My youngest just graduated from high school (12th yr for those not on my island). I think he has received on of the coolest gifts ever…
An Underwood Model S in excellent working condition w/ serial traced to 1942 manufacture date. Kid has been working to type letter to his friends since he got it home and unpacked. I have to admit that the noise is both refreshing and slightly annoying.
All he needs now is a real fountain pen…
Nice graduation gift! 8)
Reminds me of similar model my mother had when I was a kid. Sadly I don’t recall the manufacturer, but photos of the Remington #12 look very much like my memories of it. I loved that thing, but preferred to use my father’s 1960’s era portable* when I could (typing school assignments was much more fun than writing them long-hand).
When the lad finally earns his fountain pen, make sure it’s not one of the ones with a bladder that is filled by a lever on the side. While the pens are very cool, the temptation to use the lever to squirt ink out of the nib like a permanently staining water pistol is strong. Further, if you unscrew the pen while the lever is open it pierces the bladder—destroying the pen—and the ink goes everywhere. I… uhh… knew someone at school who might have been downgraded back to pencils for a while due to their excessive curiosity regarding such a pen. 
[size=75]*I know it was portable because it came with its own suitcase and it didn’t require 3 people to move it! 
[/size]
… and one of these … natch! 
Tell Josh congrats from Vic and Ange.
Best to rest of ‘A’ Team
vic
And here’s the fountain pen I find goes well the Moleskine Vic posted. 
I always have the two to hand… not Vic’s actual one. Peeking at that it seemed to be full of addresses of sordid establishments.
I suspect any paper formerly used by vic-k to be … sordid. 
The kid seems to appreciate the “old things” as long as said old thing is not a relative.
I will say that “touch typing” on this thing requires a bit more touch. I think a 6oz hammer would make it work right. You can definitely see when you are on a less strong finger. There’s also a rhythm that you have to get into. I’m terrible for key jambs. Good thing I’m not planning to do much other than display it until he is on his own.
Apropos. ^ .
The obfuscatory, residential cranial swirling mists (the efficacy of which is much enhance by six weeks absorption of nine differing types and strengths of antibiotics), does inhibit somewhat, the composition/structuring of sentences efficiently interrogative enough to render unto one, sufficient salient facts and data, upon which to base a reasonably coherent thesis, as, for example:
After looking up images of an Underwood Model S, and posting the previous post, I was left with an irritating conviction that we did, or had at one time in the near past, possessed one of those beasts. For confirmation, I turned to my constant source of inspiration and enlightenment … my beloved.
“Darling.”
“Wot!?”
“Am I going silly, or…?” here I paused, attempting to scythe a path through the cranial miasma in search of pertinent wordage … silly, I know.
“Why d’ y’ ask such questions, when you already know the soddin’ answers?! Of course y’re goin’ silly! At your age, wot d’y’ expect? That, and the reading of all those weird books y’ve got stacked up all over and around that shit-tip of a front room, that you keep referring to as the Palace of Culture.”
“Light of my life, dearest beloved, I’m seeking guidance. I …”
“Aaaat last! After all these years, the penny’s finally dropped. In that case, go ask Kath next door, her nephew is up for a wedding. He’s a behavioural psychologist, and he works at Broadmoor mental hospital for the criminally insane. I’m sure he’ll be able t’ point y’ in the right direction.”
“Oh jewel of the firmament, I jest not.”
“Neither do I.” She gave me a stare designed to dispel any doubts of the lingering variety I could’ve been harbouring.
“My Aphrodite, please tell me, have we at any time twixt now and a few years past, been in possession of a big cast iron typewriter, the size of, if not bigger than the wooden bread bin on the kitchen worktop … possibly housed in the loft somewhere?”
“That thing? It’s our Myra’s”
So you see my friends, Robert the Bruce was right, persistence can yield a result.
independent.co.uk/news/uk/th … 67261.html
After a minute or two of deep breathing exercises, and a couple of squirts/sucks of my Ventolin Inhaler, I ventured forth, up to the loft.
Not given to exaggeration, or being prone to self-promotion, I can say in all modesty, that I entered the loft, sheathed in a sense of achievement.
My quarry, according to my wife, occupied a corner of the loft. Having learn’t from earlier, bitter experiences, I thought it best not to enquire too vociferously as to exactly which corner she was referring to, I mean, after all, there are only four of them.
The loft resembled a Local Council Refuse dump. In each corner, the most cursory of inspections, revealed what appeared to resembled those rock falls that you see pictures of, that partially block mountain roads. Broad at the base, tapering to virtually nought at the top.
Donning my metaphorical HAW hat, I decided to tackle the nearest conglomeration of boxes, bags, and various items both largish and small. The correct choice of rubble pile. Before too long I’d unearthed what turned out to be, not a Underwood Model S, but one of these 
a Royal of similar vintage to Joshua’s Model S.
It’s rather apposite that the Royal resides in the loft, since some four years ago, for a short time, so too did the 14 yr. old Josh.
Unfortunately, unlike Joshua’s Underwood, to restore the Royal to a reasonable working condition, would require soaking in a tub of WD40, and the expenditure of a considerable number of shekels … methinks.
Anyway Josh, Happy typing.
The age of “big iron” when real iron was involved.
J and I were looking at the monster and marveling at the minds that put these things together. As a single unit everything is simple. As a whole… I feel dumb. Very dumb.
I wonder what is the cost of making one of these behemoths operational. While the tech is simple, the patience and attention span needed to execute the tasks seems to exceed levels attained by the current generations.
Way cool! Sadly I learned to type in the dawn of the era when electric typerwriters were the rage and word processors were just beginning. (Yes, with the aforementioned blue background and white text. Or black background and glowy green text, more commonly.)
Do they still manufacture ribbons for said typewriter?
the interwebulations say that he can just used a dot matrix ribbon BUT will loose the “auto rewind” feature. There are a lot of places that I haven’t looked yet.
Interestingly this particular S series supports a 3 color ribbon. I’m pretty sure we would only look for for black and red.
And for the record, a number of letters have been sent from the beast. Kid is really using it. I’m very thrilled that he has an appreciation for the old school even if it is based a bit on novelty.
Numpt,
Why don’t y’ get Joshua to type 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’, so we can see what kind of a job it’s doing? Obviously, you’ll have to photo the page and post it in the thread.
Then introduce him to the scroll version of On The Road
mytypewriter.com/authors/featured/kerouac.html
Vic