Deer In Headlines II
By Gery Deer

You may not believe it, but I’m writing this week’s edition of “Deer In Headlines” on an antique manual typewriter. Remember the typewriter? The truth is, I just bought this machine a few days ago at TB Writers Plus, a startup typewriter shop in Dayton, Ohio.

(Check out the Bonus Video and the Deer In Headlines Podcast episode that accompanies this piece!)

I have three manuals, but this is a sleek 1945 Smith-Corona Clipper, matte black, with a textured chassis and gold-lettered, enameled keys. It sounds like I’m describing a classic car, doesn’t it? That’s exactly how some people see it.

Your next question is obvious, and I’ve heard it a dozen times already – why? I’m a technically savvy person with a significant digital presence. So why would I sit down to write on an old typewriter? That’s a great question. I’ll try to answer as we go. Let me first say I’m not alone.

Over the last twenty years or so, interest in typewriters has been on the rise. That sharp, rhythmic clickety-clack has charmed a whole new generation of writers, collectors, and nostalgics. It’s commonly known that actor, author, and director Tom Hanks is a long-time typewriter collector. Whole communities of typewriter enthusiasts share photos and samples from their beloved machines online and in person.

Many attend type-ins, where people gather at typewriter shops, homes, libraries, or anywhere else to, well, type. I often refer to them as cruise-ins for typewriter enthusiasts. There’s even an activity called type-casting, where you create something on a typewriter, scan it as an image, and post it online. (Learn more about the so-called “Typewriter Insurgency” here.)

As a Gen Xer who hit high school during the 1980s, modern office tech was still coming of age. We barely had reliable copy machines. Most schools and businesses had a mix of PCs and typewriters (mostly electric), so I learned both almost simultaneously. I’m comfortable with either.

I bought my first manual typewriter while I was in college, mostly for its portability. A good bit of my earliest writing was done on that machine. It was—or rather is—a 1964 Royal Safari, light blue with off-white keys and accents. It still sounds like I’m describing a ‘57 Chevy. And yes, I still have it.

Aside from nostalgia and mechanical admiration, I think digital overstimulation may have contributed to some people’s leaving the computer behind. I can relate. I’m so immersed in the continuous urgency of the digital environment that I just want—no, need—the quiet of the old ways.

I know the typewriter can be noisy, but I wasn’t referring to “quiet” in that sense. When those keys snap against the paper, I am fully engaged and undistracted from my writing. The slower pace allows me to choose my words more carefully, and there are no pop-ups, email messages, or social media nonsense. It’s kind of freeing.

I’ve also heard some people turn to the typewriter out of paranoia. Privacy has become a real concern in the digital world, and viruses can’t infiltrate typewriters, nor can your printed pages be hacked. You’re most definitely off-grid. But there’s a price to pay for that: time.

You will probably still have to transfer whatever you type into a digital file. Since my column is delivered to the publisher electronically, what you’re reading now was scanned and cleaned up in digital form before being emailed to my editor. All told, it probably added an extra two hours to my process. Plus, I can’t type as fast on a manual as I can on a laptop – yet. That said, I highly recommend hand-strengthening exercises.

There is also something to be said for durability and workmanship. These machines were built to last. This old Clipper, made at the end of World War II, was clearly well-cared for and properly serviced by its last seller. It still works beautifully. How many laptops make it even five years, let alone 80? None.

Unfortunately, however, unless some manufacturer starts cranking out new parts or whole typewriters, once the remaining machines are used up, they’re gone. That really will be the end of an era. No backspace, no return. Just silence.

Until then, you’ll find this reporter parked behind my Safari or the old Clipper, banging out the next great works by Yours Truly.

(See the gallery for photos of the typewriters mentioned in this piece and more.)