Two Royals and Birthday Lemonade

I went into Mozo’s about a week and half ago to check out Moe’s latest find: a 1970 Hermes 3000 with script typeface – mint condition:




1970 Hermes 3000
Serial number: 7059922


It had the original manual as well as an original brush:


Not only that, it had the original warranty card:


I felt like I should have completed the warranty and mailed it in.

There was also a receipt for a draw band repair. It cost $8.50 to get a draw band repaired in 1973:


My question: how does a draw band snap in just three years of use?  Hermes was obviously not using 80lb fishing line for its draw bands.

I congratulated Moe on her find and told her that while I wasn’t in the market for a mint condition script Hermes 3000, she would certainly find a happy buyer.

Typewriters in need

Moe asked me if I was interested in cleaning up a couple typewriters for her friend Tim.  Tim is a retired newspaper reporter with a fondness for typewriters. He had two portable Royals that needed care. Both were very dirty, one with a broken draw band, one with a lot of rust and a cemented segment. I told Moe that I was up for the job.


I love before and after typewriter photography. I may have a fetish for decay—if I know that it’s a temporary state. Here I indulge in what I call “Beforn”, a form of ruin porn:


That’s a dead spider by the spool


Aahh – it speaks to me…”help meeee…”


White residue on the keys. Baby Blue had the same stuff. It’s probably some chemical precipitate from the 1950s plastic of the keys.

Bad News and the Philosopher Queen

Moe called me the next day while I was working on Tim’s Royals.  Bad news.  The Hermes 3000 got dropped.  Could I come in and take a look?  Of course.

It didn’t look too bad:



DSC03722 DSC03723

Moe was philosophical about the Hermes.  She said: “I don’t get upset about that sort of thing.  Why should I?”

Indeed, she’s right. Why should you?


Philosopher Queen Moe, her bevy of beauties, and a stable of stallions

When Life Gives You a Broken Hermes, Make Lemonade

Moe asked me if I could do anything to get it typing again.  The carriage was mashed into the body and not moving.  The plastic carriage housing was shattered and the cool margin indicator was pulled out. Blurg.

Then I had an idea.  My birthday was this past weekend.


I had my husband buy the mashed Hermes for my birthday (because nothing says “Happy-Birthday-Darling” like a broken typewriter).  Now I will be able to dismantle and investigate the complex mechanisms slowly and methodically at my own pace and not worry that I may never get it back together and working.  At this point, it’s an interesting parts machine, but who knows? Perhaps it will type again.

Here are the ladies of Mozo’s. Roia (mother of the Arduino Kid) is posing with the LC Smith and Moe is posing with the Parisian wrestlers:


I think this poster of turn-of-the-century Parisian wrestlers could look great framed and hung in the bathroom:


The Squatter: Hermes 3000

Last week, I dropped off the cleaned-up Royal KMM at Moe’s shop.


While I was there, Moe asked me to take a look at a couple new typewriters she had gotten in. One was a S-C Clipper in stinky/dirty condition but fine fettle typing-wise. I told Moe I would take the Clipper home, clean her up, throw in a new ribbon and bring her back.  Some of the key tops are rotated in peculiar directions, so I will try to put them right.


The other typewriter was displayed precariously (Moe-style) on an unreliable-looking pile of things.


It was a very nice 1963 Hermes 3000, serial number 3184055


The case was very dirty, but contained the manual and one brush.


ACK – that horrible ribbon.  I couldn’t leave it like that.


I told Moe I would take the Hermes 3000 home for a clean-up and new ribbon.  That would give me chance to play with a Swiss-made typewriter for a little while.

Easier Said than Done – Hermes 3000 Bottom Cover Removal

I brought the 3000 home and did a light cleaning. It didn’t need much. There was a service ticket from 1976 taped inside the ribbon cover.   The Hermes 3000 appears to have spent the last 40 years protected inside its case.


The machine had some eraser crumbs, so I decided to remove the bottom cover so that I could thoroughly clean the insides.


First I unscrewed the four feet.  I assumed that the bottom cover would pop right off. No. The back part of the bottom cover pops off easily, but I ended up having to tilt the machine up from the bottom cover like this and sliding it to clear the tabs that hold the space bar in the front of the machine.


I then took it outside and carefully blew out the dust and eraser crumbs (and stray paper clips).


I then wiped it down, put it back together and considered the machine.

The Popular Oddball

Seen through my 21st century lens, this machine is pretty funky looking. Is it a “classic” example of mid-century industrial design? I don’t know. I think it was weird then and it is weird now.

To me, the design is smart — it makes the offbeat desirable. Many people (though not all) look at the Hermes 3000 and say, “That’s really weird looking, but I love it”. The Hermes 3000 has an oddball sophistication which may explain its popularity among collectors. It is the second most popular model at Typewriter Database behind the Royal Quiet De Luxe.

Cute As a Bug

It then struck me that the Hermes 3000 reminds me of a VW Beetle. Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

vw bug


The Hermes 3000 even has little bug antennae.


Not an Hermès bag but an Hermes bug.

I love those squat, plumpy curves.


Lastly (and serious collectors, don’t hate me for this) the Hermes 3000’s weird bulbosity brings to my feverish mind these things as well:

That’s enough of that. No more peyote for me.

And about that seafoam and mint green color combo: apparently they were very “happening” colors back in the day as seen in:

I think that the Hermes 3000 pulls off an impressive feat: it manages to make the seafoam and mint green combo tasteful and timeless.

The Umbrella that Wasn’t

What I thought was an umbrella printed on the back of the machine is actually a stylized crossbow, a symbol that was used as the Swiss “mark of origin” starting in 1931 (at least according to one source).


Pronounced Problems

Pronouncing “Hermes” is problematic for me. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. I cannot bring myself to pronounce Hermes as “her-meez”. It’s way too close to “herpes”.

Old-timey Hermès machines (such as this 1923 Hermès 2 in Typewriter Database have decals that show an è in the name “Hermès” leading me to assume that it is pronounced “Air-mez”, like the luxury brand.

When did Hermes lose l’accent grave on the second e? Sometime after the Hermès 3 apparently.


Without the accent, I suppose that the pronunciation should be “Airm”. I will have to check that with my French-speaking Swiss friend Sophie and confirm. Maybe they do things differently in Switzerland.  While I await confirmation, I will continue to call this an “Hermès Trois Mille (Air-mez Trwa Meel)” because I took French in high school.

So how does it type? I can’t touch-type (I must have been absent the day they taught typing at school). I hunt and peck very fast and really slam the keys, so the “mushy” feel of the Hermes 3000 that many people complain about makes no difference to me. My professional opinion: it’s a really good typewriter.

The Squatty Squatter: When Typewriters Won’t Go Home

After the clean-up, the Hermes 3000 took up residence in an unused back bedroom. The darn thing would not go home to Moe’s shop.  The Hermes 3000 kept looking at me solemnly with its bulging minty-green eyes.  “Good gravy, 3000! Go home to Moe’s”, I said. Oh my goodness, it WINKED at me.


So now I have a squatter in my home. I gave Moe a bunch of money and resigned myself to the fact that I have a new face in the house. It’s not the worst thing in the world.