It all started while listening to the podcast Dead Eyes. In his podcast, the actor Connor Ratliff is trying to cope with losing a role in Band of Brothers years ago, because Tom Hanks thought he had dead eyes. Supposedly.
Last week I listened to episode 12 of the second season, and Connor ends it with the words:
Please tell your friends about this show. Especially if you are friends with Tom Hanks, whose appearance in the 2016 documentary, California Typewriter is probably one of the most delightful things I’ve seen all year long. It’s a film about typewriters and the people who love them. And even though Tom Hanks is only in the film for a few minutes, his enthusiasm for the subject is so infectious that it stays with you throughout the movie.
The film gets its title from a shop in Berkeley, that at the time of filming was struggling to stay open. It finally closed this year in March, unrelated to the pandemic, just the result of declining sales and the owner of the shop’s retirement plans, which makes some parts of the film a little bit sadder, seeing the effort they’re making to keep the shop going in the face of a culture that is changing. But that brings me back to Tom Hanks, who knows that typewriters are a relic of an era that has passed, but still sees the value and the beauty in celebrating what it means to type a letter on a physical typewriter today.
Right now, I am very interested in objects, and what they mean to us, and why, and what nostalgia really is. Obviously.
So come around date night, I suggested watching the typewriter documentary, which I was very excited about because my typing started with my dad’s old Optima years ago. I do remember it fondly. How my little fingers would get painfully stuck between the keys, or how the typebars of the letters next to each other would jam up on the page when you accidentally pressed more than one key at the same time, and you had to move them back with your fingers, getting ink on them. It was loud. But there was something profoundly powerful behind that sound. I had to put chutzpah in my fingertips to stamp my letters which formed into my words, which formed into my sentences on paper. For ever.
Anyhow, my husband wasn’t into it, and I ended up watching it by myself over a few days, whenever I could steal away the time. I loved it. This film was what I needed for inspiration and to feel warmth around my heart.
(On a side note, since Tom Hanks had evidently fallen hard for typewriters, they also appear in every short story of his book Uncommon Types. I actually bought a signed! copy of this book at a small library book sale last summer for only two dollars. It seems about time I read it.)
Naturally, I started looking up typewriters online. I really wanted to have my own machine now. I looked into Smith Coronas from the 60s and 70s, which look really nice, and were also quite promoted by the movie. All I needed was a working reliable typewriter. I found a very nice-looking one for sale on craigslist, but unfortunately, it was already sold. Yet, it turns out the seller used to be a typewriter mechanic for 25 years and lives in the area. He offered to keep an eye out for me and to check his remaining inventory. In the meantime, I also asked friends and colleagues. I just wanted a functional, sturdy machine, and there was no way on earth I could afford the astronomical prizes of online retailers.
I spent hours contemplating what the best typewriter for me would be until a sudden flash of genius hit me. I immediately searched for East German typewriters. And there she was: Erika! I found her on a website for used goods, sold by an inexperienced seller. She was grey or white – hard to tell from the picture -, made in the same country as me, probably around the same time as me, but she had an English keyboard, kind of like me. She was pretty affordable, looked like she had never been used, and would be shipped from the south of the US. I bought her. Didn’t even negotiate much.
While I waited, a friend bought a Smith Corona Super Sterling for me at the local Reuse store for only $30. It works fine. My son loves it. It does need some TLC, but I know a guy in the area now. He offered to show me how to take care of a typewriter, and could even refurbish it, if necessary.
Then Erika arrived. With UPS. Thank God! I was relieved because UPS treats the packages (and their employees) much better than FedEx, at least in our area. I had suppressed the urge to ask the seller to please make sure, she would be cushioned and bundled up for the transport. When I took her from the UPS driver’s arms, a cold shiver ran through me. Erika’s case had been put in a black trash bag, like a discarded corpse in the movies, nothing more. I opened her crib and of course, she was naked and broken inside. One hinge of the case had come undone and because her body is made out of plastic, one of the roller nobs was completely destroyed, next to other damages. I still don’t know, if her carriage works exactly how it is supposed to work.
While trying to figure out money returns and the like, I got her to type. And it was like magic. The thin plastic outside, and the bland, triste look, catapulted me back into the
East Germany of the 80s. But in a good way.
But that’s not where the magic came from. It came with using her. Even though Erika was made in 1989, probably right before the Wall fell, the keys felt like childhood. The gaps between the keys are just like the ones my fingers used to get stuck in. The sounds catapulted me back into my dad’s office. Where I would sit by myself waiting for my parents to finish work, having a conversation with his typewriters. Erika talked to me the same way. Actually, she sounded even more divine. Her bell sings lovely, and the carriage return felt heavenly accompanied by the ratchet of lines moving up.
It took me by surprise, and I realized that using an object, and feeling, and hearing it, takes nostalgia to a whole new universe. One of my favorite German words is „begreifen“, which means to understand, but actually contains the verb „grasp“ or „grab“.
Unfortunately, Erika did come to me broken, and it was either to keep her for the full price or return her. With a heavy heart, I chose the latter.
Today, I found another Erika. She currently lives in Germany and is yellow with a German keyboard, and an unusual font. I acquired her for much less, and this time, she is actually two years older than me, instead of then years younger. She will travel to my mom first, who is an expert in caring, and bundling, and protecting things for a safe journey. So it continues.
PS: I know, I should have typed this on a typewriter, but I am waiting for Erika…