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.
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.
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:
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.
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!?
Today is the chronological first diary entry in Octavia Butler’s 1993 book The Parable of the Sower. It’s particularly poignant for me as parallels in the book mirror portions of my life. I’ve just turned 50, my daughter is 13, I live in Altadena, CA, near the neighborhood where Octavia Butler grew up and in the neighborhood which ostensibly serves as the setting for the story. More eerily, the state of politics in America doesn’t seem very far away from what is described in Butler’s prescient book.
If you’ve never read it, today is an excellent one to start. If you don’t have a copy, I highly recommend buying one from my friend Nikki who runs the independent bookstore Octavia’s Bookshelf in Pasadena.
I’ve just begun re-reading it again today as a reminder…
I got a 1958 Olympia SM3 De Luxe typewriter in a gray crinkle finish for my birthday. Naturally I’ve been doing some research and working on cleaning it up for regular use.
Along the way I’ve been aggregating some related Olympia SM3 (and other SM family) resources and videos which include several on use, a few comparing them to other machines (for those considering buying them), and a variety on taking them apart and adjusting them to peak performance including doing rack, ring & cylinder, on feet, motion, silent return spring, trip timing, and spacebar adjustments.
Olympia SM series typewriter Identification
First a note on the name. The SM designator is an abbreviation for the German Schreibmaschine Mittelgroß which translates as medium-sized typewriter (portable). This stands in comparison with Olympia’s SG series which stands for Schreibmaschine Groß meaning large typewriter (standard) and the SF series which stands for Schreibmaschine Flach or flat typewriter (ultraportable) .
Olympia typewriters are often identified with clear badging as to their make, but almost never have a model number listed on the typewriter itself. Originally identification was only done with the inclusion of a typewriter manual which listed the model name on the front of the brochure. Sadly, after decades of use, as with most typewriter manuals, it has frequently gone missing. This means that owners and collectors will typically need to be able to visually distinguish between the various models which can often be missing from online sales listings. How is one able to identify which model their Olympia typewriter is?
Differentiating the Olympia SM2, Olympia SM3, and Olympia SM4
The primary means of distinguishing between the SM2, SM3, and SM4 is the tabulator functionality or lack thereof. The Olympia SM2 doesn’t have a tabulator at all, so you won’t see the ability to set or remove tabs or a tab key on the keyboard. The SM3 has its tab sets on the back of the machine and a simple tab key on the top right hand side of the keyboard. Finally, the SM4 has tab set and clear keys on either side of the spacebar and the tab key in the same spot as the SM3. While there are other subtle differences between the three, which also showed small changes throughout the years they were made, the visual presence or absence of the tabs and their keys is the primary distinguishing feature that most collectors use to properly identify and distinguish among the three.
Most typically the Olympia SM3 typewriter came with a futuristic looking, curvy shaped silver case with a plastic strap handle while the SM2 and SM4 came rectangular cases. There are definitely diversions from this rule of thumb, but it generally holds true which usually allows one to identify an SM3 simply from the shape of its case. Incidentally those restoring broken cases may find it interesting to know that the silver paint is often hiding some spectacularly beautiful grained wood.
Be aware that the various models of the SM series were manufactured simultaneously and their serial numbers ran concurrently, so the serial numbers can’t be used to distinguish between them. Doing so requires looking at the variations of features and visual cues which are generally well documented on the Typewriter Database.
Differentiating the Olympia SM5, Olympia SM7, Olympia SM8, and Olympia SM9
The SM5 and SM7 were introduced at the same time in 1961 and are very similar to the internals of the SM4 mechanically. The SM5 was a less expensive model and the SM7 had a newer and more angular body.
The SM8 and SM9 were introduced in 1964. A primary change here is that they have a segment shift instead of the carriage shift of the earlier SM models. The SM8 is lacking both a keyset tabulator and touch selector which were standard on the higher end SM9. The SM8 also has body-colored carriage ends, rather than chromed ends used on the SM9.
Example of a 1964 Olympia SM9 typewriter
Olympia SM3 Video Playlist
I’ve aggregated a variety of YouTube videos covering the Olympia SM3 typewriter as a playlist which cover general use as well as tear down, common repairs, adjustments, and reassembly. They appear in rough order of introductory to more advanced as well as in order of adjustments. Because of similarities across the SM line, these should serve as a good guide for other machines, though quick searches for specific models may reveal more relevant advice, particularly when it comes to small differences across the line (the shift from carriage shift to segment shift in the SM8/SM9 comes quickly to mind here.)
Special thanks should go to Duane Jensen of Phoenix Typewriter and Gerren Balch of The HotRod Typewriter Co. for the bulk of the work in creating and generating most of these videos.
Surely there are other excellent videos out there, but this list makes a pretty solid crash course which can be used as a jumping off point.
Visually looking at them is usually enough to diagnose the issue, but the problem usually presents as the carriage sitting noticeably lower than it should so that it rubs against the body of the typewriter and/or doesn’t move freely. Some people will notice that typing in lower case is troublesome, but that typing in uppercase doesn’t present any issues. Often these rubber spacers have been compressed and have hardened. In less lucky cases, (usually only) the rear bushings have turned into black tar, so you’ll want to take care to keep this tar off of anything nearby as it’s incredibly sticky and difficult to clean. It can definitely stain the case and/or the machine itself.
Fortunately the repair only requires some readily available generic rubber washers and a screwdriver to replace them. This is one of the quickest and easiest typewriter repairs to start off with and can be a good confidence booster. Incidentally appropriate washers should be approximately 1/4″ thick, large enough in diameter to provide some cushion and with a hole big enough to fit the screw that holds the frame on. Your plumbers’ section at the local hardware store likely sells something appropriate. I’ve used Everbilt 1/4″ thick flat bibb washers with 1/2″ or 9/16″ OD. Others have reported good luck with Danco 1/2 rubber washer Universal (item #198804, model #88569) — 00 trade size with 1/2″ OD and 3/16″ ID.
Olympia SM Series Usage and Repair Manuals
Along with other typewriter manuals collected by Richard Polt, he’s got manuals for the Olympia SM3 in both English and German. Manuals for most of the rest of the series are available on his site as well.
Hopefully this aggregated list of resources will help the next Olympia typewriter enthusiast who finds one in grandma’s basement or who wants to kick off a writing career following in the footsteps of fellow SM3 typists including John Updike, Woody Allen, Frank Herbert, Patricia Highsmith, Robert Penn Warren, Harlan Ellison, Carson McCullers, John Hughes, Louis L’ Amour, William Gaddis, Stan Laurel, Ryan Adams, Ruskin Bond, Evan S. Connell, Kevin McGowin, or Anaïs Nin.
If I’ve missed any truly important resources, please do let me know.
Usually I don’t make typewriter acquisition posts until I’ve done some reasonable work to get them cleaned up and working well. I’m going to make an exception with this one because it’s in much rougher shape than others I’ve picked up. It’s going to take more work to clean up and get functioning properly again. I’ll try to document the work I do on it to get it back into fighting shape.
I suspect it’s either going to be this or an Olympia SG1 I’ve had my eye on which will be my daily standard machine.
The Royal HH
First, it’s a Royal HH. It’s one of Royal’s standard desktop machines which they started manufacturing in 1952 and which ran until at least 1957.
This is my first standard typewriter as most of the others in my collection are portable typewriters which accompany one ultra-portable. “Standard” indicates its a big machine that was meant to be placed permanently on a desk. At about 30 pounds, it wasn’t meant to be carried around like the portables, but on the other hand, being built with more weight and internal space, it was designed to work smoothly forever with modest care. Thirty pounds is a lot of typewriter. For comparison, my Smith-Corona Silent is just 12.8 pounds.
According to Richard Polt’s well-researched compilation, writers who were known to own and use the Royal HH include: William Buckley, Charles Bukowski, George Burns, Herb Coen, Truman Capote, Bruce Catton, Patty Chayefsky, Don Dellilo, Alicen Denham, James T. Farrell, Paul Russell, Hugh Heffner, Elia Kazan, Sterling North, Robert B. Parker, Syliva Plath, Mario Puzo, Robert Penn Warren, Eudora Welty, and William Zinzer.
The serial number stamped on the right side of my machine just underneath the carriage when moved to the left is HHE-5765903, which the typewriterdatabase.com places as a late 1955 machine. (The grid for the Royal serial numbers starts 1955 with 5,500,000 and the 1956 model year stars with serial number 5,787,000.) The HH portion of the serial number identifies it as an HH model and the E indicates that it’s an elite typeface with 12 characters per inch versus the P which was reserved for pica typeface (usually 10 CPI). Like most typewriters of this vintage it also types at 6 lines per inch.
Based on the available original colors listed at the Typewriter Database, I’m going to say that mine is done in Royaltone Light Gray wrinkle. Other HH model paint colors included: Charcoal Grey smooth, Nile Green smooth, Horizon Blue smooth, Coral Rose, Gray Frieze, and Royaltone Dark Gray wrinkle.
Purchase and initial observations/testing
I got this typewriter in an uncontested online auction for $5.99, so in my book it’s already a steal. It had sat on the site for weeks, slowly coming down from a price of $30. Sadly as is almost always the case with online auctions, shipping is the true ordeal. Even moreso when you consider that this typewriter is 2-3 times the weight and significantly larger than portable machines. It also doesn’t help that these machines never had cases.
Naturally the seller chose a poorly sized box, put in some heavy padding, threw the typewriter in, and put some modest, but heavily inadequate padding around it. That’s it… ugh. They made no effort to secure the carriage, so when I opened it up, it was all the way to the right. They didn’t even bother to do padding for the back of the machine.
How not to package up a typewriter for shipping.
Worse, it definitely took some hits in shipping so the right side Magic Margin lever is bent and isn’t working. Not having the carriage in place, the left side also took a major hit and the frame in the back left corner is bent so that the carriage doesn’t move freely. It’s going to take some heavy work to get it back into alignment if it can be done at all.
With a screwdriver as a lever and some significant manual help, I was able to eke out a short typing sample. The key action is gummy at best though none of the keys were too sticky. I expect a thorough cleaning will revive a more snappy typing action.
It’s definitely going to need a serious cleaning both inside and out. Someone wrote a large “50” on the back of the machine in the left rear in thick black magic marker. (Perhaps it was from a large typing pool with at least 50+ machines?) This seemed like a a propitious “sign” when I bought it as a 50th Birthday present, so let’s hope for good luck as a result. The decals on it are mediocre at best, so maybe it’s a good candidate for redoing the exterior even though the rest of the paint is in really good condition.
The alignment of the type is generally okay, but it’s going to need at least a motion adjustment. There’s some occasional piling of letters in my short test. Hopefully some of it clears up in cleaning, but knowing my terrible typing technique and Royal’s famous finicky touch, it may also need some adjustment afterwards to the timing.
The platen is as hard as they come, and will need replacing.
The all black ribbon isn’t totally horrible, but is a tad old and on the drying side. It came with original metal standard spools. I’m sure I’ll swap out the ribbon for a new bichrome black/red which the machine supports. It’s possible that the ribbon reverse mechanism may need some help.
The right platen knob is loose. It’s going to need a screw tightened and/or replaced. The variable spacing mechanisms seem to work, but could be cleaner in their functioning.
Hopefully I don’t run across any additional internal damage or issues as a result of the poor shipping.
Favorite Feature
Because I do a lot of typing on index cards, I can already tell that the most interesting feature on this machine are the spring loaded card fingers. They’ve got tiny little switches on them, which—when pressed—flip them over and out of the way.
Two months ago at the end of April, I saw a Royal QDL for sale for $9.99. The temptation was just too much to own what appeared to be a mid-1950s model typewriter for such a pittance. The gray body with the green keys was appealing. I was already a fan of my 1949 Royal QDL designed by Henry Dreyfuss. I was totally unsure of the condition, but it didn’t look half bad from the photos I saw at the time.
Naturally the seller totally botched the shipping, didn’t lock the typewriter into its case or provide any internal packing materials, so it was left it to rattle around inside its case as it wended its way across the country from Indiana to Los Angeles. There was some damage, but I’ve managed to carefully repair the worst of it this past weekend as a way of celebrating National Typewriter Day. This beauty entered my collection on 2024-05-07.
Now that I’ve got it cleaned up and adjusted pretty well with a new ribbon spinning around inside, I have to admit it may be one of the most solid machines in my segment of typewriters.
I’ll admit that the mid 1950s Royals don’t seem to be the most sexy or desirable machines out there from a collectors’ perspective. As a result they’re often available at bargain basement prices like the almost $10 I paid for this one. But on the other hand, they’re sturdy and reliable, and make really great machines for the money. If you’re new to the typewriter game and want to actually type on a regular basis, you really can’t go too far wrong with one like this. I’ve now picked up three for incredible pricing and all of them have been highly workable right out of the box.
If it helps, this popular model of typewriter was the machine of choice for Alistair Cooke, Clifford Odets (ca ’57), Marlon Brando, General Claire Chennault (ca ’57), Stephen King, James Michener (’49/’50), Edward R. Murrow, David Niven, Anne Sexton, and Theodore Sturgeon (’48).
Design
Naturally as a 1955, this machine follows the striking redesign of the QDL by Henry Dreyfuss in 1948. While it doesn’t have the same stark angular shape as the ’48-’50 models it still follows his general template, but with green and white doubleshot plastic molded keys instead of the glass tombstone keys. As a 1955 model it’s got just about all the bells and whistles a manual typist could ask.
Overall condition
Despite the rattled shipment cross country, the machine was generally in good shape for its 69 years around the sun. The keys all worked reasonably well, and the interior wasn’t great, but also wasn’t as dusty and dirty as some machines I’ve acquired. One of the biggest areas of wear is the numerical scale on the paper bail. The exterior was quite dirty, but cleaned up nicely with mild detergent and water. I could probably go back and be more aggressive with it, but there is something nice about leaving a bit of the patina of use. There are a few scuffs and the decals are in generally good shape though a touch faded on the back. My general experience with these Royal decals is that they don’t do well with water or even the lightest cleaning, so generally I leave them alone.
The serial number RA-3010220 places its manufacture between January 1955 (2,977,900) and January 1956 (3,177,500). Based on my very basic, unscientific linear manufacturing birthday calculation using data from the Typewriter Database, I would celebrate this QDL’s birthday as February 28, 1955. For the die hard movie fans, this means it might have been the sort of contemporary machine that George McFly might have used in Hill Valley on November of that year to write some science fiction.
The typewriter came with modern plastic universal spools and a monochrome black ribbon which seemed spotty at best, so I quickly opted to replace it with new bichrome black and red ribbon which better suits its functionality. I do wish I had the original metal spools.
The machine internally was in broadly good shape, but needed some very light cleaning which went fairly quickly with some mineral spirits. I’m generally happy now with the overall alignment of the machine. When typing at full speed I do occasionally get some piling up of letters, but it’s infrequent enough that I’ll let it go for the moment.
I want to play around with both the touch control and the speed control settings before I tinker with the alignment any more. I still want to experiment a bit with the Magic Margins on this machine some more, particularly as it has both left and right and my other Royals only have the automatic functionality for the left hand margins. This QDL has a medium weighted segment shift.
The return lever was a bit sticky but easily cleanable and repairable. The space bar was at a bit of an angle, and I had some issues with it when re-attaching the body panels which caused both the space bar and the keys to bind and not work. Forming the spacebar a bit got it not only back into the body, but functioning properly as well as square with the world again.
I also want to properly polish up the keys and give a final tweak to the level of the ribbon so the bichrome is perfectly aligned.
Keys
This Quiet De Luxe has 49 keys all in the same green plastic with white lettering. It has a standard QWERTY-based U.S. keyboard for 1950s typewriter. The left and right shifts, and left shift lock are blank. The “BACK SPACE” key is in the upper left and the “TAB” key is in the upper right. The margin release (labeled “MAR REL”) is sitting between banks 2 and 3 on the right hand side. The spacebar at the bottom spans the length of about 7 of the standard keys.
Other Functionality
It didn’t come with one, so the closest manual I could find online was a 1952 manual via Richard Polt’s website.
The “RA” serial prefix introduced “Speed Control” motor tension control, similar to “Carriage Control” on the Royal standard model HH. According to the Typewriter Database this feature vanished with the end of the RA prefix QDLs in 1956. I’ve only tinkered with this feature a little bit, but hope to circle back on it in the future.
Looking into the right side of the carriage is a worm drive and a numbered indicator numbered 1-5 and controlled by the black thumbscrew on the left side of the machine.
The back of the machine has a spring loaded paper table which is actuated and held by two metal hooks. The right side of the paper table had taken a hit (probably in shipping) and the hook on the right hand side had become disconnected. A bit of forming and patient work got it reconnected and it now seems to be functioning as expected.
This QDL has a tabulator hidden underneath the paper table. It’s set manually using several sliding blocks along a metal bar.
The platen knob on the left hand side has a permanent variable spacing push button on the outside which allows the platen to turn freely. For temporary variable spacing of the platen (often done for subscript and superscript characters) there’s a black thumb switch on the left just to the right of the carriage return. Once those characters are typed, flip the switch back and the platen re-engages at the same spacing set up as before. Just to the left of this switch is a sliding switch to control the single, double, or triple spacing mechanism.
There is no sign of a carriage centering or locking mechanism.
The back of the paper table has an embedded spring loaded pair of metal rabbit ear-like paper supports.
This model has a variation of Smith-Corona’s “Page Gage”, but will require some thinking about to use properly as it doesn’t seem as straightforward as S-C’s version.
This machine did have some felt on the main body panels, but none under the hood or in the paper table, and not nearly as much as some of the 1950s Smith-Corona machines.
Case
The case for the typewriter is a sturdy, relatively thick fiberboard covered in yellow tweed-like fabric on the outside with a smooth green interior. There is a solid metal cleat in the back to which the rear of the typewriter can be inserted and there are two metal cleats with clamps that hold the front sides of the typewriter down. There is a thumb lever on the left rear hinge of the case which allows the top to be separated easily from the bottom. It has some scratches, marks and wear, but nothing out of the ordinary for a case of this age and use.
The top of the case has a traditional U-shaped bracket for holding papers, but there are also to metal brackets on either side to help hold the typewriter in place while the case is closed. One of them is a long flat fin which helps to push the return lever and hold it in while the case is closed.
The hardware on the case seems to be in good condition including the chromed lock and the black Bakelite handle. Naturally, though the lock works as expected, this machine didn’t come with an included key. Finally the case has some rubber feet on the “closed bottom” configuration, but seems to be missing the feet for use with the case open. I’ll see if I can’t pick up something period appropriate to remedy this.
Typeface Sample
This machine has an pica typeface with 10 characters per inch and a traditional bichrome switch as well as a stencil setting.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return on the 1955 Royal Quiet De Luxe:
Photo Gallery
Below are some additional photos of this lovely Quiet De Luxe. There are some additional photos of this typewriter taken apart into pieces from a prior post about cleaning and repairing portions.
The 1948 obviously has a very distinctive black frame with dark gray hood and highlights with the black stripe across the front where the badge is. The QDL’s were distinguished from their less expensive Arrow model brothers by the presence of a tabulator and the attendant tab key in the top right of the keyboard.
The 1949 and early 1950 version of the QDL were given lighter gray bodies and the black band across the front was replaced by a chrome strip which encircled the ribbon control levers on either side.
According to the Typewriter Database and exemplars there, the Quiet De Luxe had a re-design of the shell near the end of 1950, somewhere around serial number 2,000,000 (between 1974816 and 2064139). The hole in the hood/ribbon cover was enlarged, the chrome strip across the front was removed in lieu of chrome “wing” inserts for the ribbon control levers “except on special-order and some foreign keyboards.”
Based on the photos of Royal QDL and portable users collected by Richard Polt on his website at https://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/typers.html, we can now separate out some Royal portable users to more closely specify which models from which years they were using.
I started with Vladimir and Vera Nabokov. The two photos [1] [2] taken at different angles by Carl Mydans for LIFE magazine in September 1958 clearly show a light gray machine with a tabulator, the iconic hood, and the distinctive chrome strip of the 1949/early 1950 Dreyfuss Royal Quiet De Luxe. It would be nice if Vera’s hands weren’t covering up the distinctive space bar at the front of the machine’s frame, but the look and style of the case bottom the typewriter is sitting in are also consistent with the 1949 model. Incidentally, the Mydans photoshoot was just weeks after the American release of Lolita in August 1958. It was the first novel since Gone with the Wind to sell 100,000 copies in its first three weeks.
Similarly because of the distinctive features/colors of the 1948 vs 1949/early 50 models, we can put both Alistair Cooke and James Michener down as 1949/early 1950 QDL owners. Their machines also have the distinctive all gray bodies with black spacebars integral to the frame, chrome strip on front, and definitely have tab keys.
Of those in the Polt’s list, only Theodore Sturgeon has the original Dreyfuss redesigned 1948 Royal Quiet De Luxe. This photo isn’t as clear and a museum card is covering up the black space bar. We also don’t see the cutout on the hood because of the angle of the photo, but the overall coloring, the black stripe on the front, and the chrome ovals of the ribbon controls are definitely there as is the tab key in the top right of the keyboard. Better pictures could help solidify the identification, but other QDLs were different enough in shape that I’m reasonably confident here.
Of the other Royal portables Polt has listed, Marlon Brando‘s photo will need more research, but his machine doesn’t appear to have have a tabulator based on the bare silver bar on the back where the tabulator stops would have been attached, so it’s currently misidentified as a QDL. (Edit: Some later 50’s models hid their tabulator functionality underneath the paper table, so perhaps it could have been a QDL.) It could also possibly be an Arrow, a Companion (no tabulator), the related ‘F’ model, or an Aristocrat which was also manufactured with a tabulator. Stephen King’s photos [1] [2] aren’t clear or detailed enough for me to make an easy determination other than to say they’re not from 1948-early 1950. Anne Sexton’s definitely looks like a Royal portable from the later 1950s but needs more research. It’s definitely not from 1948-early 1950 either. A possible determining factor is that hers doesn’t appear to have the typical margin release key on the right hand side which was typically placed 1/2 way between banks 2 and 3.
For other Royal fans out there, I’m curious to hear what you think about these identifications? Which is your favorite: the 1948 or the 1949/early 1950 version? Or do you prefer those from the later 1950’s?
I’ve been wanting either a 1950s Series 5 Smith-Corona Silent or Silent-Super for a while now to better support some of the regular use of index cards in my daily work. Both models came with standard three roller paper bails as well as two adjustable paper fingers on top of Smith-Corona’s traditional two metal paper card fingers found next to the ribbon vibrator assembly. This means that I can type not only more easily on index cards, but the process is far quieter and also allows me to use more of the card’s surface area without as much work.
I’ve seen variations of these machines in untested/unknown/poor condition selling at auction for $50-150 dollars recently. (I saw a really filthy/poor condition and not fully functioning Sterling, the Silent’s little brother, with a disintegrating ribbon in a vintage shop last month for $150 as their rock bottom price.) In clean, working condition these can easily be north of $150, especially if they’ve been serviced and had their platens replaced ($300-450 is not unreasonable here.)
I was thus thrilled to see this one listed as a “Vintage Smith-Corona Typewriter” for auction this past month. The fact that GoodWill left off the Silent’s model name in the auction title gave me great hope that it would be overlooked by most hunters. My luck paid out handily when I ultimately won the auction for a paltry $23.00! Things got even better when the machine showed up on my doorstep incredibly well packaged and in far better condition than I might have hoped.
It has easily jumped to the top of my collection as my daily use typewriter.
Design
Without even cleaning this up, it was almost immediate to see why Tom Hanks gushes over the Smith-Corona Silent.
Like Mr. Hanks, I’m a fan of the smooth curves, the low-slung body design, and who wouldn’t love the two sets of racing stripes on the hood. I’ve always been a fan of the dark brown body color matched with green plastic keys. The six light green-yellow keys on the sides of the keyboard and the similarly colored Smith-Corona injection molded plastic badging on the hood provide some nice contrast as do the matching numbers and hashmarks on both the margin scale and the carriage front scale. And almost better, this model has a brown plastic spacebar which matches the body color incredibly well compared to some others I’ve seen which seem terribly mis-matched. The slightly cupped key caps have a lovely gleam in contrast to the matte finish of the crinkle paint. The chrome margin stops have red arrows that almost look like exclamation points and were designed to be simple to move and set.
Overall condition
My particular typewriter, received on 2024-06-01, was in about as great a shape as one could expect a second hand typewriter picked up at a thrift shop to be.
The serial number 5S-409288 places the manufacture between December 1952 and December 1953 based on data from the typewriter database. Assuredly it was made in 1953. Based on my very basic linear manufacturing birthday calculation using data from the Typewriter Database, I’ll celebrate the Silent’s birthday as May 4, 1953. This means that it’s just past 71 years old. The rock hard platen can certainly attest to its age.
The typewriter came with what appear to be its original metal spools and a monochrome black ribbon which seemed to have a bit of life left in it. While the original owner may have manually rewound ribbon onto it, given the generally good condition of the machine, the evidence might suggest that this had only one owner who gave it relatively light use. Since for all intentions this is going to be my primary daily machine, I opted to unspool its original ribbon for use on a monochrome machine later and broke out the brand new reel of bichrome black/red nylon ribbon I just got to have a fresh ribbon ready to go.
The machine internally was in broadly good shape, but needed some very light cleaning. There was one slightly sticky key, but simply working it for a minute or two got it free and clear without needing to break out the mineral spirits.
The only significant issue the typewriter has out of the box besides some light dust and dirt that needed cleaning was that the shift lock has a tiny bit of play to it which requires adjustment so shifted capitals line up properly with their shift lock capitals.
Keys
This Silent has 49 keys in molded plastic with a small indentation mean to hug the fingertips. It’s a standard QWERTY-based U.S. keyboard for 1950s typewriter. The 42 primary keys are dark green with light green glyphs. On the outsides of the keyboard are lighter green keys including the shift, shift lock, and backspace (labeled with a right pointing arrow) keys on the left and the right shift, margin release (labeled “M-R”), and “TAB” keys on the right hand side. The spacebar at the bottom is in brown plastic to match the typewriter body
Is your keyboard a dirt and dust magnet?
Other Functionality
It didn’t come with one, so the closest manual I could find online was a 1951 mid-sized portables manual which seems pretty close to the functionality of this Silent.
While drilled out to accept screws to keep the space locked up and hidden on related models, this Silent is missing those screws and has a fold-down paper table which conveniently hides the tab sets on the back of the machine. The tab sets here aren’t the traditional sliders, but instead are detachable (and thus potentially lose-able) metal clips which slide in and out with some modest friction on a comb-like metal tab bar.
The platen knob on the left hand side has a permanent variable spacing pull knob on the outside which allows the platen to turn freely. For temporary variable spacing of the platen (often done for subscript and superscript characters) there’s a thumb switch on the left just to the right of the carriage return. Once those characters are typed, flip the switch back and the platen re-engages at the same spacing set up as before. Just behind this switch is the sliding switch to control the single, double, or triple spacing mechanism.
Like Smith-Coronas of the 4 and 5 series, this machine has a platen centering lever on the front right side of the carriage. When pulled up it centers the carriage and disengages the escapement and prevents both spacing or typing. This is useful for quickly storing the typewriter in its case, however it doesn’t prevent the carriage from being manually pushed from the left hand side toward the right. This means one needs to take some extra care of the machine with packing up for shipping.
The back of the paper table has an embedded spring loaded pair of metal rabbit ear-like paper supports.
The platen is reasonably swappable and has a platen release lever, but to use it, one does need to flip back the hinged paper table. After this, the platen lifts up at an angle and can be pulled out with just a small wiggle. No small/odd parts were packed into the left side of the platen assembly to worry about falling out when removing the platen.
I had seen the infamous Smith-Corona “Page Gage” on 1960s models, but was surprised to see it pop up on a 1953 machine. The functionality is a cleverly marked ring on the left side of the platen with marks to help the typist know when the bottom of the page is coming so that they can provide consistent top and bottom margins for their pages. The type gives six lines to the inch, which also helps in counts for margins.
Case
In general the case is about as good as one could hope for a machine from 1953. The case is firm and solid and the material covering is still solid and tight. A light wipe down brought most of it back into almost new condition. The top of the case with the handle required the most work as it had apparently been stored upright; as a result, it had a fairly thick layer of dirt and grime.
Typeface Sample
This machine has an elite typeface with 12 characters per inch (my favorite, and likely what Tom Hanks was referring to when he said the type was not too big and not too small). The machine has a bichrome switch as well as a stencil setting.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return on the 1953 Smith-Corona Silent:
This is a sound file of the keys being lightly pressed without hitting the ring or platen and then the light plunk of them falling back onto the felt rest inside the basket. It’s almost like the soft patter of rain.
Photo Gallery
Below are some additional photos of my favorite new machine.
The Remington All-New wasn’t on my typewriter collection list until I ran across it randomly in the typewriter database where I fell in love with some of the photos. Then only days later, I had the opportunity to pick one up out of New Mexico for a terrifically under-valued $21. I’m currently in the midst of cleaning it up a bit, but this may be one of the most beautiful machines I’ve ever seen. Given the similarities to the Remington Quiet-Riter, which I already enjoy, it was a no-brainer acquisition. I don’t think I could have designed a typewriter to pair with my McDowell & Craig Executive Tanker desk if I had tried.
Design
The Remington All-New sits in the cusp between the shiny black typewriters of the 1940s and the industrial crinkle-painted 1950s and 60s portable American machines. The sleek gunmetal gray and curving lines are just stunning to me.
The rounded hood of the machine reminds me of the streamlined silhouette of Henry Dreyfuss’ 1936 design of New York Central Railroad’s streamlined Mercury train. This is underlined as I also own a boxy 1949 Henry Dreyfuss-designed Royal Quiet De Luxe which was first released in 1948.
Given that Remington only manufactured this typewriter from 1949 into 1952 before releasing the very popular and ubiquitous Remington Quiet-Riter in 1950, and the similar but somewhat less ubiquitous Letter-Riter and Office-Riter models which all ran into the early 1960s, it seems like the shifts in the model over the first year (1949-1950) were a live engineering test for these later models. There are lots of subtle little changes in all the documented models of the All-New over the first year including in the cases. My particular model has an interesting tin-y sound on occasion and has old cream-colored masking tape on all the internal metal panels and one black taped section on the hood. Some of the versions I see in the typewriter database have two black patches of tape, presumably for some level of soundproofing. Later models of the All-New go from flat paint to the ubiquitous crinkle paint of typewriters in the ’50s and ’60s. This makes me wonder if engineers discovered that this particular thick paint treatment helped to dampen the sound of these typewriters in addition to the felt which was often glued into the ribbon cover portions of most typewriters in this time frame.
Overall condition
My particular typewriter, received on 2024-05-23, is in great exterior condition with respect to those I’ve seen in the database. There are certainly some scrapes and scuffs, but these are also easier to see on flat painted metal. The case certainly has seen better days.
The serial number AT-1997444 places the manufacture in February of 1950 based on data from the typewriter database. The “T” in the “AT” portion of the serial number indicates that the machine includes a tabulator, which not all of this line did. This means that next February 2025, my machine will celebrate it’s 75th (or diamond) birthday.
Mine came with only one original Remington ribbon core (ring) and one ribbon cover. The matching set were missing, but a prior enterprising owner had tied the (now dried) black ribbon into the auto-reverse mechanism on the left hand side to jury-rig the ribbon set up. Fortunately I have an extra spool sitting around, though I’ve opted to use a plastic universal spool with a removable core to be able to properly spool up new ribbon (blue/green bichrome) onto it.
The machine internally was in broadly good shape, but needed some cleaning. The segment and typebars required two rounds of treatment with mineral spirits to get the sticky keys working properly. It wasn’t nearly as dusty as other machines I’ve gotten with similar vintage.
I’m still not quite sure what to do with the white masking tape on all the internal portions of the machine’s panels, so I’m leaving them at present. Given their placement (everywhere!), I’m reasonably sure that they were all put on in the factory.
In taking apart the carriage to give it and the platen and rollers a good inspection and cleaning, I noticed the variable line spacer was a bit sticky, so I cleaned the mechanism out and lubricated it a bit before putting it all back together.
The bichrome lever is missing its original gray plastic finger cap, something that seems somewhat common in the All-New. Perhaps I can swap with one from the margin sliders which are hiding underneath the paper table?
The type and alignment were all in good order, so I didn’t need to effect any changes there.
I’m terribly tempted to strip and refinish the exterior shell just for fun, but it’s in such good condition, I’ll let it slide for the moment. It seems like a great machine to potentially plate with chrome (or silver, gold, or even platinum). I’m also half tempted to do a dark matte blue similar to the sort of scheme I’ve seen on some cars recently (Tesla comes to mind).
The case is in far worse condition and crying out for restoration of some sort. More on that below.
Keys
The 1950 Remington All-New typewriter has 50 hefty gray keys with doubleshot plastic so that light yellow plastic indicates the key functions. There are both left and right shift keys as well as shift locks. The margin release (labeled “M.R.) is on the top right and the backspace (labeled with a right facing arrow) is on the top left. There is also a right side Tab key opposite the tab set/clear lever which is on the far left side of the keyboard. The right side also has a select lever with labeled 1, 2, and 3 settings for the key pressure control. The spacebar runs the full length of the bottom row of ten keys.
Other Functionality
The carriage has both left and right release levers. There’s a variable line spacer button in the center of the left platen knob and a related line locating lever for making it easier to do sub and super-script while keeping the line spacing the same. There’s a switch for single and double spacing. The carriage also has a traditional paper bail with two rubber rollers. The typing point includes a permanent card finger on the right hand side. The ribbon vibrator has two vertical posts with metal pivots which trap the ribbon in what is Remington’s quick ribbon changer set up (one of the easiest methods of changing ribbon I’ve seen).
There’s a tabulator included with a tab key on the right side of the keyboard and a switch on the left hand side of the keyboard for easily setting or clearing tabs. These work like the later “Miracle Tabs” of later Remingtons, but this model isn’t labeled with that feature name. Margin stops are manually set with sliders hiding underneath the paper table. Sadly there’s a small metal tab in the middle of the carriage rail which prevents the setting of margins all on the right or the left, which becomes an issue when attempting to set both margins on the right hand side with index cards in vertical orientation. This can be remedied by centering any paper in the middle of the platen for margin settings.
There are shift keys on both the left and right as well as shift locks on both sides as well. The machine has a segment shift to decrease finger fatigue. It’s not as light as some of my Royals or Smith-Coronas, but it may improve a bit with some cleaning.
The All-New has the traditional Remington portable auto-reverse ribbon switches from the mid-century in addition to a manual switch on the front left side between the hood and the keyboard. Opposite this is the traditional blue/white/red switch for the bichrome and stencil settings. A labeled (1, 2, 3) variable touch setting lever is also to be found on the right side of the keyboard. It seems to be attached properly and functioning on my machine.
The ribbon cover/hood is hinged on both sides near the carriage and has a clever gravity-based set of hooks which limits how far it opens to prevent it crashing into the carriage. I think it’s a better design than the later method on my 1957 Quiet-Riter which I don’t like as well.
Missing from this model, but available on later Remingtons is a paper guide for more easily inserting and aligning paper.
Case
This machine came with a wooden case covered with yellow and brown striped fabric. Sadly it’s fairly stained and the fabric is beginning to peel off of the bottom of the case. Given the stained condition of the fabric, this may be a good candidate for removing the fabric and replacing it. I’ve not done this sort of restoration before, so it may make an interesting experiment. Before doing that, I might try an experiment to see if I can steam clean it, particularly since the peeling parts are generally intact and I might be able to glue them back down. The original fabric does have a nice “dapper” feeling
The interior green fabric is heavily worn and has a few places which are completely worn through.
The back of the bottom of the case has two metal tabs into which the typewriter fits and there are two metal lever locks at the front of the case. All of these seem to be in proper working order.
The external fittings seem to be in pretty good shape considering their age. Alas, as ever seems to be my lot in life, there was no key to the case’s lock.
Based on other examples of the cases I’ve seen in the Typewriter Database, there was a prior variation of the case which had a press button, but the design was such that it generally scratched up the front metal bar of the machine just in front of the spacebar. Apparently that wasn’t the best design in the long run. It bears noting that the size and general design of my particular 1950 case is almost exactly that of my 1957 Remington Quiet-Riter, so obviously the change in form factor was deemed more desirable from a use and engineering perspective. The change was also solid enough that Remington continued it for nearly a decade.
Typeface Sample
This machine has a pica typeface with 10 characters per inch. The machine has a bichrome switch as well as a stencil setting. It bears noting that the % and ¢ on this machine are simply divine. They make me want to do more calculations on the percentage of small change.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return on the 1950 Remington All-New:
Photo Gallery
Most of the photos on this page are “before” photos, so please “pardon the dust” and grime.
The traditional collective noun for a group of typists is a “pool”, but this just doesn’t seem as creative or entertaining as many collective nouns can potentially be. As a typewriter collector it would be more fun to have a clever collective noun for a group of typists at a type-in. Similarly it would be nice to have a name for a collection of typewriters themselves.
So toward this end I thought I’d brainstorm for a moment to make a few lists of potential ideas for both. If you’ve got ideas, please add them to the comments. There’s no need to try to come up with an “official” collective noun as use in daily life, writing, and throughout the typosphere will ultimately determine a winner through actual usage. Some words are double-listed as they could refer to either.
What do you call your collection?
Potential Collective Nouns for Typewriters
Radiance
Tabulation
Segment (no one’s every done collecting, are they?)
Sheaf
Clatter
Flourish
Sounder
Chatter
Ream
Basket
Font
Aureole (for the Smith-Corona enthusiasts)
Roost (especially when stored and displayed on shelves)
Parenthesis
Return
Potential Collective Nouns for Typists
Pool (traditional)
Claque
Vibration
Riot
Mayhem
Commotion
Symphony
Exclamation
Shift
Chattering
Touch
Drumming
Sonority
Tumult
Thriving
Applause
Manual
Carriage
Clatter
What could we be? Are we a vibration of typists? Maybe we’re a thriving of typists? A Touch of Typewriter Collectors? Please add your ideas to the list below…
I already own and love a 4 series Smith-Corona Clipper, but I’ve been wanting one or more of the family of 5 series Smith-Coronas for a while. I purchased this Clipper on May 14th and received it earlier this week on Tuesday the 21st. Loving another Clipper already meant that it immediately skipped to the front of the line for repairs. I had planned on cleaning it up over the weekend, but impatience got the better of me.
I present a brown series 5 Smith-Corona Clipper with serial number 5C-102313.
All typewriters should have their own dozen red roses, n’cest pas?
Design
Smith-Corona made a modest shift in design from the late 40s series 4 models to the somewhat more modern series 5 in 1949 and throughout the 1950s. Gone were the black bodies and glass keys and in came the brown, cream, and gray bodies with plastic (mostly) green keys. Still in was the generally rounded and compact body. The shift marked, for me at least, the pinnacle of Smith-Corona engineering and manufacturing in the typewriter space. I do like the more modern design and brighter colors of the 6 series machines, but the build quality lost a little something, particularly with the introduction of more plastic into the 60s and 70s.
The broad line of series 5 models included the Clipper, Sterling, and Silent-Super models which had slight variations between them which also differentiated them in price as well. By 1957, the Clipper and Sterling both had 84 keys while the Silent-Super had 88 keys. The Sterling and Silent-Super also added an adjustable paper guide on the paper table, a line retainer, a retractable paper support behind the paper table, and a tabulator. The Silent-Super at the top of the line also included both tab set and clear keys (the Sterling had tabs, but they were manual), paper fingers, and a platen release latch along with an interchangeable platen. I’ve heard colloquially (but not seen documentation) that the Silent-Super also came with a softer platen to make it quieter, but with hardening over time, this feature has been nullified as a means of differentiating these models now. In addition to the tab set/clear keys, the Silent-Super’s additional two keys were generally the “1/!” and “+/=” in the top row.
Tom Hanks thought that this series of machines was the bees knees and said so in the documentary California Typewriter (2016):
Overall Condition
I bought the typewriter in an online auction. Photos of this particular machine made it look to be in salvageable condition, but the site/seller didn’t provide any other details. With a bargain basement price, I jumped hoping that I would be able to make the best of the machine, and if not it would be a nice learning experience and make a useful parts machine.
The exterior of the machine was in pretty good condition with only one or two minor scuffs, but it did need a serious scrub down. Given that it was brown, doing before and after photos seemed useless, but a lot of dirt and grime certainly came off in the washing process of the shell. I did a quick test on the interior with Scrubbing Bubbles which worked out well before cleaning the entire body.
Almost all of the keys were sticky and several were frozen solid (I suspect that perhaps someone used some WD-40 when they shouldn’t have?) The “C” key was not only frozen, but had been bent down on the keyboard and required some gentle forming to bring it back in line with the others. It took two rounds of mineral spirits on the segment along with a toothbrush and working the keys to get all the typebars moving like they should again.
I wasn’t super happy with the type on the initial test page, so I made some minor tweaks to the ring and cylinder followed by an on foot and motion adjustment to line the upper and lower case faces properly. The shift and shift lock fortunately worked as expected.
The touch control didn’t seem to be doing anything useful and upon checking, I discovered that the spring mechanism and linkage are loose at both ends of the settings. Not seeing any way to remedy what I was seeing, I went looking for adjustment advice online. That was a strike out, but I did find a useful video by Phoenix Typewriter which detailed an adjustment of three screws where the body of the typewriter meets the keyboard. Making the adjustment required removing the last panel of the body exterior I hadn’t already, so I took it off (and cleaned it) and adjusted things to make the touch a tad lighter and moved on. I have a theory about the old touch control being vestigial, but it’ll require some research or a service manual to verify.
This Clipper came with a 16 page manual which Richard Polt has already archived at his site.
Based on the serial numbers in the TypewriterDatabase, the beginning serial number in December of 1949 was 5C-122567, so I can only guess that mine was manufactured late in 1949 before the beginning of December. This means that this Autumn, my new clipper will celebrate its 75th birthday. I also seem to be the owner of the second oldest 5 series Clipper listed in the typewriter database presently.
The rubber on the feed rollers is in reasonable shape and isn’t flattened. The platen is almost rock hard with only a tiny amount of “give” left and may be the last part I’ll fix by sending it off to J. J. Short Associates. With this final tweak, the machine should be in good enough shape for the next 50-75 years of its life.
Keys
The green plastic keys on the ’49 Clipper are a major change from the chrome and glass keys of the prior year’s model. The plastic seems to be double shot so that the lighter green plastic of the lettering is integral to the key and not simply printed on the keytops. The majority of the 48 keys are dark green with light green keys used for the backspace (arrow pointing right on the left side), shift, shift lock, and margin release keys (“M-R” on the right side), and a milk chocolate brown key for the spacebar, which runs roughly the length of the bottom row of 10 keys.
Of particular note with respect to my particular model, I’ve got a Dutch Norwegian keyboard layout which includes the “Æ/æ”, “Ø/ø”, and “Å/å” keys. The inclusion of these which displaces the traditional “, ,”, “. .” and the “: ;” key respectively. The usual “? /” key is replaced with a “: .”. There are two unmarked green keys on the upper right of the keyboard next to the number 0 and letter P which comprise the “/ %” and “- ”” (the later for diaresis, I think, but someone might correct me). This means that the keyboard has two keys for the % symbol. Lost altogether are the usual “1/4 1/2” and “@ ¢” keys. There’s also no semi-colon, but the ever-creative and type-limited typist might remedy this with a colon, backspace, and comma. It’s closest to the Norwegian Keyboard No. 1045 from the Smith-Corona Keyboard catalog from 1968. It’s not too far off of the Danish Keyboard No. 1047 though the Danish lacks the Å.
Other Functionality
As is typical of most Smith-Coronas of this period, there is a bichrome selector with a stencil setting. The ribbon has an auto-reverse as well as a manual switch on the left side of the machine by the keyboard.
The unit includes the famous segment shift “Floating Shift”. There isn’t a traditional paper bail which appears in later versions of the Clipper, but this design incarnation does have two adjustable paper fingers as well as two card fingers which are integral to the typing point. (By the late 50s, paper bails were standard and paper fingers were only found on the higher end Silent-Supers.) Left and right adjustable margin stops are at the back of the paper table by way of sliding chrome tabs. Being a Clipper, this machine has no tabulator though this functionality was seen on the Sterling and Silent-related models.
As was the case with the prior 4 series, there is a permanent variable spacing mechanism actuated by a pulled knob on the left side of the platen.
On the bottom of the right side of the carriage is the same carriage centering lever as the prior 4 series model which is helpful for storing the machine in its carrying case; there is no carriage lock.
Next to the carriage return on the left side of the carriage is a line selector for single, double and triple spacing settings.
Case
The wooden case covered with black fabric and spring loaded hinges are almost identical to my 1948 Clipper. The internal metal hardware is slightly different and includes two metal brackets in the middle of the case where my prior version had wooden blocks nailed in.
Sadly, as ever seems to be the case, there was no included key. I suppose I’m going to have to figure out a way to do a 3D printed version of the key for my Smith-Corona cases.
For more images of the case, see the linked post referenced above.
It’s only vaguely visible in the photo, but someone has written a name and address in large pencil script on the inside top of the case. It roughly looks to me like John Stramsvåg, Jh Vigegl 9, Bergen, Norway. I’m presuming it’s the name of a prior owner, though I got the machine from Orange County, California.
Typeface Sample
This machine has got an elite face with 12 characters per inch. Again, there are several Norwegian-specific keys.
Sound
The bell on this rings 8 spaces before the left margin stop setting.
Here’s a sound sample of inserting an index card, writing a sentence, the bell, and a return on the 1949 Smith-Corona Clipper:
Having surpassed the 10 typewriter mark in my collection, I felt it was time to invest in some more serious typewriter ribbon for the “fleet”. There are some purveyors charging in the range of $10-20 for typewriter ribbon (and yes! people do still sell and buy typewriter ribbon!) I’m pretty sure by buying from closer to the source that I could drop the price down significantly and potentially save the money toward repairs, new platens, or even other machines.
Naturally the first stop was Richard Polt’s site, where he lists a handful of purveyors. I’ve heard good things in general about Baco both from Richard and Joe Van Cleave as well as others in the past few months, so I took the plunge and ordered a full reel of 660 yards of nylon black/red typewriter ribbon for $65. It should keep all my machines inked for quite a while.
Given that the typical standard/universal spool will accommodate 16 yards, this should be 41.25 spools. This also brings the price down to a far more economical $1.60 per spool versus the much higher level others are charging, particularly since I generally self-wind my own ribbon onto original metal spools and don’t need the additional plastic waste. It also has the added benefit of supporting the efforts of Charlene Oesch until she decides to retire.
If you’re in the market, here are the basic details to call and place an order (she specifically doesn’t have and doesn’t want a website), but she’s definitely still in business, carrying on in the tradition of her father since at least 1949:
Baco takes both credit card and PayPal and ships within about a day via USPS in the United States.
Current offerings/pricing (subject to change):
660 yards (full reel) of nylon ribbon in black or black/red for $65
330 yards (half reel) of nylon ribbon in black or black/red for $45
550 yards of silk ribbon in black or black/red for $220
295 yards of cotton in black or black/red for $75
With some lead time, she can do other colors if necessary, though she typically doesn’t keep those in stock all the time according to our conversation today. She has the option to pretty easily do blue, green, and purple in single colored reels.
I could be in for some blue/green or purple/green ribbon, which I imagine she could pull off if anyone wanted to go in on a reel or so to make it worth the time and effort to set it up. Let me know if you’re interested. Similarly if someone wanted to split an order for silk, I could be game for that too.
Have you tried other manufacturers? Who is your favorite bulk ribbon supplier?
Now I’m off to find some grommets and a custom pair of pliers for them…
![White index card with the following quote typed onto it in blue elite typeface: If I had to keep only one typewriter, if I had to get rid of them all and only had one left... There is a version of this Smith-Corona which is the the Silent Smith-Corona. [...] Somewhere around whenever they started making this, the Smith Corona Silent and various other models that have the same silhouette. The rise on the keys is just almost perfect—going from an N to a Y requires almost nothing. The size of the type is not too big and not too small. But listen to the solidity of the action [types]. This is a solid, solid piece of machine. That's got beautiful highlights like the stripes here and there. The colors are good. I love the green keys. I would probably say that this with a good case would be the one typewriter I would take. And that's why it's kinda out [on my desk] right now. I rotate this one into use an awful lot. [He types: clack, clack] I confess. [clack, clack again as he types.] —Tom Hanks, in California Typewriter, 2016](https://i0.wp.com/boffosocko.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/wp-17151265045807229784091795759502.jpg?resize=660%2C440&ssl=1)
