Paul Schweizer was the last typewriter repairman in the United States. In his lifetime, he excitedly witnessed how the typewriter went from a "new tech favorite" to "a necessity for every office", and witnessed the whole process of the necessities becoming "antiques" and "movie props". At worst, the typewriters that had been sent for repair were rusting in the basement because of the dust, "as soon as you opened it, many little bugs started crawling out of it." ”
E.B. White says New York is a city you'll never be able to catch up with. Paul Schweizer knows this better than many. 58 years have passed since he started as an "it-trickster" at the age of 18, and now he refuses to use computers, iPhones, credit cards — all the technological inventions behind the typewriter — and tells his son, who is playing with computers, "Your computer will soon be obsolete." And when he was still willing to pay more for his profession and still dreamed of a new revival of the typewriter industry, the world's last typewriter went offline.
On a cold winter afternoon, Paul Schweizer was working in his studio to fix a black old-fashioned underwood typewriter with glasses on and his eyebrows furrowed. Behind him lay a string of keys, steel fittings, a trunk and several lockers containing rollers, levers, and a bunch of instruments.
Standing to Schweitzer's right is his son Justin, who is repairing an IBM typewriter. The smell of ink and lubricant wafted through the air, and only the occasional sound of a telephone and the sound of testing machinery would interrupt their attention.
It turned out that Mr. Shi Weize often carried a black leather bag, dragged his tired body, and knocked on the door door to ask customers about their needs in the early morning. Back in the Great Depression, Schweitzer's grammar typewriter company had a loyal customer base.
Mr. Schweitzer, 76, is often seen as an antique, needing to repair nearly 20 typewriters a week, and whenever he sees those old typewriters come back to life, he rejoices from the bottom of his heart, some of which have been used in movies or TV shows, and have brought a lot of joy to the era in which he lived. Schweitzer has a fixed group of clients, including some celebrities, and tom Hanks, a typewriter enthusiast, is his loyal clientele.
If New York, as E. B. White put it, "is a city you'll never be able to catch up with." "Then maybe no one knows it better than Schweitzer. Because he is considered the last typewriter repairman in the country, he refuses to use computers, iPhones and other technological products, and he cannot even use credit cards at his place of work. He may have wanted to fight something in such a way, as if the language he spoke was fading, and he was saddened by the gradual demise of the typewriter.
"Fewer and fewer people are doing this." "A few years ago there were about six yellow pages of typewriters companies in Manhattan, but now, it's just us," he said. ”
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the jingle of typewriters changed from a solo to a symphony. They are also the tools of choice for professional writers and business elites, meeting their need for quick presentation. The popularity of typewriters has also invisibly provided opportunities for women who have been marginalized by society to enter the workplace, and has increased the speed of translating people's thoughts into black and white.
At the end of the 19th century, a shift key was added to the keyboard of the typewriter. This key can accurately convert many keys, allowing people to use two sets of letters at the same time. The shift key also laid the groundwork for the digital revolution and deepened the love of characters among hardcore typewriters fans.
Mr. Schweizer, along with his grammar typewriter Ltd, went through many of the reforms. In 1932, his father, Mr. Abraham, found what was considered a promising job during the Great Depression, and he began to learn about the typewriter industry at the age of eighteen, and then established himself.
"He's always busy." Mr. Schweizer said of his father. "Back then, when you look around New York City, almost every office had a typewriter."
At the age of five, Schweitzer often spent the night with his father at his home at workbench repairing machines, watching how his father made the ribbons of the printer in the basement. By the time he was ten years old, he had been able to break up the small machine pieces and reassemble them back, which gave Schweizer a sense of accomplishment for the first time and was inspired by it. After that, he began to roll his own ribbons and remove the covers himself. In 1959, he officially joined his father's business.
In the first few decades of Abraham's career, he lived mainly on monthly contracts, going to the office every day to clean the keys of the typewriter, change the ribbons, and do simple repair work. Over time, traditional typewriters were gradually replaced by electronic typewriters, and monthly contracts gradually became quarterly contracts, but later these all almost disappeared.
Today, typewriters are still used in specific text format printing by companies such as the accounting industry, law firms, and some government agencies. Schweitzer still gets a lot of people who need repairs — they want to fix the typewriters that have been dusty in the basement for a long time. Mr. Schweizer not only repaired the typewriter, but also restored and sold it. The typewriter in the studio was still shining, as new as if it had just been bought from the Hills shelf. Over the past five years, he said, typewriters have also proven to be quite attractive to younger consumers.
"They have iPhones, iPads, and computers," but they still want to have a typewriter, and if you want to stay focused, if you want to write what you're thinking, then the typewriter is still the best choice. Not to mention that you can also see the printed fonts in time, they will make you concentrate.
In the 1990s, with the promotion of printers, Schweitzer also expanded his repair business. Today, he estimates that half of his earnings come from printer repairs and half from typewriters, and nostalgia has opened up the market for typewriters. But Schweitzer has no passion for fixing computers. "It's just a matter of letting it people do it." He said bluntly.
Although there are still companies producing some components of typewriters, such as rubber rollers and drive belts, Schweizer can now produce themselves and provide some of the required components for themselves. He usually finds what he needs in the cabinet full of metal accessories, which are divided into metal keyboards, ink cartridges, plugs, and buckle gears. "I've kept the accessories in every place here. When people need to replace keys on typewriters or engine conveyor belts, they can be found in the drawers I have here. He said.
The biggest advantage of being the last person in the industry is that when competitors close down, Schweitzer naturally gets most of their business. He knows almost everything about the construction of typewriters. The worst-case scenario is to send a machine that has been shelved in the attic for many years, has long since corroded and rusted, "as soon as you open it, many small bugs begin to crawl out of it." "But when you fix them and take good care of them, the typewriter will be able to stay with you for the long years to come."
"The computer is always up to date," he said, looking at one of his son's computers in the corner. "Your computer will soon be obsolete." As soon as a new model is available, the printer may not be able to work with it. But the underwood typewriter, he pointed to a black translucent typewriter that belonged to James Joyce, said, "It's 100 years old, what computer can work for 100 years?" ”
For Schweitzer, the sense of accomplishment in the job also comes from trying to exceed the original expectations of customers, so that the elements that have disappeared in the typewriter are revived. Most of the customers found Mr. Schweitzer through word of mouth. He never printed business cards or advertisements for himself.
Behind him, his son Justin was still busy. "He was born for this, just like me." Schweizer said.
Justin, wearing an apron and some accessories in his hand, agreed with what his father had said. He then turned around and began repairing a wheelwriter, next to whom his father intently observed the underwood typewriter, which had been made in 1920. Sometimes Schweizer's grandchildren would come to the store, most of them 16-20 years old, but he never expected his grandchildren to take over the family's business.
"One day, fewer and fewer people will fix these things until you have to admit that it has reached the point of completely withdrawing from the stage of history." Even though laser printers are very popular now, one day they will be eliminated by the times, just like typewriters. "I'm sad that they can't last forever, but I think something else will come along and replace them better." After saying that, he turned around and went back to his workshop to continue the day's repair work.
Text/Mary Pilon Translation/Xie Ruohan Editor/Wei Ling