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What To Do When War Breaks Out - Pack Up The Typewriters and Skedaddle

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In the past week the world has been marking the centenary of "The shot that was heard around the world". On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg, were shot dead in Sarajevo by Gavrilo Princip. The assassination led directly to World War I. During the next four years, 37 million deaths followed.
Naturally, I was wondering what was happening in the typewriter world when this far-reaching event occurred. Then I remembered that a short while before these shootings that changed the world, the wonderful photograph at the top of this post was taken 710 miles due west, at Olivetti's factory in Ivrea, Italy. (By the way, the one in the front right is headed for Alexandria, Egypt [Egitto].)
At the start of hostilities, Italy refused to commit troops. The Austro-Hungarian government began negotiations to secure Italian neutrality, offering the French colony of Tunisia in return. The Allies made a counter-offer in which Italy would receive the Southern Tyrol, Austrian Littoral and territory on the Dalmatian coast after the defeat of Austria-Hungary. This was formalised by the Treaty of London. Further encouraged by the Allied invasion of Turkey in April 1915, Italy joined the Triple Entente and declared war on Austria-Hungary in May. Fifteen months later, Italy declared war on Germany.
Olivetti obviously didn't suffer too badly in the immediate aftermath of the assassinations. This was the size of the staff in 1921 - white-bearded Camillo Olivetti is in the centre of the front row. Care to count 'em all?
1915 advert
The war certainly brought many more women into the work forces, as these images from 1915 and 1916 (British Railways) show:
Then, of course, there was the deadly Spanish Flu:

The Sterling Typewriter:

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An unusual double-page advertising spread
The time has come to set aside childish things, like tarting up typewriters (at least for a day or two). Down to more serious matters, like catching up on things left seriously neglected for the past seven months or more.
The paper support on this early model is very similar to the Hammond.
Seven months ago, Richard Polt won the Sterling typewriter seen above in the auction in Melbourne, Australia, of Emeric Somlo's collection. Richard, who has a particular interest in single type element typewriters, had a Sterling on his wish list. And when I posted on the Somlo auction, he was quick to spot this one, which looked to be in fair condition. As Richard himself said at the time, it was significantly rarer than anything else on offer. Certainly, as John Lavery has often said, the Sterling was Somlo's "pride and joy" among his many typewriters. Richard's successful bid for it was definitely the win of the auction. 
Martin Howard Collection
The bell on this first model Sterling is in the same place on the 1902-05 Eagle and Defi. On later model Sterlings, it is at the centre back of the typewriter. From the advertising, however, it is clear the first model (script decal) came out in 1910, followed by the later model with sans serif decal between 1911-12. Production ended in 1912.
Not wishing to steal Richard's thunder, I asked him if I could post on the story of the Sterling. Richard gave me the green light and I did a power of research on the machine, coming up with what I thought were some really interesting, hitherto unknown details about it and its inventor. Very little has ever previously been written about the Sterling.
The Hammond-like swinging sector. Like the Hammond, there is also a hammer at the back. Coincidentally, Hammond itself planned a Sterling model, some years after Paulson's Sterling had disappeared from the market.
Just as I was about to post the Sterling story, my computer crashed and I lost all the work I'd done. I was so brassed off I more or less abandoned the whole project. It's typical of me that when something like this happens, I find it enormously difficult to summons up the effort to do all the same work again.
But a promise is a promise, and to celebrate Richard completing the writing of his The Typewriter Insurgency book, here goes with the Sterling story:
Typewriter Topics, November 1910
Edward Grotecloss (1860-1937) was a Brooklyn insurance agent.
The Sterling was launched on the market in November 1910. For inventor Charles John Paulson, it was, like this post, a second attempt to get it right. In 1901 Paulson had designed almost exactly the same typewriter for cigar dealer Albert John Nothacker (born Shiloh, Ohio, 1861; died Manhattan, June 9, 1931) of the Eagle Typewriter Company on 621 Broadway, New York.
1902-03 New York City directory
Nothacker and his lawyer-broker partner William Demund Beam (born Baltimore, Maryland, February 1862) had plans for not just Paulson's Eagle typewriter, but also variations (at least in name) called the Secretary and the Defi.
The Secretary appears not to have been made, but the Defi definitely was, between 1902-05, as presumably was the Eagle (although that now seems more doubtful). In his 1997 book Antique Typewriters, Darryl Rehr had some fun with the Defi, asking, "Is it pronounced 'Deffy' or 'Dee-fie' as in 'I Defi you to type on me'? I Defi you to find me is more like it."
Oddly enough, notwithstanding Darryl's legitimate challenge, more examples of the Defi seem to exist than do examples of the Eagle (and there are none of the Secretary, just a brief reference in Mares).
Martin
There is a Defi in the Dietz Collection at the Milwaukee Public Museum:
The man typewriter histories refer to as Charles J. Paulson was actually born Carl Johan Pålsson on September 19, 1864, in Espelunden, Vastra GötalandSweden. He left his home district in 1886 and arrived in the US in 1893 under the name Karl Johan Palsson. At other times he was also known by the surname Polson. All of which makes tracing his life most difficult.
Paulson returned to Sweden from the US on more than one occasion, most notably - between his work on the Defi and the Sterling - to develop a movie projector in his home district in Karlskrona.
On his return from this trip, Paulson helped set up the Sterling Typewriter Company in an effort to triumph where the Eagle and Defi (and Secretary) had failed.
Again, however, the enterprise was soon in trouble, despite high hopes of Sterling sales in Europe as well as the US.
At one time the project moved to South Dakota, briefly and just as unsuccessfully, but then in 1912 returned to New Jersey (equally unsuccessfully).
One of Paulson's fellow board members with the original company, constructor James Edwin Simpson (1843-1928), of Brooklyn, went on to work closely with Paulson between 1915-1919. Together they patented a means of renovating phonograph needles, a cheque protector and cheque-writing machine attachment, and in 1915 a typewheel typewriter.
Paulson also invented a large number of other items, from a coin separating machine to bubble blowers.

POSTSCRIPT: Since I posted on the Sterling, Richard Polt has very kindly sent me some images provided to him in 2007 by the late American typewriter collector and historian Don Sutherland of Don's Defi:

The American Pocket Typewriter and Wellington Parker Kidder's Rochester

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The Rochester was to be a thrust-action typewriter. Presumably the American Pocket Typewriter was one, too?
It's almost three years now since I posted on Wellington Parker Kidder's ultimate typewriter, the tiny Rochester, considering it then as now to be the portable of my wildest dreams. At that time, in late July 2011, it was my belief that the Rochester was never made, and that Kidder had died in Manhattan on October 2, 1924, with his ambition of seeing this "pocket rocket" go into production unfulfilled.
Kidder's Rochester was clearly to be a very basic typewriter, with a one-piece, folding frame - perhaps even more basic than the American Pocket Typewriter. Kidder applied for the patent for the Rochester in November 1922, five months after the American Pocket Typewriter had appeared, and the patent wasn't issued until nine months after his death. But wait ... there was an earlier design!
It turns out, however, that an earlier version of the Rochester was made, at the very least as a prototype. It was called the American Pocket Typewriter, and an example of it is in the Dietz Collection at the Milwaukee Public Museum. The mystery surrounding these two models is compounded by the fact that the American Pocket Typewriter was produced in June 1922 and the Rochester was vaunted for production exactly one year later.
Master typewriter designer Wellington Packer Kidder (1853-1924)
Trying to work out the truth behind these machines is not helped by false leads from the Milwaukee Public Library and what publications do mention the American Pocket Typewriter and the Rochester. These do offer a few hints, but one needs to dig deep to get to the actual facts behind them.
For example, a catalogue of the Dietz Collection written by George Herrl in 1965 refers to its American Pocket Typewriter as being produced in 1926 and "devised" by "A.L. Legett of New York City". Herrl says the model was donated to the Dietz Collection by a "Mr N.P. Zech of Chicago", "one of the principal backers of the enterprise". Neither statement is entirely accurate.
In part, it was the other way around - with Leggett initially getting the rights from Rochester Industries. Yet the late Paul Lippman, in his American Typewriters (1992) got much closer to the mark. In Lippman's defence, he took his spelling of "Leggatt" instead of "Leggett" from Typewriter Topics' 1923 A Condensed History of the Writing Machine, and from issues of Typewriter Topics in March and June of 1922. That Lippman lumbered the Rochester, Leggett and American Pocket typewriters all into the one entry means that he had rightly figured they were all essentially the same machine.
The "Legett" did not have the initials "A.L." but was Alfred John Leggett, a Rochester (not New York City) banker. He was born in Rochester on June 11, 1880, and was for many years assistant secretary (his position when the APT was made) and later assistant vice-president of the Rochester Trust and Safe Deposit Company. He started work with the company as a teenager, as a bank clerk and receiving teller. Leggett retired to Pinellas, Florida, and died there on March 6, 1938, aged 57.
The "Mr Zech of Chicago" was in fact Nicolaus Paul Zech, who at the time of backing the APT enterprise was in East Orange, New Jersey, working as an auditor for a brokerage company. He was born in Chilton, Wisconsin, on July 18, 1879. The family moved to Milwaukee, where "Nickie" started work as a bookkeeper, having graduated from Canisius College, New York. As an accountant, he went on to become vice-president and comptroller of the doomed investment bank the Middle West Service Company, while based in Wilmette, north of Chicago. He died there on November 8, 1947, aged 68. Zech and his German-born father, Johann Nepomuk Zech (1846-?), are most famous for inventing, in Milwaukee in 1899, a  vehicle brake system which was adopted by New York car companies. Nicolaus advanced this in 1909.
Typewriter Topics, March 1922
OK, so Leggett being a Rochester banker and businessman, it makes sense that the production of the earlier version of the Rochester typewriter should be proposed by someone from that city. As well, it makes sense that the American Pocket Typewriter was to be manufactured in Boston, near where Kidder lived. But hang on - why would Rochester Industries, of which Kidder was consulting engineer, have to acquire the Leggett Portable Typewriter Company in order to make the Rochester? Surely it was Kidder's machine? And in developing the Rochester, Kidder had himself described it as a “pocket typewriter”, one which could fit in “an ordinary overcoat pocket”.
So yes, the pocket typewriter was Kidder's idea. Perhaps the sequence of events might explain how all this came to pass.
Typewriter Topics' 1923 A Condensed History of the Writing Machine
To begin with, the American Pocket Typewriter that Leggett attempted to get manufactured in Boston was certainly designed by Kidder, yet the patents rights to it had been assigned by Kidder to - none other than Harry Bates! That's right, the same Harry Bates who was an "acquirer" of other people's typewriter designs in the class of Harry A. Smith. Now the name of Bates has not appeared in any published print works which mention the American Pocket Typewriteror the Rochester.
But in 1920 Bates went on to claim this design as his own, calling it a "midget typewriter". Here, very clearly, is the design of the American Pocket Typewriter, with the words "Harry Bates Inventor" quite evident:
In January 1923, 10 months after the Leggett bid was launched, Office Appliances: The News and Technical Journal of Office Equipment announced, under the headline, “To Produce Midget Typewriter”: “Old Typewriter Man [Kidder] Invents Unique Machine and Interests Group of Well-Known Business Men [Bateset al] in Its Manufacture”.
The item said reports of this “midget typewriter” had first appeared in New York daily newspapers in late December 1922, with the announcement of the organisation of Rochester Industries. The plot decidedly thickens!
Technically, this story was correct to identify Bates as the "inventor", but pointed out that Bates had “developed it in association with Wellington P.Kidder, consulting engineer of the new company [Rochester Industries]. Both gentleman have invented a number of mechanisms in the typewriter field.” 
Kidder's work on the Pocket-Rochester actually started in 1918 and in July 1919 he assigned the design to Rochester Industries (so it was around three years before the Leggett bid). Interestingly, while all this business with Leggett and Bates was going on, Kidder applied to renew the patent on Christmas Eve 1923. It was issued in July 1924, just nine weeks before he died - and too late for him to change the course of events.
Kidder had applied for an earlier patent on this machine in November 1918. When it was issued, in July 1921, he had assigned one third of it to Bates and two-thirds to the International Lettergraph Corporation of 76 East 56th Street, New York (incorporated as a “foreign business corporation” in Delaware on February 17, 1920).
Meanwhile, in September 1920, Bates went ahead and applied for a patent for the machine in his own name, assigning it to Rochester Industries and calling it an “Incased Collapsible Typewriter” (of “an otherwise compactible nature”). This was issued in late December 1924, almost three months after Kidder had died.
The collapsible "pocket" typewriter assigned wholly to Bates
An interesting aside here - as if there aren't enough already - is that the slip of paper inserted on the Rochester platen in the image at the top of this post is addressed to the Hulse Manufacturing Company of Geneva, New York. This plant was a subsidiary of the Corona Typewriter Company, one to which Corona moved machinery from Brooklyn in 1920. It bought the Lewis Street factory from National Wire Wheel Works. SCM shut down the plant in April 1975 and the building closed in 1992. Did Kidder plan to have the Rochester built there, or was he just checking on the "collapsible typewriter" patents?
Corona's Hulse plant in Geneva, NY
Confusing? Obviously the US Patents Office in Washington DC found it all pretty confusing, too!
The Rochester Silent, with "type-head-actuating" mechanism
Harry Bates was born in Greenbush, New York, in 1868, the son of an engineer. He began work as a clerk, become a stenographer in 1889, a reporter with the Albany Journal in 1891 and Albany correspondent for the New York Herald in 1896, He was editor of the Albany Star-Eagle in 1899-90 and Albany manager for Smith Premier in 1907. He then became a long-serving and inventive advertising manager for Underwood, for whom he had invented the typewriter pay station, an educational typewriter and a typewriter table.
Once the multitude of patents on the Pocket-Rochester had all expired, in the mid-1930s Bates moved in again. The “midget typewriter” idea suddenly re-emerged with a large number of patents assigned to the Bates Laboratory of New York. These new designs came from Bates and, in some cases, Bates and a Joseph Lee Sweeney. They included noiseless (developed by Raphael Atti from Kidder’s original concepts), compact and toy versions. These patents were issued right up until 1941.

Like a Virgin

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OK, it's the usual story. Covered in muck and rust, paint worn and chipped, big surface gouges all over, decals gone. Drawband snapped (very common with these big Imperials). So someone's bought it at a recycling centre, found it didn't work, and dumped it in a shed. A makeover was called for. Now it types like it did for the very first time. (The colour, by the way, is "Heirloom White", a creamy white, or a whitey cream, take your pick.)

Help! Attack of the Poltergeists

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Martin Rice's question this morning, about how long it had taken me to customise the "white chocolate"Imperial 65, stumped me for a second or two. I realised the truth was the best part of three days. But then I remembered that somewhere in the middle of all that, I had completely lost one whole day, during which time the various parts of the Imperial had hung unattended outside, gently swaying in the freezing breeze. So it was really one day to strip down the machine completely (an inordinate amount of which was spent battling immovable screws, then laboriously applying masking tape) and repaint the parts, another part of a day to fix the drawband and put the typewriter back together again, applying to it fresh decals.
So where had that lost day gone? Well, maybe it's the cold, foggy weather we've been experiencing this week, but my brain has been clearly numbed and is suffering from a decided fogginess. At a time when even more friends and idols have fallen off this mortal coil, giving me a heightened sense of my own mortality, here's my tale of woe.
Typed on my Spanish keyboard Remington Rand Model 1.

Quick Typewriter Quiz No 2

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1. Who backed the "Chicago typewriter" and owned the Royal Typewriter Company?
2. What is the bird on the Corona 3 logo?
3. Which typewriter has a quill-wielding Tudor boy logo?
4. Which American singer-songwriter accompanied herself on a typewriter on Nerd Anthem?
5. Which rock band's lead singer-songwriter types many of the band's lyrics on a Remington Model 1 portable typewriter?
6. What is the longest English language word that can be typed on the top bank of a QWERTY keyboard?
7. The bottom bank of a Blickensderfer keyboard can spell what percentage of English language words: 50, 60, 70 or 80?
8. What IBM device does Rose Pamphyle's backer Bob Taylor offer Underwood at the end of the movie Populaire?
"Whatta ya mean, too late?"
9. In 2009 Cormac McCarthy sold his Olivetti Lettera 32 for $254,5000. How much did he spend on a same model replacement?
10. Who, after completing a novel called Beautiful Losers, is alleged to have thrown his pistachio green Olivetti Lettera 22 into the Aegean Sea?
11. Which English author, journalist and television personality, who prefers to use a typewriter, told the BBC: "I think the computer user does their thinking on the screen, and the non-computer user is compelled, because he or she has to retype a whole text, to do a lot more thinking in the head"? He also said, "My favourite things are bicycles and typewriters because they’re pure, inert pieces of metal that, when you add human energy to them, produce relatively high-speed travel or text. I have three typewriters, including the Lettera 22 ..."
12. In the 21-minute film The History of the Typewriter Recited by Michael Winslow, voice sound effect performer Winslow recreates the sounds of how many typewriters: 8, 16, 32 or 64?
13. Who coined the word "Remingtonese", asked for a typewriter to be placed beside his deathbed and in 1898 dictated the novel The Turn of the Screw to his secretary William McAlpine because he suffered from what is now known as RSI? (Clue: Theodora Bosanquet become his secretary in 1908.)
14. Who called the typewriter a "curiosity-seeking little joker" and in 1906 began to dictate his autobiography to his literary executor Albert B. Paine?
15. Where on a typewriter would you find dogs?
16. The "arc" is a less common name for what part of a typewriter?
17. What is a dead key?
18. Which was the first to be commercially produced: the Sholes & Glidden or the Hansen Writing Ball?
19. The name of James Bartlett Hammond's dog rhymed with "Stinky". What was it? 
20. What is the brand of the typewriter this cat is using?
21. Who built this typewriter in 1864: Christopher Latham Sholes, Mathias Schwalbach or Peter Mitterhofer?
22. Can you identify this typewriter from the Martin Howard Collection? Clue: Call the cops!
23. What brand of portable typewriter is this lady assembling in 1957?
24. Where was this Olivetti store photo taken in 1955?
25. In what year did this advertisement appear: 1927, 1937 or 1947:
Answers in Comments.

37 Days has at least 37 Typewriters

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Unfortunately I didn't get to see all of the three-part BBC TV series 37 Days - about the events which led to the outbreak of World War I - but what I did see was excellent. Better still, there were loads and loads of typewriters in it. They may not have all been exactly from the period (June-August 1914); but that might be forgiven, considering the large number that were sighted, with most being used.
Given the US got dragged into this "World to End All Wars", I do hope American audiences will get the chance to see 37 Days. The US didn't enter the war until 1917, but this highly accurate series will give them some insight into the madness that started the slaughter in the first place.
It has been described as "brilliantly written", "enthralling" and the "must-see drama of 2014 - 37 Days’ credentials as a factual historical account are impressive."
For me (and, I note, others) the star of the series is Ian MacDiarmid, who fleshes out a pivotal player about whom I had previously known nothing. Sir Edward Grey served as British Foreign Secretary from 1905 to 1916 and was British Ambassador to the US in 1919-20.
If you get the chance to watch this series, I recommend that you do.
I have high hopes for an upcoming Australian ABC TV series, also marking centenary of the outbreak of World War I. This is called Anzac Girls, and I think there may be a few typewriters in it, too:

Anatomy of a Fox No 1 Portable Typewriter

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Of course, it is impossible to offer even a little help or advice to someone with a problem with their typewriter unless that typewriter is right there in front of you. Even when you have the problem typewriter at arm’s length, it is a huge advantage to have another, working model of the same typewriter, to sit beside the problem machine and work out where the two differ.
The best I can do in the case of Tyler Anderson is to post here a series of photographs showing the anatomy of the Fox No 1 portable, in the hope he will be able to look through them and work out what needs to be fixed. This, by the way, is the typewriter Richard Polt so generously gave me when I was in Cincinnati last October.
Tyler has approached a few collectors, including Richard, seeking advice on the restoration of his Fox. “In my endeavours, I have found that the system for ringing the bell has been rendered inoperable. Namely, the small wire holding the weight which strikes the bell has, in the machine’s long life, snapped. Alongside this, the wire spring which puts tension on the rotating piece which holds said weight-wire had not been in its proper place. Luckily, I believe I have found all the pieces within the carrying case, and am now at the conundrum of having to figure out exactly how the system is supposed to work. I ask for your help in understanding how the pieces are supposed to go together again.”
Tyler, if any more photos are required to help you out, please let me know, but I think this series of 35 images just about covers the whole anatomy of a Fox No 1 portable typewriter:

Canberra Type-In and Typewriter Gabfest

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On this chilly Canberra Sunday afternoon, Ray Nickson warms his hands and contemplates what he'll write on a duotone green Remington portable. In the background is his daughter Cynthia's early model burgundy Princess.
Jasper Lindell, meanwhile, is delighted to find purple ribbon on an Underwood Universal portable.
With Jasper Lindell back from Germany and Ray Nickson back from Adelaide, the opportunity arose yesterday to introduce these two Canberran typewriter enthusiasts to one another and to get them typing together at the Australian Typewriter Museum. 
Ray with the Remington. Beside it is a wide-carriage Imperial Model 50 standard and an Imperial Model B portable, with which I gave quick demonstrations of changing the keyboard-typebasket and "mounting" and demounting.
But, while a wide range of typewriters were given a workout, the event was perhaps much less of a Type-In than a Typewriter Gabfeast. Either way, a very pleasant four hours went by with little else but typewriters on the agenda. Unfortunately Ray’s American wife Alice, also passionate about typewriters, was unable to attend, as baby Cynthia required her attention elsewhere. Maybe another day …
Jasper comes to grips with the Underwood
Ray did arrive with this fantastic and unusual Consul 222.2 semi-portable, which he bought for me in Adelaide more than a year ago. I didn't have much of a chance to type with it, but it's in excellent condition and the little time I did spend with it left me with a very favourable impression of this Czech writer. I will definitely post on it soonish.
Ray, a Hemingway aficionado, met Alice when one day he saw her reading The Old Man and the Sea at a bus stop. It was a conversation starter that, in the goodness of time, led to them getting married in the US. Alice’s father, hearing about Ray’s liking for Hemingway, made an inordinate effort to not just find out Hemingway used an Underwood Noiseless 77 (image above) but to find one in pristine condition as a wedding gift and “welcome to our family” gift for Ray.
The Nicksons' wedding gift
The Hem Royal Marty Rice saw in Key West, Florida, last year
So inevitably Hemingway squeezed his considerable bulk into our long conversation today. As did Typospherian Martin Rice’s somewhat controversial Tlogging in the 21st Century views on big Papa Hem. As a distant salute to Martin, the world’s No 1 advocate for Olivers, we dragged an Oliver No 5 from the shelf, dusted it off and used it to write some missives to Johnstown, PA. Marty, they’ll be in the mail soon!
Ray types on an Oliver portable in front of the "Ray Nickson Typewriter Toolbox", given to me a few years ago. 
Below, Jasper with another one of the disproportionate number of Oliver portables in this house. Give me one Patria in exchange for the lot, please! Well, OK, leave me one.  Also in shot is a Litton Royal Custom.
During a tour of the museum, Ray had fun trying out the Underwood USB typewriter and his daughter’s gift from the ATM, an early model burgundy Princess. He took home with him an Underwood Universal originally sold in Rangoon  in Burma (now Yangon in Myanmar).
We had a close look at some special Corona 3s, the Fox, Bijou and Perkeo folding portables, Monarch Pioneer (a close relation to the Remington 3B Ray owns but has yet to collect in the US) and Remie Scout, Noiseless portable, Erika 9, Sun No 2, Salem Hall, Hermes Featherweight, Brosette, Winsor, Olympia and Optima Planas and Olivetti Pluma 22, the Senta, Masspro, Astoria, Tradition, Rooy, Remington 2 and New Yost. But there are still many, many more to get to on return visits.
Jasper arrived with the gorgeous Continental portable he brought back with him from Germany, which appears to have a small problem, with a ball bearings frame protruding out from under the right side of the escapement rack.

Top 10 1920s Portable Typewriters

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Georg Sommeregger, celebrating receiving a Neya as a birthday gift, asked yesterday, “Weren't the 1920s a nice time for typewriters?” His observation was reinforced later in the day when Ray Nickson typed with an early model Remington and remarked on its brilliant, snappy action.
The two comments combined to get me thinking about my favourite 1920s portables.
I have listed them here, with the years in which the models were launched. But I have only ranked the ones I have actually used (which ruled out the first Triumphportable, although I have used very similar, albeit later modes). The Continentalshown here is obviously a post-20s model, but mechanically it is essentially the same as first Continental kleinschreibmaschine. As well, I have ranked the typewriters in order of their typeability, as I have found it, not their appearance.
The Remington tops the list not just because of its very pleasing and seriously snappy action, but its sheer reliability. It's a very determined little typewriter, and I love that about it.
The early Model 5 Erika (in my case a Bijou) is just one vote behind, as it is a magnificent machine to type with. The Royal also scores highly for reliability, and the Continental is consistently such a nice machine to use. The Barr was significantly advanced for its time, and gives John Henry Barr two machines in the Top 5, which I suppose places him as the top designer of the 1920s. The Torpedo is also decidedly “Remingtonesque”. I think the Underwood and Corona four-banks got better as they progressed into the 30s. I am fond of the almost mid-sized Senta and Stoewer, because of their engineering, sturdiness and reliability. 
1. Remington (US) Model 1 1920
Designer: John Henry Barr
Manufacturer: Remington Typewriter Company, Ilion
2. Erika-Bijou (Germany) Model 5 (1st) 1927
Designer: Heinrich Franz Edmund Baeseler
Manufacturer: Aktiengesellschaft vormals Seidel & Naumann, Dresden

3. Royal (US) 1927
Designers: Edward Bernhard Hess and Lewis Cary Myers
Manufacturer: Royal Typewriter Company, Hartford
4. Continental (Germany) 1929
Designers: Alfred Richard Georg Vogt, Theodor Eugen Büschmann and Richard Stuhlmacher
Manufacturer: Wanderer Werke vormals Winklhofer & Jaenicke, Chemnitz
5. Barr (US) 1926
Designer: John Henry Barr
Manufacturer: Barr-Morse Corporation, Ithaca
6. Torpedo (Germany) Model 14 1928
Designers: Herbert Etheridge and Carl Winterling
Manufacturer:  Weilwerke Aktiengesellschaft, Frankfurt am Main-Rödelheim
7. Underwood (US) Model 4 1926
Designers: Alfred Gustav Franz Kurowski (based on earlier design by Lee Spear Burridge)
Manufacturer: Underwood Typewriter Company, Hartford
8. Corona (US) Model 4 1924
Designers: Otto Petermann, Edwin Leander Harmon, Alonzo Barbour Ely and Henry Allen Avery
Manufacturer: Corona Typewriter Company, Groton
9. Senta (Germany) 1926
Designer: Franz Kraudzun
Manufacturer: Frister & Rossmann Aktiengesellschaft, Berlin 
10. Stoewer Elite (Germany) 1926
Designer: Paul Grützmann
Manufacturer: Nähmaschinen-und Fahrräder-Fabrik Bernhard Stoewer AG, Stettin

Honourable mentions (for looks only):
Rem-Blick (US,designer George Canfield Blickensderfer, manufacturer Remington) 1928; Noiseless (US, designer Wellington Parker Kidder, manufacturer Noiseless Typewriter Company) 1921.

Consul 222.1 Semi-Portable Typerwriter

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This Consul 222.1 semi-portable typewriter (serial number A49496), along with its wide-carriage partner the 222.2, and the 222.3 and 223.1, were the last of the Consul portable models made, ending a line of impressive machines dating back to 1959. 
The 222.1 and .2 and the 223.1 were first produced in 1972, at which time Czechoslovakian manufacturer Zbrojovka Brno would appear to have still been, somehow, operating outside the overarching umbrella of the Rady Vzájemné Hospodářské Pomoci (RVHP, the Soviet Union-controlled Council for Mutual Economic Assistance). However, the RVHP had taken full control of Brno by 1977, and 222s were still being made up to at least 1979.
A more conventional, RVHP-made 222.5, circa 1979
A 222.3
According to Beeching (1974), who was advised by Brno, this is a 223.1
RVHP, indeed, did not end production of typewriters until 1988, a year before the fall of the Berlin Wall. RVHP itself was dismantled in mid-1991. Czech typewriter production resumed from 1992-98 with the establishment of privately-owned REMAGG SrO, which became the largest manufacturer of mechanical and then electronic typewriters in Europe. In 1999 this company became known as ANTREG.
RVHP was formed by Josef Stalin in January 1949. It initially embraced Bulgaria, Hungary, Poland, Romania, the Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia and was a response to the Marshall Plan, the US-funded (largely Western) European Recovery Program. Of the six founder RVHP countries, between 1918-1939 Czechoslovakia had provided 90 per cent of overseas trade. In 1961 RVHP added Albania, and later East Germany, Mongolia and Cuba, and was also involved in Yugoslavia, Vietnam and North Korea. In the 1970s there was "cooperation" with Finland, Iran and Mexico.
From 1948-73 the national income of RVHP countries rose more than eight times and the volume of industrial production more than 12 times. In 1974 they shared one third of the world's industrial production - in 1950 it had only been 18 per cent. Nonetheless, mutual accounts were kept in a purely imaginary currency, since no one knew its true value. It may not have had one. As well, the share of non-competitive goods in RVHP countries (excluding typewriters, which East Germany and Bulgaria also exported) amounted to 70-90 per cent. Czechoslovakia, Poland and Hungary threatened to break free of RVHP in 1991, at the time of the collapse of the Soviet Union. But when the USSR did disintegrate, member countries received no share of RVHP-owned property (Reunified Germany claimed it was owed 6.5 billion "transferable rubles" and wanted to be paid in hard currency. But it was not possible to calculate the value of this amount.)
This blue vinyl bag of goodies was in the case. It includes what appears to be a block of type cleaner in a plastic box marked L. & C. Hardtmuth, Czechoslovakia. This company is now known as Koh-i-Noor Hardtmuth and is one of the world's largest producers and distributors of pencils, pens and art supplies. Formed in 1790 by Joseph Hardtmuth of Austria, in 1802 it patented the first pencil lead made from a combination of clay and graphite. Hardtmuth was absorbed by RVHP in 1949 but became privately held again in 1992 and was bought out in 1994 by the Gama Group.

The Curious Case of the British Baby and the World World I Flying Ace

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A Baby born in Britain! My unusual Hermes Baby.
British Typewriters founder Bill Mawle in his S.E.5 biplane fighter aircraft in World War One.
It all started with Georg Sommeregger's two Sammelsurium posts on the Baby Empire (see here and here). And it led to the discovery that the man who at a trade fair in Switzerland in 1935 bought the rights to make the Giuseppe Prezioso-designed Hermes Featherweight in Britain was a famous, decorated World War One flying ace, Norman William Reginald Mawle. More on Mawle later.
In the second of Georg's posts, I was astonished to see that his very early Baby Empire (serial number 2574, made 1939) was assembled in West Bromwich, England, from parts made in the Paillard factory in Yverdon, Switzerland.
The paper plate of one of Georg's Baby Empires.
Initially this raised questions in my mind about the West Bromwich plant. But then I recalled that even though Imperial had a well established typewriter factory in Leicester, in 1930 it had used this plant to assemble its Regent portable from parts made by Weilwerke (Torpedo) in Frankfurt, Germany (see image below). Also, of course, the Salter, British (Blick-Bar) and British Empire standards, and in much later years Smith-Corona-Marchant portables, had been made from scratch in West Bromwich. Presumably, when Georg's early Baby Empire was made, either the West Bromwich plant wasn't yet fitted up to make the Baby from scratch itself, or, more likely, it may have been converted to make armaments for the war effort.
An Imperial Regent assembled in Leicester from German-made parts.
Anyway, I was to find an even greater surprise in my own house, by sheer coincidence a day after reading Georg's posts. Among the "booty" of 25 typewriters given to me some weeks ago was an assortment of four Hermes Babys and Empire Aristocrats, almost all of them in pretty shoddy condition. One, a later model Aristocrat, was in good nick and I gave it to a friend.
Thinking to customise one of the remaining three into a "Sommeregger Baby" to mark our Swiss friend's birthday (I realise it's not quite up there with a Neya!), I brought them upstairs yesterday and started to take them apart to clean them up. After all, Georg had offered to bring a Patria to Canberra, so it was the least I could do.
A work still very much in progress.
To my utter astonishment, I found among them a Hermes Babymade in West Bromwich for Paillard (see image top of post).  What's more, this machine has an Empire, not a Hermesportableserial number, R103406. This means it was made in 1951, which in turn offers no clue as to why Paillard had Babys made in England. After all, Switzerland is a neutral country. But could materials still have been in short supply after the war, one wonders?
All of which got me returning to my extensive research work over the years into the West Bromwich factory and its connection with Paillard, and to digging through it once more to see if I could find previously unearthed answers to this conundrum. I didn't exactly achieve that, but I did finally unravel - to my considerable satisfaction - the whole sequence of typewriter-making events from the Salters through the Rimingtons, the Blickensderfers, Bill Mawle and the Paillards to Smith-Corona-Marchant. And in doing that, let out of a huge sigh of relief.
Empire Corona portables at the West Bromwich factory. Empire Coronas were made from 1960-63, before SCM introduced the English-made, US-designed Corsair range in 1964.
Two years ago, a website called the Black Country Bugle ran an item by Rod Taylor on the SCM works in West Bromwich, in which Taylor included the recollections of an SCM accountant called D.H.Bayley of Sutton Coldfield. In it, Bayley said that in 1971 he had found documents relating to the early history of the West Bromwich typewriter plant and the British Typewriters Company while cleaning up the office of sacked company secretary and financial director Denis Brown.
Bayley wrote, "I had to go into Mr Brown's office to clear up files etc, and made arrangements with the secretary to file the piles of paperwork that littered a desk in there. But what I found on that desk was amazing. In these unfiled papers was the history of British Typewriters Ltd, which I found extremely interesting.
"The company was the idea of a man named Norman Wetherall Mawle, who lived in Park View Road, Sutton Coldfield. [It turns out Bayley got this name wrong, which succeeded in throwing me right off the track some years ago.] He was a salesman who attended a machine exhibition in Switzerland in 1935. At this exhibition he saw a portable typewriter and he bought the rights to it.
"On his return to West Bromwich he formed a company by appealing to all of the local businessmen. There was a list which included the names of many of the directors and owners of local firms who had been approached to buy shares in the proposed new company. The list included the number of shares that each investor intended to take. Mr Mawle must have had a considerable influence and many contacts in the area.
"There were copies of his letters concerning the acquisition of the Hudson Soap premises, which were then located in Hudsons Passage, off the High Street in West Bromwich. There were also papers that stated that he had acquired the company registration of a typewriter called the Blickensderfer, which was one of the first typewriters built. He had decided that the name should be changed to British Typewriters Limited. [1970s managing director Doug] Dwyer had one of these antique typewriting machines; where he acquired it I did not know, but it was a fascinating design and it was still working. [The British Blick company, previously well covered on this blog, was owned by the Rimingtons, John (1841-1908) and his sons George (1874-1951) and Walter (1879-1941), who had acquired the Blickensderfer trade name from the US parent company after George Canfield Blickensderfer's death in 1917. The Rimingtons had taken over Blickensderfer’s two British outlets, at Cheapside in London and in Newcastle-on-Tyne, in 1904. Walter’s son Sir John Rimington is the former diplomat husband of British spy chief Dame Stella Rimington.
British Blick's George Garthwaite Rimington (1874-1951)
"There were other fascinating papers relating to the war years, and authorising documents which proved that there were vehicles travelling though occupied France with [typewriter] equipment to Switzerland."
The Bugle also quoted another correspondent, who wrote: "My father Frank Hanley worked at British Typewriters-Smith Corona for most of his life, at first he was working at George Salter's spring works in West Bromwich when a local solicitor, Mr Bache*, decided to start a typewriter company which later became the British Typewriters Co. They moved from George Salters to Hudsons Passage in Pitt Street and were bombed out during the war, and moved to premises on the corner of Edward Street and Victoria Street. Later they were bombed again and moved to the rear of Kenrick and Jefferson in Bratt Street. In later years they moved to new premises which became Smith Corona, on Birmingham Road.
"I believe the managing director was a Mr Mawle. I also remember my father telling me that they made a gold-plated typewriter for the Queen. The typewriter became so well known because it was one of the first portable ones, it was only a matchbox and a half high. It became very popular with sports reporters, etc."
The British Queen, Elizabeth II, is presented with a gold-plated Empire Aristocrat at the West Bromwich factory on November 5, 1955.
*This Bache was not a solicitor, but the second son of the founder of William Bache & Sons, an existing firm of solicitors in West Bromwich. Salters started making typewriters in 1892 under George Salter (1856-1917), the eldest son of company head Thomas Bache Salter, who was the grandson of the founder.
Martin (1949)
Müller (1900)
The solicitor's son, Ernest William Bache (1877-1943), a close relation of the Salter family, was an engineer who joined the Salter company in 1893 and in 1906 became works manager of the spring department and in charge of typewriter manufacturing. Typewriter production was halted by the outbreak of World War I in 1914, when typewriter workers were required to make gun parts.
From The Story of a Family Firm: Two Hundred Years of George Salter & Co Ltd, by Mary Bache, daughter of Bill Bache.
Bill Bache patented typewriter designs for Salter in the US in 1930, six years before Mawle took control of the Salter typewriter business.
Bill Bache's father, the solicitor William Bache, died in 1932 and left his estate of a mere £179, nine shillings and three pence to a Mildred Bowker, wife of Richard Bowker. Oddly enough, the real founder of the West Bromwich-based, Baby Empire-making British Typewriters, Bill Mawle, was born in Banbury, less than an hour (42 miles) from where Typospherian Rob Bowker now lives in Wallingford, Oxfordshire.
Bill Bache, in charge of typewriter production at Salters.
George Salter, who started typewriter manufacturing at Salters in 1892.
The Bugle also published the recollections of a Marlene Fellows, who had kept a copy of the first edition of the factory newsletter The Empire Times to be published after World War II, in late 1956. It contained an editorial by Bill Mawle, "who is evidently proud of his firm's survival given the effects of the War, but is convinced that pen and ink are consigned to the dustbin of history now that typewriter production is well and truly back on track". Mawle wrote, "Twenty years ago [1936], in those hurly burly days when the Baby Empire portable was born, I predicted quite a future for it. Hitler stepped in and dealt our thriving Baby a nasty smack. But looking back on the two intervening decades, the prediction wasn't far wrong. Upwards of a million of our Babys and their relations [the Aristocrat] have gone out to face the world. They're still going. Our organisation has grown, in spite of all sorts of difficulties. Whatever success we may have had has been due to our dealer customers. It has always been the policy of our company to sell through the trade. We believe that the same policy will bring further success in the future.'
Assembling Empire Corona portables in West Bromwich.
"We now have a brand new factory [on Birmingham Road], the latest of its kind in this country. Here at West Bromwich we have lively, enthusiastic production and sales staffs ... we're also starting a sort of French Revolution in reverse. They kicked the Aristocrats out. We're planning to put them in — an Empire Aristocrat in every home. Why not? We're rushing forward into the atomic age, the automation age. Pens and ink don't belong to it. Even if the old man never wrote a letter in his life, young Jim is studying engineering and has homework notes to make. Young Jill is secretary of the Current Crooner's Fan Club. Mrs Gossip has her 15 letters a week to write.  And then, in the small shops and little businesses, they're knee-deep these days in forms in triplicate. Doctors, solicitors, clergymen, reporters, authors, accountants - how can anybody afford to be without an Aristocrat?
Georg's Baby Empire assembled in West Bromwich from Swiss-made parts.
"I assure you we in the OED [Office Equipment Distributors] organisation are at your service."
"At the time of writing [late 1956], the new factory, equipped with all the latest machinery for its specialised work, is humming like a top with activity as skilled workers deal with the home and overseas orders for Aristocrats to meet the Christmas present rush. The move into the new factory, completed 12 months ago, started an important new chapter in the history of the organisation which, despite the wartime bombs, has been a story of rapid development.
"The roots of OED go back a long way, to the beginning of the century when what is believed to be Britain's first typewriter was made at West Bromwich.
"In 1904 the pioneer firm that made it, George Salter and Co Ltd, took over the London business of Empire Typewriters [making in Montreal, Canada, the Wellington Parker Kidder thrust-action Wellington typewriter under rights held by Charles Carroll Colby's Imperial Writing Machine Company. After Colby's death in 1907, and under Colby's son Charles William Colby, it had become the Empire Typewriter Works. The London business of Imperial-Empire had been set up by George H.Bland of Montreal in 1901.]
The 1924 British Empire I once owned was made for the Rimingtons by Salter. This machine is now owned by John Lavery. Its predecessor, the British No 12  (see ad above) emerged in April 1923, a year after Salter started making Rimington typewriters. In turn, the British came out of the Blick-Bar.
"[Salter] formed a subsidiary, which rapidly established a reputation for lightweight machines. In 1936 came the next major step. The subsidiary, British Typewriters Ltd, was entirely reorganised as an independent company [under Mawle]. It moved to premises in Victoria Street, West Bromwich, and began manufacturing and marketing a new and revolutionary portable, the Baby Empire. Streamlined and weighing less than 9lbs, the new machine had an immediate success. Three years of great activity followed, during which home and export output greatly expanded. Then came the war, and with it, in November 1940, the destruction of the premises. Stocks of typewriters, components, jigs, drawings and some tools, were lost.
The West Bromwich factory.
"Fortunately much of the modern production plant was saved. It was transferred to temporary premises and later to the old soapworks. There after the war and its consequent [shortages and rationing] problems, production of portables was resumed.
"With the introduction in 1948 of the Empire Aristocrat, the ideal machine demanded by post-war conditions, sales began to rise. Export targets set by the Ministry of Supply were invariably reached ... demand quickly outstripped the capacity of the old soapworks, and a licence to build a new factory on the Birmingham Road site was obtained. Construction began in 1952. Two years later production departments moved in. Last year they were joined by office and administrative staffs. In this new setting, OED is well equipped to continue its forward progress."
"Everybody at OED was proud to learn that an Aristocrat went to a very cold place, with a very distinguished man — Colonel Sir John Hunt, the leader of the historic Everest expedition. How far up the world's highest mountain he took the machine is not recorded, but afterwards Sir John was kind enough to say that it had been a great help to him in writing his reports." (See my blog post on converting a Hermes Baby to an Empire Aristocrat to be used by the actor playing Hunt in a movie about the conquering of Everest, made in New Zealand last year.)
New Zealand journalist Geoffrey Lee Martin using the Empire Aristocrat on the same Antarctic expedition described by Mawle below.
"Recently it was learned that OED will have a particular interest in another heroic adventure in a very cold place. Squadron Leader John Claydon, a member of the New Zealand Party which will be taking part in the 1957-58 crossing of the Antarctic Continent, is another satisfied Aristocrat user. He took his machine with him on one of the preliminary trips last winter. On it, at Shackleton Base, he typed a letter to [the trade representative in OED's London office, in which he described some of the New Zealand Party's adventures. He added: 'The typewriter is still going strong and I am finding plenty of use for it in my spare moments.' 
Claydon, third from left, beside Sir Edmund Hillary
"So OED is more than usually interested in the forthcoming Antarctic adventure, and confident that its equipment will stand up to the very exacting conditions it is likely to encounter. [In West Bromwich] is made every part of the Empire Aristocrat, excepting only certain minor components such as the rubber platen. Machines produced here go all over the world."
Mrs Fellows pointed out that rather than British Typewriters, the works entrance bore the wording Empire Typewriters.
The man who introduced the Baby Empire and Empire Aristocrat to the world, Bill Mawle.
I had long been vaguely aware of the existence of World War I flying ace Norman William Reginald Mawle, but had been thrown off the Baby Empire track years ago by the Black Country Bugle's reference, in the recollections of Bayley, to a "Norman Wetherall Mawle". It was only last night that I found the birth dates and addresses matched and the man I was really after was the flyer. Mawle lived at Wetherall, it wasn't his name!
Mawle was born on January 27, 1897, in Banbury, Oxfordshire. He won the Distinguished Flying Cross after being credited with 12 official aerial victories during the First World War. Mawle was commissioned as a second lieutenant in September 1916 and was seconded as a Flying Officer to the Royal Flying Corps in late December 1917. He was promoted to lieutenant in March 1918.
A Royal Aircraft Factory S.E. 5 like the one Mawle flew in World War One.
Mawle retired from the Royal Auxiliary Air Force in February 1954 as a Wing Commander, retaining the rank of Group Captain.
Bill Mawle, seated centre, recovers from wounds suffered during World War One.
Mawle’s typewriter organisation was taken over by Smith-Corona-Marchant in 1960, with the British Typewriters Company becoming a subsidiary of SCM. Mawle, who was at that time chairman of the West Bromwich Liberal Association, decided to try out his winning ways in politics and put his hand up to be the Liberal Party candidate for the town's by-election. SCM remained in West Bromwich until it took over Olivetti's Queenslie, Glasgow factory in 1981 to make daisywheel typewriters.
Mawle, a keen cricketer and rugby union player during the war years, died in Leicester of a heart attack on December 28, 1971, a month short of his 75th birthday. He had watching the Leicester Tigers play the Barbarians at Welford Road. 

Mawle's Mystery Portable Typewriter

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Before posting on British Typewriters Ltd founder Norman William Reginald Mawle yesterday, I contacted his grandson, Guy Mawle, to ask if Guy had any other typewriter-related information or documents which had belonged to his grandfather.
Guy spent most of the day scanning in the iceberg tip of a treasure trove of historical typewriter material (it makes me shudder to think how much more of this type of material is still out there, held by typewriter-connected families). 
Among the items Guy kindly scanned was this image of a typewriter I have never seen before.
Guy Mawle trained as a biologist and economist and joined the Welsh Water Authority as a Fisheries Scientist in 1985. He left the Environment Agency in March 2001 as national Fisheries Manager, after 15 years at head office. He is now a trustee of the Wye & Usk Foundation and also a Fellow of the Institute of Fisheries Management.
My first guess is that it is the prototype of a portable typewriter British (or Empire) Typewriters planned to make, perhaps late in the 1950s. Talks about a takeover by Smith-Corona-Marchant apparently began in 1958, and the takeover occurred in 1960.
Until then, British Typewriters had been making the Hermes Featherweight-Baby under licence, marketing them as the Baby Empire and later the Empire Aristocrat.
Has anyone ever seen the typewriter shown above? Perhaps it was one made by another company, maybe Swiss? It seems rather similar in some ways to a Calanda? If you know what it is, please let me know.
I have a lot more material now to post about Mr Mawle and British Typewriters Ltd, so watch this space, as they say ...

Typewriter Thief Who Typed His Address For Police

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'Now here's a bright idea. Let's test these typewriters before we steal them!'
Bill Mawle's memoirs in Empire Times in late 1956 about the British Typewriters company he set up in West Bromwich, England, includes this little tale:
"Hitler's best efforts had done little to halt the progress of the West Bromwich typewriter manufacturer, and so there was never really any danger of a small group of burglars causing any major problems.
"Especially when they were foolish enough to lead the police, quite literally, to their own doors. 
"Have you ever noticed that at shows and exhibitions almost everybody invited to test a typewriter types his own name and address?
"A similar manifestation of human vanity led to the detection of a trio of burglars who earlier this year broke into the Office Equipment Distributors offices.
"Some typewriters were missing, but the disarray in the office showed that the thieves had also played with other typewriters, which had not been taken away.
"Examination of the platen of one of these machines by alert Crime Investigation Department men disclosed a very helpful clue.
"One of the intruders had typed his own name and address.
"Though he had thrown away the paper, the impression of his handiwork was visible on the platen.'
"Police called at the address so thoughtfully provided and the result was that the typist and his comrades in crime were quickly arrested and charged."
 A cat burglar would never get caught!
Stealing typewriters is child's play

The Story of a Typewriter Company, Typewritten by its Founder

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- Norman William Reginald 'Bill' Mawle, founder of British Typewriters Ltd,
at the launch of the Empire Aristocrat in 1948
Above, Bill Mawle as general sales manager of the Imperial Typewriter Company in Leicester in 1931. Mawle had joined Imperial as a Leicester-based salesman in 1919, following his extraordinary flying exploits in World War I, and became general sales manager in 1924. He remained with the company until 1936, when he established the British Typewriters Co Ltd in West Bromwich. He was still with Imperial when he attended a trade fair in Switzerland in 1935 and secured the rights to manufacture the Hermes Featherweight in Britain. British Typewriters produced the Baby Empire and the Empire Aristocrat.
Below is Mawle's own typewritten story of his company, provided, with these images, by his grandson, Guy Mawle. The story, perhaps written to mark the launch of the Empire Aristocrat in 1948, offers evidence of why Georg Sommeregger's 1939 Baby Empire was assembled in West Bromwich from parts made by Paillard in Switzerland - the British company did not resume full manufacture of its typewriters until 1946.
 British Typewriters'Empire Typewriters plant on Birmingham Road, West Bromwich, England, at the time of its opening in 1955. 
This photograph, taken on May 12, 1931, shows managers of the Imperial Typewriter Company in Leicester with members of the touring New Zealand cricket team. On the left, with his Imperial 'Regent' portable typewriter, is the team's "special press representative", Orton Sutherland 'Budge' Hintz, of The New Zealand Herald in Auckland. When I joined the Herald in the late 1960s, Hintz was my editor. His biography can be seen here.  Hintz and Bill Mawle became friends and Hintz gave Mawle a copy of his 1955 book Trout at Taupo. That copy is now in the possession of Mawle's grandson, Guy Mawle, a fisheries expert, who regards it as "one of the best angling books ever written". In this photo, Mawle is second from the right. On the far right is the great Imperial design engineer Arthur Bott Pateman, who had joined the company in 1910 and was the designer of the 1926 Imperial Model 50 demountable standard. In 1931 Pateman was a company director and general manager. He went on to become managing director and chairman of Imperial. 
Below is Mawle's typewritten curriculum vitae, and below that his obituary from December 31, 1971:

Calvary and the Affectation of Typewriters

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Well, I only have a manual typewriter, so I’m not gonna see or hear what you’re doing.”
- M. Emmet Walsh to an interviewer
using electronic gadgetry
M. Emmet Walsh, as "The Writer", stands in front of his Royal Arrow portable typewriter as he talks to Father James Lavelle (Brendan Gleeson) in Calvary.
One night not so long ago, sitting in front of the TV and mindlessly flicking through the channels, I came across a gripping movie on the multicultural network SBS. I could see it starred the readily recognisable Don Cheadle (Hotel Rwanda) yet was clearly an Irish “filim” (as the Irish say).
Having some months earlier, in very similar circumstances, stumbled across the astonishingly good bilingual (English-Irish) movie Kings (Colm Meaney) on the same channel, I was immediately drawn to this one.
It soon became quite apparent that I had chanced upon another Irish award winner. The Guard  the title comes from the Irish police force,  An Garda Síochána) is set in the West of Ireland, an area with which I am unforgettably familiar and, alongside Cheadle, stars an exceptionally fine actor in Brendan Gleeson. It took me a little while to work out what was going on, but once I did I was utterly hooked.
Brendan Gleeson as Sergeant Gerry Boyle with hired help in The Guard.
This movie was so good I naturally wondered why I had not heard of it before it reached a late-night TV time-filler status. But I guess that’s the case with far too many well-made, well-acted and extremely well-written films these days. Unless they are Hollywood blockbusters, unless they get heavily promoted by the cinema chains, they can pass on without so much as a brief review.
Brendan Gleeson and Chris O'Dowd in  Calvary.
I do take careful note of the movies recommended by Margaret Pomeranz and David Stratton on ABC TV’s At the Movies program. So when, a week or two ago, this pair each gave Calvary4½ stars (and they are notoriously miserly with their ratings), I sat up and took very particular notice.
All the more so because Maggie and David revealed Calvary was the second part of a trilogy of films which started with The Guard. Indeed, it stars Gleeson and is also written and directed by John Michael McDonagh. Maggie said McDonagh’s trilogy is called The Glorified Suicideand will be completed by a movie set in London, with Gleeson yet again in the lead role. I can’t find reference to this elsewhere, but I’m happy to take Maggie’s word for it and am now waiting in keen anticipation of the third film.
Armed with Maggie’s knowledge, and the ravings of my ex-editor Jack Waterford, who had seen the movie on a trip to Ireland and told me on Thursday it's "the best ever", I watched Calvary in a Manuka cinema last night, looking out for links with The Guard and hints to the trilogy title, The Glorified Suicide.
Mícheál Óg Lane, as Eugene Moloney, with Gleeson in The Guard. He plays another startling role as Mícheál in Calvary.
These are thoughts which have gone on through the night and on into this, the next day. The links were there, all right, quite apart from the setting and the lead actor. Ultimately, the trilogy theme may well be the courageous, upright walk toward certain death. Having been fortunate enough to see The Guard, I had heartily recommended Calvaryto my friend Elizabeth, who had already heard many good things about it. When the credits rolled up, I turned to Elizabeth and asked, “Well, what did you think?” “It’s certainly thought-provoking,” she said. “I’ll have to go home and think about it for a long while.”
Our words were the only ones spoken in that packed cinema at the end of Calvary. I have seldom seen anything like it before, but the rest of the audience just sat there for several minutes in stunned silence. It’s that sort of movie. Stunning. And one that leaves the viewer trying to mull through the thoughts left swirling through their head.
I had begun to greatly admire McDonagh’s writing before I saw Calvary. Now I’m beginning to think he is destined to join those Irish masters of the (play) written word, perhaps even up there with O’Casey (The Silver Tassie) and others. McDonagh’s view of contemporary Ireland is as bleak and damning as it is honest. In Calvarythere seemed to me to be at least one rather amusing nod to John Millington Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World (written on a Blickensderfer 5).
 "The Writer" (M. Emmet Walsh)
Maurie Carr, an expat writer in Sligo
One of the hundreds of thoughts I have had after seeing Calvaryconcerns whether McDonagh ever met my dear late friend Maurice Desmond Carr. Maurie, like the grizzled expatriate American “The Writer” (played by veteran US actor M.Emmet Walsh, using a Royal Arrow portable typewriter) left Australia in the mid-1980s to live in Sligo in the west of Ireland to write “the great Australian novel”. (The Gleeson character, Father James Lavelle, does refer to “The Writer” by his surname in Calvary, but I can’t now recall what it is.) Walsh’s character is just so like Maurie in almost every respect, including a fondness for Irish whiskey, it's spooky.
 M. Emmet Walsh as veteran screenwriter Mickey Hopkins in Man in the Chair(2007)
Walsh at another type of Royal portable typewriter, as sportswriter Dickie Dunn in Slap Shot (1977).
Father James describes The Writer’s use of a manual portable typewriter, presumably to write the great American novel in Sligo, as an “affectation”. To which The Writer replies that his whole life, drawing to an end as it is, has been an affectation. And Lavelle responds: “That sounds like one of those lines that are suppose to be witty, but don’t actually mean anything.”
Calvary is apparently supposed to be witty, at least in some senses. It’s described as a black comedy. In this instance, the term “black comedy” has painfully reminded me of a certain clairvoyant in one of the darkest places in my own miserable life. Calvary is black, all right, “jet black”, according to one reviewer. Yes, it’s thoroughly black, with one of the blackest bits of “comedy” coming from Dylan Moran (famed for his role alongside Bill Bailey as Bernard Black in the brilliant Black Books) as a permanently pissed banker.
Superficially, Calvary is about the sexual abuse of children by Irish priests, and one “good” priest being told he must pay the price for the sins of others. It goes much deeper and broader than that. One review of Calvary suggested it tended to be weighed down by its own pretentiousness yet was superbly written and acted. I agree with only part of that, the latter part.
McDonagh, left, with cast members Isaach De Bankolé, Kelly Reilly and Chris O'Dowd.
The New Zealand Herald said Calvary is “not so much a whodunnit as a who'll-do-it” and that it’s “a series of loosely connected vignettes in which the priest's encounters with various parishioners - the Via Dolorosa leading to his Calvary - highlight various moral imponderables: God v Mammon, mortality, fate, infidelity, church politics and the global financial crisis all get a look in.”

Having talked to Waterford at a close mutual friend’s funeral the day before, mortality was on my mind, too, when I saw Calvary. Like Father James, I have felt compelled this year to confront my own mortality. I do hope before I die, however, that I get the see the third-part of the inspired and inspiring McDonagh’s trilogy. That’s a movie I would recommend, even before it is made.

Nonidentical Twin Babys

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Still works in progress ... and there's a triplet on the way:

Imperial 66 Typewriter Makes an 'Old Hack Happy'

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I posted last month on former Fleet Street journalist Christopher Longnow resident in Le Bosquet, Pont-Farcy, Normandy, France, who had got nostalgic about the "old days" of using standard typewriters in newsrooms in London. In particular, Christopher wanted to know about the model he was "most attached to", the one he had used most often.
I was able to identify the machine Christopher had used back then from images he sent of a newsroom. It was an Imperial 66. Christopher promptly decided he had to have one, and pretty soon he had acquired an Imperial 66 in almost immaculate condition.
"I have now found the Imperial 66 I hoped for!" Christopher wrote. "It ... is in pristine, shiny, well-maintained condition, with the original instruction book and the little plastic bag containing the two original unused brushes, the yellow duster, the rubber eraser, etc. No rust and all the chrome work gleams! Extraordinary … Thank you for helping me 'live my dream' ... You’ve made an old hack happy!"
These days Christopher contributes to French newspapers and magazines and continues to edit web content. He is also an independent French-English interpreter for museums, associations, web sites, businesses and lawyers. In their spare time he and his wife Sarah breed pedigree Dorset Down sheep on five hectares of grassland in Normandy.
 This is an Imperial 66, but not the one Christopher bought.
The rush is on. Old newspaper hacks storm the barricades of the Imperial Typewriter Company's headquarters in Leicester, looking to revive their happiest days, using Imperial 66 standard typewriters in noisy, smokey yet highly productive newsrooms across England.
All jokes aside, these are the scenes when in 1974 angry Asian Imperial workers marched on Imperial's Leicester factory to protest Litton Industries' sacking of 40 Asian women without reason. All 1100 Asian workers at the company walked out on unofficial strike. The dispute was important in shifting the attitude of British trade unionists to immigrant workers. It also gave Asians in Leicester a new sense of identity, making them more self-reliant. Unfortunately, as was then common, the strike gave Litton an excuse to close both the Leicester and Hull plants in early 1975.
At the Imperial portable typewriter factory in Hull, workers staged an occupation a week after Litton announced, on February 21, 1975, that it would close the factories, saying they were “unprofitable”. On March 7, the Tribune magazine, Britain’s independent democratic socialist weekly, was scathing about Litton’s tactics. It was a nasty business, with the fascist National Front blaming the striking Asian workers for the Litton decision.
Sacked staff talked of forming a workers’ cooperative to continue typewriter production in Britain. Unions and former Imperial employees envisaged a “workers' self-management of the new enterprises which will replace the old Litton empire”. Litton“did everything possible to create pressures on the Hull workers to abandon their occupation of the plant. First, it threatened to withhold redundancy payments until it was given possession of the factory. Not unnaturally, this caused some distress, particularly among that section of the workers which had decided to accept dismissal. But then, to tighten the screw still further, the company announced that it would also withhold wages which were due, on the same basis.”
The employees agreed “not to fall into Litton’s trap”, and some workers who had initially opposed the sit-in decided to join it. The Transport and General Workers’ Union commissioned universities in the area to carry out research on Litton’s financial position and its claims about the Imperial factories being unviable. The workers said that “if the factories are to be viable, a distribution mechanism must be found which can market their product. At the moment, Litton thinks that it can pull out of producing machines in Britain, and yet retain the absolute right to market in the United Kingdom the typewriters which they manufacture abroad. Office and Electronic Machines (OEM), a British company, is presently expected to market Triumph-Adler machines, manufactured by Litton's German subsidiary." There were balance of payments implications of this assumption. One solution considered was to nationalise OEM. Short of that, the establishment of a government agency to compete in the office equipment business. "Public enterprise and government purchases alone could provide a very serious basic market." Alternatively, it was claimed OEM could be pressed, on balance of payments grounds, to agree to become the representatives of Hull-Leicester workers' enterprises. "It is clearly quite improper for a trans-national company to abandon its productive obligations to a country, and at the same time expect to exploit that country's markets unhampered in any way.”
Irony upon irony ... today the old Imperial factory in East Park Road, North Evington, Leicester, is full of Asian textile businesses (see here). In 2010, a BBC Channel 4 Dispatches programme investigated Leicester sweatshops serving the fashion industries. Some of those businesses were housed in the old Imperial factory.

The Baby Triplets

A Royal Typist

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British Typewriters Company founder Bill Mawle watches Princess Alice, the Duchess of Gloucester, typing on a Baby Empire portable typewriter at the British Industries Fair at Olympia in London on March 3, 1938.
The caption for the photograph at the top of this post, which appeared in the Birmingham Mail under the heading "Royal Typist", said the Duchess was typing on "what is claimed to be the smallest and lightest typewriter in the world, its weight being only 8 1/4 pounds with case".
The Duchess (née Alice Christabel Montagu Douglas Scott; 1901-2004 - yes, she lived to be 102!) was the wife of Prince Henry, third son of George V and the typewriting Mary of Teck. She was an aunt to the present Queen (who had been her bridesmaid). From 1945-47, she lived in Canberra, while the Duke was Governor-General of Australia.  If she bought her Baby Empire here with her, it wouldn't have been the first to reach our shores.
The Baby Empire was first advertised (for a princely 12 guineas) in Australia in The Sydney Morning Herald on St Patrick's Day, March 17, 1939:
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