Typewriters

Since I’m a writer, I think there’s some law or United Nations resolution that requires me to be into typewriters. I only stumbled into this world of graceful machines recently, when I picked up my first to write correspondence and project outlines with – but much like cats, a typewriter alone is rarely satisfied.

I’m sharing my collection here because typewriters deserve more than to be shoved in some closet or basement for decades and forgotten. It’s the 21st century and they’ve had more than enough of that already – but then again, if not for basements and closets, a lot fewer of them would have made it this far. I still feel for the Smith Corona Corsair Deluxe of my childhood that got away.

This is Agatha, my first typewriter. A 1951 Royal Quiet Deluxe, manufactured in (I believe) Hartford, Connecticut, it smells like an aircraft carrier and can still type up a storm. The name “Agatha” comes from the serial number starting with AG.

Presented for your consideration: Gilbert, a 1958 Empire Aristocrat manufactured in West Bromwich, England. This clone of the Hermes Baby was my first ultraportable, and the “2” key tends to stick – which is unfortunate, since the ” quote is also on the 2 key. It’s named Gilbert after Gilbert Gottfried in general and his 2001 delivery of “The Aristocrats” joke in particular. Unlike the joke, the typewriter isn’t filthy at all.

Here, if you can believe it – it’s the Ottawa Street Serendipity Machine! This Brother Charger 11 was built in Nagoya, Japan in August 1978 and has ultra-smooth keystrokes and a solid metal body at a time when manufacturers were already beginning to switch to plastic. This was the first machine I encountered and bought in the wild; Agatha and Gilbert were purchased pre-serviced from Toronto Typewriters. It’s a lot more satisfying to find a machine like Serendipity when you weren’t looking for it.

Meet Clipper Britney: a 196X Smith-Corona Clipper named in the style of Pan Am aircraft because the colour scheme closely matches that old airline, and because Oops…! I [Bought a Typewriter] Again. I found this machine in the basement of a Hamilton antique shop, on sale for 30% off – how could I say no, even if I had to awkwardly carry her home in the basket of a Hamiton Bike Share bicycle? Judging by the sticker she was last serviced circa 1995, but she wasn’t in top form until I took her in for repairs and reconditioning at Toronto Typewriters. This is the only 1960s machine in my collection, but she really shows the difference in how portables evolved from the ’50s, right?

Allow me to introduce Creamsicle, a Hamilton-made 1953 Remington Quiet-Riter, which either never went very far or went far and came back, because I bought it right here in Hamilton – though not at first sight. This typewriter hasn’t exactly been taken care of over the last seventy years, and I bought her mostly as a project and practice machine, which is why she’s currently in pieces in a box pending as full a cleaning as I can manage and replacement of the interior felt. I wouldn’t be surprised if professional service is still needed anyway. Oh, and the name? It’s after the Hamilton Bike Share bike I brought her most of the way home in.

Sure, it’s the 21st century and typewriters are often considered “obsolete,” but consider it from the other perspective – computers are just highfalutin typewriters that have more ways to break. It’s a near-certainty that the desktop computer I’m writing this on will not be functioning in the 2090s. Machines like these? Take care of them, and they’ll see 2100 easy.