A mid-19th century typing accessory in steel with putty colored paint.
9" x 7" x 4 3/4"
A punch for making file tabs of 2 1/4" x 3/4"
P/N 68500
When you use as many tabbed index card dividers as I do, this can be incredibly useful. It’s just the right size for doing 1/3 cut tabs on 4″ x 6″ index cards.
Acquired at Acts Thrift Store on October 7, 2025 for $2.50.
Heavy steel punch in gray enamel with chromed handle
It was in pretty solid shape with some heavy dust, light pitting on some of the steel, and some hints of rust on one of the bars. A quick cleaning today with some degreasers and anti-rust solution along with a brass bristle brush has brought it back to its original life. It really is stunning how solid this piece of office equipment still is all these years later.
Wilson Jones Co., one of the largest office supply manufacturers in the United States, was purchased by Swingline Inc. in 1959 and is now a part of ACCO brands who boldly state that Wilson Jones was the inventor of the 3 ring binder, though evidence indicates its origin predates this. The “Hummer” was one of their original and storied punches.
I’m unsure of the date of manufacture of my punch, though it was made in their Chicago, IL plant.
With the grey enamel and shiny chrome, I’m thinking this 4 pound 13 ounce punch will match nicely with my 1949 Henry Dreyfuss-designed Royal Quiet De Luxe typewriter.
Black cast iron and metal
Six slots for organizing your typing papers and envelopes as well as space for your stapler, tape dispenser, and various other desk drawer implements.
In the 1943 film Basic Typing Methods, in the very opening seconds of the film, you’ll see the woman in the foreground pulling paper quickly from her desk drawer for typing. While it’s not immediately visible, she’s surely got a similar paper organizer in her drawer. (Pardon the heavily gendered references in the film.)
Ultimately, the paper organizer came to live in the top drawer of my executive tanker desk.
Acquired at the local Acts Thrift shop for about $2.00, this organizer was a no-brainer purchase.
A curved metal typing ruler for a variety of purposes including:
* curved erasing shield (especially useful for carbon copy packs to prevent carbon transfer)
* elite spacing letter counter
* line counter
* 8 inch ruler
The curved ruler comes with a convenient tab (here labeled “Elite”) for grabbing with one’s thumb and forefinger for placement into as well as removal from a carbon pack. They obviously came in both Pica and Elite versions to cover various typewriter typefaces.
Our friend Joe Van Cleave cleverly uses one to cleanly tear off paper from his Kerouac-like rolls of typing paper.
I present my 1952 Royal Quiet De Luxe portable typewriter with a special hidden feature.
The online auction listing for this particular typewriter happened to have a photo of the type basket which included a telltale W, whose sans serif centerlines crisscrossed, which piqued my interest beyond my collector’s desire for a late ’51/’52 QDL variation to pair with my ’48 and ’49 versions and my trusty 1955 model. It was listed for $10.99 when I first saw it, so I waited ever-so-patiently for 4 days with half a dozen alarms set to see if I could snag it for a dramatically below-marketplace valuation. There was one other bid for the minimum, so I put in two last minute bids, one for $20 and another for $1,000 just in case the other bidder had observed what I had noticed and intended to snipe it away. The typewriter collecting gods smiled warmly on me that day.
Eagle eyes, patience, and careful bidding won the day! Knowing the perils of typewriter shipping, especially from Goodwill, I followed up the bidding win and spoke to the GoodWill shipping manager and made an increased donation to their shop to ensure the machine was properly packaged for shipping to prevent possible damage to the uncommon machine. All-in I scored a Royal Vogue for the bargain basement price of under $100. It’s the biggest win I’ve experienced in my short typewriter collecting career. Unless I trip over a mint condition Sholes & Glidden sitting next to a garbage bin, I may be unlikely to surpass this level of luck again.
Given that I’ve seen machines, usually Royal model Ps, with a Vogue typeface go for $950-1,200 in unknown working shape on the open market, I suspect that cleaned up and in restored condition, this could easily sell for $1,500-2,500. Of course, I’ve fallen in love with the typeface, so I’m unlikely to let it go any time soon.
This 1952 machine follows the QDL redesign by Henry Dreyfuss from August 2, 1945 which was put into production in 1948 and changed a bit in 1949. It maintained some of Dreyfuss’ angular shape as well as the tombstone shaped keys, though they changed from the older glass keys of the 40s to the green plastic of the beginning of the plastic onslaught which was to change typewriter manufacture for the next decades.
The front of the this iteration of the machine features a chromed Royal badging flanked on both sides with chrome wing features which have cutouts for the ribbon reversal and ribbon color selector switches. Later versions in subsequent years would lose the wings in lieu of a hood latch button and and a simpler ribbon color switch selector.
The Fall/Winter Sears catalog in 1952 listed this new variation of the Quiet De Luxe for $103.58 in both pica and elite options. The Vogue typeface would have been an available custom order option for a few dollars at the time, but it apparently wasn’t an often ordered one. Of the 522 Royal QDLs in the Typewriter Database at the moment, I’ve only found 5 (including this one) which have a Vogue typeface which makes it less than 1% of the total. Given collectors’ affinity for them, I could easily imagine the actual manufacture rate may have been even smaller.
Though the catalog indicates that the model was 17 pounds for both the machine and the case, my typewriter is 15.7 pounds by itself and 20.1 pounds in the case.
This machine has the appearance of having been at least moderately used. There are a couple bits of paint knocked off some edges (common with portables of this size) and the machine internals were relatively clean.
While the machine was in very solid workable and immediately usable condition when I received it, it definitely deserved some care and attention. In particular, someone had ill-advisedly used a black/correction ribbon on it, so the interior around and below the typing point was covered with white correction tape sludge.
On Saturday, October 19th, I spent several hours in the afternoon and then again in the evening pulling the machine apart, cleaning all the external and internal parts and flushing it out with lacquer thinner. Simple Green did an excellent job on the exterior, and I scrubbed some flecks of Correction Fluid off the body. A quick and very light oiling has the machine purring now. I also did a rubdown on the crinkle paint with some WD-40 to make the exterior truly sparkle. I’m now the proud owner of a scintillating wonder of engineering and typeface design.
Thought it had the appearance of being reasonably maintained, I couldn’t find any clues that it had had a major overhaul or serious cleaning aside from general maintenance. A few of the linkages had some old, brownish/black grease on them which I would take to indicate that it probably hadn’t been serviced since the 1960s. I’ll have to look up historical dates for the black/white correction tape release, but given the dryness of the black portion of the ribbon I’m guessing the ribbon may have been from the late 1970s.
Of particular note, the platen still has a small amount of “give” left to it and isn’t as rock hard as I might have suspected for its age. This means I may wait a bit and replace the platen(s) on other machines before I need to get to this one. The rubber rollers still work well and the rubber feet are in reasonable shape too.
The 1952 Quiet De Luxe came with an original period case as well as a key and the original typewriter manual, a digital copy of which can be found on Richard Polt’s Typewriter Site. (At the rate things are going, I’m finding extant keys are almost as rare with portables as finding a Vogue typeface.)
There is what appears to be a Social Security number scratched into the brown paint on the bottom of the machine. I won’t comment further other than to say its a California area SSN, which is where I purchased it, so there’s a reasonable chance that this was a single owner machine.
The keyboard has a typical mid-century Royal layout. The keys are in a traditional dark green plastic double shot with white plastic. They’re all in exceptional condition aside from the letter “C” which has a small surface flaw that I ought to be able to buff out pretty easily. There are 42 keys and slugs giving 84 typeable characters for a standard United States English keyset along with six additional keys for backspace, shift, shift lock on the left and tab, margin release, and a shift key on the right. The bottom of the 4 bank keyboard features a more standard inset brown spacebar than its 1948 and 1949 predecessors which had a blocky black design element that made the spacebar more integral to the front frame of those machines.
Manufactured roughly at the peak of typewriter functionality, this medium sized portable machine has almost everything a typist could want in terms of functionality.
There is a rear rabbit-ear style paper support, double sided Royal Magic Margins, touch control (inside the hood), a manually accessible ribbon switch and bichrome/stencil setting switch on the front, and five manually adjustable tabulator sets accessible from the back which are viewable when looking down with the paper table folded back. It has left and right carriage release levers, both temporary and permanent platen adjustment mechanisms, and a single card finger on the right side of the typing line. This QDL has the usual 1, 2, and 3 line spacing mechanism.
The case certainly has seen some heavy signs of travel, but seems to be holding together well despite the wear. The inside is in excellent shape and none of the fabric on the exterior is coming off despite the heavy wear.
The typeface on my Royal QDL is the previously mentioned highly prized and much-sought-after Royal Vogue. It types 10 characters per inch and 6 vertical lines per inch. A type sample from my machine with blue and green ribbon appears below. If you need an extended sample, for fun I typed out a large portion of the lyrics to Madonna’s 1990 hit Vogue.
This one is is a 20 gauge solid steel behemoth Steelcase in black and silver powder coat and it is in stunning condition with all the hardware. It stands 52 1/4 inches tall, is 14 7/8 inches wide, and 28 1/2 inches deep (without hardware). Each drawer had two rows of card storage space totaling 55 inches. With 8 drawers, this should easily hold 61,000 index cards.
Sadly, someone has removed all the card following blocks. I’ll keep an eye out for replacements, but I’m unlikely to find some originals, though I could probably also custom design my own. In the meanwhile I find that a nice heavy old fashioned glass or a cellophaned block of 500 index cards serve the same functionality. The drawer dimensions are custom made for 4 x 6 inch index cards, but A6 cards and Exacompta’s 100 x 150mm cards fit comfortably as well.
Based on the styling, I’m guessing it dates from the 1940s to early 1960s, but there are no markings or indications, and it will take some research to see if I can pin down a more accurate date.
A few of the indexing label frames on the unit are upside down and one or two are loose, but that’s easily fixed by removing a screw and cover plate in the front of the drawer and making a quick adjustment. I’ve also got a few extra metal clips to fix the loose frames.
Much like my Singer card index, this one has internal sliding metal chassis into which the individual drawers sit. This allows them to be easily slid out of the cabinet individually for use on my desk or away from the cabinet. The drawers come with built-in handles at the back of the drawer for making carrying them around as trays more comfortable. The drawers are 10.6 pounds each, each chassis is 4.6 pounds, and the cabinet itself is probably 120 pounds giving the entire assembly a curb weight of about 240 pounds. Given that 7,000 index cards weight 29.3 pounds, fully loaded the cabinet and cards would weigh almost 500 pounds.
Placed just behind my desk, I notice that the drawer width is just wide enough, that I can pull out the fourth drawer from the bottom and set my Smith-Corona Clipper on top of it. This makes for a lovely makeshift typing desk. The filing cabinet’s black powder coat is a pretty close match to that of the typewriter.
I’ve already moved the majority of my cards into it and plan to use it as my daily driver. This may mean that the Singer becomes overflow storage once I’m done refurbishing it. The Shaw-Walker box, which was just becoming too full and taking up a lot of desk real estate, will find a life in the kitchen or by the bar as my recipe box.
I’ve also noticed that some of my smaller 3 x 5″ wooden card indexes sit quite comfortably into the empty drawers as a means of clearing off some desk space if I wish. Of course, the benefit of clearing off some desk space for that means that I can now remove individual drawers for working with large sections at a time.
This may be my last box acquisition for a while. Someone said if I were to add any more, I’ll have moved beyond hobbyist collector and into the realm of museum curator.
The best part of the size and shape of the drawers is that until its full of index cards, I can use some of the additional space for a variety of additional stationery storage including fountain pens, ink, stamps, stamp pads, pen rolls, pencils, colored pencils, tape, washi, typewriter ribbon, stencils etc. One of the drawers also already has a collection of 3.5 x 5.5 inch pocket notebooks (most are Field Notes) which are also easily archivable within it.
While doing this, I’ve had a hard target search for available card index files for the better part of two years. I’ve purchased a large metal one and a small handful of open wooden desktop models.[1][2] I’ve shied away from some of the wooden 2-6 drawer models because they’re listed for exorbitant prices on eBay, Facebook Marketplace, Craigslist, and other online retailers where sellers think they’re worth far more than they really are. Hint: you’ll find lots of listings, but you won’t see very many actual sales—a good indication that the market is dramatically overpriced.
However, this past week I saw a reasonable listing for a two drawer quarter sawn Shaw-Walker card index made for 4×6″ index cards for $32.95. Since cardboard boxes sell for almost $20 each, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, so I made the minimum bid and naturally won the auction uncontested.
The box showed up yesterday afternoon and had roughly the wear I expected it would. It took some serious elbow grease, but I managed to clean about a half century of dirt and grime off of it, and it looks significantly better already. I don’t think I’ll do a full refurbishment of it, preferring to appreciate some of the natural patina. I will probably give it another solid cleaning later this week and then a coating of wax or furniture polish to shine it up. I’m wavering on polishing what I suspect are probably bronze drawer pulls and leaving their dark oxidized beauty.
For a small, solid wooden box, it does bring an inordinate amount of joy.
While showing some wear, particularly to the top, it still has most of its original Shaw-Walker gilded logo. The box is 15 5/8 x 14 11/16 x 6 3/8 inches, 14.6 pounds, and each drawer has 11 3/4 inches of space for cards, so it should comfortably fit about 3,300 index cards. I intend to use it as my day-to-day desktop card index and split the two drawers between my card-based productivity system (based on the Memindex) and my zettelkasten practice. The balance of my notes will go into either my Arca Studiorum or possibly another metal card index I’ve had my eye on for a while, but which needs some significant restoration.
In addition to the thrill of having a new analog piece of office equipment, another unexpected benefit it will impart by being on my desk is that it seems to be just the perfect sort of height for placing my laptop onto so that my camera is just that little bit higher for better video conference call framing. Now I won’t need to drag down the dictionaries or Wolfram’s New Kind of Science off the shelf anymore.
Coda: I just made a purchase of two wooden library card charging trays which will hopefully arrive later this week. More on that after they arrive…
I removed the original tacks on the bottom which appeared to have once held down some red felt. I cut out a new rectangle of green felt and reattached the tacks so that the index won’t scratch up my desktop. The dovetails are in good shape, but it seems like in a year or two some of the joins may need to be re-glued.
In all, for a small $10.00 investment, it’s a stunning addition for my zettelkasten card collection. Compared to some of the cardboard and metal options out there, it was half the price, but is far prettier and infinitely more durable.
Of course I’ve got a strong preference for 4 x 6″, so I’ll be on the look out for something bigger, but this was just too good a deal to pass up. Perhaps I’ll use it like a Memindex or a related productivity tool?
