Olivetti Underwood Studio 45

Several weeks ago, we won an Ebay auction for this Olivetti Underwood Studio 45 typewriter. We've been so preoccupied with real estate goings-on that we haven't ordered a new ribbon for it, but as soon as we do, it will be in the store.

To see if I could get some information about it, I searched my friend Ton's blog I dream lo-tech and was delighted to find out that it has a bit more of a pedigree than I expected. Seems it was a creation, like the well-known red Valentine, of famed Italian designer Ettore Sottsass.

Our Olivetti Underwood Studio 45 typewriter by Ettore Sottsass

Alternate view of Studio 45

Emblem signifying Olivetti's purchase of controlling interest in Underwood in 1959,
the merger being completed in 1963

Serial number, indicating this machine was made in 1969.

Print ad of Duke Ellington with Studio 45

The Sottsass Valentine, realeased on February 14, 1969

Back in the day: The art of letter writing

When I was growing up in the 1950s and 60s, long before home computers made their way onto the scene, people wrote letters to each other. Actual letters with stamps on them...which we derisively call "snail mail" today.

But there was something exciting about waiting for a letter to arrive and then finally finding it in the mailbox, and there was something about its having been handwritten or typed, carefully folded and sealed into an envelope and then sent on its way that was more personal than electronic mail.

You could seal a paper letter with a kiss. Or douse it in your favorite perfume. You could imprint the family crest into wax on the envelope or write a P. S. on the back.

A few days ago I read about Project 88, a letter-writing campaign started by Keith Sharon, a journalist for the Orange County Register, who is trying to revive the art of letter writing. I decided to participate, partly because I miss the days when the postal carrier brought something besides junk mail and bills...and partly because I look for opportunities to use my cute little Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe typewriter.

Here is my letter to Keith, which was mailed via the United States Postal Service on July 18:

Letter to Keith Sharon as part of Project 88

Typed on a Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe

Posting it old school

My "new" Smith-Corona Corsair portable typewriter, at home on my bar

Officially joining the Typosphere with my first typecast

Sitting pretty on my computer stand.

Corsair diagram
oztypewriter.blogspot.com

When I taught typing in the 1970s, changing ribbons was a routine task. The Corsair's ribbon spools are a small size that are no longer manufactured, so I had to buy a ribbon on larger spools and wind it onto the smaller. I had forgotten just how messy typewriter ribbons are. (Note to self: Buy gloves.) 

I also found a spring that had come loose at one end, so I had to search my toolbox for a tiny screwdriver and make my first typewriter repair in 40 years. Some things you never forget.

And the actual typing? Amazingly, it was like riding a bicycle. I expected to have trouble making the switch from a computer keyboard back to a manual typewriter, but my fingers remembered exactly what to do. (Thanks, Verna Powers.)

If you see an old typewriter at an estate sale or thrift store, try it out, by all means. It's like time travel.

On joining the Typosphere

I have followed Ton S.'s blog I dream lo-tech for quite some time now. Ton is a vintage typewriter enthusiast who also appreciates vintage furnishings. He has been encouraging me to join the ranks of Typospherians worldwide in their celebration of and fascination for so-called "obsolete technology."

A little-known fact about me is that when I started my 30-year career in education in the early 1970s, it was as a high school business teacher. I also taught shorthand and business law, as well as 7th and 8th grade English, since the entire small rural school district that hired me was contained on one campus. (I had majored in English and had a double minor in history and business education.) Most of my career was spent teaching literature, but my roots were in a clickety-clack classroom full of manual typewriters.

I taught my students flawless posture and hand position. ("Sit with your back straight, feet squarely on the floor under the table, one foot slightly ahead of the other, fingers curved and hovering above the home row, making sure the heels of the hands are not touching the machine!") I also taught my students the art of correction. ("Strikeover in my class on pain of death. Don't rub that eraser back and forth...gently, gently, in one direction and then another. No, you can't use correction paper or fluid until you master erasing!") I insisted on proper word division ("Hyphenate only between syllables. Use your dictionary if necessary.") and insertion of an omitted letter ("Erase the two letters between which the missing letter should go. Then, with the type guide over the first blank space, pull the carriage back and hold it, so that the key will strike very close to...but not touching...the previous letter. Repeat till all three letters fit into the space of two.") OK...so the last one depended heavily on my modeling the process for the class...but you get my drift.

Anyway, I've been looking for a manual typewriter for the last year or two, and I finally bought one. I'll admit publicly (and I can hear Ton groan as I type this) that I am guilty of being what most die-hard Typhosperians would consider crass and shallow. I wanted a machine with a sleek, modern body and a pretty color that would match my decor as much as I wanted one that would be fun to type on. I have no defense. They're right about my crass shallowness. I almost groaned myself when I typed the word "match."

I had placed a bid the other day on a really cool orange Smith-Corona Super G and lost. Combing eBay again, I saw some pretty turquoise typewriters, but were they decent machines? One seemed especially promising. I looked through some of Ton's old posts and there it was. The one he had seen at a flea market was missing the front protection plate, so he hadn't bothered to ask the price. But then he added that he probably should have. That was enough for me. After being assured by the seller...for whatever that's worth...that it was in excellent working and cosmetic condition, I made an offer on this snazzy little Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe that was accepted instantly, and I've already made room for it on the kitchen bar/workspace. More photos will follow when it's safely (and stylishly) ensconced there...and I'm stocked up with ribbon and typing erasers and ready to typecast.

My latest purchase...a Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe

Google Reader shut down July 1.

You have a three-week window to choose a new reader before you lose your data.