Showing posts with label hermes baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hermes baby. Show all posts

Monday, 19 August 2013

Off to Melbourne


I have been awfully missing my home city, Melbourne of late.

Oh, the pretentious music scene! How I miss thee..... 

What am I excited about? The pretentious music scene, old buildings that aren't being targeted for demolition so they can build a glass-filled shopping centre or casino, the cultural vibrancy, streets where people actually walk around and do things instead of charging past in a 4WD with a roo-bar and a southern cross sticker... Oh, the list could go on and on.

That little music video above is filled with comic references and twists that takes the piss out of much of Melbourne's contemporary music culture. Just for reference 'the 86' is the tram route number, and 'going down to JB-HIFI, Flick through Indie', is an insult in the Melbourne music scene.

You know, I probably wont even have time to hang out somewhere and listen to some music. Instead, I'll be gorging myself on some of the best food in Australia. The tourists hang out in Lygon Street these days, and you know what... I'm a tourist these days. Lygon street is packed wall to wall with beautiful restaurants and cafes. It is well known for its Lygon Street Italian Fiesta, a huge celebration of Melbourne's Italian migrants and their families.

We're in Melbourne on and off for about a week and a bit. But we've rented a car, and we're heading out of the city to the towns of Ballarat and Bendigo - probably via Castlemaine.  These towns are located in the middle of the goldfields that made Melbourne explode from a southern backwater town, to the massive sprawling metropolis it is today that was once Australia's capital.

We're going down for a two day conference, but I'm also going to be catching up with family. We're at first staying in a Beautiful Art Deco hotel in the city that has been named after a similar Deco hotel in the UK: The Savoy (not under my name). It has been a bit of a crappy year, and I've been sick of late - along with some work/life stress going on. So it is going to be really good to get out of Brisbane.

As there's a few people from Melbourne that read this blog, so drop me a line if you want to catch up for a a type-out/in or just a drink.

Speaking of typewriters, there's an important decision to make. Which typewriter will I take with me to Journal my time in Melbourne? Naturally I have limited my selection to Traveller typewriters, but it turns out I have more of those than any other. So here's a selection which will be the most appropriate.

The Candidates:
Let's drop a few of these guys on the floor next to my luggage and have a look...




The Venerable Hermes Baby in De Luxe case.
Usabilty 3/5
Size 3/4
Weight 5KG Approx.
(lighter 330 gram non-deluxe option available)
Operational condition: 4.5/5
Value risk 3/5






Empire Aristocrat 'Office in a case'
Usabilty 3/5
Size 4/4
Weight 4.6kg
Operational condition: 5/5
Value risk: 4/5



Groma Kolibri 'super sassy'
Usability 4.5/5
Size 4/5 (5/5 out of the case)
Weight 5kg (lighter out of the case)
Operational condition: 4.5/5
Value risk 2/5










Hermes Baby 'Featherlite' DE keyboard.
Usability 3/5
Size 3.5/5
Weight 4kg
Operational condition: 3/5
Value risk 4/5




Gossen Tippa now in QWERTY. Thanks John!
Usability 4.5/5
Size 5/5
Weight 4.4kg
Operational condition 4.5/5
Value risk 3/5




Olivetti DL 'tap-monster'
Usability 4/5
Size 2/5
Weight 5.6kg
Operational condition 5/5
Value risk 4/5



Triumph Tippa 'Jumpy roo' in De Luxe case
Usability 4/5
Size 3/5
Weight 5.2kg
Operational condition 1/5 (can be fixed though)
Value risk 5/5







Alternative option: while checking out the local second hand and antique shops (which I will invariably do) buy one.

The Usability gives a subjective assessment of which is the better typewriter to type on.
Size, is a generalised assesment as to how much suitacase space it will take up.
Weight is important due to limited luggage weight capacity - although I can take it on the plane.
Operational condition indicates what level of operational wear there is to this machine, and how immediate are the problems I'm having with them.
While Value risk rates how which is the better machine to take depending on replacement value.

Thursday, 20 June 2013

I look good in pleather / Silly Hipsters!


One of these things is just like the other:

But first, Let's talk about this:

That's right! A Hermes Baby - 50's design, sold for $222.50 on Australian ebay. Now I'll admit that this machine looks to be in great condition - bar a few chips of paint. The seller even stresses that it 'works'. However, if your biggest advertising point is that it has 'the original re-seller label', chances are your machine isn't really all that special. 

This to me is a bit worrying, as this isn't the first of these machines I have seen hit the $220 mark. And not just here, but in the USA as well. Honestly, people should really do their research. If you're going to actually use it for writing, it isn't your best option. And as far as decoration is concerned, the colour may be nice - but don't kid yourself that you might actually use it. Just buy a busted one.

So with 9 bids made by 5 different people,  all of which I suspect don't really know that much about typewriters, you'd think that a Hermes baby with the 'De Luxe' case would have had them "losing their sh*t" when it came on sale two days before the other auction finished.

However, this is how it ended up.

That's right, less than half the cost of the postage. 

But oh, there was a problem with the machine! (yes, I am saying that with enthusiasm)

It wasn't typing lower-case correctly. This problem with limited to the lower case only. Also, one of the ribbon covers weren't sitting correctly. 

As it turns out, I already had a Hermes baby - 50's style (with original re-seller label) that is called 'Kermit', which had been endowed with a green ribbon. 

I'm also sure that it is of no surprise to anyone that the $13.50 bid on the Hermes 'De Luxe' was my bid. And 5 days later, I received from all the way down in Victoria; yet another Hermes baby. 

Now, my house looks like this:


 Kermit is indeed in better condition than the machine that sold for $222.50, but shhhhhh. Don't tell anyone.

And especially don't tell the seller of the De Luxe machine, how quickly I fixed the typewriter. 

Picture this: 
It's a sunny Brisbane morning late in May, and I was sitting down to breakfast. I laid out my knife and fork, started brewing a pot of my favorite tea, I fired up the stove and flicked some bacon in, and then noticed that next to my dining table chair was an unopened box.

I had brought the box up stairs the night before, but I was so exhausted from work that I just left it there. 

I grabbed the box knife from my desk, and slashed it open. I pulled out the beautiful pleather case (I'm certain it's pleather, not real leather) and I brushed off the rice bubbles before placing it on the table.

I returned to the kitchen, turned over the bacon, threw in a few mushrooms and tomatoes, and then came back to the typewriter. 

Sure enough, the carriage seemed a bit wonked. I grabbed the can of spray lube from my desk, and sprayed it into the hinge of the carriage lift. I then worked it back and forth a few times. 

I pushed my thumb against the side of the ribbon cover, and bent a tiny lip of metal back. I pushed the ribbon cover down, and viola! It stayed. I shoved a piece of paper into the machine, and with the carriage now oiled, the letters lined up perfectly and the lower-case letters could be read. 

I dished out the bacon onto a plate along with the tomatoes and mushrooms, then ate a very nice breakfast. 

.....

Yep. I fixed a typewriter while cooking breakfast. In the battle of the sexes, I think I just achieved 'doing more than one thing at once' status for the boy's side. Not to mention... I can brag that I fixed a typewriter in the time it takes to cook breakfast. 

Incidentally, it turned out that I didn't even need to use the spray lube. It was just a bit of muck in the mechanism that could have been just as easily blasted out with an air-compressor, rather than worked out with a bit of lube and some wrangling.

So I scrubbed the machine with Ryan Adney's crinkle paint cleanup method, and apart from a few chips in the paint (life scars - I love them, because it shows the machine has a wonderful history) it was looking beautiful! Not to mention, writing just as nicely as Kermit.

Look at that gorgeous copper trim! The pleather! The fabric inside! The sumptuous green!

I'm sorry, I just... really like this machine. 

Anyway, I've hit the wall. I can't justify having so many Hermes babies / Empire aristocrats. So it is time for Kermit to go. Of these era, I have two Empires, and a Baby with a Cyrillic keyboard. Not to mention I also have 3 of the next model baby as well.

Now, before I get requests from all and sundry asking for Kermit - He's already been claimed. Baroness, who had been babying him previously, would really like it and has offered to buy it off me. So I'm doing a special price for her - which is nothing near the 'silly hipster' price.

I'll do a post on the De Luxe cased Hermeses a bit later - as I have another little surprise to add. But I thought I would just share with you my experience, before any one else makes the same silly mistake of paying that kind of money for a Hermes Baby. 

No seriously, stop it people. I feel embarrassed for you.

Meanwhile.... me and my Baby will be singing:

Just add the 'p' to leather in your head, would you?

Monday, 29 April 2013

Hey, Robert Messenger! Meet Kermit.


One or two of Rob's recent blogs sent me giggling to the keyboard.

Rob, Meet Kermit. Kermit, Meet Rob.



Kermit had been on loan to Baroness till recently, when it was at risk of being damaged during a home moving exercise. So for the time being, Kermit is hanging out at my place again. Can I say, I think Kermit is a wonderful typewriter, that has some beautiful curves and features. Thanks for stopping by, Kermit.

Mind you, I just can't type on Kermit in the say way that I can with one of my Hermes 3000 machines. I keep forgetting that I need to slap the keys - just a little harder. But he is a fine, and beautifully lightweight typewriter.

Thursday, 28 March 2013

The mystery Baby.


You know... I like typewriters, and I like to think I know a fair bit about them. But every so often I come across a machine that reminds me that, simply put, I don't know jack. 

The mystery Baby in all its glory. Click to enlarge and have a good look at the keyboard.

I'm not in the business of collecting typewriters for the sake of unusual or unique variations of machines. I like typewriters for their beauty and their artistry. I like them for their functionality and form. I appreciate them for the history they bring with them, and I love them for the feeling I get when I write with one. 

I didn't need another Hermes baby, but I saw this guy on eBay and I threw my hat in the ring simply because I noticed a couple of odd characters on the keyboard. Auction day came and no one else bid, and so it became mine for a wallet hurting $15. Not only was it cheap, but it was about a 5 minute drive from where I work to collect it.

As you can see by the screen grab above, the seller only photographed half the keyboard. The other photos were blurry, and the description simply read:

Antique Portable Typewriter and carry case.

Hermes Baby - typewriter. 

I think this might have been used in a hospital in the 50's - there is in pen " Room 3" on the lid of the typewriter.

So I arrived at the seller's address at the appointed time, only to find that the seller was selling on behalf of the very much still alive owner of the machine - a quite senior and very lovely lady who was a former nurse. It appeared that her son was selling off a fair few of her possessions, or 'house clutter', and it was mostly piled up in the garage of the house - awaiting collection. 

I had a brief discussion with the lady, but her son was getting quite impatient. He demonstrated his expert experience of typewriters by banging the keys and showing the carriage shifted - before telling me "Everything works on this typewriter as a typewriter should".

But I wanted to know more about the machine. Once I was able to get a full look at keyboard, I noticed that it was significantly different to any of the other typewriter keyboards I had seen before. On the right hand side of the typewriter there was a whole host of characters I found that were unusual. 

"I bought it new when I was doing a business course before I became a nurse in the 60's" The lady explained "Its German made you know, and that's a German keyboard. It was made by Hermes - a very good company". She actually pronounced Hermes correctly too. The son argued a couple of points - insisting that it was the 50's. But she just looked confused about what he was saying, and tried to correct him that she bought it early to mid 60's. Also, it turned out that typewriter had never been near a hospital. I suspected the son was just obfuscating things to cover for the rather factually incorrect advertisement. Not that I cared about the advertisement, as I had long learned to disregard most of what a seller says on an eBay posting.

It most certainly wasn't a German keyboard, and I suggested this to the owner. I then muttered something about it being Swiss made, but she just nodded and said "That's a German keyboard".

The son shuffled about to display his impatience and suggest that the trade - and our business, was done. I was hoping to have a bit more of a chat, but it was obvious that this wasn't going to happen. So I just picked up my now paid for typewriter, said a gracious thank-you, and left. 

I got the Baby home and then started to inspect the machine. Lo and behold, the (now former) owner was right. It WAS made in Germany. 


I was a little stumped by this, but that was far from the last surprise for the afternoon. I had never heard of these machines being made in Germany before.

The typewriter wasn't made of plastic, but rather metal. This is the third Hermes Baby of this era I have come across, and the first that didn't appear to have been belted to a near pulp. This machine had been well used, but also quite looked after. I've found the metal on this version of the Hermes Baby to be the closest thing that you can find to play-doh, that is still a metal.

I also  bet about half the readers that read this blog just silently nodded their head in agreement.

So - I cracked open the case to have a look at the serial number, and found 9006303, which oddly didn't tie into a number range that was covered on Ted's excellent Serial number Database.

Okay... I thought. Let's just try typing with this machine.

And this is where it got weird. Not only did it have a better type feel than any other baby that I have ever owned or seen, but some other things seemed especially odd.

As you can see in the photo at the top of the page, the numbers are shift access only. But it isn't just the numbers. It's the full stop, and some other important characters as well. Then there was the ∘ character, which I just couldn't line up with any keyboard, character map or language alphabet at all.

I looked for currency symbols, only to find none. I was stumped.

I almost made a phone call to my friend Ray, who is a Linguist, when I stopped myself and just thought - "Rob Messenger will know, surely"!

 Just catching a few rays on the deck; trying to tan up that European paleness. 

Rob Messenger - Oztypewriter
It's a safe bet to ask Rob. He's got a vast head for a broad spectrum of details, and has been collecting for a lot longer than a lot of people i know. So I made Rob my first port of call. I'd been exchanging emails with Rob that afternoon over other matters, so I just dropped a mention of this machine into another email.

Amazingly, Rob got back to me within minutes. He wasn't absolutely certain, but he suggested that the machine had a "Brazilian 2" keyboard.

Coming from Rob, this was a suggestion that I was quite inclined to agree with. He'd gone through some reference material at a speed that would have to have been nothing but phenomenal, and had come up with what i knew would be an educated suggestion.

Rob also suggested that I have a chat with Georg Sommeregger, as he was much more extensively versed in the ways of the Hermes machines, and would know more about how a Hermes Baby come to be made in Germany - and possibly more on the keyboard.

Georg Sommeregger - Sommeregger's Sommelsuirum and Hermes Baby
Rob was right. As it was, Georg has a very strong knowledge on the German made Hermes baby. Georg told me a little about where the machine was made, and where it sat in relationship to the then existing Hermes factory (not very far at all, incidentally). And that he also lived in the same area.

It was quite fascinating. Georg also suggested that the machine was made in the earlier phase of Pailards manufacturing of the Baby in Germany, which would put the machine's manufacture around 1965. This was great news, as it matched up with the time-frame which the previous owner claimed to have bought the typewriter new.

So in my mind, the mysteries of the date and location of manufacture were solved.

Georg also made a suggestion about the keyboard. He sent me a scan of a character map for a Gossen Tippa - that showed the 'Italiano' layout of their keyboards. The layout was almost identical to the layout of my Hermes - except for two crucial differences. Firstly it didn't have an ∘ on the keyboard, but had a ∘ instead. Also, the Italiano keyboard layout was QZERTY, and not QWERTY.

The rest of the keyboard, including the shifted full-stop (period) matched perfectly.

I thanked Georg as he'd been a great help, and then messaged Rob with the findings - confident that Georg's suggestion of it being 'possibly a variation of the Italiano keyboard' was right. Rob however was a little more skeptical.

Natalie Tan - NatsLapTaps
Meanwhile, I had been spit-balling a few ideas with a few people on facebook. Nat made an interesting suggestion about the ∘ key, and suggested that it was used to write N∘ - as it was a common abbreviation of 'Number'. My Cyrillic Hermes has a N∘ key for this specific purpose, so I was a little cynical of this idea. Nat also then suggested that the machine perhaps had been set up to write lots of numbers, and names in capital letters - hence why those important functions, including writing N∘, were all achievable with the keyboard caps locked. 

Emigrant keyboards.
While talking to Georg, I wrote that I felt that the Italiano keyboard made a lot of sense - particularly as Australia had taken in a lot of post war refugees, and economic refugees. One of the largest groups represented in this mass migration to Australia - were the Italians. The Greeks followed soon after, and subsequently made Melbourne famous for having the largest Greek population outside of Greece.
 A lot of these migrant groups formed communities in Australia, and it wasn't unusual to find their languages and customs being continued in various areas.

Anyone my age or older, can remember exactly what Lygon street in Melbourne used to be like - before it became a tourist attraction. And then there's Franco Cozzo - who crammed Italian, Greek and English into his television commercials in the 80's. Not to mention crammed his show-rooms full of truly ugly furniture (and somehow drugs, but that's another story).

 Oh, the Nostalgia!
Foot-as-cray! (sorry, local in-joke. Teeritz and John are likely to get it).

I could almost see the raised eyebrow in Georg's reply email. This time around, he sent me a couple of examples of a 'Lithuanian emigration' keyboard. The emigration keyboard layout he showed me went from the traditional AÅ ERTZ keyboard, to a QWERTZ layout (migrating to Germany perhaps?), while still retaining much of the character map and layout outside of the figurative characters. 

The suggestion was that perhaps this machine of mine had been designed specifically for Italians that were migrating to Australia. However, there wasn't any concrete evidence to suggest that this machine could be such a machine.

No one seems to be certain about the nature of this keyboard and who it may have been made for. What also remains a mystery, is how this machine came to be owned by an Anglo-Australian nurse - who bought it new from the show-room. Natalie made a suggestion that a shop might have sold it at a discounted rate to her, which may have encouraged her to buy such a machine. But unfortunately I'm not in a position to easily check out this idea.

So there we have it! The mystery Baby. A machine that seems to have a blurred history that hints at an interesting story of humanity at almost every turn. Stories that seem sort of painfully just outside of my reach.

I like this little machine. If I'm going to use it, I know I'm going to struggle a bit with the shifted full-stop. And its story very much intrigues me. If you have any suggestions or ideas about this machine, please leave a comment below.

I also really appreciate the help I got from Rob, Georg and Natalie. Thanks guys!

I can't believe I seriously mentioned Franco Cozzo in a semi-serious way on my blog. Also, if this is indeed an Italiano keyboard, does this mean that the typewriter should be really called a "Hermes Bambino"?

Friday, 14 September 2012

The World's Fastest Hermes.....


Here over at Filthy HQ, I occasionally feel the need to actually go to work. Most of the time, this need seems to occur pretty consistently on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... and surprisingly Friday. This usually occurs on a weekly basis.

Work however, is at the moment an astonishing 40 kilometres by road from where my bedroom (the other place I visit frequently) is currently situated.

In order to overcome this obstacle, I often employ a variety of transport methods. There's the Train, which also involves a lovely 25 minute walk on each trip. There's the car, which involves fighting for space in traffic jams - against roo-bar laden Utes driven by testosterone filled drivers before paying an absurd price for parking. And then there's my favourite, the Motorcycle, which involves fighting with pretty much everyone, but parks for free.

I.... LOVE my motorbike. Not more than cheese, but I love it dearly. I'm not an occasional weekend rider, as I ride several times a week. My motorcycle has roughly 10 times the amount of kilometres on it that most motorbikes in Brisbane have before they end up being parked in a dusty corner of the garage, only to be occasionally peeked at by men and women that want to feel the pangs of their rebellious youth.

This week, I had a little bit of company on my motorcycle. It was a mechanical friend by the name of 'Kermit'. Kermit is a green Hermes baby made in 1957, and is in astonishingly good condition. Kermit is unique in that he also has a green ribbon to go with his hospital green looks, and is often stocked up with green paper.

It ain't easy being green...

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it's off to work we go...... Oh wait, I'd better secure that handle.

I was going to visit a friend of mine afterwork and drop Kermit back her. 'Baroness' has been using Kermit for a variety of things of late - Scrapbooking, letter writing, diarising etc. and I was pretty eager to get Kermit back into her hands. 

Baroness is a very lovely friend of mine that I previously had worked with. About a month or so ago she was diagnosed with a 'DNET', a kind of brain tumour that is a bit like the tumour equivalent of a ugly inherited piece of furniture in your home. It doesn't grow on you, nor destroys your world, but it just offsets everything and is generally an annoyance when you find yourself occasionally kicking it because it is shaped wrong - leaving you with bruises and scrapes. Not to mention, you can just never seem to bring yourself to get rid of it.

I had a bit of a logistical problem this day, transporting Kermit. The Ventura bag that sits on the frame on my motorcycle had been co-opted for use by Ms Jane a few months ago for use on her cruiser, and as such was still with her. 

It would have been absurd just driving to work, so that I could sit Kermit in the car, and incur a $22 parking bill, only to transport one little typewriter. 

So, I stuck some padding on the bars of the frame, and brought out the magical, mystical hold-alls known as 'Occy straps'. I always keep at least one of these straps somewhere on my motorbike. 

Before long Kermit and I were heading down the road together. I occasionally lifted my elbow, and looked into my rear vision mirror to check and see if Kermit was still okay on the back. 

Do you have protection? 

I may never manage 96wpm on the keyboard of Kermit, but Kermit was just fine at 120km/h.

Ooops. No, sorry officer, I didn't exceed the speed limit. Honest. 

......... Anyway. 

I got to work by about 6:40am, and unstrapped Kermit from my bike. There was no way... NO WAY I was going to leave him out in public. Who knows what might get typed on him! I returned at about 3:30, and strapped him back on again, ready to fight the traffic up Bowen-bridge and Gympie roads. 

I hate Bowen-bridge road on a motorcycle. And hate is far from being too strong a word. The outbound direction of this road has 4-5 lanes, and can often be jam packed. When it isn't jam packed, it is usually filled with trucks, buses, utes and wanna-be race car drivers that are bewildered by the sheer width of a road that isn't a freeway and has many streets and turn-offs feeding in and out of it. 

But I had to go this way. I zipped my jacket tight, pulled my helmet on and.... "Is that a typewriter"? Ms Jane, who works in the same hospital as I had come up behind me. There was an eye-rolling in her tone, but only slight. I explained to her that it was on its way over to a friends place, and then we chatted for a few moments about the kind of day we'd been having at work. 

I had calmed down a bit now, and I felt confident again to take on Bowen-bridge road, and its extension - the dreaded Gympie road. 

Every chance I got, I blasted my way away from the traffic on these roads. It would only be a brief respite though, as I would quickly join another group of bad drivers at the next set of traffic lights, before also finding the previous set joining me from behind. I typically don't split traffic on my bike, and today was no exception. On these roads the unpredictability of the traffic can be fatal. 

Every time I bolted from a cluster of traffic, or manouvered my way around it, I would check under my elbow to see if I had inadvertently lost Kermit in the ruckus. But Kermit was holding tight, maybe for dear life... maybe just because I actually was pretty good at strapping him down. 

I found my lane compromised by cars on a couple of occasions, and I utilised the emergency lane to get away from these morons and ahead of some large clusters of jammed and uptight traffic. In these clusters a dangerous dynamic occurs; people become agitated and aggressive. This is a fear response, and the most aggressive drivers lapse into a kind of fight or flight tunnel vision, and they are unable to process the complex situation around them. 

As such, the basic parts of the brain assesses you for a threat. We all have a false sense of security in our car cages, and as such a motorcyclist - being a smaller entity, tends to be regarded as inferior. People will often turn into your lane on top of you, as though you were never there. And to them, you weren't. Their brains processed you as non existent. This can happen in heavy traffic, and speeding light traffic, as people's brains often find themselves over-stimulated while planting their foot. 

As a motorcyclist, the quicker you learn about this, the longer you will survive. No one rides a motorcycle with the misapprehension that they are safe, even though many riders often take higher risks than they should. This is unlike car drivers, that are caged from the exterior world and largely feel safe and secure, even if the annual road toll doesn't bare this out. 

Anyway, Kermit hung in there completely unfazed. I eventually turned off Gympie road and felt my heart rate slowly drop. Kermit is now back in Baroness's study, awaiting his next task. I would love to see a letter from Kermit from time to time, but it is great to see him back in use again. Kermit is quite the traveller!

And while Kermit isn't as quick to write on as - say my computer's keyboard, while sticking it out on the back of my bike, he's the world's fastest Hermes in my books. 

Saturday, 25 August 2012

Hermes of the outback.


Howard Steer - Saved By The Flying Doctor. 


I'm going to steal Rob Messenger's thunder a bit here. While in Charleville I found an interesting Hermes Featherlight, that had formerly been in service to a rather significant Australian. Significant enough that he features on the back of the Australian Twenty Dollar note.


I speak of course, of Reverend John Flynn. Flynn wasn't just the founder of the Royal Flying Doctor Service - which I also visited while in Charleville, but was fundamental in the four pronged approach to establishing the Australian Inland Mission (AIM) and their health & education service in the Australian outback. His decisions and actions have saved thousands of lives, and improved the lives of thousands more. 


Crammed and uncleaned I found this Hemes machine stuffed into a corner of an ageing wood and glass cabinet at the Charleville Museum. It was neither located with the rest of the Royal Flying Doctor artefacts, or anywhere near the three other clusters of typewriters and office machines that I had found around the museum. It sat alone, with only a hand written card - dropped almost carelessly in front of it describing what it in fact was.


I was almost tempted to ask the gentleman manning the front counter if I could get my hands on it and clean it up. However the cabinet looked like it weighed about 200Kg, and was pressed against the wall so that the access doors were inaccessible. 

"Flynn of the Inland" is quite the outback hero. The card attached to his typewriter rather downplays his significance in Australian history.

Let me tell tell you a tale...

European settlement of Australia commenced in 1788. Back then, the continent was split into three regions, with no defined national borders. New South Wales had been claimed by the British, while the western 2 thirds of the continent, the coastline of which had been briefly explored by the Dutch 200 years earlier, remained under the name of 'New Holland'. To the cold south, a piece of land was called 'Van Diemen's land', and was originally thought to be a large peninsula - but turned out to be a large island. 

New South Wales and Van Diemen's land originally had been established as penal colonies by the british, who for nearly a hundred years transported convicts to their shores to be put to work developing  colonies and infrastructure. 

Suffice to say, very few of these people wanted to be here. And this included the soldiers, governors and clergymen that were sent here. Many of them were rough men either looking for adventure, or to escape precarious social circumstances that they may have found themselves in. 

While the governors were often brutal and corrupt, the clergymen that had been sent to Australia to protect and establish their 'flock' were often just as brutal. The clergymen often held other roles in early colonial society, and performed as magistrates, governors and judges themselves. While churches were being built to accommodate for the colonial christian flock, they were often built at the expense of the lives of the convicts building them.

These convicts were kept in line by severe corporate and capital punishments that were often ordered at the hands of the magistrate clergymen. As such both the new settlers, and often the indigenous population living near by often suffered severely from the wrath of these often brutal men. The hypocrisy of clergymen would define Australia's miss-trust for religion for centuries. 

Often when convicts had served their penal terms they fled out into the the outback and snatched up large and remote tracts of land that they used to grow cattle and sheep. The few roads and established tracks made it easy for them to distance themselves from the trauma and hurt provided by the colonies, while still allowing them an income to live out their lives alone.

*  *  * 

The colonies were still something of a backwater when the larger organised religions seemed to suddenly find an interest in attempting to establish themselves in - what was inevitably going to be a new nation. Still smarting from the slight they had copped from being essentially locked out of the American Constitution, early Australia became something of a theosophical battleground for churches as they attempted to gain influence in the newly establishing communities. Various organisations sent missionaries to the colonies, but quickly found hostility from the locals. The Australian rebellious spirit was forming, and the locals had no intention of being ruled over by bunch of men and women that had never had to live the hard lives that the former convict community had.

This began to turn around slowly due to two things: The irish potato famine, and the Gold rush. 

Catholics from Ireland flooded into Australia to escape the oppression in Ireland, not long before people from all over the world rushed into Australia to try their luck at finding gold. All of these groups brought their religions and customs with them, changing the attitudes of the colonies to culture and religion. 

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The subsequent cultural upheaval saw several religious groups begin to take a more serious look at what kind of role they could play in Australia. The societal push-back at these organised religions had a lot of these groups on the back foot - making it hard to dictate dogma as readily as they had in most other countries in the world. People didn't fear the hand of god in the way they had elsewhere. 

Churches as such stated to become much less malign organisations, and focused heavily on improving social services. Missionaries became teachers and physicians. They slowly built up trust in colonial society by being far more socially progressive than the colonial government at the time was. A lot of these missionary groups also attempted to reach out to the aboriginals. But this had limited success, as the missionaries often saw themselves as superior people helping 'unfortunate' savages. And issue that came to a head with the controversy around what is now called 'The Stolen Generation'. 

The colonial governments at the time considered aboriginals to be 'part of the fauna'. Aboriginals were governed in Australia under the "Fauna and Flora act of New South Wales" until 1967.  

Flynn of the outback/inland.


Born outside of Melbourne, and educated in various locations around the city, Flynn took on work as a teacher before becoming a presbyterian minister. In 1911 he volunteered for as a missionary in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia. Here, he discovered how difficult it was to minister to people that lived on huge tracts of land that had been allocated for use by cattle and sheep farmers. The massive cattle stations meant that a lot of people out in the outback lived further apart from each other by distances that were often larger than most countries in Europe. He often wrote to his superiors about the difficulties, and eventually he became the superintendent of the Australian Inland Mission. 

For years Flynn looked at ways of dealing with the problems that were faced by people out in these areas, and looked at the technological advances of the day. 

Powered flight soon gave hope to Flynn, and he started to investigate ways of using aircraft to access remote populations. But it wasn't until Alfred Traeger built a pedal powered radio that Flynn's vision really started to take shape. 

Education over the airwaves was now possible. But not only that, with the assistance of powered flight, Flynn was able to establish a means to get medical assistance to remote areas. He utilised all the technology he could, and began to construct hospitals and hostels in key locations in order to accommodate the growing needs of the region. As such, he was able to establishe the 'Aerial Medical Service'.

While it was often routine to teach aboriginal children, Flynn did something quite revolutionary at the time - he offered the same education and medical assistance services to aboriginals that he had offered the rural settlers of the region. 

It has, however been suggested that Flynn was personally indifferent to aboriginals, and that it wasn't uncommon for aboriginals to be turned away from AIM hostels. However there is no written evidence to suggest this, and the AIMs policies - written by Flynn, has suggested otherwise. 

Flynn was very hands on with the establishment of all aspects of the AIM. He would routinely meet with architects and builders himself - and explored most of the areas where infrastructure had been built. 

Eventually the school of the air, and the Aerial Medical Service would be handed over to the now established Australian federal government - which had federated in 1901 to form the nation of Australia. 

School of the air still operates today, while the AMS is now known as the 'Royal Flying Doctor Service'. 

Many of the hostels and hospitals still operate, and the Presbyterian mission has established strong communities throughout much of regional Australia. 

Australia is still in the top 10 important mission districts of most church organisations. 

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Hermes Featherlight. 

I can't say that this machine is the prettiest of the Hermes lightweight designs, but it certainly has a solid and utilitarian look about it. 


Doesn't mean I wouldn't love to own one! 

At a guess, this machine was chosen because it would be so easy to transport, while being so light that it didn't add extra weight in cars or on planes, or on horses. Horseback transport was still largely common during Flynn's era. In fact, horses are still in frequent use in rural Australia to this day.

I can only imagine the correspondence that was done with this machine. Not just builders and legislators, ministers and politicians... but also the people that were most loved and cared for by Flynn. The kinds of people that almost never get mentioned in the short biographies of people that have done amazing and great things.  

And I would so love to have been all the places this typewriter has been - depending on how often it travelled with Flynn. There's much that is left to the imagination with this typewriter, and have to say that I feel that it needed more than just a dodgy display card. 

The typewriter would have been made in the 1930's, meaning that it would have missed the earlier pioneering days of the AIM. But I'm sure that it still probably would have one heck of a story to tell... 

... if only it could write it's own story. 

Thanks for reading this rather lengthy blog entry. 

Coming up next... a couple of promised photos.