Is the Hermes 3000 still up to snuff? The one I got is the “New Version” as Hermes calls it. Really? C’mon, Hermes, that’s the best you could call it? The new version? Why not the 4000? Why Hermes ever went with numbers I’ll never know, when they had great names like “Rocket” and “Ambassador.” It’s too bad Royal had a typewriter called The Empress, because that’s what I would’ve called the 3000!

While the “new version” is more boxy than the original, the curves are still there, but more subtle. I may be going against the Hermes 3000 purists crowd when I say I was never fond of the bulbous contours of the original. The new version looks more elegant and refined, yet retains its distinctive style and color that you’ll never confuse it with an Olympia SM9.

Forget the looks, how does it work?

The typing action of the “new version” feels like what I remembered in the “original version.” They keys are big and cuppy, that it’s hard to miss a beat. The feeling is strong and assertive, producing a nice thunk thunk thunk sound. At first you might feel the need to punch the keys hard, but after playing around a bit with tapping the keys as light as I could, I was amazed how little effort was required to make a strong imprint.

What wouldn’t work with a light touch was the carriage return. It’s heavy. Good thing it has a big handle, because you’ll need all the leverage you can muster. Olympia SM-series and Olivetti Studio 45 & Lettera 32 have Hermes beat on this note. They fly! But hey, perhaps the slower return on the Hermes is by design, makes you pause and take in that beautiful line of prose before charging ahead into the next.

If you’re a frequent margin setter, setting them on the 3000 is a bit tricky at first, but super fast once you get it. Hermes calls them Visible Flying Margins. Gone are the clunky moveable margin tabs found in many other typewriters, in its place are a set of left and right levers that when depressed unlock the margin. Move the carriage to the desired margin location with the carriage release button, then release the lever to set it. Hermes has cleverly indicated the margin location on the paper bail with a red thermometer-like bar, making it The Visible Flying Margin!

Visible, yes, noticeable, not so much. If I hadn’t read the manual, I would’ve missed it. But once in view, it’s especially useful for the right margin, where instead of writing to the bell, you can see exactly where you’re at. I’m more of a write-to-the-bell-and-margin-release guy. I hate hyphenating. The Visible Flying Margin is useful for careful line planning so things are as neat and tidy on the right as they are on the left.

I’ve always struggled with knowing when I’m about to hit the end of a page. Especially when writing exactly One Typed Page! Wrap it up, amigo, you only got two lines left! Shoot for under, never over. To solve this problem, Hermes notched a couple openings on the lower part of carriage on the left and right sides. Through this gap, the bottom of the page comes into view a couple lines before the end. Olympia has the best solution for this with an adjustable page stop on the paper support, allowing the bottom margin to be set wherever. Either way, super useful!

Hermes is in line with an Olympia SM9 and Olivetti Studio 44/45. But it’s way more solid than either and has a distinctive feel and look that’ll beckon you to her keys. The downside, these babies usually go for double or triple the price and good ones are hard to find.

Finally, what makes the 3000 in its own class is the snap-on shell. It’s not like you’ll be tossing it in the caravan and dashing off to Marrakech, but useful for a quick snap-and-stash if your dining table is also your desk.

But if your desk is where it’s at, make it a throne and install The Empress, err I mean, The 3000! Long may she reign!

When I sit at an Olivetti, I feel like I’m tapping into a rich tradition of Italian artisans, where form is as important as function. But a great design only works if the typewriter is up to snuff. Sure, they’re nice to look at, but does it work every day, every letter, every page? With Olivetti, the answer is YES.

There’s a good reason the Studio 45’s predecessor, the 44 is near the top, only to be topped by the Lettera 32. My chief complaint with the 44 is that it doesn’t have the lightness of a Lettera. Which is OK, since it feels sturdy and reliable. The Studio 44 is no slip off your desk Slim Jim. Some prefer a beefier machine and for them the Lettera can feel flimsy. Olivetti even marketed the Studio 44 as a mix between the ease of a portable with the solid feel of an office standard. And they succeeded! But don’t be fooled, the big office standards, as I’ve noted in another post, are no slugs. There’s never a more demanding customer than an over-worked, under-paid secretary whose typing actually earns a living.

While the Studio 44 is a portable, if you’ve ever tried to tote one, they’re a lug. I must admit my curiosity for other Olivettis waned after putting the Studio 44 and the Lettera 32 in the Top Ten pantheon. There wasn’t much to improve, right? Boy, was I wrong. The Studio 45 hits the sweet spot between these two stalwarts.

The key tops on the Studio 45 are shaped like saddles, perfect for your digits to ride on. Whoever thought cupped tops were the right shape? Saddles, amigo, are the only way to ride. The Studio 44 is cuppy, while the Lettera 32 tops are flat. The saddle top keys of the Studio 45 perfectly matches the curvature of the finger. If the keys and bell are the notes of the page, the carriage return lever marks a repose in the composition. Again, Olivetti got it right with the Studio 45. It’s long, big and juts at the perfect angle for an easy catch. And once you catch it, the carriage is super smooth with just the right amount of weight and resistance. The Studio 44’s carriage always felt heavy, like you needed that giant paddle of a return lever to get it moving. And the Lettera 32 lever is small, easy to miss and the carriage is feather light that it feels like it might fly off the rails if you’re too frisky.

As for design, I love the cool blue and curves of the Studio 44 and the Lettera 32. While you can get the Studio 45 in blue, perhaps its boxier lines don’t inspire the same poster art advertisements. It’s a much quieter design. Elegant. Functional. The Studio 45 is the perfect blank canvas. If you’re looking for a reliable typewriter, I suspect a Studio 45 won’t let you down. Any off-the-shelf used one will probably be in fine shape. That’s a big reason why the Olympia SM9 sits at numero uno. Every one I’ve purchased has worked. No issues. No need for a gut rehab, nor spending more than you need to. In fact, I’d say the Studio 45 might even challenge the Olympia SM9 for top spot. It’s quieter, less mechanical sounding, softer, more muted, warmer. It should satisfy the writer who is looking for something a bit weightier than the Lettera 32, but still wants a responsive feel. It’s not as iconic, but hey, you’re getting a typewriter to write with not look at.

Get your fingers in the saddle of a Studio 45 and blaze a new trail.

p.s. — If you haven’t sent a page to One Typed Page, now is the season for giving! We’d love to hear from you!

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When the 1960s rolled around, Olympia had ascended to the top of the typewriter heap.  While their good looks went with the disappearance of the SM3&4s, their solid mechanicals continued to shine. By the time the SM9 was introduced, Olympia had perfected the portable typewriter. It won’t win any design contests, but when you need a solid typewriter, the SM9 is any easy recommendation. The Splendid 33 stradles both these lineages. It has buttery soft lines on the outside and precise German mechanicals on the inside. This is a performer. While it looks small, it feels big. Olympia didn’t skimp on the Splendid. The key touch is light and snappy, yet doesn’t feel cheap. The bigger typewriters may have a more solid thud-thud sound to them, but when it comes to portability, the Splendid has a snap-on shell that makes it easy to stow or go. Even if you have a permanent home on your desk for the bigger machine, the Splendid makes a great second typewriter for hitting the road. While the Hermes Rocket has that cool, aqua color, the Splendid performs much better. The biggest advantage the Splendid has over the Rocket is the carriage return lever. This has always been my complaint with the Rocket, it has this stubby little thing that’s hard to catch with your fingers. Not so with the Splendid. It’s big and sticks out nicely. Plus, it has the same snap-on shell as the Rocket. Easy choice, I’d go with the Splendid. Olympia ditched the shell with the later model SF. For this size typewriter, I like the shell. It just makes a tighter, easier to handle package.

When this typewriter came off the factory floor in 1966, Czechoslovakia was just two years away from the Prague Spring. Which at the time was the first real crack in the Soviet Union. Perhaps that important milestone was written on a Consul typewriter. Even the name suggests a diplomatic approach to writing. In the waning days of 1989 the peaceful transition to democracy was complete with the Velvet Revolution and the election of the writer president Vaclav Havel. Did Havel pen his works on a Consul typewriter?

With its soft colors and rounded edges, the Consul speaks to a certain tranquility. But don’t confuse its quiet looks with a pushover, this is a solid machine. The body is well constructed and is quite heavy for its size, lending it an authoritative feel. The keys are precise and light, while the line space lever is easy to catch with your fingers. Like most ultra-portables, it has a carriage shift, but it rises and falls with ease. As for type alignment, it’s a bit over the place. You’re not going to produce a final draft manuscript with this typewriter. But that’s okay, this is a writer’s typewriter, the kind meant for the free composition of thoughts. I’d say toss it in the handy travel bag and hit the road, but the one this one came with has brittled with age and feels like cheap vinyl. Which is too bad, since other portables in this category, such as the Hermes Rocket, come with travel hardened shells or cases. But for feel, the Consul is right up there with the Olympia SF and the Hermes.

By the late 1960s Olympia had perfected the typewriter. While other manufacturers seemed to have lowered their standards, Olympia boldly introduced a line of distinctive typewriters called The Traveller. The style certainly speaks to the age of 2001: A Space Odyssey. While one could never imagine a typewriter floating in space, it has the mechanicals beyond its years and ahead of everybody else. It has everything you could ever need in a typewriter. It’s a writing machine. The keys seem to defy gravity and feel super light to the touch. You can hit supersonic speed and feel confident that your typewriter can keep up. Even the weakest of fingers can operate this typewriter, that it feels like child’s play. But don’t let the color fool you, this is a serious machine.

Olympia was also way ahead of its time with the different color combinations for the Traveller. Whatever suited your eye. Orange, Green, Pink, or just plain white. It feels like a laptop with its low profile. Its snug little case lets you can stow it away easily. And it being an Olympia, you’ve got a sturdy companion for the journey. Even if you already have a reliable desktop typewriter, the Traveller is the perfect second typewriter. Toss it in the boot, the overhead or the back of the camper, and off you go. Heading to the woods for a writers’ retreat?  Take the Traveller. Or, if you’re a minimalist, just tuck it under your desk and take it out when the mood strikes.

A worthy competitor in this space is the veritable Hermes Rocket. While the Rocket boasts the ultimate in portability with its snap-on shell, it doesn’t have as solid a feel as the Traveller. The Olivetti Leterra 32 is another close competitor. But again, it has a flightiness to it that is not quite up to snuff when going head-to-head with German engineering. Ask any typewriter repairman and they’ll most likely tell you Olympia typewriters are among the most reliable.

And with the Traveller, don’t let the small size fool you, this can handle any project you throw at it. You could also roll back the clock a few years and go with an Olympia SF Deluxe, which has a similar feel, but with the Traveller you’re getting the latest model. And when you find one used, since it’s relatively newer than most typewriters, the platen and rollers will most likely still have that rubbery feel.

This is the typewriter for all your writing needs. The Olympia SF Deluxe has a strong, authoritative touch, giving you the confidence to tackle any project.  Olympia marketed the SF as a lightweight typewriter for personal correspondence, but make no mistake, this is a heavyweight ready to fight in your corner and take on the big boys. It has all the guts of its bigger brother, the SM9, but packed into a sleek body that doesn’t dominate your desk. If you write on a laptop, you’ll feel right at home on this typewriter with its low-profile design. Take it out whenever the mood strikes. The typeface, like all Olympias of this vintage, is bright and clear with perfect alignment, making highly readable copy. While the SF typewriter is in the ultra-portable category, don’t expect a feather in your bag, this is a heavy lug. But the brawn under the covers is worth the extra weight. On the downside is the tiring carriage shifted mechanism, which means when you hit shift, you need to lift the entire carriage, rather than the lighter type basket. But unlike the Olympia SM3-7s, which are also carriage shifted, the SF is much easier on the fingers and not as heavy. While the Olympia SM9 takes the ease-of-use prize, when Olympia finally went with basket shifting.

Worth mentioning is a comparison with the Hermes Rocket, another fine ultra-portable. The biggest functional difference, and this is big, is the line space lever, which is used to advance to the next line. On most Rockets, until early-1970s, the line space lever is a stubby little thing that’s hard to catch with your fingers. Hermes finally made this bigger on its 1970s model, but by that time, the Rocket’s shell and frame seemed to have cheapened, lacking the solid feel of earlier models. The keyboard touch on the Rocket feels lighter than the Olympia SF. While lighter can certainly seem better, it can also lead to a less convincing performance, and the Rocket lacks the authority the SF seems to possess. But for sheer portability, the Rocket is ready to go wherever you go, with its lighter frame and integrated snap-on shell, you can feel confident tossing it in the bag or the back of the camper. But if all you’re doing is stowing it under your desk or in a drawer, the Olympia SF will do just fine. And that’s where this typewriter shines, big performance in a small package. Oh yeah, one last cool feature, whenever the typebars get jumbled together, instead of picking them apart with your fingers, simply hit the margin release key, and the typebars return to their place in the basket.

The Hermes Rocket typewriter is a pint-sized powerhouse. This little Rocket is built tough. With its all metal body and snap-on shell, you can load it in your pack and scale the Matterhorn. Yodel-ay-hee-hoo! You’ll be singing the praises of this typewriter while banging out your field notes from your tent at base camp. Even when your fingers are numb with cold, they’ll find the big, round keys with ease. And no need to strain your digits when typing, this little wonder has a super light touch. A weakness of this typewriter is the carriage return handle. It’s short and stubby and was designed to fold up nicely so it’d fit in the case. But when you get going, it slows you down. Hermes addressed this issue in the next model of the Rocket and provided an easy to find carriage return. (See comparison below) Not as glaring, but still a bit quirky, are the ribbon covers. They’re two little triangular flaps that sometimes come unsnapped if you’re typing a bit hard. Over time, they can also get bent, requiring some adjustment so they snap into the shell. The newer model of the Rocket has a single cover that stays secure. But besides these two issues, the guts of the typewriter feel the same. Everything just feels solid. Hermes has no equal when it comes to this size of typewriter.

Hermes Rocket Comparison (Left, 1970s; Right, 1960s)

The first thing you notice about a Hermes Rocket typewriter is its compact size and quality workmanship. The Swiss have definitely mastered the art and craft of the small form-factor. But what really distinguishes Hermes from most typewriters is its unique style. From its ultra-chic lines to its soothing sea foam colored shell, there’s nothing like the sight of a Hermes. It’s not only good to look at, but is one of the most solid typewriters out there.

This 1970s model of the Rocket represents the pinnacle of ultra-portable typewriters. Despite its size, the keys are big and round and easy to strike. By comparison, the Olivetti Lettera 32, while a solid portable typewriter, has thin, flat keys. And if it’s portability you seek, the Rocket’s snap-on shell makes it easy to toss in a bag and hop on the next flight to Istanbul. Unlike the Lettera’s zippered vinyl case that feels cheap and doesn’t stand up to the kind of abuse you can throw at a Rocket. This little baby is ready to go on any adventure.

It’s also the typewriter for the laptop generation. If you’re a writer who wants a typewriter by your side, keep this little wonder under your desk and pull it out when the mood strikes. It’ll feel like you’re using a laptop, it’s that small and easy to use. Most other portable typewriters will feel big and clumsy once you get going with the Rocket.

And going you will. This thing is a speed demon. The keys have a lightness to them and the typebars strike the platen with authority. The carriage return handle stands at attention nicely and is easy to catch with your fingers. Rolling paper into the Rocket feels precise as it makes a reassuring clicking sound, muted, yet telling you this machine means business. To keep unwanted noises to a minimum, Hermes has lined the inside of the rocket with a sound dampening felt pad.

After three decades of making the Rocket typewriter, Hermes has achieved perfection. It’s a big, useful typewriter in the smallest possible size. Not only can it handle short dispatches from the field, but you can easily tackle a full-length manuscript.

DEMO:

Olympia SM9 (1966)

The Olympia SM9 is a writer’s typewriter. It just plain works. Its utilitarian lines and solid mechanicals produce consistent type that fills you with confidence the more you use it. Its got the appearance of a plain vanilla office machine, but in the nifty size of a portable. If you need to bang out a big manuscript, this is the typewriter for you.

Everything about this typewriter has been refined by the Germans. The SM-line of typewriters from the 1950s and 60s were the pinnacle of manual typewriter technology. The SM9 is the culmination of that typewriter expertise. The keys are solid. The carriage movement smooth. When you begin typing you realize quickly you’re in capable hands. The journey of words has found its companion.

About the only mark against this typewriter is just how plain it looks. Its muted colors and basic lines are not there to inspire, but rather fade in the background as you fill page after page with words. Maybe this was by design and it certainly reflects the mid-1960s trend away from style. This was the beginning of the age of technology and maybe the designers at Olympia figured the market was after utility and tech, rather than style. But what may be off-putting at first in terms of style and design, the daily use of this typewriter more than overcomes.

One competitor in this space was the Studio 44 from Olivetti. The stylish Italian with Tennessee Williams as their pitchman. The rugged office machine brought to the artist’s studio. The Studio 44 certainly beats the SM9 in looks, but when it come to typing, the German-made machine leaves its rival in the dust.

You could drop down a size and go with Olivetti’s smaller unit, the Lettera 32 and now you’d have a typewriter that could keep up with the SM9, but what you’d sacrifice is the feeling of solid mechanicals under your fingers. The Lettera 32 is way cool to look at, and it’s fun to use and the legendary writer Cormac McCarthy uses one, but its lightness feels like you’re typing on thin ice. The SM9 is a rock. Solid. Dependable. A work horse. It’s German. It might be a bit over-engineered, but hey, the Germans have fun in their own ways. And you’d have fun writing the big novel on this excellent typewriter.

Olivetti Underwood Lettera 32 (1963)

The first thing you notice about this typewriter is how compact and solid it feels. It’s like they’ve shrunk a standard model to pint-sized proportions.  It’s got all the great lines of an Olivetti and feels like the previous generation Lettera 22.  It’s definitely a newer, more improved version of its previous self.  It’s a little boxier and the keys strike a bit easier.

When you get going on this thing you can really keep things moving. The typebars feel like they can keep up with whatever you throw at them. Make no mistake, this is a professional’s tool, unlike other portables which are designed for the home user who only has the occasional correspondence to knock out. One can see why this is the typewriter of choice for pros like Cormac McCarthy.  This little typewriter is meant for manuscripts. Page after page flies through the platen with ease. Once you set this machine on your desk, its lower profile design never comes between you and your words. Larger portables feel like an imposition after you’ve used the Lettera 32.

About the only weakness I see is the ultra-thin space bar. At first you might not even see it. When you start typing fast it sometimes feels like your thumb needs to search for it. But not often, despite its narrow shape, the entire keyboard is compact so it forces you into a position where your thumb naturally rests near the spacebar.

The carriage return is another example of small size. It’s a short little lever that only takes a finger to operate. But it’s got a nice curve to it so your finger snugs in and finds the sweet spot for a smooth return. And it’s a smooth return. The carriage glides over a steel tube with roller bearings. The paper roller knobs are a big improvement over the 22, they’re large and easy to operate, and they make a reassuring clicking sound. This is also a quiet machine, with just the right amount of punch. What might be a bit too quiet is the margin bell. You might get a head of steam and not even hear it.

Ribbon changing is a bit difficult. You need to thread the ribbon through two little hooks and requires the right amount of twist to get into position. It’s a little like threading a needle. If you have larger fingers, you might get frustrated. Nearer the spool the ribbon also has to go around a roller post and through a slotted mechanism. This is the auto-reverse mechanism. Moreover, if the nut that holds the ribbon spool down isn’t tightened sufficiently, the ribbon doesn’t advance properly and some of the slack can unwind. But don’t tighten these nuts too much, as they can be difficult to get off. For the auto-reverse to work properly you need a ribbon with one of those eyelets near the end so it catches the mechanism and flips it around for the reverse direction. The ribbons I used didn’t have this eyelet, so I had to make this flip manually. Not a big deal, but just something you need to keep an eye on.

The paper supports form a nifty “V” when deployed. They hold the paper in what feels like an exaggerated upright position, but as you get words on paper, you’ll appreciate them clearly in view. The paper doesn’t hang sloppily over the back, nor do you need to crane your neck to see what you’ve written.

Overall, the Lettera 32 is one fine machine. It satisfies the needs of the pro writer and is small enough to find a niche in any home. The looks and styling are timeless. The soft teal color is soothing and you can look at this thing for a long time and never have sore eyes.

Here it is compared to an Olivetti Studio 44

(Studio 44, Lettera 32)

Here’s a demo: