending on the shape and size of your typewriter feet, you may find that the local hardware store might have rubber pieces designed for other uses which will work with your particular machine. This option often relies on some research, hunting around, and sometimes some craftiness to get the pieces made for a different application to work with your typewriter. While it may only be an option in 5-10% of cases, its usually fairly inexpensive in comparison to other options.
In addition to the above, I’ve seen people use self-adhesive rubberized sheets cut to size and attached to the old feet.
Often less expensive than new rubber feet are any number of mats and pads, usually meant for other purposes, but which can be repurposed for use with your typewriter.
In the mid-century several companies made machine pads specifically for typewriters and other machines. While some vintage or new old stock (NOS) versions may still be available for sale online or in antique stores, they’re often in mediocre shape at best as age and exposure will have either worn them down or stiffened them up. The completist collector may look for and attempt to use these, but newer alternate versions are likely of much higher quality.
A few small typewriter repair companies and hobbyists make small typewriter pads out of carpeting with rubberized backing which will dramatically cut down on the dance your typewriter tries to clack out on your desktop. These options often run in the $20-40 range.
Examples:
There are a variety of additional pads that can be used to help keep your typewriter in place. These include pads and mats made out of wool, felt, or even carpet. Ideally you’ll want something in the 1/4 – 1/2 inch thickness range and large enough to cover the footprint of your specific typewriter.
Because they were designed for ironing, some wool mats can be found in sizes larger than the typical typewriter. While some might eschew these larger sizes, they can come in handy for larger footprint standard typewriters. Additionally, these wider mats can be used to create a larger footprint around your typewriter which can help serve as a reminder not to place your favorite beverage next to your machine and accidentally have the carriage tip it over onto your desk either as you type or when your execute a return after ill-advisedly placing your glass right next to your carriage.
On smooth surfaces, these mats can not only reduce walking, but for heavier standard machines, they can also be useful for more easily moving typewriters around if you’re switching between the typewriter and your laptop computer.
I’ve personally got 4 or 5 of the Zomoneti Wool pads around the house and love them. They were recommended to me by Gerren Balch of The HotRod Typewriter Co., an experienced typewriter mechanic who may be better known for his hot rod paint jobs on typewriter bodies. He told me he’s also got several including one he uses to prevent machines in his shop from being scratched up as he’s flipping them around and wrenching on them. He loves the fact that they’ll also soak up liquids as he’s degreasing them to help prevent mess. You’ll see them regularly in his YouTube videos.
A local carpet store might give or sell you a square sample of carpet that would suffice as a pad and in combination with some shelf liner (see below), you’ll have roughly the same functionality in a DIY product that will work as well as a more expensive commercial option. Most might opt for a low pile carpet for this application, but, given the wide variety of types and colors, who would fault you for using an orange shag carpet to match up with your avocado green 1960 Aztec 500?
Another potential inexpensive method is to use oversized mouse pads if you can find them. I’ve also heard people upcycle items like computer notebook cases.
Examples:
Another off-label mat that works well for typewriters are the thin, non-slip yoga mats. These come in a variety of colors and materials and work very well for keeping your typewriter in one place. Because of their size and material, they’re usually very easy to cut down from one long roll into several individual mats.
They’re often recommended by typewriter collector and restorer James Grooms who features them in many of his typewriter galleries on the typewriter database. He also suggests picking them up at thrift stores for pennies on the dollar.
Be aware that thicker and spongier yoga mats exist and will work with typewriters, but colloquially I’ve heard that most prefer the thinner ones.
Thin rubber mats that are sold as drawer or shelf liner or non-slip rug or carpet padding can be cut down from larger sizes and repurposed as typewriter mats to prevent them from slipping around during use.
The drawback here is that some of them can be easily discolored in short spans of time. In my experience, some can also fuse with varnished wood surfaces, particularly when used with heavier standard typewriters, so keep this in mind, particularly if you’re using them on vintage furniture as display pieces when you’re not typing on them.
Some people will use these in combination with other carpet or wool mats mentioned above for a prettier but still practical and economical result.
Naturally one could use the examples above to custom make their own typewriter mats. I was always impressed at Tom Hanks’ ingenious custom typewriter covers/mats which served not only to prevent his machines from walking, but also doubled as covers to keep the dust out while simultaneously looking very sharp on a machine being displayed on a shelf, in a book case, or even sitting on your office’s credenza or library card catalog.
There’s another frequently mentioned down side of typewriters that users and their families aren’t big fans of: the noise.
While a typewriter is always going to make some sound, there are a variety of things one can do to minimize it. Before we delve into some of the potential solutions, let’s discuss a few of the reasons why your vintage or antique typewriter can be louder than it was right out of the factory.
First, the majority of the classic clacking sound you hear from typewriters is a result of the metal typebars hammering against the ring (or anvil) on the front of the segment just below the typing point. On older typewriters, you can often see the wear of the metal from years of this action occurring millions of times. This wear can also be an indicator of how heavily a typewriter was used in its lifetime.
While the majority of the typebar’s momentum is absorbed by the ring, some of the energy is reserved for the typebar to flex slightly and the slug to continue travelling forward where it’s meant to just “kiss” the ribbon and press the ribbon against the paper and then the rubbery-ness of platen absorbs the remainder of the blow. On a well-adjusted typewriter, with the typebar pressed fully forward, it should still be far enough from the platen to allow a sheet of paper to be easily slid between the slug and a backing sheet.
Depending on the rubber and manufacturing processes used, the average life of the rubber on a platen is somewhere around 30-40 years. Of course on most vintage or older typewriters, the platen which was originally specified somewhere between a durometer rating of a soft, but supple 85 and 92 is now as hard as a rock. As a result, when the slug strikes it, it’s going to be far louder than it would be for a new platen. This also means that for new typewriters manufactured in the 1980s or even typewriters from the 40s and 50s that had their platens replaced as late as the 1980s are pretty much guaranteed to have hardened platens. The end result is more noise.
As platens age, they also shrink which generally means the finely tuned ring and cylinder adjustment done at the factory (or by your local typewriter repair person) is going to be off. This generally means that the slug doesn’t hit the platen as it was meant to which also means that you’ll often see some of the smaller characters like underlines, commas, and periods piercing through your paper as you type. Age and poor alignment means that instead of the type slug kissing the ribbon it smashes the ribbon, blasts through the paper, and clangs against the hardened platen.
To assist in dampening sound both within the typewriter as well as transference to the surroundings, many typewriters from the 1930s onward had sections of industrial padding, felt, or foam glued into the main body panels. Some of the older padding as seen in the 5 Series Smith-Corona portables holds up relatively well while the foam in machines like the Royal FP and the Futura 800 or even the IBM Selectrics has disintegrated into dust and can make a terrible mess as well as be difficult to clean out. On some machines it has picked up a dreadful smell and needs to be replaced.
Another, albeit smaller, source of noise in typewriters is the movement and potential rattling of metal body pieces. As a result, you’ll often see small rubber grommets on body panels (common in some of the later Remington Standards) or thin rubber gaskets between the screws and body panels (this is very common on late 1950s Smith-Coronas). Many 60s and 70s typewriters with plastic or thin metal hoods will be held in place by a post which inserts into rubber grommets on either side of the ribbon cups. This makes them easier to take off and replace, but also prevents vibrations from transferring.
Of course all these sources of noise are frequently not only heard directly from their source, but the energy of the sound waves is bounced off of the hard desk and writing surfaces upon which one’s typewriter is placed for use. In contemporaneous typewriter usage at mid-century, most were situated on wooden or rubber-like linoleum-covered tanker desks which don’t exist in modern office spaces anymore. This means that your bare metal, glass, or other hard surfaced-desk is reflecting all of the noise from the typewriter right back up at you and amplifying the noise the machine is making.
Now that we’ve looked at most of the noise sources associated with a typewriter, let’s look at some various means of minimizing them.
The quickest, easiest, and one of the least expensive noise dampening solutions is to use a typewriter mat of one of the sorts described in the section on “walking typewriters”. Felted wool and yoga mats are considered the best. In addition to helping keep typewriters in one place, they can help to absorb quite a lot of the sound as well as prevent reflection of the sound off of the desktop. Their diverse functionality and the ability to accessorize a desk and a typewriter make them incredibly useful accessories.
Colloquially, I’ve heard people say that this sound dampening method is even better than replacing the internal felt or foam on the internal body panels, which is another relatively inexpensive method of sound dampening.
Using 3-5mm felt from your local hobby store is a simple replacement for old felt and foam which can frequently hold unpleasant smells. Others frequently suggest Ethylene-vinyl acetate foam sometimes more commonly called EVA foam which is used in a variety of common applications from shoes, athletic equipment, yoga mats, toys, packaging, furniture, seating, and even cosplay costumes. Others may also suggest materials like neoprene which is commonly used to make wet suits. Most all of these are relatively easy to find in a variety of fabric, foam, and hobby stores as well as online stores. One can use paper patterns cut out to follow the form of the typewriter panels and then trace the pattern onto the material and then cut it out. A variety of glues like rubber cement can be easily used to secure this new noise dampening material.
For rubber grommets and washers, these can often be replaced by a quick trip to the hardware store and browsing through the hardware or plumbing sections. Online purveyors like Grainger and McMaster-Carr often have huge selections which will allow one a lot more flexibility to more closely specify sizes and thicknesses. Many hardware stores will also have grab-bag choices that include a variety of sizes of rubber parts so that you can easily pick and choose the appropriate size parts for your particular typewriter.
Finally, another very good means of minimizing the noise of your typewriter is to re-cover the platen. Going from a rock hard platen back into a lower durometer rating will help to quiet your machine and give it a more lux typing feel at the same time. Few people do it because it can run about $100 plus shipping, but it really improves your typing experience and is well worth the effort. Because the companies that do this work also do rollers, be sure to spend the few extra dollars to resurface your carriage rollers to have better grip when threading your paper.
Several companies offer platen re-covering and related services including:
Remember that if you have your platen re-covered you will want to properly re-adjust your typewriter to get the proper ring and cylinder adjustment done after platen installation. Your local repair shop can handle this for your, or you can attempt it at home. This adjustment will improve not only the noise but the imprint of the letters on your page as well as the longevity of your platen.
Do you have other options that have worked for you? Have you custom made your own anti-walking and noise cancelling accessories for your typewriter? Be sure to share examples or companies with usable solutions in the the comments below.
Black cast iron and metal
I present my 1952 Royal Quiet De Luxe portable typewriter with a special hidden feature.
The online auction listing for this particular typewriter happened to have a photo of the type basket which included a telltale W, whose sans serif centerlines crisscrossed, which piqued my interest beyond my collector’s desire for a late ’51/’52 QDL variation to pair with my ’48 and ’49 versions and my trusty 1955 model. It was listed for $10.99 when I first saw it, so I waited ever-so-patiently for 4 days with half a dozen alarms set to see if I could snag it for a dramatically below-marketplace valuation. There was one other bid for the minimum, so I put in two last minute bids, one for $20 and another for $1,000 just in case the other bidder had observed what I had noticed and intended to snipe it away. The typewriter collecting gods smiled warmly on me that day.
Eagle eyes, patience, and careful bidding won the day! Knowing the perils of typewriter shipping, especially from Goodwill, I followed up the bidding win and spoke to the GoodWill shipping manager and made an increased donation to their shop to ensure the machine was properly packaged for shipping to prevent possible damage to the uncommon machine. All-in I scored a Royal Vogue for the bargain basement price of under $100. It’s the biggest win I’ve experienced in my short typewriter collecting career. Unless I trip over a mint condition Sholes & Glidden sitting next to a garbage bin, I may be unlikely to surpass this level of luck again.
Given that I’ve seen machines, usually Royal model Ps, with a Vogue typeface go for $950-1,200 in unknown working shape on the open market, I suspect that cleaned up and in restored condition, this could easily sell for $1,500-2,500. Of course, I’ve fallen in love with the typeface, so I’m unlikely to let it go any time soon.
This 1952 machine follows the QDL redesign by Henry Dreyfuss from August 2, 1945 which was put into production in 1948 and changed a bit in 1949. It maintained some of Dreyfuss’ angular shape as well as the tombstone shaped keys, though they changed from the older glass keys of the 40s to the green plastic of the beginning of the plastic onslaught which was to change typewriter manufacture for the next decades.
The front of the this iteration of the machine features a chromed Royal badging flanked on both sides with chrome wing features which have cutouts for the ribbon reversal and ribbon color selector switches. Later versions in subsequent years would lose the wings in lieu of a hood latch button and and a simpler ribbon color switch selector.
The Fall/Winter Sears catalog in 1952 listed this new variation of the Quiet De Luxe for $103.58 in both pica and elite options. The Vogue typeface would have been an available custom order option for a few dollars at the time, but it apparently wasn’t an often ordered one. Of the 522 Royal QDLs in the Typewriter Database at the moment, I’ve only found 5 (including this one) which have a Vogue typeface which makes it less than 1% of the total. Given collectors’ affinity for them, I could easily imagine the actual manufacture rate may have been even smaller.
Though the catalog indicates that the model was 17 pounds for both the machine and the case, my typewriter is 15.7 pounds by itself and 20.1 pounds in the case.
This machine has the appearance of having been at least moderately used. There are a couple bits of paint knocked off some edges (common with portables of this size) and the machine internals were relatively clean.
While the machine was in very solid workable and immediately usable condition when I received it, it definitely deserved some care and attention. In particular, someone had ill-advisedly used a black/correction ribbon on it, so the interior around and below the typing point was covered with white correction tape sludge.
On Saturday, October 19th, I spent several hours in 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. Simple Green did an excellent job on the exterior, and I scrubbed some flecks of Correction Fluid off the body. A quick and very light oiling has the machine purring now. I also did a rubdown on the crinkle paint with some WD-40 to make the exterior truly sparkle. I’m now the proud owner of a scintillating wonder of engineering and typeface design.
Thought it had the appearance of being reasonably maintained, I couldn’t find any clues that it had had a major overhaul or serious cleaning aside from general maintenance. A few of the linkages had some old, brownish/black grease on them which I would take to indicate that it probably hadn’t been serviced since the 1960s. I’ll have to look up historical dates for the black/white correction tape release, but given the dryness of the black portion of the ribbon I’m guessing the ribbon may have been from the late 1970s.
Of particular note, the platen still has a small amount of “give” left to it and isn’t as rock hard as I might have suspected for its age. This means I may wait a bit and replace the platen(s) on other machines before I need to get to this one. The rubber rollers still work well and the rubber feet are in reasonable shape too.
The 1952 Quiet De Luxe came with an original period case as well as a key and the original typewriter manual, a digital copy of which can be found on Richard Polt’s Typewriter Site. (At the rate things are going, I’m finding extant keys are almost as rare with portables as finding a Vogue typeface.)
There is what appears to be a Social Security number scratched into the brown paint on the bottom of the machine. I won’t comment further other than to say its a California area SSN, which is where I purchased it, so there’s a reasonable chance that this was a single owner machine.
The keyboard has a typical mid-century Royal layout. The keys are in a traditional dark green plastic double shot with white plastic. They’re all in exceptional condition aside from the letter “C” which has a small surface flaw that I ought to be able to buff out pretty easily. There are 42 keys and slugs giving 84 typeable characters for a standard United States English keyset along with six additional keys for backspace, shift, shift lock on the left and tab, margin release, and a shift key on the right. The bottom of the 4 bank keyboard features a more standard inset brown spacebar than its 1948 and 1949 predecessors which had a blocky black design element that made the spacebar more integral to the front frame of those machines.
Manufactured roughly at the peak of typewriter functionality, this medium sized portable machine has almost everything a typist could want in terms of functionality.
There is a rear rabbit-ear style paper support, double sided Royal Magic Margins, touch control (inside the hood), a manually accessible ribbon switch and bichrome/stencil setting switch on the front, and five manually adjustable tabulator sets accessible from the back which are viewable when looking down with the paper table folded back. It has left and right carriage release levers, both temporary and permanent platen adjustment mechanisms, and a single card finger on the right side of the typing line. This QDL has the usual 1, 2, and 3 line spacing mechanism.
The case certainly has seen some heavy signs of travel, but seems to be holding together well despite the wear. The inside is in excellent shape and none of the fabric on the exterior is coming off despite the heavy wear.
The typeface on my Royal QDL is the previously mentioned highly prized and much-sought-after Royal Vogue. It types 10 characters per inch and 6 vertical lines per inch. A type sample from my machine with blue and green ribbon appears below. If you need an extended sample, for fun I typed out a large portion of the lyrics to Madonna’s 1990 hit Vogue.
“I’m always trying to get back to the 20s a little bit.”
—John Dickerson, in Field Notes interview (2016)
Perhaps lamenting too much technology, Dickerson says he’s got two screens on the computer in his office as well as an iPad and a phone. But he’s also got “a notebook [that] does only one thing”. He’s also got an old black lacquer Underwood standard typewriter (No. 4, 5, or 6?) on his office desk. Typewriters only do one thing too.
Wonder if he still uses it?
While there is some heavily gendered blather juxtaposed with some entertaining and atmosphere filling late-1960s jazz, the star of the short film is Mr. Typewriter who incessantly “sells” him self to a contemporaneous mannequin secretary.
This commercial for a 1966 Royal 660 electric typewriter predates Stanley Kubrick’s classic 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey by two years. But based on the scripting, pacing, composition, and even some of the character, it seems like Kubrick was heavily inspired by this short film.
HAL 9000’s tone in 2001 seems to have come straight from Mr. Typewriter and even some of the typewriter/computer personification particularly in the camera angles on the machines seems stark and heavily familiar. One can’t help but notice how Mr. Typewriter looms over the viewer at the 7 minute mark as it delivers it’s “helpful” advice.
“I think you’ll like the half sheet better. It is faster.” —Mr. Typewriter, [timestamp 6:59]
Litton Business Systems, Inc. was a subsidiary of Litton Industries, Inc., an American defense contractor that specialized in shipbuilding, aerospace, electronic components, and information technology. They had bought out Royal Typewriters and had created the electric Royal 660 (released in 1966) specifically to compete with the IBM Selectric (introduced July 1961). Given the time period Litton would have been a potentially more ominous corporate parent than IBM.
Movie buffs have often speculated that the letters of H.A.L.’s name were a one letter increment from I.B.M. Kubrick was known to have corresponded with IBM in relation to the film, but perhaps this was a macguffin to cover up the inspiration from Royal and Litton?
Stanley Kubrick was known to have used an IBM Model C electric typewriter which was manufactured between 1958 and 1967.
Here, Mr. Typewriter in a calm voice makes suggestions to a secretary about his usefulness while HAL does it for a male astronaut (a heroic figure of the space race in that time period). Suddenly the populace feels the more mysterious computer might be a bad actor compared to the typewriter which was slowly being supplanted.
With any luck, Mr. Typewriter wasn’t sexually harassing anyone in the office, but it’s highly unlikely any of the audience at the time was dwelling on such issues until Colin Higgins’ 9 to 5 (Twentieth Century Fox, 1980) which uncoincidentally featured a row of Royal electric typewriters in it’s trailer.
Intriguingly it bears mentioning that the voice over on the 9 to 5 trailer sounds like William Schallert, who portrayed the avuncular Professor Quigley in The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (Walt Disney Productions, 1969), another film of the period which has something to say about personifying information systems and the coming era of artificial intelligence, though this time as embedded into the brain of a young Kurt Russell.
While the gendered roles portrayed at the time are atrocious (a male machine represented by a male voice is now directing the woman’s work in the office instead of her too-busy, jet-setting male boss), you have to love the techno-utopianism engendered by Successful Secretary:
“We’re living in an electric world, more speed and less effort.”—Mr. Typewriter
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.
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.
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.
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.
Kirk Jackson of Nashville Typewriter has a copy of the Corona Zephyr Servicing and Adjustment Methods manual which Theodore Munk has published on his blog. The manual lists among its six recommended tools, tool number “S. T. 1243 Keyboard Depresser (for Jacket removal and replacement)”. It’s a simple piece of cardboard for which they charged 25¢. Incidentally, Rev. Munk has also re-published a 1954 Smith-Corona Carriage Shift Portable Parts Manual – Corona 3, 4, Junior, Zephyr and Skyriter which contains lots of diagrams for those who might benefit from it.
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.
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.
I’ve seen many references comparing the use of typewriters in an overstimulating technology space to the slow food movement. Since one regularly pairs wine with their meals, it only seems right to extend the typewriter analogy to liquor as well. Today, I’m pairing this smooth 10 year single malt Glenmorangie Scotch with the 1949 Royal Quiet De Luxe.
Surely Hemingway would approve?
Type-o-sphere, what are you pairing with your typewriter today?
Some how it felt sacrilegious to post it to Goodreads.com and not to type my status update for Richard Polt’s poetic paean to typewriters.
Yesterday, the typewriter arrived, and today I took a short break to open it up and give it a short test drive. In addition to the fantastic news that the machine is in stunning shape, its color is about as perfect a match to the pen and the desk as one could ask!
The overall condition was beyond my dreams for this vintage and with some plastic portions. The typewriter only has a few signs of use and wear with some paint worn off at the corners of the back and on the right hand side where the platen knob meets the body. A bit of the “R” on the top Remington logo is worn off and seems to be thermally printed on, so I wouldn’t recommend heavy scrubbing, harsh abrasives, or caustic chemicals when cleaning the bodies of these for fear of removing the logo all together. These small flaws gives the machine some nice patina and the street cred of some reasonable use as a portable. There’s some small wear to the plastic hood where the two position return lever has rubbed against it. Otherwise it is in about as good a condition as one could hope.
All the keys worked with some severe stickiness on the “L” key. The smallest of tweaks on the head of the typebar remedied the issue without resorting to cleaning. The margin release wasn’t operating properly, but only because an obvious and easily re-mounted tension wire had become unhooked.
There is some minor grime and dust inside the body which could stand some cleaning, but it’s in great shape right out of the box. I’ll try to spend some time blowing it out and cleaning it up internally while I await some replacement ribbon.
The typewriter itself is has a metal chassis which is permanently screwed into a slightly darker plastic green base. This base dovetails with the plastic lid to create a case with a rubber-like plastic handle. Sadly the lid of the case was badly cracked and splintered into a dozen or so pieces in shipping, so I’m going to consider the lid a total loss. I’ll have to fashion some type of cover to keep the dust (and more importantly the German shepherd fur) out of the internal mechanisms.
On this model, the serial number is imprinted on to the black metal bottom chassis between the “U” and “J” keys when looking down at the typewriter from above. The serial number on my particular machine is AX 16 74 89. Sadly, the Typewriter Database doesn’t have serial numbers for this model or the late 60s or early 70s timespan in which these were made. One model in the database is dated to 1969 with a serial number starting with CX so it’s possible mine may be as early as ’68 or ’69 but sadly without better data, one can’t be sure.
Richard Polt has a Remington Streamliner manual for the 60s available, and though it’s close in broad look and functionality, it’s obviously not for this specific model or year.
Given the time period and the metallic mint paint, I do sort of wish this model also had Positraction, but then I suppose it would have needed to be produced by GM rather than Remington.
The keys appear to be thin beige pieces of almost bone-like plastic floating in mid-air but have thicker plastic and metal bases which give them a nice action. There’s a standard back space (curved arrow on the left), a margin release (double arrow on the right), but surprisingly for the age, is missing a dedicated 1/! key. There is no built-in tab functionality.
The machine has the typical larger Remington ribbon cores and this one included a dead, improperly seated ribbon on original metal rings. I swapped these out briefly for a new ribbon, though the plastic hub doesn’t seat as tightly as one would wish for the ribbon advance to work properly. I’ll get some new ribbon and handspool it onto the original cores and we should be off to the races. I’ll note that no metal ribbon covers, which had been standard on earlier models of this make, were present, though its probably just as likely that these were never included on their later models either for weight, functionality, or manufacturing cost reasons.
I’m don’t see any switch or button for the spool reverse, but suspect that the built-in mechanical sensors will operate as expected for Remingtons of this era. If not, it’s easy enough to actuate the switch manually with the hood off.
Also not available on this model is a switch for using two colored ribbons, so I’ll just have to be satisfied with a single color.
As a later portable, the machine is missing some of the additional niceties of heavier late 50s or early 60s desk models. It does have a “card finger”, though only on the left. The return arm has two positions and a simple friction fit operation—one for use and the other for storage.
The machine has a carriage shift rather than a basket shift. The platen knobs are rather on the small side, and don’t have a typical button for variable line spacing. This line spacing functionality is built into the small switch on the left hand side for single or double spacing, but is labeled as “0” for small adjustments. It doesn’t appear to have a carriage lock of any sort, but does have margin stops and a satisfying bell.
In general, this model is a no-frills portable meant for basic functional typing on the go.
The pitch on this machine is 10 characters per inch (pica). The full platen is 85 characters wide.
Since I don’t have a properly inked/fitted ribbon for it yet, I’ll post a typeface sample at a later date.
It covers variations of personal knowledge management, commonplace books, zettelkasten, indexing, etc. I wish we’d had time for so much more, but I hope some of the ideas and examples are helpful in giving folks some perspective on what has gone before so that we might expand our own horizons.
The color code of the slides (broadly):
Having purchased it “untested” as an auction item at bargain basement price, you’re never quite sure what to expect, you just pray for no major escapement damage and go from there. I fully expected to need to fix half a dozen bits and some heavy cleaning as I have with other machines. As it turned out, each part I began testing worked flawlessly and the machine is quite clean!
In general the machine is in near mint condition. There is one tiny brown discoloration spot on the case, but, the case being brown, it’s not very obvious. Beyond this, the case looks like it just came off the factory floor.
The machine was generally very clean and almost looks like it had been serviced and then not used since. There was some lint and dust on the bottom which wiped off easily and a quick blow out should clear the rest. There are one or two minor signs of wear to the powder coat on the front and a small bit of peeling on the bottom rear, but overall it’s been pretty well loved and probably not seen more than a few years of moderate use.
Everything functioned as expected save two required adjustments relating to how the slugs strike the platen. The capital letters were striking a tad higher than the lower case, but the adjustment for the UC “on feet” screw on the bottom of the typewriter fixed that issue fairly quickly. There’s also two separate brackets each with two screws that will require adjustment for the caps lock to be properly aligned as well; I’ll take care of that later this week sometime. I notice one or two small screws that could use some fine tuning as well, but I’ll get to that shortly as well. Interestingly there is already a YouTube video for some of these adjustments for this exact year model should anyone need it. Additionally, Theodore Monk has some details for alternate makes/models.
The serial number on the machine is QR3214352 which the Typewriter Database dates specifically to April 1957. This means that this machine will be 67 years old this coming Spring.
Unlike many early typewriters, this keyboard has a dedicated key for the “1”/”!” as well as a dedicated caps lock key for the right hand (in addition to the usual one for the left). Also present is a special “Tab” key on the right hand side just below the margin release “M.R.” key.
In addition to some of the standard functionality, including tab settings which became common in the 1950s, this unit has an auto-reverse for the ribbon, 3 type select settings for finger pressure/action, and three line space selections. Richard Polt hosts versions of the Quiet-Riter manual (1955) as well as a parts catalog (1953) a service manual (1953).
Of particular note (and something I’ve never seen on a machine before) is a set of teeth on the platen which have a custom switch for fractional line spacing. This is useful for sub-script and super-script needs. It’s effectuated by pressing down on the line locating lever on the left side near the platen knob which then allows one to rotate the platen up or down the required amount to type the characters. When done, one switches the lever back to set the platen to the original line spacing. This would also have been useful on older machines for creating equal signs with two strikes of the hyphen, but isn’t needed on the Quiet-Riter which has a dedicated “=” key.
While the unit came with an all black ribbon in usable shape, I chose to switch it out with a new blue/black combination. The Quiet-Riter has the larger custom 2cm core rings and spools (and this unit had the original metal rings and covers), so I had to manually remove the plastic cores from the newer ribbon and carefully insert them into the machine so that when the spool empties the mechanical sensor will trip and automatically reverse the ribbon. Of course, given the set up one could also wind their own replacement ribbon as seen here:
The pitch on this machine is 12 characters per inch (elite). The full platen is 110 characters wide.
Having the best tools does you absolutely no good unless you’re going to use them.
Collecting notebooks, fountain pens, or even typewriters is useless (other than their inherent beauty) without their use.
