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!

If we resisted the tossing of the old and made do with what we had, where would the incentive be to keep the factories open? As Steinbeck warned us, the monster must be fed. If it does not grow, it dies. Something like that. OK, this is supposed to be a typewriter review, not Commie propaganda, and the product in question hails from Switzerland, the bastion of neutrality. The Hermes 2000.

First, I’d like to meet the marketing madman who came up with this numbering scheme. How’d they skip from 1 to 2000? If there were a Hermes 1000, that might make sense, but as far as I can tell, no such machine exists. The Hermes 2000 was introduced in the 1930s, so perhaps 2000 made it sound like a machine that was decades ahead of its time. And if you just go on the looks of a Hermes 3000, the revamped design suggests a leap of a 1,000 years. This reasoning makes more sense when you consider their ultra-portable was dubbed, The Rocket. Combine the far-out numbering with the crazy-cool color, and yeah, this is Futurama. It’s a machine DeLorean or Disney would use.

What seemed to launch it all was the 2000. While it was still boxy like many of its competitors, by the 1950s its trademark green keys stood out. And this is what makes a Hermes typewriter such a special breed. The keys feel unlike any other typewriter. They’re cupped, soft and the action is supple, quiet and assured. It just feels good to rest your fingers on the keys. Plus, the cool green soothes and draws you in. It’s refreshing like a mint sprig.

OK, it’s a great machine. But how does it compare to the new and improved 3000? Besides the obvious design leap from pretty good to far-out, the 2000 feels snappier and the carriage lighter. While I like the Hermes touch, the 3000 always felt like a heavy machine. The 2000 still has the soft touch, but lighter and quicker. What’s not as light in the 2000 is the carriage shift. While it’s not bad, I’m more of a basket shifted fan. The soundproofing in the 3000 is super-stealth, compared to the lesser padded 2000. If disturbing the neighbors is your concern, the 3000 is one of the quietest ones around. Perhaps due to the entire frame wrapped from top to bottom. It’s mute. The 2000 is still a bit loud. But nothing a solid felt pad can’t resolve.

Bottom line: if you’re after that elusive Hermes touch, but are not enchanted by the 3000 design and want a traditional look with some design flair, get the 2000. You’ll probably save some bucks, as well.

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:

Hermes 3000 (1958)

When sitting down to a Hermes 3000 for the first time, you feel drawn to the machine and your fingers want to type. The typebars strike with great precision, they’re tight, controlled, yet snappy. It’s made in Switzerland, famous for these characteristics. There’s a muted quality about this typewriter, probably due to an insulated unibody construction. This typewriter is fully enclosed, and even includes an integrated snap on shell. What is it with the Swiss and keeping a lid on things? The curves on this typewriter are delicious, it has richness and style, like you should be on a terrace in Monaco banging out your novel about star crossed lovers. The key tops have a roundness and smoothness to them that draw your fingers to touch them and use them for your desires. And if your desires are writing, lots of writing, this thoroughbred can go the distance. It’s portable, yet solid and heavy and is a substantial piece of machinery that will never let you down. Its green color imbues your words and thoughts with life. Combined with its round lines, the Hermes 3000 has an organic quality to it. It’s constructed with metal, yet feels soft. The mechanicals don’t sound harsh, due to its sound dampening design. Hermes has even designed a rubber bumper where the typebars come to a rest. If late night writing is your thing, then the Hermes 3000 will not wake the house. And with its ultra-chic looks, you can proudly display this typewriter all day long.

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

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