Post #100. The end of the Royal saga.

 

Welcome to my 100th post. Now, if you are the jealous type - I suggest you don't read past this sentence.

The finished product - The Royal Chrome gets the red velvet treatment.

I have to say, all the work I have done to this machine has been worthwhile. I probably spent about 20 hours all up (so far) on getting this machine into excellent working condition - and every time I look at its gleaming shell, I have to say - it was worth it.

A large part of those 20 hours consisted of me just trying to repair the original parts of the typewriter. But as with everything antique restoration related, there comes a point where you have to make some difficult decisions on how to progress. And there was one very difficult decision that I made early on, which I'm still unsure that I have done the right thing. 

Meet Gatsby :-

Hunting down the parts machine to complete this project took a lot of time and patience. But there was a machine that I had in my possession the whole time which I could have taken apart at any moment, and made one of the ultimate typewriter enthusiasts dream machines.

Gatsby - just another beautiful Royal P?

Around the time that Rob Messenger handed me the 'desperately in need of repair' Royal Chrome, this machine was sitting in the post-office awaiting my collection. The postie had neglected to leave a notification in my letterbox, and the post office was only 2 days away from sending it to the unclaimed post auction house - when I came in and inquired if any packages had been waiting for me. 

I had bought this machine on ebay about a month before, and I have to say it wasn't cheap. On the auction, the item looked in dreadful condition. But after a couple of hours of work on my desk, including sourcing a replacement platen as the rubber on this one was split, I had the machine looking worn but beautiful - and typing like it had just come from the store. 

I called it 'Gatsby' before I even had heard of the impending film. And other than the seemingly extravagant cost (I'll point out that I've seen others pay much, much more for similar machines) there was one other reason that I called this machine Gatsby.

Yes. Gatsby is a Vogue machine.

In what would have to be one of the greatest 'could have been' moments of my collection, I agonized over dismantling the (now) beautiful Gatsby in its striking two-tone blue shell. This would have involved me effectively destroying a magnificent example of an Art Deco typewriter - and a piece of history, in order to create what would have been a magnificently unique typewriter. 

In the end, I couldn't do it. I've been using Gatsby for correspondence ever since, and it is one of my all time favorite typewriters. Not just because of the sheer beauty of it, but also because it types so well. 

  Finishing the Royal Chrome:

 

The parts machine cost me about $30 in total - including postage, and it was in hideous condition. It had once had an 'alligator' textured blue paint-job, but Much of that had been chipped or rusted away. Some of the bolts holding the shell on were also heavily rusted. So rusted, that I had to use a grinder to cut some of them off.

Mechanically the typewriter was in crap-with-potential condition. Some of the chromed parts were flaking, but for the most part there was no sign of rust or oxidization on the crucial parts of the machine. The keys were almost frozen from the application of WD40 to them, but this was easily removed - first by spraying WD40 into them again, and then using de-greaser to remove the WD.

Nothing removes old WD40 like new WD40. 

But the keys were a problem. The paper slips on the keys were black, which didn't suit the machine at all. When I had bolted it all together, it became clear that the black (as opposed to the original off-white that the Chrome machine had) were going to have to go. 

If I had have used Gatsby as a parts machine for this typewriter, I never would have done what I did next.

Replacing the keys:

It had become obvious that I needed to replace the paper slips in the keys. Much of the existing paper slips on the machine were seriously damaged as it was, and it was clear that the glass needed to be lifted off the keys and cleaned. 

So I started to remove the keytops. 

I'd seen people talking about removing keytops before, and how it would probably be too easy to break the metal tabs that hold the keytops in place, but there didn't seem to be anyone that had actually done so - at least in the yahoo forums.

So I thought to myself "If the metal is that fragile, they should pry off easily. I'll just be careful not to break them".

Oh typosphere, how wrong was I. 

It took me somewhere between 2 to 3 hours to remove the keytops, and I didn't break a single one. Not because I was careful and gentle, but because the metal on them is a hell of a lot tougher than you might think. Prying the tabs off was extremely difficult to do by hand, and even once they were open the tops didn't just simply fall off. Oh no... those rings grip like Tarzan. I had to prop each key against a socket that pushed against the glass side only, and then push down on the back of the ring with a screw driver which I then bashed with a hammer - working in a circular motion around the key, until the ring finally dropped off. 

After all this was done, I simply had to walk away from the typewriter. It had been really nerve-racking hard work doing all this without breaking a glass insert, or metal band. I came back to it about 2 weeks later. 

In those two weeks, I had done some other work. I wanted to make this machine's Art Deco styling really stand out, so I selected a Deco font that would really grab the imagination, while still being easy enough to read at a glace - for the casual not-so-touch-typist. I wanted this machine to really, really capture the opulent feel of the era.

And then there was the paper selection. I grabbed samples of about 6 different types of paper and produced keyboard templates on them. I tried Pearlized paper (has a pearl type shimmer and texture to it) and even found some mother-of-pearl discs the right size to use. The mother of pearl idea was quickly dashed, when I couldn't find a way to effectively print on the discs. 

Then, I got some samples of Opalescent paper. In the light it had a beautiful shimmer that when looked at from a certain angle, would change in colour. The sample that I printed on the very pale green looked beautiful, so I produced a final template and then set about cutting the slips out.

Which is where this tool came in useful. 

It is a half-inch paper punch - which is the perfect size for the paper-slips needed on the keys. By turning this punch upside down, I was able to line up the paper template through the dump-hole, and produce perfectly sized slips. These punches are available from scrap-book suppliers. Just try to avoid buying the 'heart shape' ones, as there seems to be an over abundance of them around.

As the keyboard started to come together I got more and more excited. I posted a couple of hinting photographs to Rob Messenger, so he could see what result was coming from his former typewriter - and I even dropped a couple of them onto the Antique Typewriter forum on facebook, for everyone else to get an idea of what I was working on.

The end result is, albeit subjectively, stunning and unique.

Click to enlarge. It it has been very difficult to photograph this typewriter and capture the green. But you can see it hinted in the reflection - which also shows how the keys change tone depending on the angle of view. 

A couple of months after I finished the keyboard of this machine, I discovered that John Lavery had a keytop ring remover tool. The tool is so effective, that it would have taken me less then 5 minutes to strip the keyboard, making a mockery of my 2 - 3 hours of hard work.

The (in)completed typewriter:

The mechanical parts of the machine were not exactly... perfect. But I was able to retrieve plenty of parts from the original machine's guts to piece together the a 100% complete machine. In fact, it is more than 100%. The original machine had a missing shift key on the right hand side, which had somehow been broken off. The new parts machine also sported a tab mechanism, which with a bit of wrangling, I was able to fit into the new machine. So it can now tab!

I also manufactured new rubber feet for both the Chrome, and Gatsby - so both machines grip to the table effectively and steadily. 

There's a couple of damaged pieces of old chrome that came across from the parts machine. These can be repaired, but it will take time. Also the chrome machine doesn't actually have any colouring to indicate the locations on the ribbon colour selector.

I haven't done much research on the materials I need to finish this machine off yet, but I have decided that I am going to colour-in the colour selector indicator by setting jewels into the case.

After all, if you want Art Deco - roaring 20's opulence, why not set red, blue and clear jewels of some kind into the case - and make it truly unique! Erm... but... that will cost money, which I don't really have. Maybe plastic replicas? Nah....

Some work needs to be done to the case as well, and I've been thinking about using something to line the case with, that will compliment the beauty of the machine.

This machine is a real head-turner, but is very hard to keep clean. The chrome shows up finger-prints like nothing, and I have shoved a microfiber cloth into the case with the machine so it can be wiped down when I take it out on the road.

But, I think I have triumphed over the challenge of getting this beautiful Royal back to work - with a truly spectacular end result. 

Round 1: Scott v's The Royal P

Warning: This blog entry is rated MA - for mature audiences. 
*Occasional coarse language. Which has nominally been bleeped out for you protection.
*Low level violence.
*Frequent bad movie references. 

This war, like all wars, started in a period of relative peace. I like relative peace. It is so peaceful in a relative way that I almost lull myself into a sense of security, before I snap myself out of it - in anticipation of the next major crisis. 

And no, I haven't built a bunker for the impending 2012 disaster and filled it with cans of Spam, beans and Camp Pie. I don't have to... I have still have the one set up for the millennium bug disaster. I rented it out to Harold Camping briefly last year, but he left it in almost perfect condition and I haven't seen him since. 

It was in this relative peacetime that I took a trip down to Canberra. While I was there Robert Messenger gave me two beautiful typewriters. A Bijou 5 and a chromed Royal P. 

 The beautiful Palestinian Bijou. 

The Royal P from hell. 

Both machines are stunningly beautiful. The Royal P in person is one of the most amazingly beautiful machines I have ever seen. With gleaming glass keys along with its chromed body, this machine looks so sharp, I feared touching it for ending up with bloodied fingers

Both machines have their problems. The Bijou's are simple and straight-forward. The Royal however, had a few faults that were likely to need some more serious attention. While Robert and I were talking at his house, he implied that the machine would need a complete teardown and rebuild. I felt this was a touch extreme, but i suspected that thee machine's frame - or at least internals, were somewhat warped.

The shell wasn't lining up with the body and some of the type bars were raised in the segment - but not as a result of being jammed with muck. The reason wasn't immediately obvious.

Also, the carriage wouldn't stay put. When the carriage moved closer to the middle of the unit, it would suddenly take off - before the escapement came back into play a couple of inches later, and the typewriter seemed to start operating again in typical fashion.

Outside of that most of the screws holding the body onto the machine were missing, as were a couple of springs that lock down the ribbon covers. The rubber feet were non-existant. On the plus side the platen appeared to have been re-covered sometime in the last 20 years, and although it showed signs of lots of typing activity it was still very nice and rubbery.

Looking at the machine from the front, I should have known what was going to come next. This machine is trouble - under the stunning supermodel looks was a machine with an attitude of pure ugliness. It was the epitome of the phrase "Beauty is only skin deep".

As I looked at the machine it felt as though the middle type bar was raised that little more than the others intentionally. Surely this machine wasn't giving me 'the finger'? Typewriters don't flip the bird...

But can I tell you folks... The machine damn well was giving me the same big 'f**k you' as I suspect it had given the previous ambitious repairers before me.

The day after I got back from Canberra I extracted the machine from its case. The case had been a huge problem the day before, and had taken Robert roughly quarter of an hour to find a case that would hold the machine. Even then, it refused to be locked into the case properly, and I had stuffed bubble wrap around it to give a level of protection. Unfortunately I had to shift a lot of that bubble wrap at the airport  so that the security team could 'bomb check' it.

It put up a bit of a fight at the airport, and had almost tumbled onto the floor. The same thing happened at home the next day. Eventually I managed to get it out of the case, and I plopped it onto the top of cupboard nearest my desk.

I inspected it for a while and started to take a note of some of the faults. As I did the escapement seemed to loosen up somehow and the machine launched its carriage into my face, almost hitting my eye. Surprised by this, I recoiled away from the machine. The carriage slipped a tiny notch along its escapement by itself before once again engaging and sitting silently.

I felt like Rocky. This was going to be a tough repair, but if I played eye of the tiger often enough and ran up and down the stairs a few times (my tools were in the shed down stairs) eventually this movie would end in my triumph. I'd raise my hands in victory and call out through my numb but joyous face "ADRIAN! ADRIAN!"

I pushed the carriage back to the middle again, and felt the escapement travel with the machine perfectly. I let go of it, and less than a second later the carriage launched itself left again, but only a few stops.

"You little prick" I muttered quietly, before continuing: "So this is how you're going to play, huh"? 

I grabbed the machine and flipped it onto it's tail to inspect the underside of the machine. I couldn't see any misalignment, nor could I find any broken springs, levers or teeth. I rotated the machine back over onto the steel bolts that it is currently using as feet, and scratched my head a little. 

I turned the machine around and looked down the rails from the right hand side (spring loaded part away from my eye) and carefully released the escapement and slid the carriage. Again, I could not observe any major fault, even when I tapped on the space-bar and keys. 

Again I looked at the machine from the front of the keyboard, and started to thank about how I could dismantle it to have a better look. I tapped the space bar and keys roughly and..... 

"CRUNCH". 

The carriage raced across to the left and slammed against the right margin. A small black piece of something shot out the side of the machine and skidded across the surface of the cupboard. 

It was clear what this was. My opponent had now moved beyond the trash talk - the "F**k you" finger raising, and after copping a few whacks - had just spat out a loose tooth at me. It was ready for a fight. 

The sound that it made as the part skipped across the table told me instantly that his wasn't rubber or plastic. It was metal... cold and hard metal. Crucial part kind of metal.

Yes. You know what this is, don't you. I bet you do.

I kept a calm face. I was not going to show any fear to this machine. But on the inside I was saying "F**K F*K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**K F**KETY F**K, YOU F**KING F**K-F**K".

I knew what this piece was. It was a tooth off the escapement wheel which was located deep in the middle of the machine. This part is as difficult to get to, as it is to find a replacement for.

There was a moment of silence between me and the machine. Till I leaned over and spoke quietly to it. 

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for typewriters like you. If you play good now, that'll be the end of it. I will not dismantle you, I will not transplant you. But if you don't, I will find you, and I will kill you"

I slid the carriage back to the centre, but the escapement almost immediately slipped a little... Just a little... 

And with that  I reached my hands in (with the aid of a screwdriver or two) and tore out the machine's still beating heart - the platen. Screws and knobs lay strewn across my table, and I held the platen in my fist above the typewriter to show it what I had done. It sat there with its mouth wide open - almost in shock.

I grabbed the filthy and cracked platen from another Royal I was working on and drove it into place of the original platen. I screwed it all back together again before looking at the machine and saying with malevolence; "There you are - the ugliness on the outside now reflects the madness that you have on the inside. You shall wear that scar to remind you - every day - that you have crossed the wrong repairer".

And with that, I shoved the chrome Royal back into its case, and locked it into the cupboard. 

I had promised Rob that I would repair this machine. And repair it I shall. But I know the battle has only just begun, and this war of egos will eventually come to a head because this town isn't big enough for the two of us. 

The first battle was a draw, but the war has begun. 

P.S. Has anyone got a trashed Royal portable or some kind? 

WebRep

currentVote

noRating

noWeight