A web log, an æthereal scrap-book if you will, with a somewhat vintage flavour. News items, occurrences, experiences, thoughts and opinions related to Victoriana through to Fifties Americana can all be found here.
Time for a round-up of more typewriter-related news from the last coupe of months now, starting with another familiar - but always welcome - story of an "old soul" (this time inhabiting the body of 23-year-old Chicagoan Lucas Dul) who continues to maintain the noble art of typewriter repairing. All the usual traits are here - the then-teenager fascinated by the mechanical writing machine in his local antiques store, the desire to learn its secrets in order to get it working once again and the almost inevitable path it has taken him along in the intervening 9 years to becoming practically a full-time typewriter repair man. It is a path that he is still only just starting out on, but already he clearly has the passion, knowledge and desire that we typosphereans know so well; once again it is wonderful to see from this article how this self-taught typewriter aficionado enjoys his job and truly appreciates the analogue nature of these machines, not to mention the generally old-fashioned world from which they originate. It's a pleasure to read of young Mr Dul's accomplishments, his determination to make a proper - and clearly much-needed - business out of typewriter repairs (and sales) and the rewards he already gained (not least another machine from Tom Hanks' collection!) from his chosen calling.
What Lucas Dul - or indeed any typospherean - would make of this next item I wouldn't hazard to guess but I suppose with the frighteningly fast advancements in artificial intelligence it was only a matter of time before someone came up with the notion of combining this futuristic tech with the simple tactility of the typewriter. So it is that that engineer-designer Arvind Sanjeev has taken an old, battered Brother electric typewriter and, using a Raspberry Pi computer along with other gubbins of which I am ignorant, has hooked it up to an OpenAI GPT-3 chatbot which will read and respond to anything typed on the now charmingly-named "Ghostwriter". This is very much at the forefront of old-meets-new technology and Mr Sanjeev's intentions in creating this remarkable crossbreed are most thought-provoking - questioning, as we all are, AI's place in the world and the impact it has (and will doubtless continue to have) on our lives. To marry it to analogue machinery as a way of making it more familiar, less overwhelming and more of a recognisable tool - especially for users of "old tech", creatives and so forth - is a fascinating take on the of AI and I commend Mr Sanjeev for his visionary thinking in mating these two seemingly quite disparate technologies so seamlessly and successfully. The Ghostwriter definitely makes AI seem less intimidating for me and would certainly find a place amongst my collection!
Finishing off closer to home now - well, the UK at least, although Winchester is my ancestral home (and I may even be related to one of the lecturers featured in this article!) - we find two more like-minded creative writers who are organising what amounts to a type-in at the forthcoming Bournemouth Writing Festival on the 26th-28th April. An AI-linked typewriter would be an interesting addition to their "Stanza Room", I fancy, but regardless the idea sounds a wizard wheeze, with the plan for various typers to be laid out for visitors to write whatever they like from poems to artwork while Dr Rutter and Ms Waite serenade them on their own machines. I am sure it will prove to be a worthwhile addition to the festival and I am only sorry that I will be unable to attend, nor to provide any related paraphernalia that they are understandably requesting. Still I have no doubt that the endeavour will be a success and I will be with them in [typewriting] spirit if nothing else!
There we have it, then - three more stories that prove typewriters are as alive and healthy as they've ever been with the very real expectation that they will continue to have a future in society, from repaired originals [at writing festivals] all the way up to AI-powered hybrids.
Back to Hawker Hurricanes again for this next story, featuring the extraordinary recovery of eight airframes that have been found buried in woodland just outside Kyiv, Ukraine. While the almost-too-good-to-be-true story of Spitfires and Mosquitoes buried in Burma a few years ago turned out to be just that, with no physical evidence of such aircraft being found, this tangible discovery - as first reported back in July 2023 - is far more promising and all the more remarkable since it is occurring in the middle of an active warzone.
Hawker Hurricane II ’11 white’ recreation, on display in ‘Victory Park’, Museum of the Great Patriotic War, Poklonnaya Hill, Moscow, Russia.
That has not deterred the members of the National Aviation Museum of Ukraine who took advantage of an unexploded bomb disposal nearby to locate the remains of the eight aircraft and begin excavations, with the aim to retrieve as many parts as possible in order to hopefully recreate one complete aeroplane. How far they have progressed in the intervening eight months it is not possible to say; the museum is unsurprisingly closed for the duration so I expect work is severely limited but it would be nice to think that the parts could eventually be reassembled into a full-scale display once all the unpleasantness is over.
A Hawker Hurricane Mark IIB, Z5253 'GA-25' of No. 134 Squadron RAF taxies out past Russian sentries at Vaenga, near Murmansk, October 1941. Several British squadrons were originally sent out to train Russian pilots before handing the Hurricanes over to them.
I take my hat off to the museum's volunteers, who must have been working under immense pressure - and probably not a little danger - to get these relics to safety and so begin the job of sorting through the parts needed to create a complete Hurricane. Cleaning, repairing and cataloguing are strenuous undertakings at the best of times but what it must be like with the evils of war hanging over you is almost unimaginable. That these men are driven to rescue these long-abandoned machines, with the desire to return one to period condition in honour of the brave [Ukrainian] pilots who flew them on the Eastern Front during the German invasion of Russia, is more than admirable and I wish them every success in their endeavour (when the situation permits) - stay safe, gentlemen!
We resume normal service now on Eclectic Ephemera with this heart-warming story from Washington state in America and which initially appeared in June 2023. Proof, if proof were needed, that age is no barrier to friendship - especially if interests are shared as in the case of the two gentlemen who form the subject of the article.
Serendipitous events like the one which brought this pair of enthusiasts together are the sort of thing that make the world seem a little bit of a brighter place, where two people at the opposite ends of the age spectrum can meet by chance and hit it off in such a splendid manner beneficial to them both. Quite apart from the obvious rapport that they enjoy Mr Sage gets to pass on his extensive knowledge on the subject of Model A Fords (see below for an example) to the younger generation and so ensure its ongoing perpetuation while Mr Mpare learns valuable skills - both of the life and the mechanical variety - that he has already put to good use building his very own Model A from parts sourced by the Model A Ford Club of America no less! It is simply joyous to read of how an unexpected meeting has led to this firm friendship, the passing of the torch of experience, the obvious enthusiasm shown by both men for their common interest. It goes to show that one never knows what Fate has in store for us and that unlooked-for opportunities should be embraced whenever possible - who can tell where they might lead? Once again it is also splendid to read of another "old soul" - one with a nonetheless very mature outlook on past, present and future, who understands and appreciates the importance of traditional know-how such as this and the rewards he has gained as a result - the companionship of a responsible and grounded gentleman with a lifetime of experience, which in and of itself can be of great benefit to a teenager just starting out in life (a fact that young Mr Mpare and his family clearly appreciates) and, if that wasn't enough, his own antique motor car built with his own hands! Well done and congratulations to Messrs Sage and Mpare, indeed! May their friendship continue to blossom and may many more Model A's ultimately get back on the road as a result.
Nearly 14 years ago now (yikes, where on earth has the time gone?!) I reported on the then-new owners of the classic British motoring manufacturer Alvis and their simply wonderful scheme to put some of their vintage models back into [limited] series production at their workshop in Kenilworth, Warwickshire - including the stunning 1935 Bertelli Sports Coupé and 1938 Lancefield Concealed Hood in addition to the original Vanden Plas. Since that time Alvis have also broadened out into some of their post-war models such as the Park Ward Drophead Coupé and the Graber Coupé/Cabriolet but for their most recent project (a definite one-off this time) they have returned to their pre-war motorsport days thanks to the remarkable rediscovery of a truly unique, much-storied racing car that very nearly ended up on a scrapheap - the 1927 Alvis Grand Prix.
With driver George Duller in the cockpit, Number 2 Alvis is readied for the 1927 Junior Car Club 200 Miles race at Brooklands
The Alvis GP caused a stir right from the start thanks to its then-innovative mechanical layout, being front-wheel drive at a time when almost all cars, both for road and racing, were driven from the rear. But this was not its most notable technical advance - the front axle, instead of being the solid variety (that is, connecting the wheels with a rigid beam), was composed of four independently-mounted elliptical leaf springs allowing for an equally remarkable eight-cylinder, 1.5-litre supercharged engine to be placed lengthways behind the gearbox thus giving the car an unusual (for the time) long-nosed appearance.
Alvises Numbers 1 & 2 (bottom centre), their distinctive low-slung stance and long bonnets contrasting noticeably with the other cars', head off at the start of the 1927 JCC 200 Miles at Brooklands, October 1927
Two cars were produced with the intention of both being entered in eligible events of the period, however the advanced engine in particular suffered from reliability issues right from the beginning. After both failed to make the start of the 1927 British Grand Prix at Brooklands on the 1st October, they took part in the 1927 Junior Car Club 200 Miles race at the same track two weeks later; both cars qualified well - the Number 2 car lapping in excess of 120mph in the hands of experienced racer George Duller to start second, while the similarly proficient Maurice Harvey would be third on the grid in car Number 1. Initially setting an impressive pace (Number 2 being in the lead at the start before dropping back to third due to a spark plug change) both cars experienced crippling mechanical failures, with Duller having to retire with a shattered conrod (below, now on display at Alvis' in-house museum) on the 52nd lap.
Having removed the engine to diagnose the problem back at the factory, Alvis kept Number 2 in storage for over 10 years, never to be reunited with its original powerplant. In the late 1930s they decided to cut their losses and sell the car to Coventry-based scrap merchants Roach Brothers, with the firm instruction that it had to be broken up and not sold on. Thankfully someone at Roach Bros. completely ignored this order and sold the car intact to Bill Pitcher, a motorcycle dealer and Alvis enthusiast from Rugby. Pitcher's intention was to convert the car to rear-wheel drive - he sourced a 1929 Alvis TT or Le Mans engine and gearbox for the purpose but ended up having to sell the car on in the mid-'50s following the failure of his business. Another FWD Alvis enthusiast, Nic Davies, picked up the reins and toured the world with the GP before embarking on a full-scale restoration project in 1990. It took until 2003 for the car to be in a condition to run under its own power for the first time in nearly three-quarters of a century; three years after that it was acquired by current owner of Alvis Alan Stote and Tony Cox, an authority on FWD Alvises.
It has taken a further 17 years, with many an advance in CAD and manufacturing techniques to help along the way, but now I am delighted to see that Alvis GP Number 2 has been fully restored to 1927 racing trim - including a newly-built period-correct engine and gearbox! Rightly taking pride of place among Alvis's already exceptional collection of original and recreated cars, the GP was publicly revealed at the Automobile Council in Chiba City, Japan in April 2023 with the intention being to have it fully completed and running at Brooklands in time for its 100th birthday in 2027. All the more reason, I think, to start planning my long-overdue return to that great race track. A hearty well done to everyone involved in this mammoth project and I hope to see it in the metal in a few years time!
With its designer Captain G. T. Smith-Clarke in 1927 (left) and fully-restored today (right)
I wrote the above typecast back at the beginning of April, which shows just how much life intervened that I am only just now able to get round to posting it here! Those 78s will have to wait for another day, I think, as instead I intend to focus on the aforementioned Empire Aristocrat - as well as a couple of more recent arrivals. Sprinkled around them will also be some more typewriter-related news stories that I hope will be of interest.
Let's have a closer look at this first little typer that I bagged at the beginning of the year from a local garden/ antiques centre. I clocked it almost as soon as we went in (my typer-sense is now well-honed enough to spot even the smallest of machines sitting among the usual vintage/ antique fare!) even though its case was in place and therefore the machine itself not visible. It may have been the £20 price tag that piqued my interest further and on removing the lid I felt it more than justified the sum. A quick Google seemed to confirm it so after a brief test (as always seems to be the case in these instances) I passed over the lolly and returned home a happy chap. As mentioned I've found it a lovely little thing, with just one or two little foibles since discovered (such as a slightly recalcitrant spacebar) that I hope to iron out with practice over the coming year.
To show how behind I am with the posting of interesting articles, this one has been sitting in my drafts since February 2021 (and that's not even the oldest one - there are some going back to 2020 that I need to get round to posting!). Still, the subject suits this post and I am sure the young fellow mentioned in it is still repairing typewriters in the Tamarac, FL area and continuing to plough his own furrow as an "old soul at heart". Here we see again a phrase I'm sure we're all more than familiar with and which no doubt has been directed at ourselves more than once, along with the feeling (whether through our own emotions and actions or ascribed to us by others) of somehow being a reincarnation or just "born in the wrong time". In any event, this has led to (the by now) 20-year-old Patton Horton already being a de facto professional typewriter repairman judging by this news item. To take on a 100-year-old Oliver 9 as one of your first jobs shows a great deal of promise and kudos must also go to the Our Backyard Museum (which looks well worth a visit!) for having the faith and open-mindedness to let the plucky lad take on the challenge of fixing it. I hope he makes a success of what is obviously a passionate hobby for him and that he continues to find pleasure and enlightenment in the vintage lifestyle that he has chosen to pursue.
The future maintenance of typewriters (plus early PCs and laptops) in Lansdale, Pennsylvania seems assured if this next article is anything to go by, featuring another teenager who has been bitten by the typewriter bug and looks to have the skills necessary to ensure their survival. It is splendid to read of Max Wein's enthusiasm for his hobby - which I am sure, as he says, will become a lifetime's interest - his appreciation of its tangible link to times past and how he manages to successfully integrate it into his schooling. Stories like this continue to show that typewriters, not to mention early computers, still have a purpose and can be used as they were intended. I salute young Mr Wein and wish him well as he starts his journey into the world of typewriters and related "obsolete" technology.
Type-ins are still going strong across the Pond - or at least in Albuquerque, NM, where the brilliantly-named ABQwerty Type Writer Society holds regular events at a local library according to this article. One of the founder members, Joe Van Cleave (a well-known name in the typosphere, I believe), is the main subject of the piece and once again it is clear that we are dealing with a true typewriter enthusiast. A splendid collection of typers adorns Mr Van Cleave's home and judging from things he has been a driving force behind the local type-ins and the resurgence of typewriters and typecasting on the Internet in general. Long may he continue to be so and I look forward to hearing more of his influence, both in New Mexico and further afield, as we are sure to do.
We're I ever to attend a type-in in the UK (and believe me, if I knew of any within striking distance I would be off like a shot) I would now be somewhat spoilt for choice of which machine(s) to take along, as my collection of portable typewriters has doubled in this year alone thanks not only to the Aristocrat but also two more that both came into my possession within days of each other. That they are both the same model would, I fear, be something only really understood by true collectors(!), although the lay-person should notice some differences as well.
To start at the beginning I have always been what I call an "Imperial Man", inasmuch as I tend to focus my attention (so far!) on typewriters manufactured by Imperial Typewriters Ltd. of Leicester. I suppose this is because the first typer I encountered was the 1956 Model 66 that Dad brought home from work one day when the company was going to throw it out as being "beyond economical repair". It has always been a part of my life and started me on the road to being... well, I suppose a collector(!), so Imperials have always been my first passion. That they are sturdy, well-made British machines (even the portables!) that epitomise the style and mechanical design of their 1930s heyday merely adds to their appeal for me. Thus is my affection for British-made Imperials of the 1930s-50s. However, with space even in a 3-bedroom house at a premium and my strength not up to hefting weighty desktop models about, my focus recently switched to the portables and in particular the "Good Companion" models of the '30s & '40s. Having done some research I established that, over the years from its introduction in 1932 to its final iteration in 1957, the original Model No. 1 went through several changes during its lifetime. Clearly one could go overboard collecting versions from every single year and easily fill one's home with Good Companions and nothing else, so I decided early on to keep it simple and get an early model with white keys and a later one with black keys. I bided my time and kept my eyes peeled at local vintage fairs and on eBay. On the latter I missed out on several examples (as one does) but my hopes remained buoyant and one day two weeks ago my perseverance paid off and a deal was struck on eBay for a black-keyed No. 1 in good condition, complete with some original accessories including cleaning brush, oil can, cleaning fluid bottle (empty), ribbon tin (with a "dead" ribbon!) and leather carry pouch (so dry and cracked I feared for it, however liberal applications of lanolin and leather restoring cream have managed to bring some life back to it). The machine itself seems to be in working order but in need of a good clean and what service my little knowledge can provide. New ribbons have also been procured and await fitting.
You'll notice I put "ribbons". Well not two days after I had sealed the deal for the first one (and before it had even arrived), the very second one I was after crossed my path in one of those serendipitous events that sometimes makes you wonder about a Higher Power. On a fleeting weekend outing to Rochester, Mrs P-P and I were returning to the car when we passed a charity shop that we had clocked at the beginning of our visit. A lovely, typical old chazza that is now sadly becoming all too rare (an Aladdin's Cave-cum-Tardis of items - that now tend to be the preserve of specific vintage emporia - slung all over the place) its siren call made us want to stop in even though our parking ticket was on the point of expiration. And there, just inside the door and partly hidden behind some wooden packing cases and a fencing mask (so as to discourage [little ]people from playing with it, so the lady behind the till informed me (and a not unreasonable idea as I'm sure many collectors will know), was an early-model No. 1 with white keys!). Following a quick request to test it out (and the removal of the aforementioned impediments) and an equally quick zoom around the rest of the shop to check it out and have a think, the decision was made, money changed hands, the wife ran off to get the car and my quest was complete. Two 1930s Imperial Good Companion No. 1s - one with black keys and one with white - were mine!
If anything the second one - a 1933 example according to its serial number - is in even better condition than the first (undated as no serial no. is visible - a common occurrence on some later examples I understand - but I would guess at late '30s, maybe 1939-ish). It could still use a freshen-up and definitely a new ribbon but, regardless of their conditions, the fact that I can now tick off this particular typewriting wish (and perhaps shift my focus to other portables!) makes me a very happy chappie and I am very much looking forward to putting them to use. Watch this space! (Although I won't be using them on my lap any time soon, I can promise you that - they still weigh a flippin' ton!)
My own collection of typers now numbers a total of six - the Imperial 66, the two Good Companions, the Empire Aristocrat, the Litton-Imperial 200n and the Corona Model 3 (not to mention my wife's two desktops - types unknown - that are apparently still somewhere in the loft at my in-laws!) - so I still have some way to go to match Mr Van Cleave. We both have a looooong way to go, though, to catch up with Mr Everett Henderson of Austin, TX, the subject of this next item and who has over 100 machines and counting in his collection. As with Joe Van Cleave and his fellow Albuquerquian collectors so has Mr Henderson helped to set up a series of local type-ins with a like-minded friend under the title of Austin Typewriter, Ink group. That same desire to share the tangible, mechanical experience of using a typewriter is equally as evident in Texas as it is in New Mexico and it pleases me no end to know that there is another enthusiastic restorer and fellow collectors out there connecting with each other, both physically and virtually, to help keep the enjoyment of typewriters alive.
The final typewriter-related news in this now-gargantuan post (and then, you'll be pleased to know, I shall probably disappear again for another couple of months) takes the form of this recent video report from the Irish Times detailing the work of typewriter restorer Leo Molloy. There's really nothing I can add to what he says, so I'll just sign off by leaving the last words - words that we typosphereans know so well - to Mr Molloy.
When I blogged back in July about the restoration of some traditional finger post road signs in the village of Glanton, Northumberland, I ended that post with an expression of gladness that such work was still being carried out, that it was inspiring other communities to do the same and that I hoped another eight years would not elapse before a similar news item came up again for me to mention on here (having previously posted about an antique 1904 road sign in Overstrand, Norfolk, in 2012). Well I'm happy to say that a mere four months separate the Glanton article from this next, comparable story from the charming Cumbrian village of Cartmel, which lies just north of Morecambe Bay between the towns of Barrow-in-Furness and Kendal.
In this instance the signs are of the "bladed" village name variety as opposed to the directional finger post designs featured in the previous post. Dating back even further to the Victorian era, some are even as old as 1837. In other respects though they are largely identical to the later types as seen in Glanton, being of cast iron construction and painted in contrasting black and white to stand out clearly on the rural highway for the weary traveller to see - a role they performed admirably for over a century and which they continue to do today despite the advent of the newer Warboys designs in the 1960s.
As with the Glanton fingerposts the Cartmel signs - four of them dotted around and on the outskirts of the village - have been afforded a new lease of life, ensuring their continued survival well into the future, thanks again to the efforts of the parish council and in this case the services of local lengthsman Archie Workman (surely one of the best examples of nominative determinism I've seen in a long while) and a fellow unnamed road sign enthusiast with a passion for restoring these few remaining links to past travel. (As an aside this article has been a welcome source of education for your author as it is the first time I've come across the term "lengthsman", which I've discovered is a traditional old English term dating back to beyond the 18th century used to describe anyone employed by parish councils or local landowners to keep a "length" of road clear and passable and which I'm delighted to learn is a job still being carried out today by the likes of Mr Workman.)
This sterling work is just one part of Mr Workman's aim to restore all such remaining signposts in the Furness area - 26 in all (including another seven around Cartmel), featuring the age-old Lancastrian blade and nipple-top design and originally produced by local steelworkers Thomas Graham & Sons of Preston (who I'm pleased to see are still operating). It is again wonderful to see these vintage road signs appreciated by locals and visitors alike; that there are still people out there with the interest and more importantly the skills to ensure that they can continue to be both enjoyed and made use of in their original function. I hope and believe that other local parish councils will be equally as keen as Allithwaite and Cartmel to see their Victorian-era village signs restored to their former glory by Mr Workman and his colleagues and I wish them every success in their time-honoured work.
I'm going to let you in on a little behind-the-scenes secret to the workings of Eclectic Ephemera in this next post. If any of you were ever wondering where I find all these vintage-inspired news items from around the massive network that is the World Wide Web, well, I'll tell you - <whispers> I do make a fair bit of use out of Mr Google's Alert function. In case you don't know what that is, it's a handy little tool that allows you to set up e-mail alerts every time a specified keyword appears in news reports (or other sources of your choice) on any website that shows up through Google. It's jolly clever and I have quite a few on the go to help supplement the more traditional surfing methods that I also employ. Without giving too much more away one of those keywords is "typewriter" and over the last couple of month in particular it has resulted in the motherlode of all related news items. So, rather than publish each article separately - in which case I would still have been posting them well into next year - I thought I would do what I believe in modern blogging parlance is called a "linkdump" and combine them all into one post. ("Oh no, not another massive essay Bruce!" I hear you cry. Well, I'm afraid so. Sorry.)
Stand by then for a selection of typewriter-based reports, featuring various typosphereans from across the North American continent - all of whom still work to repair and restore these wonderful machines so that they can continue to be used and enjoyed by young and old alike.
We begin with this wonderful story from Saskatoon, Western Canada, where local typewriter repairman Tom Cholowski has been busy restoring typewriters and related machinery for both the local and national typer community. Clearly a man after our own hearts - and not just in the matter of typewriters, as his attire and overall demeanour in all of his appearances makes clear! - Mr Cholowski has been fortunate enough to be recognised for his work by one of the most famous proponents of the typewriter - actor and collector Tom Hanks.
Having written to Mr Hanks to express his gratitude in helping to preserve and further the cause of the humble typewriter as a well-known aficionado, Mr Cholowski was surprised and delighted to receive a response from the great man himself thanking him in turn for his work keeping the typewriters of Canada in a functioning state for the people of that country to enjoy. Confirming the widely-held opinion (shared by this blogger, who has featured his typewriter-related deeds on here before) that Tom Hanks is an all-round splendid fellow as well as a fine actor, the charming letter is full of praise as well as the promise of a visit to Mr Cholowski's shop the next time the former is in the neighbourhood.
The story doesn't end there, though, I'm pleased to say, for in addition to his kind words Mr Hanks offered up one of his own typewriters as thanks for Mr Cholowski's work repairing Western Canada's broken typing instruments.
Thus a few weeks after the initial correspondence began, by now one of Canada's most famous typewriter repairmen was thrilled to receive a 1940 Remington Noiseless portable - complete with original manual and typewritten provenance - that was once part of Tom Hanks' collection and which is now safely ensconced in Saskatoon, where it rightly takes pride of place even among the hundreds of other machines that form Mr Cholowski's own collection.
This has been a heart-warming story from start to finish, featuring two topping gents - including one who from all appearances especially embraces the Chap spirit - with a shared interest in keeping the marvellous machines that are typewriters alive and in the public consciousness for years to come. Quite apart from the celebrity factor of Mr Hanks' involvement, Tom Cholowksi simply comes across as a jolly nice gentleman who has been able to turn his hobby into a business to the benefit of his local community as well as typewriter enthusiasts throughout the country and beyond. His attitude is a welcome one in this day and age and his very existence makes the world a better place, not only for typosphereans and Chaps but for everyone. Well done, sir!
We head to Nashville, Tennessee for this next article where once again we find a passionate typewriter repairman intent on rescuing as many machines as he can from his local area and around the country. This is Kirk Jackson, whose ethos is remarkably similar to that of Tom Cholowski's - and, indeed, seems to be a common thread linking many a typewriter enthusiast together. Like so many of us a fan of mechanical items, old-fashioned ephemera and antiquated technology, Mr Jackson was inevitably drawn to the workings of manual typewriters following a chance encounter in 2016 with a 1954 Remington (the model isn't specified) at an antique shop in the nearby city of Goodlettsville. From then on it has clearly been a journey of discovery resulting in a new-found love for these old machines that has led to him becoming Tennessee's premier typewriter repairer with his own shop and Instagram page. Not only is it a gladdening tale, but the appeal of typewriters to Mr Jackson on a personal level is clearly apparent and the way in which he speaks of them, of their tangibility, their clarity of purpose and their ability to provide an intimate connection to the act of writing is a familiar theme that pops up throughout the Typosphere and among collectors the world over. It is as ever good to see another younger person with the skills and the mindset to keep typewriters going, as well as appreciating similar devices from the same eras. I applaud Mr Jackson for being so ardent an advocate for their cause; the city of Nashville - and the wider typewriting world - is fortunate to have him.
Moving a little further south now to the state of Alabama we're invited to meet William Lee, a typewriter repairman operating out of a little shop in the capital city of Montgomery. Once again his story mirrors in many respects that of Messrs. Cholowski and Jackson, with the same sentiments coming to the fore and a clear love of typewriters and their mechanical nature very much in evidence. Unlike the other chaps mentioned so far, however, Mr Lee's introduction to typewriter repair took place much earlier at a time when they were still a commonplace technology and this - combined with the attraction to and enthusiasm for his work, something which is shared with his fellow repairers - has understandably stood him in good stead over the years. While that work has changed somewhat from when he first started out in 1973 it is nevertheless still pleasing to note the number of younger people coming to him either with typewriters for repair or to buy a restored one from him and even more of a welcome surprise to find that there are businesses in the area still in need of his services. He is certainly providing a valuable resource to the people of the south-eastern United States and I can only hope he is wrong in his lament that he will be the last of his profession. Mr Lee's passion, knowledge and experience is a credit to him and judging from what we've seen so far, I remain positive that with his help the folks of Alabama will continue to have a typewriter repairman handy for some time to come.
Having met Mr Lee of Alabama we head back north of the border to Canada - this time to the south-east and the city of Kitchener, Ontario where we are encouraged again to make the acquaintance of Manfred Aulich, known throughout the region as "The Typewriter Guy".
Here once more we see the same story of a fellow typewriter aficionado who got bitten by the bug as a young boy and in the intervening years has used his skills to provide an increasingly valuable service to typewriter owners across the Canadian south-east. Despite his advancing years I'm pleased to note that Mr Aulich has no intention of stopping any time soon and I only hope that as with the other older repairmen featured in this post he is able to continue for some time to come and maybe even impart some of his knowledge to the younger generation (who again get a positive mention as showing an interest in old typewriters). It's cheering to see in how high esteem Mr Aulich is held not only by the locals but folk as far away as Toronto and Waterloo, so much so that - as the article states - his business is booming. Tom Hanks even gets another mention (the man's fast becoming part of the thread of the typewriter story) with Mr Aulich intending to send him a machine he is currently restoring (the Continental Wanderer 35 pictured in the report). I now have visions of typewriters flying back and forth through the mail to and from Mr Hanks and other collectors around the world! Has a new version of the hobby just been invented - typewriter exchanges, perhaps? Either way, Mr Aulich also gets my approbation for being a further champion of the typewriter in his corner of Canada.
We're over on the west coast of the United States for this next story now and yet another "Typewriter Guy" - enthusiast Simon Kiefer. A slightly different take on the sort of typewriter narratives we have seen so far, but by no means any less commendable, Mr Kiefer's efforts see him lend out restored typers to his local community for use in creative workshops (type-ins, in other words), that I'm happy to note are [currently] sponsored by various local Santa Barbara institutes. Here then is another aspect to typewriter collecting and repairing, similar in experience to that of Kirk Jackson in Nashville - the sharing of this supposedly "outdated" technology with the wider community as a means of reconnecting with the art of writing and of using these delightful machines for the singular purpose for which they were intended. It is a thoroughly laudable enterprise and one that I hope Mr Kiefer can continue to provide especially through these difficult times. Although no mention is made in this particular case of any typewriter repair skills per se, the tale of how Mr Kiefer came to love these old machines (once more very much an echo of Mr Jackson's introduction to the world of typewriters), the fact that he has over 100 in various conditions dotted throughout his home (with people even leaving examples on his doorstep!) and his experience growing up with them gives me to think that he must be adept at repairing them as well. In any event, once more I applaud Mr Kiefer for his work in bringing the joys of typewriters and the typewritten word to the people of California.
Up to the very north-east of the United States and on the border with Canada again for this penultimate article from the town of Winthrop, Maine and the story of the state's only typewriter repairman, Pat Costigan. Like Mr Lee in Alabama Mr Costigan started out servicing typewriters as a young man in the 1970s when the machines were still prevalent and has continued to provide a sterling service to the people of Maine and beyond to this day, having seen the fortunes of the typewriter wax and wane down the years. But as we have seen throughout all these news items (and know well) the fascination with and enduring quality of typewriters is undying and transcends the generations, with Mr Costigan also speaking of younger people showing an interest in these timeless machines and providing him with a welcome and hopefully long-lived fresh clientele. It's nice to read of the interest that exposure to typewriters creates manifesting itself as a desire to study journalism or a similar writing-based vocation, as again we see much made of the intrinsic, hands-on aspect of typewriter use. While he may be styled, like so many of his cohorts, as "the last typewriter repairman...[north of Boston]" the fact that his business is also doing well and with 20% of it accounted for by typewriters means I am sure Mr Costigan will be providing his services to those still reliant on and enjoying the use of typewriters for many years to come. Another hearty "well done!" comes from this side of the Pond.
We end this post in New York City with another heartening typewriter-based story with a bit of a difference, in this case highlighting the work of English Literature professor and self-styled "performance artist" Brandon Woolf, who has spent the last few weeks sitting on a street corner in Brooklyn with a chair, a table, a 1940s Remington portable typewriter and reams of paper, envelopes and stamps offering a free letter-writing service for passers-by. This is part of his latest concept art which he calls "post-dramatic theatre" but which again also owes much to type-ins and especially the idea of condolence notes (from which Professor Woolf's performance - The Console - derives its name) and letter-writing in general. All in all it sounds a most intriguing exercise, yet one which again brings the typewriter and its unique abilities into the public consciousness in a direct and engaging way. While the theory may be to tap in (see what I did there?) to the uneasiness and melancholia that seems so much a part of the world at the moment I like to see the personal nature of this performance as providing a much-needed boost to people's interactions especially in this time of Covid - and there is nothing better than a typewriter for that.
Seven uplifting typewriter stories from around America and Canada, then, which prove that there are many out there still devoted to keeping these terrific contraptions going well into the 21st century. My only disappointment is that there is not nearly enough similar coverage of typewriter repairers here in Britain (well-known typospherean Richard Polt's website has a very handy list not only of British-based menders but worldwide ones too, which is a great resource) - perhaps something for this enthusiast to investigate for a future post...! I hope you have enjoyed reading these pieces as much as I have (and of blogging about them) and that - especially for my fellow typosphereans out there - it serves as a reassurance that for every "last repairman" one hears about there is doubtless another out there carrying on what Tom Hanks rightly describes as "God's labour".
On the face of it the headline of this article appears to be somewhat convoluted so let's begin by putting any confusion to bed and solving this apparent geographical jigsaw puzzle.
What we have here then is an 1890s-vintage elevator (or lift, as we call it on this side of the Pond) made by the Warner Elevator Company of Cincinnati, Ohio and which has recently been unearthed during the refurbishment of the Detroit Hotel - located not in Illinois but rather in St Petersburg. Not the Russian city of St Petersburg though, but the town of St Petersburg in Florida. All this confusion can be laid squarely at the door of the town's founders Peter Demens and John C. Williams, who as the article explains reached an agreement in 1888 to build the hotel as part of an important railway deal for the then new town. Russian-born Demens, who was instrumental in bringing the railway to St Petersburg, gave the town its name in honour of his birthplace. Williams, meanwhile, hailed from Detroit City and in exchange for buying the land from Demens decided to name the subsequent hotel after his home town. I'm sure it all makes perfect sense to the native Floridans but, my word, they could have made it easier by just coming up with some original names!
Anyway, with the hope that that's at least partially cleared up any lingering misunderstanding (and not added to it) let's move on to the main discovery detailed in this article - and what a discovery it is! It is nothing less than a fantastic find - a near 120-year old electrically-operated lift that has lain undisturbed for decades, boarded up and hidden behind some later remodelling work. Now as part of some extensive works being carried out to turn the building into a steampunk-themed pub restaurant - an excellent and by the sounds of it welcome idea for the town - the original compartment, doors, motor and even cables (albeit long-since cut) have been uncovered by workmen brought in to gut the interior. In addition many more early features were revealed during the renovations including an old staircase, fireplace, telephone switchboard complete with handwritten room numbers and even some sections of hand-painted wallpaper!
These revelations alone are remarkable for - as local historians have said - there is little left in St Petersburg of its early history, so a discovery such as this is especially significant and rightly of great importance to the town. The unearthing of something on this scale is arguably of even greater scope than mere regional interest, for there cannot be that many buildings left in the world of such an age that are still hiding such wonderful gems and in America especially where something of this age is considered practically ancient it is a particularly noteworthy find.
I'm therefore delighted to see that not only have these incredible vestiges of the hotel's early years been found but that everyone involved in their rediscovery, from the owners to the contractors, recognise the importance of them and what is more are keen to incorporate them into the building's redesign. Everything looks likely to be inventively saved in one form or another - the lift to be converted either into a private dining table or photo booth, the stairs kept on show as a centrepiece and even the wallpaper framed. That the theme of the new venue is to be a steampunk one is indeed a splendidly fitting coincidence and has assured these valuable relics will be preserved for the people of St Petersburg to enjoy for years to come. The whole project sounds most impressive and I look forward to seeing the end result; should I ever find myself in St Petersburg, Florida I would certainly make a point of visiting the finished eatery.
Back when we were still going through the first wave of Covid, but still pertinent today, come these two strikingly similar news items from either side of the Atlantic featuring the use of antique machinery in the fight against the spread of coronavirus. In each case this involves the manufacture of homemade face masks - albeit with a vintage twist (of course!) in the form of traditional sewing machines being pressed into service to make them. The stories are almost identical in fact, the only real differences being the geography and the fact that the second effort also benefits a local charity, with both even including the same machine - the ubiquitous 1920s-30s Singer.
To begin with the first article we head over the Pond to the town of Arvada in Colorado where Giselle Williams, the owner of a local business hit like so many by the pandemic, has taken advantage of a long-forgotten family heirloom and her husband's technical restoration abilities - not to mention his own sewing skills! - to produce face masks for not only the local community but for people around the world. This previously dormant piece of equipment is nothing other than her great-great-grandmother's 1922 Singer Model 66 sewing machine, which until Covid struck had been languishing in the Williams' loft. Now thanks to Mr Williams it has been given a new lease of life; dusted down, re-oiled and even fitted with an electric motor as so many old Singers subsequently were (like much old technology they were designed to be repaired and upgraded rather than thrown away and replaced) it is performing sterling service helping to make upwards of thirty masks a day alongside a more modern Juki machine.
This is truly a heart-warming story in every respect - from the rediscovery of the century-old machine and its refurbishment by the husband, to his imparting the sewing skills he learnt from his own grandmother to his wife and the opportunity it has given both of them to provide a much-appreciated service to those near and far who have need of it, not to mention the chance to reconnect to their ancestors through a machine both of them would have used. I'm very pleased to see them make such a success of the project and so be able to continue their business in an important new direction and I wish them well in their vintage-inspired endeavour!
Back over in England now for the second equally heart-warming and remarkably parallel article, this time featuring two retired friends in Shropshire working together to provide face masks to local general stores in Wolverhampton, Bridgnorth and Telford with all proceeds from sales going to the Midlands Air Ambulance charity. And just as with the Colorado business it is all being done with the aid of a near 100-year-old Singer sewing machine, in this case a 1934 Singer Model 127(?) that belonged to the mother of one of the ladies and which far from supplementing a more modern model actually ended up replacing the newer machine after it was unable to cope with the pace of production! Now having far exceeded their original target of both face masks and charitable donations these two indomitable ladies are well on their way to continuing to churn out handmade masks for the local community, with the local air ambulance still standing to benefit. Their sewing machine shows no signs of stopping either and with plans for Hallowe'en- and Christmas-inspired designs literally on the table this is another pop-up concern that seems destined for ongoing success and rightly so.
Both these stories are a welcome reminder that old technology can still have its uses - sometimes over newer advancements and sometimes in partnership with them - especially in trying times such as these when it behoves us to all pull together and make good use of what equipment we have at our disposal. I know for a fact that these two accounts are not rare occurrences, as my own mother has also been hard at work at her machine making masks for friends and family. Until several years ago she also had a Singer of similar vintage to the Mmes. Harrison and Warrilow, which Dad had converted to electric pedal power, but alas it became to heavy and bulky for her to use comfortably so it was sent on to pastures new and replaced with a modern machine. Judging by these two stories, however, I wouldn't be the least surprised if it is still out there somewhere working away happily - perhaps even helping to make a face mask or two!
Back in June I reported on the [re]discovery of a misattributed Spanish-language film that had been gathering dust on the shelves of Spain's national film archives for nearly half a century and which had only just been properly identified thanks in part to lock-down giving the archivists an opportunity to have a thorough look through their store of uncatalogued footage. I ended that blog post expressing the hope that this would not be the only lost film to be unearthed as a result of the lock-down and I am delighted to say that that expectation has been fulfilled with this latest news of the finding of a previously-thought lost 1923 American drama called The First Degree.
In what seems to be a recurring pattern in the rediscovery of lost films, this copy of The First Degree had originally been located several years previously (albeit "only" 14 years in this case) in a collection of largely unrelated factual films that came out of Peoria, Illinois. Rescued from potential destruction by the Chicago Film Archives it then languished on their shelves in an unmarked box for over a decade before Covid-19 allowed curators the time to go back through their unclassified movie reels and successfully identify it as one of the Library of Congress's "Lost U.S. Silent Feature Films 1912-1929".
Once again then we see the remarkable incidence of extremely fragile 35mm film stock surviving all sorts of prospective obliteration, to be eventually saved almost a century later - and partly as a result of a worldwide pandemic. It is frankly incredible that any "lost" films from this period have survived at all (especially those from Universal, which shockingly destroyed all of its silent film negatives in 1948); particularly feature films such as this one with five or more reels - very often one or more are either missing or too far gone to save leading to sadly incomplete restorations.
I am glad to say that this is not the case with The First Degree, however, with all five reels remaining intact and salvageable (despite their near-incineration at the hands of a hot water cylinder). Already they have all been transferred to digital format and judging by what little footage has been so far released it looks to have been a complete success with the images appearing clean, bright and crisp - a testament to the archivists' skills and a sobering reminder that only pure luck meant it was not a lot worse.
The result is a valuable addition to the history of U.S. cinema and a fascinating snapshot of the American Midwest in the 1920s. It is also interesting to note that this well-received courtroom drama had as its director someone who was more used to working with Buster Keaton (and would much later direct a couple of Laurel & Hardy features), but this seems not to have detrimentally affected the film - quite the opposite in fact as contemporary reviews were overwhelmingly positive. In this respect this film's salvation is even more welcome given that it will allow silent movie buffs and commentators the rare chance to see an atypical example of the director Edward Sedgwick's work.
I for one certainly look forward to seeing the finished article when conditions allow and am heartened at the news and manner of this discovery. More importantly the optimism it engenders regarding the possibility of similar finds being unearthed in the future is increasingly palpable. I certainly feel confident in ending this post with the thought that this will definitely not be the last time we read about a "lost" film being rediscovered - whether due to covid restrictions or not.
Digitising old photographs to include colourisation, 3D effects and even animation seems to be the "in" thing at the moment judging by this latest article - the second to feature on this blog in recent months following a similar project in Coventry as reported here.
This time we find ourselves in Edinburgh, where a local film and animation enthusiast has used his skills in 3D and visual effects to bring images of Auld Reekie from across the decades to life. With support and encouragement from a local history Facebook page, and inspired by the same Youtube videographer I mentioned in the Coventry article who upscales century-old footage of New York, Paris and elsewhere, Scottish filmmaker Steven Jefferies has taken still photographs of his home city from the 1950s all the way back to the 1870s and turned them into moving pictures using modern digital techniques.
The result is quite remarkable, blurring the lines between static photography and moving images - in the case of the latter quite a valuable addition inasmuch as it provides quasi cine-footage of the 1870s, a time before such technology existed, thereby adding a new level of immediacy and familiarity to otherwise motionless images.
The footage seems to have gone down well with the people of Edinburgh, as well it should, giving a new lease of life and fresh perspective to these old photos, preserving their memories in a new and exciting way - a way that might hopefully engage with the younger generation, perhaps even encourage some to take a further interest in their local history and - who knows? - maybe pursue a career in [digital] photographic conservation.
The Cowgate arch of George IV Bridge, Edinburgh, 1860 source - Monovisions
In the meantime I congratulate Mr Jefferies on his Living Pictures Project and - as with the Coventry Rebuilt initiative - add my voice to those who have expressed the hope that it is something that will continue to grow (with the assistance of the Lost Edinburgh Facebook page) into a valuable historical asset for the local community.
