Three new additions

Akin to the cherished cacophony of raindrops pounding upon a corrugated iron roof, the typewriter-drought that I have been whinging about for a while has now been broken. For ages I had been keeping a close eye on German eBay for something fancy, however in the space of three weeks, three different machines came up within a 15 minute drive.

Hermes 3000- 1969- Serial number: 3532894

I’ve never owned a Hermes before, but everyone raves about them. The Swiss quality, the delightful action, the ambiguous pronunciation of the brand name... This one as it turned out also came with a story. It was one of these awesome experiences where you rock up, open the case and hey presto, you have yourself a perfect little time capsule. The case was solid metal and the typewriter inside was preserved as well as the case suggested it would be. Complete with instruction manual and original Hermes guarantee, I decided I liked this machine straight away.

The seller I’d spoken to on the phone said she was selling it for her mother and was in the process of painting her house when I arrived. She came out dressed in paint-speckled overalls and was closely followed by the aroma of turpentine. An elderly gent sat on the porch sipping tea. She said that her mother had bought the typewriter brand new from Melbourne before they moved up to Brisbane in 1970. I assumed that it was part of a deceased estate, but to my delight, the very mother she spoke of emerged from inside the house. Similar to her husband who was still drinking his tea on the porch, this thin white-haired lady looked to be in her late 80's. I chatted to her for a short time about Melbourne, typewriters, Swiss engineering and how to pronounce "Hermes". She said she had used it for general correspondence and sometimes lent it to her kids for them to type up the occasional school or university assignment.  She mustn't have used it all that much though, or at least had it serviced it regularly, as it's in splendid condition. The sticker on the back is from a highly reputable Brisbane office machines company from whom she’d bought ribbons and had it serviced. Apparently it had been idle for many years and in the middle of a clean out the daughter had decided to sell it and was pleased it was going to a good home. 

N.B. Being able to convey the goodness of one’s home is a very useful skill to have when buying typewriters. 

Once home, I was interested to learn that the Hermes 3000 series progressed over three design iterations and mine was number two in this progression. For a comprehensive look at three iterations, see: http://www.typewriters.ch/collection/hermes_3000.html. However, to quickly summarize, the designs went from the delightfully rounded, delightfully green spaceship-esque first design...

Source: http://www.typewriters.ch/collection/hermes_3000.html

 ...To my slightly boxier, slightly more modern looking second iteration (also featured by Richard Polt here)...

...Through to the very computer-age looking third iteration showcased by Scott K here...

 

Source: http://filthyplaten.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/universe-is-balanced-with-hermes-3000.html

I love the progression, as it is a great little showcase of changing design trends through the 50's, 60's and 70's. Not having used one before I now appreciate what many before me have raved about; my Hermes 3000 types as good as it looks; nice snappy crisp action, quiet, precise and comfortable. A sample of its work is the typecast of my previous post.

Royal Portable Model O- 1936- Serial number: O-623857

This shiny little thing came up locally on eBay, with a loud disclaimer in the description that it was lacking a vital component that rendered it inoperable. Irrespective of whether or not I can get it going again and irrespective of it being a very common model, it knocked me for six when I first opened the case. If I can't get it going, it will pass off very nicely as a vanity mirror, it's that shiny. I'm also a huge fan of the positioning of the touch control on the Model O's: smack bang in the middle of the front of the typewriter, as if shouting "Look at me!!" On later machines when touch control became more commonplace, it is more likely to be found hiding beneath the ribbon cover or as a discrete dial on the side, but I love it how on these Royal Model O's, the touch control is such a focus of the machine, such a celebration of the new technology and such a selling point.

  

I can offer no history on this machine other than its previous owner imported it from America expecting a working typewriter. I can also offer no sample of its work, as it isn't working.

Remington Envoy- Serial number: can't find the bloody serial number

The last in my quick succession of drought breaking typewriter purchases was more a case of "why not?" The machine in question is an uninspiring Dutch made Remington Envoy which came up locally on Gumtree. I have no particular affinity for most late model plastic-cased typewriters, but the price was right and the drive was short. What I didn't expect however, was the condition. I honestly wonder whether this machine has been used more than a handful of times in it's entire life. There's no eraser shavings on the base, hardly any grit or dust at all, no gunge in the type-slugs, no markings on the case or the cover and it sports the most supple rubbery platen I think I've ever encountered. 

Not being able to find the serial number (any clues?) and due to it's immaculate condition I originally thought it was late 70's, but Robert's blog post on Dutch made Remingtons (here) leads me to believe that it might be early 70's or even late 60's.

That also wouldn't have happened to a typewriter (Part 2)

Side note: There exists in Australia (and I’m sure in heaps of other countries too) a culture of finders-keepers when the local council runs the twice yearly 'kerbside collection' for the pick-up of large objects that won’t fit in the regular wheelie-bins. People drive around in their utes or vans, looking through the piles of junk people place on the kerb before the council trucks get there, seeing if there is anything useful to them. One man’s trash can be another man’s treasure. The same goes for skip-bins, which show up when people are moving out, or renovating or building and they hire a skip-bin to dispose of large amounts of rubbish. As long as it’s placed beyond the property boundary it’s fair game and people will often have a sticky-beak as they walk past to see if there’s anything interesting in there.

While I'm getting excited about rubbish, here's a few examples. I'd be interested to hear of inter-continental differences in terminology.

 

Aaaaaanyway...

Left: 2009 model- exploded and fried. Right: 2014 model, didn't work, needed a warranty claim

 

Left: 1934 model- working. Right: Another 2014 model- working

Typed on the latest edition to my collection

 

That wouldn't have happened to a typewriter (Part 1)

 

Stay tuned for the next instalment of "That wouldn't have happened to a typewriter". I already know what happens next, because it has happened already, but I'll leave that story for a future post.

Typed on my Lettera 22 (again)

Split Enzpectations

  

 

Several thousand people, pack the Woodford Amphitheatre to see in the new year

 

 

and spark up their candles for the a moment of reflection close to midnight

 

and walk under an impressive structure made largely of bamboo on their way back to the rest of the festival, looking up and hoping that they're up to the task of tackling another year.

(Typed on the trust Olivetti Lettera 22 seen in this blog's background)

A persistent drought

Large swathes of western Queensland are currently experiencing a drought caused by a lack of rain. I am currently experiencing a drought caused by a lack of typewriters. I find that the frequency with which I blog is correlated to the frequency with which I buy/sell typewriters. It’s been weeks now and there hasn’t been anything half-reasonably priced that I’ve been keen on. Except for one.....

But first, let us examine the term 'persistence'. My ageing dictionary defines persistence thus:

Source: Pocket Oxford Dictionary, 4th edition, 1946, Clarendon Press

This isn’t the definition of persistence. Let me define persistence for you. The second post that I ever posted on this blog, back in March 2013, detailed an Afternoon’s Sojourn where I went antique shopping and spotted an Imperial 66 with the widest carriage I’ve ever seen. So wide, that it had little feet, akin to a crane on a building site, such that it didn't topple over. I wanted it. But it didn’t work and the price tag was an unrealistic $170. 

Paddington Antiques Centre, March 2013

Throughout the rest of the year, by virtue of living fairly close by, I visited the Paddington Antique’s centre around 3 more times. Each time it was still there and each time I would ask whether they might consider a more realistic price for the wide carriage Imperial 66. Each time they would not. Argh! Fast forward several months to December 2013 and what should come up on eBay? Why, I’d spot that carriage a mile off! 

First, a week at $80; no takers, then a week at $60; no takers and now, yet again, listed for a week at $59. Still no bids yet. During the two most recent iterations of this listing I’ve enquired whether the seller may wish to accept a slightly lower price. But each time “No sorry”. Aaaaaaaargh!! Here is someone who has been doggedly trying to sell this typewriter for at least 10 months non-stop and God knows how long before I first spotted it. Despite months (possibly years) in the shop, weeks on eBay and despite lowering the price from $170 to $59, they just can’t move it. It sure doesn’t stop them trying though. THIS, dear friends, is the definition of persistence.

The worst part is that I’m worried their persistence might just pay off. In a moment of weakness I’m genuinely afraid I might swallow my pride and fork out $59 for this 15kg, two foot wide hunk of scrap metal in the vague hope of making it work, marveling at the width of its carriage for a moment, writing the widest typecast ever known to man and then eventually selling it for less than I paid for it. Typewriter droughts will do this to a man...

One for Slim Dusty

Slim Dusty was a bit of an icon in Australia. Alive between 1927 and 2003, the bush-bred son-of-a-cattle-farmer country music singer gained his stage name at age 11 and enjoyed a career spanning over 60 years and 105 albums.

Source: http://www.slimdustycentre.com.au/arts/48.jpg

Now this post doesn't have much at all to do with Slim Dusty, but a certain event on my weekend can very easily be likened to one of his most famous songs- A Pub With No Beer. May I suggest pausing for a minute to watch the great man in action- pure brilliance:

The certain event on my weekend that I speak of was the Queensland Antique Dealers Association's 'Antique Fair' which was held at the Old Museum just outside of central Brisbane.

 

I had high hopes for this event, being held at such an old and prestige location. It was loudly advertised on large canvas banners outside the two antique shops I passed in the outer suburbs. I also considered that with a $6 entry fee, it must be good! Thus with an air of anticipation I jumped in the car and drove the 20 minutes into town. 

The Old Museum is a great venue for this sort of event. Built in 1891 it was originally an exhibition building, then later (as the name would suggest) a museum and more recently a great venue for touring pop and alternative musicians and home to the Queensland Youth Orchestra.

Once inside, my anticipation was heightened when near the entrance was a table with a number of Ericophones, several old black bakelite phones and this stunning example of an Edison Home Phonograph. 

Another corner yielded a  bunch of colourful radios and an English Oak Gramophone for $695, but not a single typewriter.

 

The majority of the space was dedicated to furniture, furniture, more furniture and ubiquitous antique silverware, glassware crockery and jewelry. But alas, as I walked and walked and searched and searched throughout the two large rooms full of antiques in the Old Museum, not a single typewriter. Not one bloody typewriter! I know this for a fact, as I asked almost every dealer present.

Now I readily admit that this was an 'antiques fair' and not a 'collectables fair' and as such I wasn't expecting the place to be filled wall to wall with nothing but deliciously old and reasonably priced 100+ year old typewriters, but seriously, an antiques fair of this size with no typewriters at all? I was planning for this post to be a great long epic, chock full of eye candy for everyone to murmur their quiet desires for, but alas, absolutely nothing at all to write home about. Thus let me close by paraphrasing the first verse of Slim Dusty's famous 1957 classic to sum up the experience:

            "But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear

            Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer an antiques
            fair with no typewriters"

Balmain Pale Ale

With a tip of the hat to the celebrated pioneer of the beer-typecast Mr Rob Bowker, I use this method to test my relatively recently acquired Underwood 310/Olivetti Dora