For my wife’s birthday, I got myself an early 1950s Royal Quiet De Luxe that I’ve had on my list for a while. It has a lovely additional feature that’s also been on my list too…
On Saturday, August 3rd, after a patience-trying wait, I picked up this lovely green 1958 Olympia SM3. It’s the first typewriter in my collection with both an exotic character set as well as a typeface that veers outside of the standard pica and elite typefaces.
It was a Facebook Marketplace purchase for a better-than-reasonable price. I had made a middling offer to someone out in Rancho Cucamonga not knowing what sort of condition the machine was in. I should have headed out the next day to pick it up from the seller, but with our respective schedules and the 45+ minute drive out, I opted to suggest a Saturday pickup. In the erstwhile, someone sniped it away from me with a significantly larger offer. And of course a day later, they’re on r/typewriters asking about what the typewriter was not realizing that it included some math and Greek characters. I watched and waited and stayed in contact with the seller for more than two weeks. As it turned out the bigger offer never materialized, so the seller told me to come out and pick it up for my original offer.
The seller was in her early 30’s with a relatively young family. She’d inherited the machine from her parents or in-laws who used it, but had kept it in an attic in Newport Beach for the past few decades. Apparently the original owner was a pharmacist, which may account in part for the custom Greek letters on the keyboard. Despite the intermediate inheritor, this has broadly been a one owner machine.
I tried to not show any shock at the non-standard typeface when I picked it up for what is assuredly below market value. I could easily have seen this going for $180-200 as a standard SM3 in unknown condition, but somewhere in the neighborhood of $300-400 with the non-standard typeset and the Congress typeface.
Overall condition
The machine had seen some reasonable use followed by neglect. The first thing I noticed was the damaged paint job on the case, which I’ll go into detail on below.
The usual bushings problem in Olympia SM3s was definitely present, but fortunately the seller hadn’t spent much time testing or tinkering with it to damage the paint job. I quickly swapped the compressed bushings out the day I brought it home.
The ribbon was mostly dried out and worn, but potentially serviceable, though I’ve opted to replace it entirely. One of the spools was an original metal and the other was a plastic replacement.
In addition to a carriage lock that wasn’t engaging properly, there were some issues with five of the custom keycaps.
Beyond this, the machine was generally in good condition. Despite some reasonable use, the paint finish is in great shape and only shows light wear on the front corners and the front edge of the hood. It definitely needed a good cleaning, oiling, and adjusting.
Richard Polt has posted a manual for the Olympia SM3 for those who’d like to see what originally came with the machine as well as its features.
Clean, Oil, and Adjust
I started the process of disassembling and cleaning the machine on Saturday, August 31st. I spent a portion of the day on Sunday finishing the cleaning and reassembling and adjusting the machine. Oiling the necessary parts as I reassembled made it far easier to limit the amount of oil I used for future maintenance.
My notes from mid-July were tremendously helpful in speeding this process along.
One of the most bothersome issues I encountered while cleaning it was that it was put up “wet” and stored for too long. The original owner had the all-too-common bad habit of erasing directly into the typewriter rather than moving the carriage to the side. This means that it had a fair amount of eraser crumbs stuck to the over-oiled carriage rails and other internals. Over decades of storage, this has heavily tarnished the carriage rails and required not only aggressive cleaning on some parts, but several rounds of metal polish to remove some of the tarnish. There are still some light stains on the internal “brights” which I’ve given up on after half a dozen attempts to minimize them. They’re now in much better condition, but not as perfect as I wish they might be.
Keys
The keyboard on this Olympia is a fairly standard U.S. based QWERTY keyboard meant for sale in America through The Inter-Continental Trading Corporation which originally imported Olympias into the Americas.
Of particular note on this machine, some of the standard keys have been swapped out with some custom math and Greek letter keys. These are the )/0, !/3/4, 1/4, 1/2, ,/, ./. which have been replaced respectively by )/ϒ, Ω/π, λ/∫, Δ/, , μ/.
I’ve already accidentally typed an upsilon instead of a zero at least once. It may take some work at the muscle memory to remember to use the capital “O” to make it as reflexive as doing an apostrophe-backspace-period to effect an exclamation point which this machine lacks in lieu of other glyphs.
While most of the keys have the appearance of being doubleshot plastic, the custom keys seem to have been manufactured differently. Perhaps they were etched out and then filled? In any case, the symbols on the custom keys were etched out and missing most of their original color making it difficult, but not impossible to know what they were. To quickly and easily restore them, I spent a couple of minutes with a Crayola crayon and the small gaps on the keys were filled in and looking nice and white again. This solution also has the benefit of being easily reversible from a restoration perspective.
Other functionality
Manufactured at the peak of typewriter functionality, this SM3 has just about all the niceties one could wish for. Compared to typewriters made since mid-century there isn’t anything really extraordinary about any of the features aside from their incredibly well designed and manufactured tolerances.
It does bear mentioning that while most other machines of this era were segment shift machines, this one is a carriage shift which can make using it for very long periods a bit more tiring. There are two manually adjustable spring mechanisms inside the machine to help alleviate some of this effect.
Of interest, in comparing this machine with my other 1958 SM3 which has a lower serial number, I noticed that the older SM3 has an additional scale on the back near the tab stops, but this one doesn’t. It’s likely a reasonable cost savings to have removed it which also frees the assembly line from needing to do another alignment procedure on them. From a functionality standpoint, it’s not a big loss as I tend to set my tabs from the front of the machine and can easily look down on the scale at the back of the paper table and align the tab stops with that scale anyway. The additional scale on the back would only have been useful for those who turned their machines around and set them from the back, but this would also need the scale to have been appropriately aligned to provide the precision in setting the correct stops.
Case
This SM3 came with one of the traditional curved, space-aged wooden cases painted in silver that most SM3s shipped with. The inside was in relatively nice condition and only needed a quick vacuuming and some brushing to clean it out. It also came with the original key on a small keychain.
Apparently the environment it had been stored in was less than ideal, so the exterior paint has reacted and has a terribly rough texture now compared with its traditional smooth surface. I’m going to have to strip and repaint it I think. I’ve seen some hammered metal paint finishes which might come close to matching the original, but I might opt for something completely out of the ordinary as well.
The metal on the case fittings has rusted significantly. I should be able to clean up and polish most of the metal fittings fairly easily, though I probably won’t be able to get them back completely without replacing them altogether.
Based on the condition of the case’s feet, I’m guessing the owner used the typewriter inside the case for most of their work. I’m debating whether or not to replace the feet, but I’m leaning towards doing it because they’re in functional, but marginal condition.
My Last Typewriter?
I suppose if you were going to quit collecting Olympia SM3s after getting a particular machine, this would be pretty close to the perfect one. This shirt I got on the same day as the typewriter is obviously about Olympia SM3s, as who could ever quit collecting? or perhaps as Richard Polt is fond of saying, “investing”?
Full transparency, I’ve acquired five machines since I picked up this typewriter, but I’ve also washed that t-shirt 3 times since then. With the washings you almost can’t seen any of the original screen print, so I suppose the universe has spoken on that account in my favor.
Typeface Sample
The typeface on this SM3 is a somewhat uncommon (though not rare as some might contend) Congress Elite No. 84 at 11 pitch or 2.3m/m. (I’d suspect it’s probably rarer in the U.S. compared to Germany or the rest of Europe, but have no data beyond my limited colloquial experience to support this.)
A type sample from my machine with its custom typeset and a new ribbon appears below.
Though upside down, you can see the faint Upsilon and end parenthesis characters next to the “9” key which needed some restoration.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return with more typing on my 1958 Olympia SM3:
Future
While I do like the difference in typeface, I’m not sure how much use this machine will get with my finely tuned and very similar 1958 SM3 which has an elite typeface I really love. There are still a few paces I want to put this typewriter through and one or two fine tuning adjustments I’ll likely make, but perhaps I may consider selling this?
It’s now in excellent condition and I may recover the original platen and rubber to enhance it even further. The issue may become how much to list it for as a potential sale? It has several uncommon features which may appeal to a serious collector who doesn’t clean and service their own machines, but who wants one of the most collectible machines out there with a few exotic features that is ready to type on from day one.
Photo Gallery
I started the process of cleaning my green 1958 Olympia SM3 to bring it back up to speed. Things are generally moving apace although the mixture of eraser shavings and old oil has tarnished the carriage rails. Spent some time with some metal polish trying to bring them back to their old glory. Should be able to finish flushing out tomorrow and getting it back together and properly adjusted.
On Friday, August 16, 2024, I picked up a dreadful looking cur from GoodWill. On Sunday, I spent several hours the afternoon and then again in the evening pulling the machine apart, cleaning all the external and internal parts and flushing it out with lacquer thinner. A quick and very light oiling and a rubdown with WD-40 to make the exterior shine later, and I’m now the proud owner of a wonderful, and sparkling little Corona Zephyr.
Design
The Corona Zephyr manufactured by L. C. Smith & Corona Co. of Syracuse, NY was produced from 1938-1941 before being superseded by the Smith-Corona Skyriter. Both the Zephyr and the Skyriter were meant to compete directly with the Hermes Baby. Meant to be used on the go, these typewriters are compact and light.
My Zephyr with full spools and the case cover on weights 8 pounds 14.7 ounces. Typical standard (desktop) typewriters of the day weighed a ponderous 30+ pounds and even the burgeoning market of portable machines usually clocked in in the low 20s. In it’s case, the Zephyr measures 11″ x 12″ 2 11/16″. These were the OG laptop machines.
Overall condition
This machine has the appearance of having once been at least moderately used. There were some bits of paint knocked off the corners (common with portables of this size) and the machine had more than it’s fair share of dirt and grime inside. Fortunately it was full of eraser shavings like my Smith-Corona Skyriter was.
Based on the way several screws were inserted, I suspect that the machine had been serviced at least once in its life. But it was definitely used well and put up wet. My guess is that in the late 70s or early 80s, as with many typewriters, this was put into storage and forgotten about until it was donated and made its way into my stewardship. Somewhere in that journey it was housed back-down in its case and exposed to some level of moisture causing some moderate rusting on the bottom of the case and to the back of the typewriter. I spent some time removing the worst of of the rust, but wasn’t overly aggressive on it. With the modest treatment, I’ve hopefully arrested most future damage.
In addition to the rust, I had to repair the ribbon vibrator which was bent out in front of the typing guide, and I’ll have to address the ribbon pick up moving to the left which isn’t working. The model came with broken 2 inch universal plastic spools and dried out ribbon which will need to be replaced with the correct smaller spools.
Richard Polt has posted a contemporaneous manual for the Zephyr typewriter for those who’d like to see what originally came with the machine. My favorite is that the manual appears to be typewritten. It has all the keystone markings of a pre-WWII manual with sparce diagrams and a wall of text.
Keys
The keyboard follows the general format of Smith-Corona’s American No. 20A set up. As was the case for most pre-World War II typewriters, the Zephyr came with round glass keys. The machine has 4 banks of keys which had become standard by mid-century. With 46 keys, the observant typist will notice that there are no shift lock or margin release keys. The shift lock can be effectuated by pushing down either of the shift keys and then moving them to the side where their metal levers can be “locked” into a metal slot under the key lever. If there’s a way to easily release the margin lock, I’ve not found it.
Other functionality
Obviously, it’s light weight and portability means that corners were cut including features like margin release, tabulation and niceties like touch control or a paper guide. Presumably this was meant for writers, journalists, and students on the go rather than accountants.
The machine features a carriage shift, which is quick and light, particularly because of the small size and weight of the platen and carriage.
The Zephyr doesn’t have the typical bichrome settings, but only features monochrome functionality. However, it’s still capable of doing stencils. While many typewriters have a specific mechanical setting for stencils, they can all generally do stencils by unhooking the ribbon from the ribbon vibrator. It bears mentioning that the ribbon vibrator here is effectuated by an unconventional method in the form of a metal bar which is attached at the left side which arcs up and down rather than a central mechanism as seen on the majority of modern machines which only moves vertically.
The Zephyr uses the typical 1/2 inch wide ribbon, but requires a smaller ribbon spool of 1 3/4 inches in diameter rather than the universal 2 inch spool. This gives the writer closer to 12 feet of ribbon rather than 16, but is still very functional.
To my knowledge, these machines came with body-colored spool covers. Sadly, like many I’ve seen in the wild, mine are missing.
One of the clever features is a miniscule carriage return lever. (As a point of comparison, I think the “ice cream scoop” return lever on the Royal Empress standard may weigh more than this entire machine.) It’s a tiny cupped nub the size of a thumb or finger tip which can be used to press it in to do the line space and then slide the carriage back home. To save on weight and engineering, the machine only has a single space ratchet, but it does have a switch for allowing variable platen spacing for filling in forms. The paper bail is also a simple metal arm, which means it’s not great with thicker card stocks like post cards or index cards, though it will work passably with a single card finger next to the typing point. One would not be happy doing lots of index card work on this machine.
One of the curious features of the machine is that it doesn’t have a traditional universal bar to engage the escapement. Instead there’s a thin, but sturdy simple wire right at the typing point that is hit by the typebars when typing. Pressing this bar in trips the escapement and moves the carriage to the next space.
Also particular to this machine is the “jacket” or exterior enclosure into which the typewriter chassis slides for protection. The machine is so small and tight that getting it into and out of the case can be a bit trying compared to its close cousin the Skyriter. To get the Zephyr out, one removes six screws and two small nuts to free the rear panel from the jacket. Then there are four screws which hold the jacket on to the chassis—two on the sides at the carriage and two in the keyboard near the shift keys. Then one needs to press down the top row of keys to carefully wiggle the unit out. However, the felt on the bottom of the jacket can impede the sliding of the metal. As a result one is best advised to insert a few thicker (index card weight or heavier) pieces of paper between the metal chassis and the felt and another between the top of the case and the keys to ensure they don’t get caught or scratched up. When re-inserting, similar care must be taken for the felt as well as for the (now brittle) plastic feet.
As also seen on early models of the Smith-Corona Skyriter, the Zephyr has a thin metal case that has two metal prongs which fit into the rear of the typewriter and then comes down over the typewriter and clicks into place with two metal spring bars with buttons that depress from the front of the case. It’s a simple and no frills case/cover, but far more effective and functional than some of the similar integral covers of typewriters in the late 60s and 70s. It’s not present on my Skyriter, but this case does have a very fine velvet-like interior which I suspect was somehow sprayed into the inside of the case as it doesn’t seem like it’s fabric glued into it.
Typeface Sample
The typeface on my Zephyr is Smith-Corona’s ubiquitous Pica No. 1 face with 10 characters per inch and types with 6 vertical lines per inch. A type sample from my machine with an overly wet, new ribbon appears below.
Sound
Here’s a sound sample of inserting a sheet of paper, aligning it writing a sentence, the bell, and a return with more typing on my 1940 Corona Zephyr:
Photo Gallery
Since April 3rd I’ve been acquiring a new typewriter on average every six days. 🙈 I think after the last three I just picked up, including a Remington 666 and Ten Forty I’ve been hunting for, I’m taking a hiatus unless I see a local Olympia SG1. 🤞🏼
My New Orga (S/N: 149251) typewriter manufactured by Bing Werke A.G. in Nuremberg, Germany (Bavaria) sometime between 1928 and 1933 arrived today.
It was originally manufactured in Germany and distributed by “New Orga” the “Sole Concessionaires, The Durable Supply Coy” which the label indicates was at 45 Bedford Row, London WC1 at the time. Coy here is obviously the U.K. abbreviation for Company. The Typewriter Database states that The Orga was called “‘A.M.C.‘ for the British market and ‘Nagri’ for the Indian market.” My model may pre-date that convention, but I’ll have to do some additional research to see when the British market began distribution. After flipping through all of the Orga exemplars at the Typewriter Database, I can report that mine is the only version with the “New Orga” badging in English. All the other ones listed there are badged either as “Orga” or “Orga Privat”.
Based on the Typewriter Database details and serial number as well as photos of other models, I’m going to guess that my model is a Privat 5. Certainly it doesn’t predate the 4 which changed the location of the bell on the rear of the machine to where mine is. I’ll add it to the database as the 7th documented Privat 5 where it will be the 4th oldest listed in that line. Based on a purely linear distribution of the serial numbers from those years, I’d guess my model was likely manufactured around February of 1931.
Orga made an early standard typewriter before switching to their “Privat” line. While the connotation of the model name is “private”, it really translates more like “personal machine” (versus a business machine). While most of the Privat models seem to come with wooden bases and metal case tops, they’re really at a point in typewriter history that predates the idea of a truly portable machine. This one clocks in at 22.7 pounds, so it’s lighter than most of the bigger standards that tipped the scales at 30+ pounds, but it’s also a tad heavier than some of the later 1940s and 1950s portable machines. One source indicated that Bing Werke specialized in toy manufacture prior to starting into typewriters in 1922, and their thinner metal panels from the toy division were used in their typewriters to help make them less expensive so that they could compete in the space better. In any case, I’m expecting that this one will live in one place and not move around a lot once I’ve cleaned it up.
Condition
At almost a 100 years old this typewriter is in surprisingly good condition. I’ve seen all the variations on the TypewriterDatabase.com, so I know I’m missing an original “case”, one of the ribbon spool covers, both original metal spools, and the spool nuts which held the spools down. Except for some heavy wear to the black paint on the front by the space bar, the paint and the decals are in exception condition for their age. I’m expecting that after a solid cleaning and polishing this model should really shine.
The platen is pockmarked with lots of typing and particularly periods as if someone typed periods for years on it. The rollers are cracking and have flat spots from sitting tensioned for decades. The bell creates a clarion song of it’s own, but is likely going to need some work or a spring to bring it back to life. It feels disingenuous to call any of the metal on this machine “brights”, but I’m guessing that after degreasing and polishing, they’ll light up once more. There’s some fun green corrosion going on at the edges of the platen knobs that may take some work to clear up properly.
The typeface is as grimy as I’ve ever seen. In general the internals are going to require a serious deep clean and degreasing, but there are really only about 6 sticky keys. I will say that the general typing mechanism makes one of the most satisfying and resonant clacks I’ve ever experienced.
The keyboard is in generally good shape for it’s age. The key legends are in a lovely shade of vintage yellow with a handful of legends being a darker yellow color than others. I doubt the metal keyrings were ever cleaned or polished in their lives, so they have some serious patina.
Curiosities
Many of the standard functionalities on the carriage are mirror reversed with respect to more modern US-based typewriters. The return handle, variable spacing mechanism are all on the right hand side and the manual margin release lever and the paper tray lever are on the left. (I’m going to have to do some sleuthing to figure out the proper use of the return mechanism which doesn’t seem straightforward to me.)
The New Orga has a shift lock, but in this case it’s so early that it’s effectuated by a metal switch on left side of keyboard rather than a key as became standard later on. This makes switching between lower case and upper case far more difficult for the touch typer.
This Orga is a carriage shift to be sure. I find it fascinating that there are highly visible and adjustable screws on both sides of the carriage right next to the platen knobs for controlling how high up and down the carriage can be shifted.
The machine has small knurled knobs on both sides which allow one to push from side to side to switch between the two ribbon spools. Additionally twisting these knobs causes ribbon to be picked up from one side to the other and vice versa after actuating the ribbon switch.
The keyboard is a QWERTY layout and has a pound symbol rather than a dollar sign symbol, backing up the fact that it was intended for the British market. It has a variety of fractions including 1/8, 3/8, 5/8, and 7/8 as well as the traditional 1/4 and 1/2, but on this machine the ! shares the slug with the 1/2.
The machine isn’t so old that the metal typing line doesn’t include two small ‘v’ cutouts for drawing straight lines across the page.
Naming
I’m torn by what name to give this particular machine. I’m tempted to name it Wonka after the movie appearance of it’s younger brother the Privat Modell 10. The alternate is to call it Roger, a proper British sounding name, after the Englishman Roger Bacon who wrote the book Novum Organum (1620) which is often translated as The New Organon, a name I can’t help but think of every time I see the New Orga badge on the paper table of this machine.
Perhaps if I can’t get it up and running properly, I’ll use it as a boat anchor and call it the Wonkatania?
Thoughts?
I’ll continue to post photos and updates on this typewriter as I begin some of the cleaning and restoration process. If you’ve got access to a parts machine from this era, do let me know.
I 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!?
I remember chuckling when I saw Tom Hanks’ tags on his typewriters. Now that I’m over 15 of my own which are constantly out and about the house, I realize the benefit of matching tags on machines and their cases. I don’t have an issue with identification and matching (yet), but if nothing else, less interested family members can properly store them out of the way if they need to without causing issues. Interested visitors can also get a quick précis of machines they run across.
Thank goodness I’ve got a card catalog big enough to log and cross-file a couple hundred models. I’m thinking of categorizing by manufacturer, by decade, and including typeface samples, which I’ve already been doing as I add them to the typewriter database.
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.
Starting off my second half-century with a shot of Penderyn Single Malt Whisky and some work on an Olympia SM3 manual typewriter.
Complete 1946 OAMI Service and Adjustment Manual Covering:
Standard Manual Typewriters: Remington * Royal * Underwood * Woodstock * L.C. Smith,
Portable Manual Typewriters: Remington * Royal * Corona * Underwood.
Typewriter Tools, Ribbon Spools, Ribbons, Platens, Springs and Ball Bearings Reference.
Typewriter Typeface and Keyboard Reference.
An early birthday present has arrived!
I may have just acquired a 1958 Olympia SM3 portable typewriter. I suspect it would make a good 50th birthday present come Monday. I’ll spend some time over the weekend cleaning it up.
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 2027-05-07.
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.
Henry Dreyfuss Royal Quiet De Luxe Typewriter showdown. Which do you like better, the black and gray 1948 or the grey and chrome 1949?
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.
Ted Munk (Lulu)
