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The Corona Zephyr manufactured by L. C. Smith & Corona Co. of Syracuse, NY was produced from 1938-1941 before being superseded by the Smith-Corona Skyriter.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:
Photo Gallery
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.
On March 11, 2023, I’d gotten a nice deal on a Remington Streamline portable typewriter in a generally uncontested online auction. I was certainly taking a small chance on a typewriter only by a few photos and the label “untested”, but I couldn’t resist the mint blue color which seemed like it would be a close match to my TWSBI Eco T fountain pen and my custom General Fireproofing 20 gauge steel desk.
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!
Overall
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.
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.
Keys
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.
Ribbon
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.
Other Functionality
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.
Typeface Sample
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):
orange – intellectual history
dark grey – memory, method of loci, memory palaces
blue – commonplace books
green – index cards, slips, zettelkasten traditions
In my recent typewriter collecting spree, I’ve received what may be the best of the group so far. Immaculately wrapped and boxed, the portable Remington Quiet-Riter arrived on my doorstep yesterday afternoon. With it’s incredibly smooth, quiet action and crisp elite typeface, I can tell it is going to be my daily driver for years to come.
Overall Condition
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.
The serial number on the Remington Quiet-Riter can be found stamped into the chassis on the right hand side of the machine on a piece of metal next to the ribbon spool underneath its hood.
Keys
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.
Other Functionality
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:
Typeface Sample
The pitch on this machine is 12 characters per inch (elite). The full platen is 110 characters wide.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting an index card, writing a sentence, and a return on the 1957 Remington Quiet-Riter.
Photo Gallery
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.
I purchased this SCM typewriter through an online auction on 2024-03-02 and received it this morning on 2024-03-07 at 10:00 AM. The seller stated this was a 1969, but the Typewriter Database doesn’t seem to have serial number dating for this range of typewriters which were manufactured between 1966 and 1972. I doubt the seller was in possession of any details to support their 1969 claim.
The machine didn’t come with its original manual, but Richard Polt’s site has a reasonably close one for the Smith-Corona Galaxie line. You have to love the atomic logo on the front and the description “World’s Finest Non-Electric Portable”, which means that at the time, electric machines must have begun taking over the market.
Serial number: 6T2V-146176
Overall condition
The machine is in fairly reasonable shape with some scratches and imperfections. I’ll clean it up and post some additional photos shortly. I’ve already created a stub for it on the Typewriter Database. One of the noticeable bits of “wear” is that what were surely white plastic trim and keys have yellowed with light exposure over the ages.
There is some body wear and scratching commensurate with age, particularly where the return bar might hit the hood. It sadly didn’t come with a case.
The good news is that it not only works, but works pretty well for the model and age and the $18.00 I paid for it. Just playing with it a bit this afternoon has already given me more joy than the cost of admission. I can’t wait until I’ve given it a complete overhaul.
Keys
Space bar key is friction fit onto the keyboard and came off pretty easily when I flipped it over for some quick repairs. Fortunately it goes back on quickly.
I think this is the first time I’ve had a typewriter with a dedicated “1” / “!” key rather than relying on the “l” or the usual apostrophe-back space-period combination for those to glyphs.
It came with broken linkages on keys “1”, “T”, and “.”, but these were easily fixed although the “.” was blocked a bit by internal mechanisms. The “T” type-bar was slightly bent, but when back into alignment with a small tweak. All the keys work well though the “.” is a bit sticky, something that should clear itself up once fully cleaned. I suspect that these broken linkages were the reason the last owner gave up the typewriter. Overall, the typewriter has a pretty sharp action and a satisfying snap when typing. I’m including a sound file below.
A simple “surgery” to fix some broken keys and we’re off to the races.
For the fast typist that occasionally gets stuck with jammed keys, this model has a key unjammer (on the right side indicated with a key that has a down arrow over two opposing right and left slant marks). When pressed, it presumably pushes back on the U-bar which forces the typebars back. I’ll have to take a closer look at the mechanism when I open it up for a deep clean. This allows the typist the ability to keep their hands on the keys during a jam instead of needing to put their hand into the basket and manually fixing it. The key is roughly where the backspace/delete key on a computer keyboard would be, so it’s reasonably usable for the modern typist.
The machine comes with a clever tab, tab set, and tab clear arrangement just above the top row of keys. With the rear carriage open, one can see a row of metal “teeth” which are either switched “on” or “off” to allow the tab mechanism to operate.
The typewriter also has a fantastic “power-space” button to the right of the space bar that allows the carriage to quickly ratchet itself along. I’ve never had a machine that did this and can imagine using it regularly. I can’t wait to get into the internals to see how the mechanics of this work.
Other Features
The rubber feet are in reasonable shape and are still soft/functional.
The machine seems to be missing a plastic cover on the left side of the carriage, but this doesn’t affect functionality. The clear plastic line indicator which also holds the paper against the platen where the slugs hit the paper has sadly been broken off. There are still extant posts, so perhaps I can manufacture a replacement. One can align the top of the line retainer with lines on one’s paper and then advance to get proper type alignment in any case. This can be done by pushing in the black button in the center of the left platen knob to allow for variable line spacing
The unit came with its original metal ribbon spool, but otherwise didn’t have ribbon, so I’ve replaced it with a blue/green ribbon combination. Ribbon installation was very simple and straightforward. Of note here is that instead of lifting up and back as on many other typewriter models, the hood on this model has two internal arms which allow it to slide forward for easy access to the ribbon and type-basket.
The bell works!
The center of the type-basket is marked with the phrase “Jeweled Escapement” underneath a crown which includes a small red jewel.
The machine comes with a page gage on the left side of the platen assembly with markings for several lengths of paper. This cleverly allows one to set the page length of paper one is using, insert the paper, and then as one gets to the bottom of a sheet, lines appear for 2 inches left, 1 inch left, and finally a red line to indicate that one is at the end of the page and will need to quit typing to change sheets. With careful management, this allows the typist to have a consistent page margin at the bottom of their sheets.
The Galaxie Deluxe has line spacing controls for single, double, and even triple spacing.
At the base of the carriage near the right platen knob, there is a metal locking tab that when actuated will center the carriage and place it into a pseudo-locked position for storage or transportation in a case. It prevents the machine from typing or the carriage from moving to the left. Presumably it also disengages the escapement to prevent wear on the teeth during shipping, but I’ll have to check this when I’ve got it opened for cleaning.
Typeface Specimen
This typewriter uses a pica scale and the paper scale has markings up to 83 but will space to 84.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting an index card, writing a sentence, and a return on the Galaxie Deluxe.
Photo Gallery
View of the rear of the typewriter with the rear carriage cover opened up to reveal the metal teeth that allow the tab mechanism to work.
Hiding inside
One of my favorite parts of used goods is the hidden things one finds inside of them. Here I really only expected the typical pencil eraser bits, but I also found a tiny photo of a boy from what appears to be the early 1970s.
I’m tending to lean more toward telling students to rely more directly on something like Cornell notes while they’re in classes learning the basics of an area. Too many students considering starting a Luhmann-artig zettelkasten think that they ought to write down everything, atomize it, and link it which would take an inordinate amount of time to those new to the process. This is particularly troublesome because most courses (especially introductory ones) are designed such that much of the material should be fully internalized by the time the course is over. When you take a math class you might learn what 2+2 is and make a note about it, but by the time the course is over, that idea should now be so basic that keeping it in your system should be a bit laughable. Spending time to excerpt it from a lecture, make it atomic, and interlink it is a lot of make-work that isn’t likely to be useful either for the learning the thing to begin with, much less remember it in the long run to potentially use it again.
Once one has mastered most of a course, they might profitably skim through their notes at the end to summarize outcomes they saw and find most useful and interesting. Those things along with the summaries of their Cornell notes might then be useful zettels to keep in the long run. A zettelkasten practice like that of Niklas Luhmann is more useful when one already has a strong lay of the land and they’re attempting to do the work of expanding on the boundaries of new areas of knowledge.
If you are a student contemplating creating a zettelkasten, then the bulk of your notes probably ought to be short snippets kept with your bibliography notes and should not be individual zettels. By this I mean specifically that you might have a bibliographic note (reference note or literature note) for each individual lecture with some fleeting notes about it kept with that card. Then if necessary, you’ll probably only have one or two zettels or permanent notes out of each lecture. If you’re attempting to create 30 permanent notes a day and interlink them all, then you’re going to find yourself overworked and overwhelmed within just a few days.
Analyzes the differences in consciousness between oral and literate societies and points out the intellectual, literary, and social effects of writing
It’s been on my list for a while now, and I have newer digital editions, but today I acquired a first edition hardcover of Walter J. Ong’s text Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word (1982). Something about it cries out to be read in its original print incarnation.
It is in excellent shape, though missing a dust jacket and has the attendant portions of an ex-library copy (Widener University). The ex-library features bring me great joy though because its got some reasonable evidence of prior readers in the form of marginalia in at least six different hands as well as two different languages (English and Chinese). I can’t wait to add my own to the growing list.
In a quest to expand on my analog office practices, last Saturday, I drove out to Rancho Cucamonga to purchase a spectacular midcentury Gaylord Bros., Inc. modular library card catalog. I spent parts of the week making some minor tweaks (gluing some broken wood rails) and cleaning it up in the garage. Last night, as a present and to celebrate the start of Autumn, I brought it into the house to reassemble it. It now lives in the dining room adjacent to the the office and near both the bar as well as the library that others in the household prefer to call our formal living room. I honestly didn’t pre-plan it this way, but given our floorplan, it is sitting in the “heart” of our home.
Three of the four sections are all similarly made out of oak and appear to be co-contemporaneous in terms of style and materials (solid wood and metal). The final section, a five drawer insert is obviously of later manufacture and while stained brown with what appears to potentially be a mahogany frontispiece, has plastic trays with metal fittings and what appear to be galvanized steel card stops. The other sections comprise a low level table-like support with four legs; a 5×3 drawer section; and a 2 inch thick top which covers the holes in the top of the modular drawer sections and provides a flat surface. The top section also features the traditional Gaylord Bros., Inc. name plate.
Given the subtle intricacies of the construction, I’ll provide some photos of how the pieces dovetail together as well as the smaller mechanics and features in a future post.
Fully assembled the piece is 33″ wide x 17 3/8″ deep and stands 36 1/2″ tall. With internal drawer space of 13 3/4″ for the 15 drawers and 14 1/2″ for the other 5, there should be space for approximately 38,715 index cards.
I’m thrilled that all the fittings seem to be original, and all the drawers have their original card catalog rods. The drawers on the 5×3 drawer section have a spring loaded mechanism under the front of the drawer which when pushed to the left side unlocks the card catalog rods which have beefy brass knobs. The 5×1 drawer section rods are unlocked by pulling up on them slightly from the bottom and then pulling them straight out.
I’ll have to do some more in-depth research of old Gaylord Bros. catalogs, but based on materials, manufacture, and style, I’m going to guess that the older portion of the card catalog dates from the mid-30s to the 1940s, while the newer section is likely late 60s. The overall size and standardized, modular structure allows the pieces to sit together in quite a clever way and were made over a long enough period of time that different pieces from disparate decades still work well together. While the wood grain, stain, and even fittings are all slightly different, the to different styles work fairly well together.
For those who appreciated my recent article Market analysis of library card catalogs in 2023, I’m thrilled to report that I purchased this stunning beauty—one of the prettiest, oldest, and best conditioned catalogs I’ve seen listed—for a very reasonable $250. I suspect the seller, who is a vintage collector, seasoned eBay seller, and is well aware of the market, may have gone even lower, but I was happy to overpay a little. Given the online market, something like this would usually list for between $1,200 and $1,600, but would likely sit unsold and unloved for years.
I love the style and the condition, and it does make for a fantastic little piece of fine furniture with a lovely patina. Unexpectedly, someone else in the house may be even more enamored of it than I, which bodes well for its actual long term care and use. Currently it will serve as an archive storage for some of my 3 x 5″ index card note collection in addition to storage of a partial library card cataloging for some of our physical books. I also have cards from an older rolodex and a small recipe collection that will take up residence. Other empty drawers will house a small wine selection along with several bottles of scotch until they’re pushed out by the growing collection of cards.
Surely this is what Hemingway would have done?!
Other than general maintenance I don’t think I’ll be doing any other restoration work on it beyond the small fixes I’ve already made.
On the top of the catalog, in addition to space for writing notes, I’ll keep one of my two desktop card indexes and a 1948 Smith-Corona Clipper.
Latest Kaleido3 screen, HD and clear ePaper, Android 11, an exclusive GPU, and a Qualcomm processor. Tab Ultra C is an ePaper tablet PC designed to strike a balance between focus and enjoyment.
Ordered this a few weeks back and it finally arrived today. Can’t wait to delve into how this may help improve my reading and note taking process.
