In truth, he was ugly. He looked like a shoe. I was surprised to find him sitting there, looking back at me from 20 miles away through my computer screen. His price point was higher than than I was accustomed to spending on his predecessors (two of which were free!), but not nearly as high as I expected given one of his unique qualities.
No sooner had I settled in with Maggie and Ollie last January than I turned to Benjamin and announced that I’d be needing to add a scripted font machine to our typewriter family. He wasn’t at all surprised. I’ve been keeping my eyes on the lookout ever since.
Script machines are harder to come by and therefore command higher prices - prices I couldn’t ever imagine myself spending. So when I saw this late-70s shoe machine listed locally for less than I expected, it gave me hope that I’d find the right one someday without selling off my spleen to afford it.
I routinely scan the online typewriter market to keep up with what’s going on, and this ‘shoe’ just kept sitting there. It wasn’t a brand I’d come across in my research yet, I couldn’t get over how tragically ugly it was, and I certainly couldn’t abide that it’s housing and case were made of plastic. Such a far cry from the gorgeous glass keyed elegance of Maggie, or the solid, weighty stance of Ollie, or the cheerful blue countenance of Webby!
But every time I went through my online perusal routine, there he sat, untouched. Almost a month had passed since he’d been posted and no one had bitten (probably bc he looked like a shoe). Finally my curiosity was piqued a little - just enough to see what other scriptwriters were available in the current market. There are many typeface variances from one typewriter to another and some are lovelier than others. But I discovered that an extra consideration when comparing script fonts is to ensure that the font is aligned properly so that the letters actually appear to join together as they should! The shoe had it, and his competitor didn’t. In fact there was very little about the shoe’s particular font styling that I was unsure about. The more I examined it, the more it seemed to be a really solid script styling.
Deciding that the realized dream of a useable script typeface was more important than outward appearance (so long as the inner mechanics were sound) I considered how much I was willing to pay to make room in my small studio space for the Shoe. I sent off an offer that was enough below the asking price that I felt grateful for an affordable entry-level script machine but not so low as to insult the seller. To my great delight he accepted (!), we made arrangements to meet, and after getting the approval from my personal technician (thanks, Benjamin!), we loaded up the shoe machine and brought him home.
Since my typewriter family has grown beyond the number of ribbons I have on hand, I pulled out Ollie’s ribbon to give the new arrival his test run (I admit it felt like a sort of betrayal, ripping out the voice box of a cherished heirloom and my oldest typewriter friend - for a typewriter has no voice without its ribbon - but, Ollie’s been awaiting a tuneup, so he’s been out of rotation. Still though, it was especially weird for me because it was going to the shoe, whom I do not love - more on that later).
My initial impressions of the shoe were mixed. On the one hand, I learned from the seller that he’s German-made - they are well known for their quality craftsmanship in typewriters. So I believe his guts to be good. His carriage is as smooth as butter. Seriously, I’ve never felt a smoother glide on a carriage. I also learned from the seller that the plastic construction was a modern-for-its-time evolution to reduce the weight of portables, and I have to say, this isn’t a cheap plastic. I never thought a plastic machine could impress me (and I will still forever prefer metal), but the feel of his body and case is solid, well-implemented, and should last well into future decades.
On the other hand, he’s terribly uncomfortable to type on. If I’d gotten him to use as a daily machine for long-form writing I would be very disappointed. The keys require such a heavy pounding that standard hand-posture is impossible and I had to use the hunt and peck method so I could really put some power behind my pointer fingers. Also, he looks like a shoe, but then I already knew that going into it!
What it all boils down to is that I’ve added a scriptwriter to my family at a reasonable cost and I couldn’t be more happy about that! Some preliminary online research speaks highly of this model, even specifically referencing its ease of typability, so I’m hoping that although his guts look great to the naked eye that a tuneup from Benjamin might help restore some ease of motion? Even if he’s this way forever, it’s no matter. He’s typeable with my modified approach (which I’m still fairly quick at, although it is more slow-going than the typical typing form) and I have others I can use for long-form typing. He will provide script font when it is called for and do it quite capably!
In summary, here’s what’s so fascinating to me about my experience with the shoe... It took the shoe to help me better understand my relationship with the other typewriters in my little family. I now see how my relationship with the others is akin to a romance. They are pure loveliness, light, and joy to me. I feel starry-eyed and effervescent just thinking about them. Typing on them is a joy even though they each have several eccentricities in need of tune-up (two of them haven’t been refurbished at all yet and Ollie needs a tune-up) - keys stick or a platen skips and won’t roll properly, but it’s all part of my relationship with them. I’m just in love.
Sometimes I fall in love with a typewriter that I don’t need that costs too much (for when I don’t need it, I can’t justify spending much at all on one). I may get a little lovesick for it and think about it for a few days, wondering if it’s alright, and if and when it will find a home - hoping it goes to a good one. These are all typewriter romances... from thrift store flings that I like flirting with but don’t bring home, to long term commitments to my family at home with all their quirks.
With the shoe it was different. There was no love at first sight. Until the shoe, I didn’t know that I could bring a typewriter into my life that I didn’t love. With the shoe it feels more like a partnership. It’s a professional relationship. We each bring things to the relationship: my creativity, his unique performance, and that’s it. It’s a relationship based on exchange. I provide a home and tune-ups for him because that helps him provide creative opportunity for me. He brings me script-font opportunities and I make sure he stays healthy and happy. It feels like a mutually beneficial partnership based in respect. For I do respect his craftsmanship and capabilities even if we disagree on design aesthetic!
So because I am filled with respect and gratitude for him, and because I’ve invited him into my family, I knew I had to stop calling him the Shoe and would need to give him a proper name. Adler is his manufacturer and I have to say it suits him, so Adler it is.
Welcome to the family, Adler. Thanks for teaching me things about myself and expanding my typewriter knowledge. Most of all, thanks for being a scriptwriter! I can’t wait to collaborate together - I already have some ideas!