The Perils of Migration: Fox 24 Typewriter

This poor little forest creature had a run-in with the postal service. At some point in time, this Fox 24 had migrated far from its native habitat in Michigan. It was making its way up the Californian coast recently (tracked by scientists) when it met with misfortune. These little creatures are so vulnerable during migration.

I have admired the standard Foxes of others: Type Oh’s Fox 24, Words Are Winged’s Fox 25, Cambridge Typewriter’s Fox 24 and ozTypewriter’s Fox 24. Type-Writer.org’s Fox is a sad tale of the hazards that Foxes face journeying outside of their natural territory – though it’s still a beautiful machine. I would love to lure that Fox from its lovely forest glade and see if I could make it better.

When my package arrived, I sensed a disturbance in the Force:

The destruction of Alderaan:

I knew it was risky shipping hundred year-old cast iron long distances, but I had my reasons for luring the Little Fox north:

It’s got an interchangeable carriage – it comes apart easily
It’s shaped like Santa’s sleigh!
It’s got a weirdy staggered double row of typebars – like shark teeth.
It’s full of weird old-timey machine controls – many of which I haven’t figured out the function of yet
It’s a total fox – so good looking

These mysterious grimy pointing hands are surely worth the price of admission. They are on the typeslug. I believe the symbol is called an “index”, “manicule”, or “fist”. Also note the pilcrow (¶) and the section sign (§) key. Was this typewriter used for contracts or other legal documents?

The typewriter also has a Star of David symbol where an ampersand usually is:

It looks like Christmas came early – it’s Santa’s sleigh:

The typebars are staggered – a double row like rusty shark teeth:

Rusty Grist for the Mill

I feel vaguely uneasy when I look at the Fox. I like my typewriters in “rough” condition, but this is probably the worst I have had the pleasure to own. It’s not typing and it’s rusted and greenly corroded through and through. It will take some time and effort to get this beauty to type again. I am also not sure whether there is other internal damage the Fox may have sustained in shipment.

This is one of those projects I plan to approach philosophically. While I don’t know what the end result will be or whether I can get this thing to work, the journey will be interesting and (I hope) transformative. I seek personal growth through typewriter repair.

Rust, rust everywhere and not a gleam to see.

I’ll take off the easily removable parts and soak them in Evapo-Rust. I am still thinking about how to approach those rusty parts that I can’t easily remove.

I have a Dremel – described by my father as the most dangerous tool in the workshop because of its misleadingly benign appearance. That thing will blind you and maim you and pull your hair out by the roots before you can say “This is fun!” The Dremel requires proper eye and nose and mouth and hair protection. Also, you need a light and careful hand so that you don’t end up damaging what you’re polishing.

It was either Emily Dickinson or Uncle Jack from Breaking Bad who said, “The heart wants what it wants” (sorry, Woody and Selena, you can’t claim it). I am drawn to typewriters with “issues”, and this Fox is a beautiful but complicated creature. The Heart wants what it wants – or else it does not care.

The Girl from Dresden: Erika M

Foster Typewriter Update: Some weeks ago I swung by my favorite junk shop to check the status of my foster typewriter, the Royal KHM. Moe the store owner told me that the Royal KHM had sold almost immediately for $50 to a guy who was thrilled with it and was taking it with him to Thailand. I am pleased on many levels: it went fast; the guy who bought it loved it; and the Royal KHM would now be living abroad. There is at least another 75 years of typing in that Royal KHM and now she gets to see the world.

Another machine that arrived recently at Moe’s is a 1940 Erika M with serial number 867592/M. It’s a beautiful thing (despite a missing key top) and types beautifully. I didn’t bring it home as it is way too clean and functional for my tastes. 🙂

It has a QWERTY key board, but German characters and a £/$ key.

Serial number is located under the space bar: 867592/M which makes it a 1940 Erika M.

There’s a Heidelberg dealer’s label on the inside of the case:

And how did this German girl get here to Moe’s junk store in California? With a QWERTY keyboard. Perhaps this was “war booty” brought home from Germany. The key tops are different colors suggesting replacement at some point. However, the “Y” is the same color as the German characters. I examined the type slugs carefully and the slugs that may have been replaced seem identical to the other slugs. If re-soldered, whoever re-soldered them did an expert job.

The name Dresden fills me with some sadness, bringing to mind the bombing of the city in 1945. I recently re-read Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five – it’s really more absurd and disturbingly tragic the second time around. Vonnegut drew on his experiences as a POW in Germany and his unlikely survival of the firebombing of Dresden. The events of Dresden haunt both writer and his main character – how do you make sense of an experience like that? How does a city recover from devastation on that scale?

Like a Tralfamadorian, I will turn to happier moments in time: Moe at the junk shop had a 1920 Underwood Models 3,4,5 user manual for me. I don’t have an Underwood, but I would never turn down typewriter ephemera.

Unfortunately, it’s missing its front cover with its machine diagram, so it’s limited in its usefulness.

Happily, it does have the address of Underwood Typewriter Company printed inside (30 Vesey St., NYC) and a nice picture of the building inside the manual.

What does 30 Vesey St. look like today? I like to put that kind of thing into The Google.

It appears that the building still stands and there’s a deli next door. I would love to wander around 30 Vesey and see if there is a forgotten closet full of typewriter-related stuff. Maybe I would find the cover to my Underwood manual.

Also, in other happy news: the Royal Aristocrat is still holding up. Her JB Weld Steelstik attached key tops are hanging in there. I sent her across the street to the neighbor’s house where the resident 9 year-old and a bunch of friends did field testing of the machine. I am planning to bring the Aristocrat out for the street block party later in August. We have about twenty kids on the block between the ages of 2 and 12 who will be testing the keys’ structural integrity and typing up a report.

Grimy Whale: Olivetti Lexikon 80

The 1952 Olivetti Lexikon 80 that I brought home from Goodwill looked pretty bad on arrival. It was covered in grime and dings and scrapes and sticky tape residue. To me this is evidence of a very hard worker who really used his/her typewriter – and who took lunch breaks at the desk (bologna sandwich, a cup of black coffee, and a cigarette) .

Scaly grime

Fortunately I had come across Typewriter Heaven’s post on Lexikology which details how to remove the cover and carriage from the typewriter so that I could pursue a good cleaning.

I followed the steps and pretty soon I had a neked typewriter.

There was a lot of debris behind the segment – including a shard of white pottery.

The stripped-down machine innards are pleasantly alien. I have been submerged in pre-war cast iron for the past few weeks and the Lexikon 80 is a blast of fresh modern air. I would assume that for 1952, it was very cutting edge.

I scrubbed the type slugs and type bars with denatured alcohol and the grease dissolved beautifully. I was careful to drape plastic and painted areas.

I cleaned the segment with denatured alcohol first and because the keys still felt sticky, mineral spirits afterwards. The keys on the right were particularly sticky. Did someone spill a Slurpee® into the segment?

The margin release key was sunken – I followed the connector down and found that the lever had migrated out of its slot – popped it back in and all was well.

I don’t understand the tab mechanism very well. While cleaning the keyboard, I pressed on the tab key and it got stuck in a depressed state. I found that a small metal piece attached to the tabbing mechanism in back was bent to the side. It didn’t look right, so I straightened it out and it seemed to be work better. However, the tab key still felt gummy and the tabs weren’t working reliably.

“Not working reliably” is an understatement. After I put the machine back together, I tested setting and using tabs. It seemed to be working gummily but OK. Then I made the mistake of clearing all the tabs and hitting the tab key. Bad idea. the carriage whirled to the end of the line and upon return, did it again and again. I ended up manually lifting up on the gummy tab key and that seemed to correct the problem. I immediately set a tab so it wouldn’t happen again.

After the fact, I stumbled across Rob Bowker’s post on Graphika and Lexikon tabulator eccentricities. Good to hear that I’m not the only person to experience the strange tab behavior. My tab key felt stiff and gummy, so maybe gunk was causing a problem.

So I took the cover and carriage off again and examined all the moving parts of the tab mechanism. I applied PB B’laster Penetrating Catalyst to all the areas below and worked the tab mechanism with my hands. The gumminess receded and the tab key began to move freely.

No set tabs – no problema! Works great now that it’s a bit cleaner and lubricated.

I applied PB Blaster to these area. I had to hold a flat plate down so that I could freely work the tab bar

I applied PB B’laster to these areas. I had to hold a flat plate down with my finger so that I could freely work the tab key.

And more cleaning: I cleaned the cover with a little Soft Scrub – it’s a mild abrasive. It did a great job on the scaly grime, but I found that it was the Scrubbing Bubbles that really tore through the discolored dinge-colored grime. The hard enameled paint withstood the Soft Scrub and Scrubbing Bubbles treatment. I was cautious because some typewriters have very delicate paint. I used Goo Gone for thick areas of rubber and tape residue. Areas of the cover that I thought were scraped and damaged were actually just scaly with grime. After cleaning, the Lexikon looked a little vulnerable and naked without her covering of scaly grunge, so I gave the cover a good protective coating with Renaissance Wax. I love the pretty greenish-taupe that was hiding under the dirt.

The originally washers were sticky globs of melted goo – a horrible mess. I scraped them off and cleaned the areas with Goo Gone and denatured alcohol.

I found replacement rubber washers at Home Depot that were sort of hard to the touch, but they did the job.

I was able to reattach the carriage without much drama. A good wiggle and it was back on. I inserted a new ribbon and fired up the machine.

Clean

I wanted to give the keys some exercise and began a letter to a fellow typospherian. I got halfway through the first page when I heard a snap and a zing and found the draw band snapped. Good Grief, Charlie Brown!

I sighed, pulled out my 80lb fishing line (suitable for deep sea ocean fishing and typewriter repair) and got to work. I decided to salvage the end hook that attaches to the carriage frame.

Salvaged hook

Bamboo skewer to feed the line through to the mainspring

I wound the mainspring 3.5 rotations and tied the fishing line to the mainspring. I did it by myself, but it would have been easier with a second pair of hands. The typewriter is happily typing again.

This Olivetti Lexikon 80 cleaned up so nicely. I swear I didn’t put Vaseline on the lens.

This typewriter has some special keys I haven’t had the pleasure to possess before: accents – acute and grave – umlaut, and circumflex.

Here are some things that I couldn’t type until now:

Addendum: a family member requested that I include this sample of the creative use of the umlaut:

One final note: be sure to check out Vintage Technology Obsessions’ post on Olivetti Lexikon 80 production lines. There are some fascinating images there – I love the Lexikon 80s rolling along on a conveyor belt. I went to the Italian site referenced in the post and found this great image of Enrico Fermi inspecting the innards of a Lexikon 80. I may hang it above my Lexikon 80.

Ivrea, Italy, 1949: Enrico Fermi’s Nobel-caliber mind is blown as he examines a Lexikon 80 carcass.

Moby-Dick; or, The Olivetti Lexikon 80

Totally Your Type had a recent post entitled “Be Patient. Look Everywhere” that offered words of encouragement to typewriter hunters. The gist: sometimes, when and where you least expect them, typewriters happen. You just need to be patient and persistent.

My Goodwill NEVER has typewriters. It has stereos, waffle irons, sad clown figurines, acid wash jeans, golf clubs but NEVER typewriters.

I was at the auto parts store nearby picking up some Liquid Wrench and open end wrenches for my LC Smith 8 vertical type adjustment project and decided to stop in at Goodwill just in case. I was under no illusions that I would find a single typewriter, but there amidst the toasters and Igloo coolers was an Olivetti Lexikon 80.

It was like I had seen the storied Great White Whale, Moby-Dick. A very grimy Moby-Dick. I have heard tell of great typewriters at Goodwill, but here was one in the flesh. I thought typewriters at Goodwill were a suburban legend, but lo! I quickly reached for my harpoon and brought the great beast in.

This Olivetti Lexikon 80 fits all my qualifications for a great typewriter:

Very dirty (I like to clean typewriters)
Not working too well (I like to tinker with typewriters)
Cheap (this one was $18.99)

Plus, it looks pretty easy to strip down to the machine guts. I got the Lexikon 80 home, researched it a bit and found Rob Bowker’s inspirational Lexikon 80 dismantling. Wowie. This typewriter will be an awful lot of fun to clean.

And: it’s got the beautiful sweeping lines of Moby-Dick. Thank you, Marcello Nizzoli. And like a sperm whale, the Lexikon 80 weighs somewhere between 40-50 tons.

1952 Olivetti Lexikon 80

The serial number is 2246770 – which makes it a 1952? Typosphere, correct me if I am wrong about the date.

: Grime

: Grime

: Grime and tape residue

: Grime

: Grime

: Grimy whale

This Olivetti has a thick layer of tobacco grime – residue from what could be a “hoagie + stogie” typing habit. But hey, no judgments here! Since I got my L.C. Smith No. 8, I now understand the importance of a good cigar while typing.

Here’s a short video with a very clean Lexikon 80 at the Indianapolis Museum of Art

Beautiful, beautiful Olivetti. Let’s see how the Grimy Whale cleans up.

Smokin’ Ball Bearing Action: L.C. Smith No. 8

Since I got back from a recent family vacation, I have been alternating working on the 1922 L.C. Smith No. 8 and the Century 10. I have been switching back and forth. When I run out of ideas on one, I move to the other.

Ball Bearings at All Frictional Points!

When I first brought the L.C. Smith home, there were several immobile keys – the basket was dusty, rusty and gummed-up. And there was a circa 1920 cigar cutter jammed between the universal bar and the line lock bail.

After cleaning with denatured alcohol, the typewriter began to type and type beautifully. I happily typed out a long letter and it loosened more and more with each printed line. It has a light, springy touch which I assume is due to the ball bearings in the typebars. It is a joy to type on. Robert Messenger has a great post on his L.C. Smith 8 typewriter that includes images of early advertisements which extol the virtues of the L.C. Smith’s “ball-bearings at all frictional points”. If I were a decent typist, I could go smokin’ fast on this one.

My L.C. Smith’s most major problem is rust, especially underneath the machine. I would love to dunk her in an Evapo-Rust bath, but unfortunately Evapo-Rust is not friendly to paint – it softens up the paint quite a bit. It also leaves a messy, sticky sort of residue. I use it only for parts that I can remove, soak, and polish up afterwards.

So here is all the fun I had with the L.C. Smith:

Shift lock not holding

Could it be that the Enormous Grotesque Foot is interfering with the motion of the shift lock? Why, yes. I removed the foot and the shift lock was able to move.

The machine needed three feet, and I cut some really classy looking feet out of cork and colored them with black Sharpie.

Original foot on left. Cork replacement foot being carved into shape.

Original foot on left. On right: cork replacement foot being carved into shape. Covered in Sharpie.

Thanks for the cork replacement foot idea, JustAnotherGuy.

Left carriage release not working

I compared right and left carriage release mechanisms and determined that a lever wasn’t in the right spot.

Wrong.

Right.

I loosened a screw, moved the lever to the correct spot, re-tightened the screw, and all was well.

Dirty platen

Yes, it was FILTHY. I typed a letter to a fellow typospherian and there was debris all over the page.

It is very easy to remove the platen from an LC Smith No. 8. It it held in place with a screw at each end in a knobbed plate and then pops right out. So easy – I wish they were all like this.

The platen is nice and soft and cleaned up beautifully with a little Soft Scrub. From the Craigslist pictures, I thought there were rips in the platen, but it was just crusts of rust.

Missing tab connectors

Functional tabs are little low on my list of priorities, but the missing tab linkages and sunken keys bugged me.

Missing tab linkage

Resulting in sunken tab keys

I cut some thin pieces of metal to size to temporarily replace the missing connectors. I need more rigid metal if I want to use the tabs, but these work for keeping the sunken keys up.

New tab connectors made from thin metal

Tab keys sunken no more

Outstanding Issues:

Malfunctioning line lock

This is still an issue I haven’t been able to resolve. I get to the end of a line and the typewriter allows me to continue typing, piling letters on top of letters at the end of the line. The line lock should engage at the end of the line, but doesn’t. The line lock bail is rusted into position and does not move at all. I am getting some Liquid Wrench today to see if I can free it.

Missing tab stops

The tab stops are nowhere to be seen (and I didn’t see them under the universal bar with the cigar cutter). I went to internet and asked about it. I am not the first person to run into this problem.

I love Knife141’s posts at Instructables: this guy Gets It Done. I have run across his very informative posts before:

Knife141 has a post called, “Making tab stops for an LC Smith Typewriter”. I have bookmarked this page so that if ever I get ambitious, I will make those tab stops.

The vertical alignment of the capital letters is a bit high

This typewriter is basket shift. The capital letters are printing a little high:

Thanks to Knife141, I believe that I need to make an adjustment to the nuts directly under the segment to bring it to the right height with shifting. I just don’t have the right size ~~crescent~~ open end wrenches, but Good Neighbor Brian has offered the use of his set. First off though, I need to get some Liquid Wrench because the nuts are very rusty.

Cleaning, touch up and waxing

I cleaned the exterior of the typewriter with soap/water and a little Soft Scrub. I was very careful around the decals – cleaning all around them.

I touched up the bare metal spots with a very thin layer of Testor’s black paint pen that I rubbed on. Sharpie was not a good match, but the paint pen was very close. On future projects, I’d like to experiment with India Ink (Encre de Chine) which was suggested by RobertG as it is less permanent and is an almost perfect match.

I bought some Renaissance wax polish and shined up the typewriter. I avoided the decals as I was worried that I might rub them off. I don’t know if this is a legitimate worry with the Renaissance wax, but I didn’t want to take the chance. I love those insane horsies so much.

1922 L.C. Smith No. 8

Serial number: 460128-8

: Cleaned up nicely

: Typebars still corroded looking

: Red and black!

: Replacement feet made with wine corks

: Squidward carriage return tentacle

: Horsies a-stompin’

: Missing tab stops

: Cigar cutter found in typewriter

: Serial number behind back space key

I’ve attached the cigar cutter with a ribbon to the typewriter for easy access. I believe that the “best practices” use of this machine involves cigar smoking, so I lit up a stogie and enjoyed an afternoon of typing en plein air.

The Sorta-Portable Century 10 Typewriter

A recent family vacation meant that I was parted from my typewriters for two weeks. I missed them a lot and thought about them every day.

I happily dove back into it upon my return. I alternate working on the L.C. Smith 8 and the Century 10. I’ll get stuck on one machine and move over to the other and switch back and forth.

I initially cleaned the Century 10 with a damp rag to get the dust off, and it immediately looked much better. It is such a petite little beast – a cute 17 lb package. Although it feels like it has a cast iron frame, it may actually be made of pressed steel like its cousin the Remington Junior.

The old grease formed a protective skin over the entire machine, shielding it from rust – a happy situation. In my limited experience, I’ve found solidified grease and heavy grime are much easier to deal with than rust and corrosion.

The sunken shift key

When the typewriter arrived, I noticed the shift key was sunken and nonfunctional. I followed the connection up and found a loose lever but I couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to attach to. I went to Typewriter Database and studied the Century 10 there and noted that the connector should be positioned vertically straight up and down. With this information, I found the spot to re-attach and all was well – the shift key works now. I love TWDB for the wealth of information in its images.

Shifting is old-timey high tech: a three bank keyboard with segment shift. The basket shifts down for uppercase letters and up for figures. It actually feels very light and snappy when typing and I can maintain a good pace. I can type a lot faster on the Century 10 than on my Oliver (I know that’s not saying much).

Loose spring

There was a loose spring directly underneath the machine – I re-attached it to a likely hook. I believe the spring helps the ribbon vibrator return to a resting position while typing.

Ribbon Spool Mysteries

Tolstoy once said “All happy ribbon feed mechanisms are alike; each unhappy ribbon feed mechanism is unhappy in its own way” or something along those lines. Since I gravitate toward the junkier end of the spectrum in my typewriter collecting, I have run into a fair number of unhappy ribbon feed mechanisms. In each case, I will eventually figure it out and think to myself, “Finally. Now I understand ribbon feed mechanisms!” Unfortunately, that’s never the final word. Every feed mechanism that I have had to deal with is different from the last.

I removed the old dried ribbon from the weirdly tilted ribbon spools – and then noticed the spools weren’t rotating properly. The ribbon feed direction is controlled by a switch on the left base of the machine. Once switched, the ribbon spool would rotate a few turns and then the ribbon driving gear would work its way out of the ribbon spool shaft pinion and all would stop.

There isn’t a whole lot of documentation on Old Weirdy. As a not-very-popular and briefly manufactured machine (1919-1924), it came and went and took its user, parts and repair manuals with it. Its closest cousin, the Remington Junior, has a rear-mounted ribbon spool system set up. I used a Remington Standard Model 12 diagram from the D. E. Fox Typewriter Repair Manual, 1950, TWDB Documents Library for reference as its ribbon feed is quite similar to the Century 10’s.

I had problems just getting the spools off the machine. I removed the top and front plates to get a better look.

You can see the LC Smith 8 lurking below the workbench, waiting its turn.

There is a metal piece in the center of the spool shaft called a Snap Catch that needs to be tilted to the side of the shaft to remove the ribbon spools.

Snap catch

Once off I noticed that the right and left spooling mechanisms were different. The right spool is marked “Right” and the left spool is marked “Removable”.* There is a drop weight on each spool shaft which is part of the feed reverse system. The drop weight flops freely on the right and is firmly attached on the left.

Right side, floppy metal drop weight

left side drop weight is firmly held in place.

Remington Standard Model 12, D.E. Fox Typewriter Repair Manual, 1950, page 112. TWDB Documents Library. I found this diagram of the Remington spool system very similar to the Century 10 mechanism.

Figure II in the diagram above shows how the ribbon reverse is triggered once the ribbon fills the left spool and runs out on the right causing the weight to drop.

I found was that if I manually held the floppy weight on the right, the ribbon spools rotate properly. I put a temporary bread tie to hold the floppy weight for testing and found that the ribbon feed works great. I *think* I understand this system now. Once a ribbon is on the machine, it will hold the drop weight against the core of the spool and allow for proper feed.

I am glad that I found the Remington 12 diagram in D.E. Fox. I love TWDB for the wealth of information in its documents archive.

Simulating a full spool with a bread tie.

*I am starting to get the uncomfortable feeling that perhaps my understanding of what is “right” and what is “left” is mistaken. My left and right spools may be reversed as the ribbon feed is still at times a little balky. I may be confused by whether I should be thinking in terms of my right and left side or the machine’s right and left side.

Noisy carriage return

Click click click click clickclickclickclickclick. Time for a Polt Silencer™? This is pretty bad, right? Not normal? I can’t see the escapement to get a feel for what’s going on without taking this thing apart more. I am hesitant to do that.

Bentley

The letter “I” had a bent typebar connector that caused it to collide with its neighbor. I can’t imagine how that would have happened except maybe a spear in the guts – but there it is.

I gently tapped from the right side with a thin pick to get the connector back into position – my smallest punch was too large for the small space. The connector popped back into position after a few gentle taps. It may have been an unorthodox way to approach the situation, but it straightened out nicely and the letter “I” and its neighbor key are now working.

All better.

Now that the Century 10 is fairly clean and I have given her a light coating of Renaissance Wax, I took some photos:

: Winding key for mainspring tension adjustment

: paper release lever head broken off

: missing the paper table *sigh*

: back feet missing

: And she types!

I regret that this Century 10 is missing the paper table with the large “Century” decal. I double checked with the eBay seller who said that the typewriter was part of building clean-out in an old part of St. Louis, MO and it did not have a paper table when they got it.

Google image searches for the American Writing Machine Co. Century 10 typewriter pull up a handful of results. What’s very curious is that one of those few hits is of a typewriter in Spain also missing its paper table. The Powerhouse Museum’s Remington Junior on Robert Messenger’s blog is also missing its paper table. Maybe these three typewriters can start a support group: Typewriters without Tables. Is there something about the way their paper tables were secured that made them so apt to go missing?

And here are a few seconds of me typing away happily on Old Weirdy:

Old Weirdy: Century 10

This new-to-me American Writing Machine Company Century 10 is an eBay impulse buy with free shipping. I had admired Scott K’s Remington J from afar and when I saw the J’s froggy-eyed cousin online, I jumped on it. Very out of character. I think that the solvents I have been recently using in typewriter clean-up have affected my self-restraint. The solvents may also be opening doors of perception that are better left closed.

1919 American Writing Machine Company Century 10
serial number: HS90097

So my petite 17 lb sorta-portable has arrived from eBay in one piece. The seller packed it beautifully. The typewriter even sort of types a little – a bit arthritic, but game.

Such an old weirdy – why are the ribbon spools tilted like the bulging eyes of Keroppi?

This is my oldest typewriter (my Oliver No. 9 is from 1921). Of note: the Century 10 Richard Polt mentions on his collection page has a serial number of HS90099 – he dates it from June of 1919 (that’s pretty specific). It sounds like my Century 10 (serial number HS90097) was two ahead of his on the assembly line on that June day in 1919.

The typewriter is missing the paper table which would have had a huge Century 10 decal, but overall she seems pretty much intact with all her weirdy parts. Fortunately there is very little rust, just a thick layer of dusty, greasy grime that has undoubtedly protected her for many years.

It may be the solvents talking, but is that a Day of the Dead sugar skull?

I think it was Stan Lee – or Voltaire – who said that with great power comes great responsibility. I feel the weight of responsibility to do my best by Old Weirdy and do no harm. I plan to clean her gently and get her running and admire her strange froggy stare.

: There were leaves inside

: Grimy, but not too rusty

: Dusty, but not too rusty

: Wind her up

: Aristocrat, Century 10, LC Smith 8

: Keys cleaned up nicely

A Belated Happy Typewriter Day: L.C. Smith No. 8

I am a little late to the Typewriter Day party, but I did religiously observe the holiday by bringing home a new typewriter (as is customary I understand). This 1922 L.C. Smith No. 8 was on Craigslist, described as “a hobby project to rebuild”. I liked the big cast-iron machine with its beautiful decals and the weird squid tentacle of a right carriage return lever. It looked pretty dusty and rusty. It apparently needed repair, but it still had a ribbon in it. I always take the presence of a ribbon as a hopeful sign. Things can’t have been that bad for that long a time if the ribbon remains. Right?

I carefully compared the Craigslist photos with other L.C. Smith 8 examples on Typewriter Database and determined that as far as I could tell, all the pieces were there except for the ribbon spool lock screws.

I drove over to look at it and was relieved on two counts. One: the seller was a very normal person and extremely nice. Two: the typewriter didn’t seem to have anything more wrong with it other than rust, dirt, and gunk. Though the carriage wasn’t moving and it really wasn’t typing, if I pulled hard to the left, the carriage moved with typing.

The seller, for his part, seemed very happy that I was going to try to fix it and clean it up.

I brought her home. The typewriter and I had drinks together out on the patio and got to know each other.

The horsey paper table decal is in good shape. The insane surrealist horse legs in this decal are The Best. Is that top horse trying to type with its hoof? Trying to stomp the typewriter?

After a long search I finally located the serial number on the inside of the right front frame behind the back space key under a thick layer of grime and determined that I had a 1922 L.C. Smith No. 8:

L.C. Smith No. 8 serial number located in front right frame area right behind the back space key

It was pretty rusty, especially underneath the machine. It may have sat in water at some point in time. One foot was missing and another foot (probably a replacement) was hideously swollen and deformed.

I dusted the typewriter first with a soft brush to loosen the debris and then blew out the insides.

I cleaned and lubed the carriage rails with PB Blaster and the typewriter’s carriage began to move on its own with typing. Everything seemed to function, albeit slowly, screechingly and rustily.

The one thing I had problems with was the ribbon carrier/vibrator – it wasn’t moving at all. I did some research on the mysterious “Ribbon Key” in the L.C. Smith No. 8 manual I found in the manuals archive of The Classic Typewriter Page.

It was in the “stencil” position and once I switched it to a regular printing position, the ribbon vibrator began to move. Whew. I was also happy to find out that the “Ribbon Key” has high and low positions for red or black printing. I love those red and black ribbons.

During the time when I was trying to figure out the ribbon vibrator problem, I poked around in back. I saw a loose piece of metal wedged under the universal bar.

Here I am pulling the piece of metal out with my dental pick

Oh no, I thought. Is it a broken piece of the ribbon vibrator mechanism? I pulled it out.

It looks like a typewriter part, but stamped on it are these words:

CLIPRITE, 37 Maiden Lane, NY USA

I did a quick Google search and found that it was an antique cigar cutter similar to this one. The image in my mind of someone smoking cigars and pounding away on this old typewriter Back in the Day gives me a chuckle. “Dammit, where’d my cigar cutter go?”

Here is 37 Maiden Lane in New York where the Cliprite company used to be headquartered:

I am going to de-rust, de-grease and clean the typewriter over the next few days. One aesthetic issue is the areas of flaking black paint.

Should I stabilize those flaking areas or remove the flaking edges of paint? Should I cover bare metal areas? Sharpie or Testor’s black paint pen?

The Foster Typewriter: Royal KHM

Typewriters may come and typewriters may go, but I’d like to keep my standing in-house collection under double digits. We’re a family of many hobbies and collections and our home is already bursting with fun stuff. I could use a barn.

Also, I’m not really into amassing a huge collection of typewriters – I’m not looking to acquire a Corona Four in every color. And I really like junkers – I like to clean and make them functional. It’s very satisfying. For the most part, once they are working, they start to lose their grip on me.

Last week I saw a very dirty, nonfunctional Royal KHM at my favorite neighborhood junk shop. I found it utterly COMPELLING:

It was really dirty – gunk inside and out and dried mud on the top cover. She wasn’t typing at all. The draw band was off and wrapped under the carriage. All the keys were frozen in time. So bad. So very bad.

The shop owner saw me staring at it longingly and told me I could have it for $25. I told her that I didn’t want to own it, I just wanted to clean it up. She told me I could take it home, clean it and bring it back if that’s what made me happy. Yes, that’s what makes me happy.

1938 Royal KHM (Kinda Hardly Moving)

I brought the typewriter home and pulled out my handy-dandy air blower thing and blew out layers of dust and cobwebs, being careful to work in a semi-enclosed area outside in case I blew out a loose part. As I examined my foster child a little more my closely, my heart sank when I realized that not only was her drawband off, but her mainspring moved very reluctantly. That’s why her intact drawband had fallen off. The drum wasn’t moving. No zip. It turned as if it were moving through dried gum and did not bounce back. I doused the mainspring drum with PB Blaster penetrating lubricant and hoped for the best.

I removed the drawband since it was tangled up under the carriage and cleaned and lubricated the rails. I was flummoxed when I got to the the top cover. It didn’t pop up like my other typewriters. I had to remove four screws to remove the top cover – one inside each spool container and one at each back corner of the cover. Rob Bowker has an excellent post on accessing the insides of a Royal KHM that I unfortunately found after all was done.

Everything under the cover was very rusty and gummy. I doused the segment, spooling mechanism, ribbon vibrator with PB Blaster and started scrubbing the typebars with a very fine Scotch-Brite pad:

I started working the keys, loosening things up and flushing the segment with denatured alcohol.

The keys looked better after just a clean with a Q-tip:

I tested the mainspring and HURRAY! It was loosening up after PB Blaster treatment and was winding and zipping with some authority. I re-attached the drawband and off we went. The carriage was a little grudging at first, but moving it back and forth repeatedly freed it to move smoothly. What a great feeling.

Hooked up and spinning again

I washed the outside case with warm soapy water first to get the worst of the mud off. I then used Scrubbing Bubbles to remove the residual grime, being very careful to avoid the decals (which were already very faded).

I rejuvenated the old, ripped ribbon with WD-40 and carefully rewound the ribbon. I put the top cover back on temporarily and tested the typing.

The type seemed a little dirty, so I scrubbed the type with denatured alcohol. I was very careful to drape the painted surfaces of the typewriter since the denatured alcohol will eat into the paint.

The margin release and the tab system use shared parts and neither system was working. From what I could see, everything was in an advanced state of gumminess. I cleaned and lubed all the moving parts of the margin release and tab system and worked them with my hands. Slowly the tabs began to work and the margin release was pulling back properly.

The Royal KHM is typing like a champ right now. No letter piling. When I first put paper in her, she had a couple lines with an erratic left margin, but that disappeared and I have typed out two full pages single-spaced without margin issues or letter piling. It makes me think that I should re-visit my Royal Aristocrat with margin issues and give her a second deep cleaning.

I felt bad about the ratty WD-40ed ribbon – it was printing OK, but it was sort of rotten and holey.

I had just ordered some ribbons from Amazon so I threw in a new red and black one. Classy!

I had some auto wax and spiffed up the outer case. Here are some glamor shots I took before I returned her to the junk shop:

: Hey Baby

: Hey Foxy

: Hubba hubba

: Hey Lady

: Can I talk to you?

: What’s your number?

Moe at the junk shop was thrilled to see the transformed KHM. I took a page from TypetheClouds’ book and sent the Royal KHM back out into the world with care and feeding instructions. In the future, Moe will gladly let me take junker typewriters home for clean up.

I was reluctant to let this Royal KHM go. She went from congealed paralysis to being my fastest, snappiest and springiest typer. What a bright, happy typewriter! I have read about the Royal’s quick and snappy touch. It lives.

I think this new system of catch, clean and release may really work out for me. I get to experience new and exciting typewriters regularly without typewriter accumulation and the world gets functional typewriters. Typewriter fostering is a win-win in my book!

High Riding Ribbons, Royal Margins and a Small Quibble

Lady Royal Aristocrat is looking a lot better after her key top reattachment surgery, and the J-B Weld Steelstik bonds are holding great after a few days of typing – I need to get some neighborhood kids to put her through her paces.

She’s looking good, but has/had a few lingering issues.

Sticky Ribbon Vibrator

First off: I couldn’t see a thing as I typed because my ribbon carrier wasn’t returning to its lowest position with each stroke. The ribbon hid all the typed text.

What did I just type?

My online research indicated that the sticky ribbon vibrator problem was probably due to either dirt or binding or both.

I cleaned the ribbon vibrator carefully, scrubbing with denatured alcohol and using a penetrating lubricant (PB Blaster). Things looked cleaner and the ribbon guide began to flicker and move up and down as I typed. Upper case typing wasn’t a problem because the entire basket moved down with shifting, but lower case typing was still obscured by the high riding ribbon.

I read that gentle bending of the ribbon guide could free it so it would move smoothly up and down, but what to bend and which way to bend it?

Let’s Go to TWDB

Because I am a member of Typewriter Database, I can access its documents library. I get a lot out of the manuals. Knowing the name and function of parts helps me a lot; otherwise, I’m just staring at a lot of small, mysterious metal pieces.

One interesting manual that I seem to have passed over in the past is called D. E. Fox Typewriter Repair Manual, 1950. Perhaps I had foolishly assumed that it was a repair manual for Fox typewriters. No – it isn’t. It covers standard and portable Underwood, Remington, LC Smith, Smith-Corona and Royal typewriters.

In the Royal portable section about the ribbon vibrator it says:

“The Ribbon Carrier (Vibrator) must operate freely. Examine the ribbon guiding wings of Ribbon Carrier (1) to make sure that they are not fitting too closely to Type Bar Guide (2)”

D. E. Fox Typewriter Repair Manual, 1950, TWDB Documents Library

image: D. E. Fox Typewriter Repair Manual, 1950; TWDB

Those “guiding wings” were fitting a little too closely to my type bar guide on my machine. Very gently pinching the ribbon carrier forks together at the top loosened the “guiding wings” grip on the type bar guide and the parts of the ribbon vibrator mechanism began to slide freely.

Perhaps at some point in its life the typewriter had take a hard hit to the top, splaying the ribbon vibrator forks open and causing the binding.

Success: the ribbon moved properly out of the way with each key stroke and I could see what I typed.

Off the Rails: Royal Margin of Error

I have heard tell of the Royal typewriters’ reputation for erratic left margin behavior, and now I get to experience the Royal “soft margin” first-hand:

It is said to be fixable.

According to a Yahoo Typewriter Group post:

“The soft left margin was easily adjustable with the margin stop screw.”

And according Typewriter Maintenance, TM 37-305, 1944:

“Margin Stop Banking Screws may be made accessible by moving carriage to the extreme right or left, whichever is necessary, disconnecting Bail Lift Screws, and swinging Margin Release Bails back out of position.”

Ok – I just need to find that easily adjustable margin stop screw. I am still on the hunt for that.

A Little Letter Piling

I’ll admit it. I am terrible typist. I am a two-fingered keyboard hunt and pecker with an inconsistent slamming flail that drives just about anybody watching or hearing me nuts. I type like a high-energy ten year-old kid set loose on a typewriter at Goodwill. You would not trust me with your fine collectible typewriters.

To the point: seven of my typewriters put up with me and my ways. Big Betty the KMC, Olive Dammit the Oliver, Corona McDraggle, Posh Spice, Camper Van Pancake the Skyriter, Mrs. Hudson the Torpedo, Marge the SG3 – they all tolerate my touch.

: Big Betty the KMC

: Olive Dammit

: Corona McDraggle

: Posh Spice

: Camper Van Pancake

: Mrs. Hudson

: Marge

: Lady Royal Aristocrat

Lady Royal Aristocrat – not so much. If I type too weird and too fast on the Aristocrat, I get letter piling. It trips, the door opens and then there’s a drunken pile of two letters who snuck in. If I type like a normal person, everything is fine. However, as soon as I show a little “flare”, I will get the occasional letter piling. None of my other typewriters do this to me. Is this yet another Royal hallmark or something unique to my machine?

It doesn’t bother me too much – it’s a smallish quibble. I still love Lady Royal Aristocrat.

New Key Tops for a Key Chopped Typewriter

It was a crafting weekend here at home. We had a paper maché project going and a typewriter repair in progress on the dining room table.

There were 10 key tops that had been chopped from Lady Royal Aristocrat that I needed to re-key before I developed tetanus from hitting the broken key levers.

I first straightened out the levers which were very twisted from their violent chopping:

GAH! Bent and bad.

Better and a little straighter after using needle nose pliers

I picked these faux typewriter keys up at Joann Fabric:

I clipped off the little loop on the faux key and sanded the edge smooth.

They were almost a perfect match in size.

I had some J-B Weld SteekStik metal epoxy putty around the house.

I sanded the broken key levers and the backs of the faux keys so that they’d have “grip”.

I cut off a little of the putty and kneaded it until it was a soft ball of a uniform shade of gray. You have to work fast and use a little at a time because this stuff sets in five minutes and is sandable in an hour. It dries rock hard. I did one key at a time.

Worked great! Here are the first three:

The broken stems on the right side of the typewriter were broken off shorter than those on the left side so I had to build up the stems in a first step. They were a bit lumpy so I had to sand them a little.

I added the faux key tops in a second step.

I printed out some key labels that I made in Photoshop, trying my best to replicate the font and coloring of the Royal’s keys.

I covered the printed sheets with clear laminate, cut out the individual keys and glued them to the key tops – pretty close!

It’s not perfect – some of the stems are a little lumpy and the font color is just slightly too yellow, but it’s close. If it starts to bother me, I’ll pull out the dremel and sand the lumpiness and replace the letters with a new label.

Many, many thanks to the clever Mr. E at Typewriter Talk who found these craft keys and used them to re-key his chopped typewriter. His project inspired mine.

She is such a pretty little thing. I couldn’t help but notice how similar my 1939 Royal Aristocrat and 1957 Torpedo 18a are in terms of size and shape though they were manufactured almost 20 years apart on different continents. I think I need to get an Olympia SM3 so I can do more extensive comparisons 🙂

Lady Lazarus the Royal Aristocrat

Lady Royal Aristocrat (a redundant name, no?) is looking and feeling so much better after a few days here at the spa enjoying typebar yoga, methylated spirits cleanses, Scrubbing Bubble massages…

This typewriter was really dirty when I got her last week.

Grody

First things first, I took out my handy hand-held air blower thing and blew out the inside of the machine.

I always do this outside against a wall corner so that if there is something loose that blows out, it will hit the wall and not get lost.

A good five minute blast treatment took care of years of grimy dust, cat fur and cobwebs.

I thought the Royal Aristocrat was a charcoal gray – but lo and behold after a some work with Scrubbing Bubbles she is a beautiful crinkle paint black.

Soaking up the sun

I doctored the guts with PB Blaster and let her sit outside overnight since the keys and ribbon vibrator were very gummy and sticky. The next morning I flushed everything out with denatured alcohol and scrubbed the segment with a paint brush and tooth brush (being careful not to get the denatured alcohol on the paint). Brown and black gunk dripped from the insides.

I fixed the broken draw cord using the inspired Robert Messenger wooden skewer tool. Since my typewriter tastes run to the junkier end of the spectrum, four out of my eight typewriters have needed a carriage draw band / draw string / draw cord repair: Remington Rand KMC, Oliver No. 9, Corona Four and now this Royal Aristocrat

I have close to 400 yards of of 80 lb fishing line – it’s heavy enough to land a marlin – or to replace a broken draw string on a typewriter. I cut a length of about 13 inches for my new draw cord and made a loop at one end which I hooked onto a likely projection under the right side of the carriage.

I hooked my draw string onto a projection on the right side under the carriage

I tied a knot at the other end and inserted it into the slit at the end of my wooden skewer. I fed the string from right to left under the carriage using the wooden skewer as a guide and emerged on the left side of the carriage with my knotted end.

I wound the mainspring 3.5 times and inserted the knot into the mainspring. I got a set of three dental-like tools at the hardware store for about $6.00. This pointy one helped me push the knot into the mainspring while I held tension on the mainspring with my pinkie.

With a new draw string, this 1939 typewriter is typing great. Enjoy six seconds of looping fun while I try to avoid those sharp key levers. Ouchie!

Now onto those missing key tops.

A Lady in Peril Rescued: Royal Aristocrat

I was out and about today and stopped in at a few town thrift stores looking for brown plastic cases for Operation: SCM Datecode. I didn’t find any, but I did run across this lovely but very dirty Royal Aristocrat.

My collection is a little Smith-Corona / Corona heavy and I have been thinking I should branch out and see what all the fuss is about other typewriter brands: the Royals and the Underwoods etc.

This Royal was filthy. Not a problem – I like to clean things up. The draw cord was broken. I can fix that (probably).

Uh oh.

What is wrong with people? You know, we are living in a SOCIETY.

I left the shop feeling irritated not just at the key-chopping but at the sheer half-assedness of the evil doing. It appears that the chopper took a few keys, got bored and quit. And they took the Shift Freedom keys. So mean.

I thought about the typewriter all day. Its ultimate fate would probably be to have the remaining keys clipped off and the body dumped in a scrap heap. NO. IT SHALL NOT BE. Not while I have $30 in my pocket!

I went back and took the Royal Aristocrat into protective custody.

1939 Royal Aristocrat
S/N B-889364

: A damsel in distress

: Could use a bath

: Blug

: Ugh

: Grody

: S/N under carriage on left

: A lady of gentle birth

: Not all the keys chopped

: Broken draw cord

About those missing key tops: a clever typospherian at Typewriter Talk salvaged a key-chopped typewriter with faux craft keys. I swung by my Joann Fabrics and picked up similar items for $5.00:

I’ll clip off the loops on the faux keys, print out Royal Aristocrat style letters and attach the faux keys to the broken stems…somehow.

Last thing: did I mention that she is really dirty? I had problems finding the serial number because it was under a layer of filth. Anyhow, while I was turning her over trying to find the serial number, a piece of metal fell out. Oh lordie – where does that go? Fortunately, it wasn’t a typewriter part, but an old watch face that fell out. What other secrets do you hold, Aristocrat?

Not a part of the typewriter. Whew.

M-m-m-my Corona: Draw String on the Loose and I Love TWDB

My Corona 4 seemed like a hopeless case. I confess there was a weak moment when I was tempted to put her in a box and donate her to Words Are Winged – that fellow has a knack for dismantling, reassembling and documenting old typewriters.

Rusty, grimy, and jammed, the Corona 4 still had a winning personality and bedraggled charm, so I continued to work on her.

When I first got the Corona 4, the carriage was frozen in place – it did not move an inch. I doused it in PB Blaster and let it sit overnight. The next day, my husband manhandled the Corona, exerting enough force to move the carriage. It loosened up and the carriage began to slide grudgingly along its rails.

The Corona 4 had a scary whistling carriage screech that put the Edison talking doll to shame.

As you can see, I had a very sticky carriage and hitting the shift key left the carriage hanging in the air – I had to push the carriage down manually after I hit the shift key.

After I could move the carriage, I found the draw cord all tangled up under the carriage. It must have come off at some point in life and the carriage rusted into place.

When I was finally able to move the carriage back and forth the draw cord with its hook slipped down to the pulley area.

In a maneuver I call the Reverse Munk, I re-attached the carriage draw string.

I first wound the draw string tight on the mainspring drum using the ratchet pawl to maintain tension.

I hooked the draw string temporarily onto the side of the carriage rail.

I then made a lasso out of fishing line and fed it with a bamboo skewer which I ran under the carriage from right to left to retrieve the draw cord.

I got my lasso to the left end of the carriage where the draw cord was hooked temporarily on the side of the machine so it wouldn’t slip down the hole near the pulley.

I attached the draw cord hook to my fishing line lasso and pulled it under the carriage from left to right and re-attached it to a likely screw under the carriage on the right side.

Though the draw string was re-attached with good tension, the carriage failed to move freely. Hmm. The carriage advanced with typing or hitting the space bar if I pulled HARD to the left as I typed. Based on this, I gathered that the escapement was OK, but perhaps something was rusty or gummy or…?

Typewriter Database to the Rescue

There was something strange about the ribbon vibrator – it was in a permanent “up” position and would not go down. I went to Typewriter Database (TWDB) and compared my Corona’s ribbon vibrator position to all the Corona Fours at TWDB. Yes, something was very fishy. My ribbon vibrator did not look like other ribbon vibrators. So off came the ruler thing and the ribbon vibrator.

The ribbon vibrator itself was fine – the two pieces of it slid easily together.

However, a projection from the escapement assembly that moves the vibrator up and down was locked in place:

I flipped the machine over and examined the escapement mechanism. I opened up TWDB again and searched for a Corona 4 listing in the archive that included an under machine photo. I found one and noted that there were subtle differences between my 1930 Corona 4 and the 1931 Corona 4 on TWDB.

My Corona seemed to have bent and out-of-position parts – right around the escapement rocker bracket assembly and connected pieces (thank you, TWDB for the Corona parts manual).

This piece – escapement rocker bracket assembly – was all bent to hell:

illustration from Smith-Corona Parts Book, TWDB

Carefully studying the TWDB Corona and using my best judgement and some lucky intuition, I bent part of the escapement rocker bracket assembly, trying to make my typewriter look like the Corona 4 at TWDB.

Long story short: that did it. Here she is, partially disassembled and no ribbon but gamely putting up with my two-fingered typing.

I would still like to get close up pictures of the underbelly of a functional circa 1930 Corona 4 since my fix was mostly just lucky guesswork. I have a request for photos at Typewriter Talk if you have a functional Corona 4 and have a moment to take some detail pictures of the underside of your Corona 4 typewriter.

There is work still to be done:

sort out the ribbon feed mechanism
fix the backspace
glue the space bar
make new key lever links for missing ones
address peeling paint
make a donation to TWDB

UPDATE: Rev. Munk kindly posted under machine photos of his Corona 4 (“El Diablo”) at TWDB. It looks like I was lucky and popped things back into the right place. I will be using Rev. Munk’s photos again as I try to unravel my problematic back space mystery.

Straightening Bent Typebars on the Oliver No. 9

I have been experimenting with Vine typewriter videos. Vine is a short-form video sharing service similar to YouTube, but the videos are a maximum of six seconds long. It’s a great format for me since I tend to be long-winded and it compels me To. Cut. To. The. Chase.

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