David McCullough’s ode to slow (and a tribute to the typewriter)

There was a time when the typewriter was distrusted as being too modern. Typewritten letters requesting reservations were rejected by hotel clerks as ridiculous—the way email was rejected as inadequate for the same task 15 years ago. And how could one possibly compose literature on those clunky, clanky machines? Writers penned their compositions; this served well enough for Shakespeare, after all.

But early adopters in the 1920s and 30s, the kinds of people who today might revel in iPhone apps and Twitter, bought typewriters, including small portable ones that fit into tough little black suitcases and traveled to Africa and war fronts and summer cottages, where American literature was revolutionized by the keystroke rather than the stroke of the pen.

The sound of typewriters—the tappety-tap and the tiny bell signaling need for a carriage return— became part of America’s soundscape in offices and late-night garrets.

Ironically, the new machine imposed its own rituals and pacing that turned out to be marvelously compatible with good writing. And the machine was taken in lovingly by writers, much as doctors took to their stethoscopes, and judges their gavels.

So woven into American literary popular culture was the typewriter—in a publicity photo of Hemingway, in George Peppard’s poignantly missing ribbon in Breakfast at Tiffany’s—we wanted to pay our own Levenger tribute to the now quaint but transforming technology.

What better way to salute the typewriter than to reproduce the iconic machine still used by a beloved historian who demonstrated just how well the machine could perform?

I’ve asked Levenger Press editor Mim Harrison to tell the story that came from our idea to reproduce, in bookend form, the typewriter of David McCullough.

—Steve

“I don’t want to go faster,” writes David McCullough. “If anything, I probably ought to go more slowly.”

The two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning author (Truman, John Adams) and recipient of a lifetime achievement award from the National Book Foundation may be talking about the way he types, but David McCullough is revealing how he thinks.

“When rewriting, I’m not just typing it all over again, I’m thinking through it again, rethinking, rewording where need be, saying it a little differently on second thought.”

And David McCullough is not typing on a computer. He’s using the pre-digital dinosaur that requires a considerable force of those digits called fingers: the typewriter. Not even a zippy electric version, but a 1940s vintage Royal manual typewriter that he bought second-hand in the 1960s.

So if you want to know how it is that David McCullough’s books always hit the New York Times bestseller lists, capture Pulitzers, and have never gone out of print, it just may be this old machine.

The mind of the machine

When Mr. McCullough graciously agreed to let us reproduce his typewriter as a bookend, we thought the story would be about the machine. But the real story is how an accomplished mind works—not at the speed of a computer, but at a pace that’s thoughtful, deliberate, contemplative. The machine helps set the pace.

And so you have to wonder: What would happen if we all slowed our thinking down a bit, if we dialed it back to the point where we were actually thinking rather than scrolling and texting, and cutting and pasting? Would we all trade in our laptops/notebooks/smart phones for a typewriter?

Probably not. But it would do us good to remember that machines are supposed to make our lives better, not faster. Perhaps we should unplug just a little before we become undone. Such decompression is why we think so many Levenger customers savor the pensive pause of the fountain pen (which David McCullough also uses).

In fact, Thomas Mallon, who just wrote a book on the letters famous people have written through the centuries, maintains that pens and typewriters have more in common than do typewriters and computers. Typewriting reveals its own quirks of the writer, much like penwriting. Computers can make us all look the same.

Here’s how David McCullough looks on his typewriter; he takes the typed sheets and edits them by hand (click on each image to get the larger view):

These sheets are Mr. McCullough’s original drafts for the ode to his typewriter he wrote to accompany the bookend. Isn’t it nice to know that even the great ones revise?

Another writer, Carl Honore, realized the value of slow when he found himself contemplating 60-second bedtime stories to read to his toddler. He caught himself in time. “The secret is balance: instead of doing everything faster, do everything at the right speed,” he advises.

For David McCullough, that means typing “at a pretty good clip,” as he says. And then typing it again, because what he’s really doing is thinking about it some more.

 He and his typewriter are, in fact, currently at work on his new book about Americans in Paris. What do you want to bet that as soon as it’s published, that slowly written book will hit the New York Times bestseller list in no time flat.

—Mim

The typewriter lives on

On my new laptop computer, printed on the same “enter” key under my right pinky is another word below it and larger. The word is “return.” It makes me smile.

And so we are happy to return, with this iconic bookend sculpture, to the days when putting a sheet into the roller was as common as pouring a cup of coffee.

And if you, like many of us at Levenger, can’t get enough of David McCullough, be sure to read our exclusive interview with him. It’s where he reveals, for the first time, whom he’d most like to write his own story.

Now how about you, dear reader: have you tried a slower pace for better thinking? I’d love to hear what worked for you. Just click on the Comments link below. (If you’re reading this as an email, click here and you'll connect to Comments).

—Steve

Comments

[maxine bleiweis]

The public library in Westport, CT, recently held a scavenger hunt. Teams signed up, received clues and scurried all over the library, discovering new areas. The surprise discovery was the typewriter. One of the organizers, posted in a strategic location to help any frustrated clue-seekers, heard a group of young boys say, "I wonder what this is. Do you think it's safe to touch it?" They were circled around an IBM Selectric typewriter tucked away in a corner for that occasional need. It was a rare find for them on their library hunt/archeological dig. The next time it will be an official clue!

p.s. the winners of the scavenger hunt received gift certificates from Levenger's!

[Mike Henderson]

I was fortunate to begin a newspaper career in New Orleans while typewriters still clattered in the newsroom. A few green eyeshades and porcelain cuspidors remained, but like typewriters, would soon be relics.
A few years later, I found a vintage Royal at a Walgreens drug store going out of business. I bought the machine, had it refurbished, and it remains a thing of beauty. It looks just like the one you're reproducing, with a few exceptions: Built into the roller is a little brass clip that holds medicine-bottle labels in place as they're typed; it has a key my computer lacks, Rx; and a custom Walgreens plaque is built into it.
Today, when I write on a computer, I make a printout and edit with pencil or pen before rewriting. I suppose there's something comforting and personal -- joining mental with tactile --- in making revisions on something you can hold in your hand.
At home, I used that typewriter for many years. I still write, but my revered old Royal is retired to a place of honor on a shelf. It has outlasted several computers and, if needed, can still answer a call to action.

[Steve Leveen]

Two wonderful posts! Don't we have a duty, Maxine and Mike, to keep the memory of those beloved old machines alive? Thanks for sharing your wonderful stories.

Steve

[Luise]

You ask, "Isn’t it nice to know that even the great ones revise?" I think that *only* the great ones revise.

[Paul Lagasse]

There is a small but growing number of people who blog with typrewriters! The technique is called "typecasting" and the people who practice it have been doing some very creative things with their typewriters and demonstrating that this venerable technology still has a role to play in the 21st century.

The best place to start is the list of typecasters on Richard Polt's essential reference site, the Classic Typewriter Page (http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/tw-links.html), and scroll down to "Typecasting." Enjoy!

[Steve Leveen]

What a delightful site for old typewriters and their history! Thanks for sharing, Paul. Steve (I'm going to Tweet it now...)

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Very interesting stories about old machines and those who used such machines this would freshen their memories and experience of using it. Still some people use it, Thanks for sharing this.
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[Refurbish Dell PC]

I really liked your blog quite informative and interesting facts and figures you have discussed on your blog even the comments are very fruitful and helpful in enhancing the knowledge regarding the topic.

[Brian Colgate]

I still have an old Smith-Corona portable, but the only thing I use if for these days is typing cheques [checks in the USA]! However, it's nice to know it's still there and working well, should I need to write something when the power goes out ...

[Seo company in Lincoln]

I bought the machine, had it refurbished, and it remains a thing of beauty. It looks just like the one you're reproducing, with a few exceptions: Built into the roller is a little brass clip that holds medicine-bottle labels in place as they're typed; it has a key my computer lacks, Rx; and a custom Walgreens plaque is built into it.

[Tim Mundorff]

I love my KMM. It really doesn't take that much more effort to work the keys. What I love about the typewriter is that it can do nothing else but take down your thoughts...and it will never hand out your credit card numbers in the background.

[Sharon King]

My husband recently found an old Smith Corona Electric typewriter in a thrift store for $5. I had been looking for a typewriter for awhile to write my short stories and poems and was very excited to get it. I'm glad there are still writers who use the typewriter. It is faster to use a laptop or computer, but there is something about the click, click of the keys and that little bell that rings to signal the end of a line.