31 August 2013

A Leader Among Typewriters




I was here (above) while Beloved Spousal Unit was here (below). 


From the Fuel Milwaukee website.

Though, more specifically, he was at one of these (below).


Image source/credit


And while I was giving an all-day seminar on the wonders and beauty of controlled vocabularies, my True Love was out acting as my Typospherian Enabler.  He has a wonderful eye, having found these two gorgeous machines for me already.






So it was very exciting to get his text message that day during a break: he had found this 'neat old machine' for me (for a mere ten bucks!).  A quick phone pic whetted my interest, but it wasn't until I got home that I was able to take a closer look.




The case, except for the old paper sticker, is in remarkably good condition. It has a swirling, embossed pattern. The lighting and the red of the carpet don't do justice to its color, which is a lovely malachite green.




The machine is an Underwood Leader.  Will Davis, commenting on Alan Seaver's Machines of Loving Grace site, has this to say about this model:
"Yet another Leader, and it should be apparent by now that application of the "Leader" name to an Underwood portable indicates a very basic machine."

He speaks truth. This typer is very simple in its accouterments.  I am not even sure it has a Margin Release key.  (The color of the machine is closer to a grey-taupe than the pinkish hue you are seeing here. The red of the carpet affected the camera, I'm afraid. The keys and shift bar are dark green.)








What is interesting is the variation in lettering styles on the logo and labeling.  The Underwood logo on the the front is of a silvery metal.  The machine's name -- Leader -- is painted on with the letters more widely spaced, the e, r, and d echoing the typeface of the logo.  The company name on the back is more staid, with those funky elbow-shaped brackets kinda, maybe, sorta reflecting the logo's flair.





The interior is quite clean and there is no musty smell, which is surprising given its 1950s origin when cigarette smoking was pretty much the norm in most households.  But since the spools are plastic and not original, perhaps the machine has had a cleaning at some point.





The crisp and snappy typing action (reminiscent of the Smith Coronas of that time) reveals a plain pica typeface.  The only real mechanical problem  is the carriage arm which appears to need a new spring. It works but has clearly seen some aggressive return action!




I am sorry to say that I did not get to meet fellow Typospherian Richard Polt (of Writing Ball and The Classic Typewriter Page).  We had planned to meet up for a twosome type-in but post-seminar work issues forced a cancellation.  What a disappointment that was.  I was looking forward to hearing more tales of his recent trip to Great Britain. 

In his honor, I include the complete poem from the above typed excerpt.

To Cincinnati
By Edward A. M'Laughlin

City of gardens, verdant parks, sweet bowers;
Blooming upon thy bosom, bright and fair,
Wet with the dews of spring, and summer's showers,
And fanned by every breath of wandering air;
Rustling the foliage of thy green groves, where
The bluebird's matin wakes the smiling morn,
And sparkling humming-birds of plumage rare,
With tuneful pinions on the zephyrs borne,
Disport the flowers among, and glitter and adorn:

Fair is thy seat, in soft recumbent rest
Beneath the grove-clad hills; whence morning wings
The gentle breezes of the fragrant west,
That kiss the surface of a thousand springs:
Nature, her many-colored mantle flings
Around thee, and adorns thee as a bride;
While polished Art his gorgeous tribute brings,
And dome and spire ascending far and wide,
Their pointed shadows dip in thy Ohio's tide.

So fair in infancy--oh, what shall be
Thy blooming prime, expanding like the rose
In fragrant beauty; when a century
Hath passed upon thy birth, and time bestows
The largess of a world, that freely throws
Her various tribute from remotest shores,
To enrich the Western Rome: here shall repose
Science and art; and from time's subtile ores--
Nature's unfolded page--knowledge enrich her stores.

Talent and Genius to thy feet shall bring
Their brilliant offerings of immortal birth;
Display the secrets of Pieria's spring,
Castalia's fount of melody and mirth:
Beauty, and grace, and chivalry, and worth,
Wait on the Queen of Arts, in her own bowers,
Perfumed with all the fragrance of the earth,
From blooming shrubbery, and radiant flowers;
And hope with rapture wed life's calm and peaceful hours.

Oft as the spring wakes on the verdant year,
And nature glows in fervid beauty dressed,
The loves and graces shall commingle here,
To charm the queenly City of the West;
Her stately youth, with noble warmth impressed,
Her graceful daughters, smiling as the May--
Apollos these, and Hebes those confessed--
Bloom in her warm and fertilizing ray,
While round their happy sires the cherub infants play.

So sings the Muse, as she, with fancy's eye,
Scans, from imagination's lofty height,
Thy radiant beaming day--where it doth lie
In the deep future; glowing on the night
From whose dark womb empires unveiled to light:
Mantled and diademed, and sceptred there,
Thou waitest but the advent of thy flight,
When, like a royal Queen, stately and fair,
The City of the West ascends the regal chair.


The Cincinnati Skyline

City of gardens, verdant parks, sweet bowers; Blooming upon thy bosom, bright and fair, Wet with the dews of spring, and summer's showers, And fanned by every breath of wandering air; Rustling the foliage of thy green groves, where The bluebird's matin wakes the smiling morn, And sparkling humming-birds of plumage rare, With tuneful pinions on the zephyrs borne, Disport the flowers among, and glitter and adorn: Fair is thy seat, in soft recumbent rest Beneath the grove-clad hills; whence morning wings The gentle breezes of the fragrant west, That kiss the surface of a thousand springs: Nature, her many-colored mantle flings Around thee, and adorns thee as a bride; While polished Art his gorgeous tribute brings, And dome and spire ascending far and wide, Their pointed shadows dip in thy Ohio's tide. So fair in infancy--oh, what shall be Thy blooming prime, expanding like the rose In fragrant beauty; when a century Hath passed upon thy birth, and time bestows The largess of a world, that freely throws Her various tribute from remotest shores, To enrich the Western Rome: here shall repose Science and art; and from time's subtile ores-- Nature's unfolded page--knowledge enrich her stores. Talent and Genius to thy feet shall bring Their brilliant offerings of immortal birth; Display the secrets of Pieria's spring, Castalia's fount of melody and mirth: Beauty, and grace, and chivalry, and worth, Wait on the Queen of Arts, in her own bowers, Perfumed with all the fragrance of the earth, From blooming shrubbery, and radiant flowers; And hope with rapture wed life's calm and peaceful hours. Oft as the spring wakes on the verdant year, And nature glows in fervid beauty dressed, The loves and graces shall commingle here, To charm the queenly City of the West; Her stately youth, with noble warmth impressed, Her graceful daughters, smiling as the May-- Apollos these, and Hebes those confessed-- Bloom in her warm and fertilizing ray, While round their happy sires the cherub infants play. So sings the Muse, as she, with fancy's eye, Scans, from imagination's lofty height, Thy radiant beaming day--where it doth lie In the deep future; glowing on the night From whose dark womb empires unveiled to light: Mantled and diademed, and sceptred there, Thou waitest but the advent of thy flight, When, like a royal Queen, stately and fair, The City of the West ascends the regal chair.
Read more at http://www.blackcatpoems.com/m/to_cincinnati.html#E0XduxryleBWFs7M.99
To Cincinnati by: Edward A. M'Laughlin (1798-?) City of gardens, verdant parks, sweet bowers; Blooming upon thy bosom, bright and fair, Wet with the dews of spring, and summer's showers, And fanned by every breath of wandering air; Rustling the foliage of thy green groves, where The bluebird's matin wakes the smiling morn, And sparkling humming-birds of plumage rare, With tuneful pinions on the zephyrs borne, Disport the flowers among, and glitter and adorn: Fair is thy seat, in soft recumbent rest Beneath the grove-clad hills; whence morning wings The gentle breezes of the fragrant west, That kiss the surface of a thousand springs: Nature, her many-colored mantle flings Around thee, and adorns thee as a bride; While polished Art his gorgeous tribute brings, And dome and spire ascending far and wide, Their pointed shadows dip in thy Ohio's tide. So fair in infancy--oh, what shall be Thy blooming prime, expanding like the rose In fragrant beauty; when a century Hath passed upon thy birth, and time bestows The largess of a world, that freely throws Her various tribute from remotest shores, To enrich the Western Rome: here shall repose Science and art; and from time's subtile ores-- Nature's unfolded page--knowledge enrich her stores. Talent and Genius to thy feet shall bring Their brilliant offerings of immortal birth; Display the secrets of Pieria's spring, Castalia's fount of melody and mirth: Beauty, and grace, and chivalry, and worth, Wait on the Queen of Arts, in her own bowers, Perfumed with all the fragrance of the earth, From blooming shrubbery, and radiant flowers; And hope with rapture wed life's calm and peaceful hours. Oft as the spring wakes on the verdant year, And nature glows in fervid beauty dressed, The loves and graces shall commingle here, To charm the queenly City of the West; Her stately youth, with noble warmth impressed, Her graceful daughters, smiling as the May-- Apollos these, and Hebes those confessed-- Bloom in her warm and fertilizing ray, While round their happy sires the cherub infants play. So sings the Muse, as she, with fancy's eye, Scans, from imagination's lofty height, Thy radiant beaming day--where it doth lie In the deep future; glowing on the night From whose dark womb empires unveiled to light: Mantled and diademed, and sceptred there, Thou waitest but the advent of thy flight, When, like a royal Queen, stately and fair, The City of the West ascends the regal chair.
Read more at http://www.blackcatpoems.com/m/to_cincinnati.html#E0XduxryleBWFs7M.99
To Cincinnati by: Edward A. M'Laughlin (1798-?) City of gardens, verdant parks, sweet bowers; Blooming upon thy bosom, bright and fair, Wet with the dews of spring, and summer's showers, And fanned by every breath of wandering air; Rustling the foliage of thy green groves, where The bluebird's matin wakes the smiling morn, And sparkling humming-birds of plumage rare, With tuneful pinions on the zephyrs borne, Disport the flowers among, and glitter and adorn: Fair is thy seat, in soft recumbent rest Beneath the grove-clad hills; whence morning wings The gentle breezes of the fragrant west, That kiss the surface of a thousand springs: Nature, her many-colored mantle flings Around thee, and adorns thee as a bride; While polished Art his gorgeous tribute brings, And dome and spire ascending far and wide, Their pointed shadows dip in thy Ohio's tide. So fair in infancy--oh, what shall be Thy blooming prime, expanding like the rose In fragrant beauty; when a century Hath passed upon thy birth, and time bestows The largess of a world, that freely throws Her various tribute from remotest shores, To enrich the Western Rome: here shall repose Science and art; and from time's subtile ores-- Nature's unfolded page--knowledge enrich her stores. Talent and Genius to thy feet shall bring Their brilliant offerings of immortal birth; Display the secrets of Pieria's spring, Castalia's fount of melody and mirth: Beauty, and grace, and chivalry, and worth, Wait on the Queen of Arts, in her own bowers, Perfumed with all the fragrance of the earth, From blooming shrubbery, and radiant flowers; And hope with rapture wed life's calm and peaceful hours. Oft as the spring wakes on the verdant year, And nature glows in fervid beauty dressed, The loves and graces shall commingle here, To charm the queenly City of the West; Her stately youth, with noble warmth impressed, Her graceful daughters, smiling as the May-- Apollos these, and Hebes those confessed-- Bloom in her warm and fertilizing ray, While round their happy sires the cherub infants play. So sings the Muse, as she, with fancy's eye, Scans, from imagination's lofty height, Thy radiant beaming day--where it doth lie In the deep future; glowing on the night From whose dark womb empires unveiled to light: Mantled and diademed, and sceptred there, Thou waitest but the advent of thy flight, When, like a royal Queen, stately and fair, The City of the West ascends the regal chair.
Read more at http://www.blackcatpoems.com/m/to_cincinnati.html#E0XduxryleBWFs7M.99

30 August 2013

A Thing Shall Be Made






Brother Architect and I have a by Shaun Tan, one of my very favorite authors. Both book and movie are titled The Lost Thing.


 "Saying hello" - acrylic, oils, collage.


Architect is also one of the key World Builders and Makers behind the wonderful, wonderful Wizarding Event that took place two summers ago.  It was a single-day, live action, role-playing theater improv event based on the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling.  The event took 6.5 months to prepare. The day itself was couched as the New Student Orientation Day at a wizarding school that echoed the Hogwarts of the books.  Nineteen very lucky children were the invitees.  I've been nattering about various aspects of the creative makings of that time on this blog.


"A dark little gap off some anonymous little street” - acrylic, oils, collage.


Well now, beloved Architect is once again scheming.  A grand machine-like thing he wants to build.  Sort of Steampunkish, sort of SciFi.  Knowing my tendency (indeed it is a family trait which, happily, my beloved Spousal Unit shares) to collect interesting things, he as asked me to look for things to make a thing

At this point only Architect knows what it shall look like. The basic notion is in his mind.  How it ends up will be a matter of what things can be found. 

So I went through my workroom stash and sent him photos of some of the things I had for him.  
 






And he recently sent me a pic of interesting things he's found.





I keep in mind that two years ago he envisioned, and then built (using entirely found objects and materials) a 7-foot Cabinet of Memories based on these single cast-off mahogany drawer pieces from a 100+ year old treadle sewing machine.  



 
So I've asked him if I can share the tale of the Grand Thing's Making and he agreed.  So now and then, here and there, I will post images and natterings about the thing being made.


25 August 2013

A Roar of Chalk




If there be such a thing as past lives, then I am pretty sure I must have been a cave/rock-painting artist at some time.  There is something about a vast stretch of space -- wall, street, or really large paper -- that calls out to me with a kind of intensity that always surprises.


From The Google


Beloved Spousal Unit and I live not quite half a mile from one of Milwaukee's lovely boulevards. 
A boulevard (French, from Dutch: Bolwerk – bolwark, meaning bastion), often abbreviated Blvd, is type of large road, usually running through a city. In modern American usage it often means a wide, multi-lane arterial thoroughfare, divided with a median down the centre, and perhaps with roadways along each side designed as slow travel and parking lanes and for bicycle and pedestrian usage, often with an above-average quality of landscaping and scenery. [From the Wikipedia]

Once a year the neighborhood association puts on the Boulevard Bash. Several blocks of the street are blocked off.  Tables and chairs are put out, small music stages are set up, and food and craft vendors are strategically placed along the boulevard.




And there is always a swath of pavement left open for people -- usually kids -- to do chalk drawing.




My Beloved and I walked down to The Bash a little later in the afternoon.  Most of the pavement had been drawn upon, but there was one nice, large area that was open.  Ooooh!  I just had to draw something!  There weren't too many kids around. (I try to make sure kids always have first dibs in cases like these.) But as soon as I started to draw, a little passel of wee ones immediately came in close to watch.




Kids: What is she making? (Love that third person approach, when I am standing about 3 feet away.)


Me: See if you can guess!

Kids:  An eagle? 




Kids:  Is it a hippo?




 Kids:  A snake?


 


Kids:  IT'S A DINOSAUR!!!!





One little boy said, a slight tremor in his voice, "But Barney doesn't have sharp teeth."  "You're right," I said, "But this isn't Barney. It's just a T-Rex."  That seemed to be okay with him. 


                      Barney image source/credit


Once the big therapod was finished, they kids walked around it and on it for a few moments . . . . and then wandered off to find something else to entertain, leaving the dino to bask in the fading daylight. 









Postscript:  Sidewalk chalk is fun, but it can be pricey.  




Fortunately, it is rather easy (if a bit messy!) to make your own. If you are interested, check out this Public Broadcasting System's Crafts for Kids page





__________________________________ 

NOTE: The black/white images of the eagle, hippo, and snake are from the Florida Center for Instructional Technology. ClipArt ETC online resource.



05 August 2013

Typewriting, for History and for a Veteran




Beloved Spousal Unit and I had dinner at Turner Hall last night.  It's located not too far from the Wisconsin Athletic Hall of Fame and the Journal Communications Building, home of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. And on the corner of 4th and State Street is this sign.




For folks who think of the Midwest as flyover country, pray do keep in mind Mr. Sholes' contribution to the world of word-making (and business).




Speaking of people who "materially aided in the world's progress", a certain Milwaukee World War II veteran will soon be the new owner of a 1931 Underwood Portable that, up until this last Friday, was part of my collection. The gentleman's daughter contacted me after seeing the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article about me and my machines.  

Her father used this very model in his youth and, with his 90th birthday coming up this Fall, she wanted something to unique to honor him. It's rather perfect in my mind.  I bought this machine in Wausau, WI.  Not just because it was old (I have an older Corona 4.), but because MY Dad used an Underwood and it's the make of machine I first typed on when I was a kid.

For all that, this one never quite felt like it was mine. So when the lady made an offer, it seemed like the right thing to do. Dad to Dad and all.  She's going to have the machine refurbished and has promised to send me pictures of it and her Dad as well as his entire story after she gives it to him this coming November.  Something tells me that is going to be one mighty fine post I'll be sharing with you then!






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