1940s – Typewriter Review

A Typewriter Review

Daniel Marleau — Tue, 06 Sep 2016 16:07:51 +0000

I’m often asked, what’s your favorite typewriter? Unlike the father of many children who dodges this by saying, I love them all equally, but in different ways, I can honestly say there is a favorite. It has never been reviewed for fear that a detached inspection might reveal an undiscovered flaw that would cause a reevaluation of its top-tier status. Moreover, I’ve been cautious to reveal my pick, since what works for one writer, might not be the right typewriter for another. I didn’t want to take the blame if you found my pick not worthy. Plus, as we know, these wonderful writing machines often suffer various old age ailments. While mine is sweet cream butter, an identical model might be an insufferable crank.

I didn’t get this typewriter refurbished, but it came to me in nearly refurbished condition. The platen is supple. The carriage glide smooth. The keys nimble. Bottom line: it works. But beyond working, it satisfies my criteria that writing take center stage, rather than the machine. Many typewriters were made in the shadow of their office counterpart with a range of features that us writer types can do without. All we need are margin settings, line spacing and a paper holder to keep it from flopping over the back. If you write for screen or stage you might like a tab to center for dialogue. That’s it, amigo! Anything else is a distraction. Even devilish good looks can be a distraction. I’m talking about you Ms. Groma. But that doesn’t mean your muse should live in a dump, just something nice enough to call home.

OK, enough chit-chat, I’m beginning to sound like those infomercial guys who make you pony up at the end for their secret tip.

My Numero Uno is this 1947 Smith-Corona Sterling.

This post-war baby is a boomer. And like an All-American jazz impresario, the rounded glass top keys will make you feel like Miles Davis on trumpet. They’re super light and the Floating Shift is a heavenly delight. You won’t be banging away on this typewriter, but rather words will fly onto the page, beamed in from your creative cortex. You’ll forget you’re using a typewriter and remember what it’s like to write.

What I like about writing on a computer is the ability to eliminate the menu bar and other interface clutter. I want this same experience on a typewriter — see my words and little else. The blackness of the Sterling disappears against the stark white paper. And like a shadow, this typewriter is quiet. It’s the stealth typewriter. Sure, a good platen helps, but I’ve had others with hard rubber and they’re still super silent. Perhaps that’s why Smith-Corona also labelled them as such. The Royal Quiet Deluxe is another who prided itself on lowering the decibels. We Americans might have the reputation as a loud and brash bunch, but not our typewriters. By the 1950s dorms and homes were filling with them, imagine the feuds if they couldn’t be silenced!

But there was one grating sound that was not eliminated: that ratcheting when the carriage is returned. There’s nothing broken. Many typewriters make this sound. Unless it’s an Olympia SM3, where the carriage glide is like steel on glass. Or the Lettera 32 who is like a whisper. But, in the end, I’ve come to love that ratcheting like I love the sound of the wood framed screen door banging shut on our porch. It’s the sound of comfort and home. Familiar and reassuring.

What’s your favored one? Your desert island machine. Post in the comments!

Royal Quiet DeLuxe

Daniel Marleau — Mon, 27 May 2013 15:13:13 +0000

Royal Quiet De Luxe (1946)

If you want a solid typewriter that’s stylish and extremely easy to use, go with the Royal Quiet De Luxe. It’s American simplicity at its best. Everything about this typewriter is top notch. The typebars strike the platen with exceptional ease, making fast typing a breeze. Its black finish and chrome accent, mirror what writing is about, black words on white paper. This is a writer’s tool. Roll paper in platen, write. When you hit the end of a line and slide the carriage return lever, you’re met with a satisfying clicking sound. It’s a writing machine. The glass topped keys have a nice concavity, and with their smooth finish, you’ll find your fingers drawn to them day after day. They make you want to type. Like any well designed machine, the form is just as important as function. In the age of plastics, this keyboard feels real. It epitomizes what using a manual typewriter is all about, a connection with your words not found on a computer. And even in the world of manual typewriters, the glass topped key is king. You can find solid plastic keys, like on the Olympia SM-line, but there’s something more primal about metal and glass that speaks to the soul. Every time you sit down at this typewriter, you’ll be energized. And as the name suggests, this is a quiet machine, even with a rock hard, ancient platen.

Hermes Rocket (1940s)

Daniel Marleau — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 14:57:37 +0000

Hermes Rocket (1941)

The nifty little typewriter in this review originated in 1941 and was passed down to a granddaughter from a grandfather who served in World War II. I can see this little typewriter rumbling over the fields of northern France and Belgium in the back of a Willy Jeep. This is a field reporters machine. It’s got all the looks of military issue ordnance. This typewriter is small and could easily fit in your rucksack. And with an all steel, snap-on cover, it’s ready for a jaunt to the coffee shop or in a saddle bag slung across a camel’s back for a trek across the Sahara.

As a comparison, here’s how it stacks up against two Olivettis. The largest one is the Studio 44, while the other is the Lettera 32.

(Left to Right. Olivetti Studio 44, Olivetti Lettera 32, Hermes Rocket)

While the Hermes lacks the refined exterior of an Olivetti, it has the smooth, inner-workings of a fine Swiss watch. When typing, the typebars fly with a feathery lightness, yet make solid contact with the platen. Be sure to have a grippy pad underneath this machine, because it lacks any rubber feet to keep it in place. The bottom is fully enclosed, which makes it extra squirrely on most surfaces. But once you get it anchored, get ready to take off. This little rocket soars. About the only thing that slows you down is the stubby carriage return lever. You can barely get more than two fingers on this thing, plus you need to give it an extra nudge at the return to advance the paper. But Hermes has designed this typewriter with compactness in mind, and the carriage return lever smartly folds up so you can get the cover snapped on.

The model I used didn’t have a paper holder in the back, so the paper flopped over the back. But then again, this typewriter was meant to turn out short dispatches from far-flung places. Rolling paper into the platen sounds like clicking ammo into an M4 carbine magazine. Once you’re locked and loaded, it’d take a typhoon to rip the paper out.

Overall, this is the most rugged ultra-portable out there. It’s snap-on case and integrated handle, make this an ideal travel companion.

Hermes Rocket – Cover

Hermes Rocket – Easy to Carry