100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: April 29, 1911-April 29, 2011 Given this is my 100th post, I decided to mark the occasion by devoting it, and the next few posts, to the Centenary of the Olivetti Typewriter. It was on April 29, 1911, that the first Olivetti typewriter was seen by the public for the first time – at the Turin World’s Fair, the Esposizione Internazionale delle Industrie e del Lavoro . (I realise I’m coming in a few days late on this, but the research took a little longer than expected.) Olivetti put two typewriters on display in the fair's Pavilion of the Newspaper. Elsewhere at the fair, Camillo Olivetti exhibited machine tools with which he had made the typewriters. “As an industrial technician,” the Olivetti official history ( Olivetti 1908-1958 ) says, "[Camillo] was perhaps prouder of demonstrating the ingenuity and modernity of his methods than of showing the public his finished product.”
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100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: April 29, 1911-April
29, 2011
Given this is my 100th post, I decided to mark the occasion by
devoting it, and the next few posts, to the Centenary of the Olivetti
Typewriter.
It was on April 29, 1911, that the first Olivetti typewriter was seen
by the public for the first time – at the Turin World’s Fair, the
Esposizione Internazionale delle Industrie e del Lavoro. (I realise I’m coming in a few days late on this, but the research took a little
longer than expected.)
Olivetti put two typewriters on display in the fair's Pavilion of the
Newspaper. Elsewhere at the fair, Camillo Olivetti exhibited machine
tools with which he had made the typewriters. “As an industrial
technician,” the Olivetti official history (Olivetti 1908-1958) says, "[Camillo] was perhaps prouder of demonstrating the ingenuity
and modernity of his methods than of showing the public his finished
product.”
The fair’s official catalogue listed Olivetti as, “the first and only
typewriter factory in Italy” and its product as “a typewriter of the
first class, patented by C.Olivetti (Italy, France, Germany, England,
Austria, Switzerland and the United States). Original design, legible
characters, standard keyboard, two-coloured ribbon, decimal tabulator,
back-space, multiple margin adjustment, modern workmanship, absolute
precision.”
The 1911 Turin fair opened on April 29 in the Parco del Valentino
and closed on November 19. Less than a month after the fair ended,
Olivetti won a competition to supply the Italian Ministry for the Navy
with 100 typewriters.
The typewriter company which was to ultimately outlast them all
had taken its first step toward assured success. And high quality
Olivettis remain very much in demand. Just tonight, a salmon pink
Lettera 22 portable sold on Australian eBay for $122.50, while a red
MP3 was listed for $199.
Just as the Chicago World’s Fair 18 years earlier (the Columbian
Exposition opened onthis day in 1893) had marked the birth of the
Blickensderfer 5, so the Turin fair introduced to the world the ICO
ADRIANO OLIVETTI: Eldest son of Camillo and Luisa, he succeeded
Camillo as company president in 1938. Born Ivrea, April 11, 1901; died
February 27, 1960, on a train trip from Milan to Lausanne.
100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: A Socialists' Utopia
On May 1, May Day – International Workers’ Day – it is entirely
appropriate that we should salute Camillo Olivetti for his pronounced,
lifelong socialist leanings. Camillo was not just, as Richard Polt
points out, a genius among typewriter manufacturers, he was also very
much a man of his word, ever true to his social and political beliefs.
The social welfare programs he introduced at Olivetti factories, which
were to be adopted and enhanced by his progressivist son Adriano,
when Adriano took over the company in 1938, are truly praiseworthy.
Olivetti was not just an industrial relations trendsetter – more to
the point, an example setter - in Italy, but internationally. Its
initiatives ranged from factory conditions, with a reduced working
week and above-average wages, to 9 1/2 months paid maternity leave
(almost unheard of at the time), family welfare and child care,
worker’s housing and recreation facilities. Olivetti factories were
unquestionably, in the company’s first half-century, the embodiments
of a socialist ideal of Utopia.
Camillo is described in Olivetti’s official history (Olivetti
1908-1958) as a man of “Jewish Old Testament piety and vision”, a man of “Messianic enthusiasm”. This was, apparently, “admirably
complemented” and “prudently tempered” by his wife’s (Luisa’s)
“rigorous Waldensian morality and her strict Gospel Christianity”.
In later life, Carmillo converted to the Unitarian faith, one which
teaches that reason, rational thought, science and philosophy co-
exist with faith in God, and that humans have the ability to exercise
free will in a responsible, constructive and ethical manner, with the
assistance of religion. Whatever else Camillo’s Jewish upbringing
might have taught him, a sense of fairness to all men was undoubtedly
imbued deep within him.
When one reads Consumers Union magazine reports of the industrial
conditions in American typewriter factories in the late 1930s, as
scanned in an earlier post on this blog, the extent to which Olivetti
stood out in terms of industrial relations becomes even more apparent.
While the reports praise the conditions at the Hermes factory in
Switzerland, they condemn strike-breaking practises and employer
intransigence at the Remington factory in the US, and find Underwood
merely satisfactory. Comparing, in particular, Camillo Olivetti with
James H.Rand, president of Remington Rand, a man described by an
industrial trial examiner as “exhibiting a callous, imperturbable
disregard of the rights of its employees that is medieval in its
assumption of power over the lives of men and shocking in its concept
of the modern industrial worker,” is like putting a god beside the
devil himself.
Such was Camillo’s close relationship with his workforce, he even took
part in Ivrea May Day marches with them. Olivetti’s history records
that Camillo’s “interest in every detail of production and sales was
complemented by his personal relations with each of his employees.
He knew the work and he knew the men, who respected him for his
experience and skill. Camillo’s intimacy with his workmen was unusual
for Italy, but the men found it only natural for him to join their
celebrations on May Day.”
In his introduction to the Olivetti history, Adriano outlines his
father’s socialist philosophy, as it applied to his relations with
his workforce. But Adriano went to greater lengths to explain his
own philosophy, one that embraced a concept of “community”, not just
of the Olivetti company, but of other industries in Ivrea’s Canavese
area. Read in the light of today’s fiercely competitive, cut-throat
business world, Adriano’s vision of company cooperation and employee
assistance across the region may seem wildly romantic and unrealistic.
But clearly he was passionate about an idea which, he said, had taken
20 years to formulate in his head. “Long before it was theory,” says
Adriano in the opening sentence of his “Notes Toward the History of a
Factory”, “the Community was life.”
Romantic or not, a unique organisation called the Comunità did emerge
under Adriano’s guidance and example, and spread not just across
North Italy but throughout the country, acting as an effective counter
to Communism. In the 1958 election for Italy’s Chamber of Deputies,
the Communist Party vote dropped 3 per cent while the ISP vote rose
9 per cent and the fledgling Community Party won its one and only
seat (Adriano Olivetti himself becoming the MP for Piedmont), having
campaigned against particracy and Jacobin centralism, aiming to
replace them with a federal union of local communities. The movement
tried to merge both liberal and socialist ideas, opposing both
conservatives and communists. It was all too short-lived, sadly,
as Comunità died with Adriano in 1960. One claim has it, however,
that “Statistics prove … that because of Olivetti’s organisation
and its influence on the working class, Italy was spared from the
tentacles of Communism.”
In his introduction to the Olivetti history, Adriano goes on the
express his own personal disappointment at the failure of the Italian
socialist revolution, which he says he witnessed during his years at
a polytechnic institute between 1919-1924. “I can still picture the
great parade of 200,000 people on May Day 1922, in Turin; but there
was no one intellectually capable of channelling this great human
impulse toward a better way of life. The question that remained in
my mind was why the remarkable advances in business and technical
organisation did not seem to have their political counterparts.”
The Partito Socialista Italiano (ISP) won 30 per cent of the vote
in the 1919 Italian parliamentary elections. During the post-
World War I crisis, the party called for revolution, but, according
to S.I.Dorofeev’s entry in The Great Soviet Encyclopedia (1979) “its leaders failed to give purposeful, practical guidance to the
mounting mass movement and were unable to devise specific means of
attaining the victory of socialist revolution in Italy. In 1921 the
revolutionary wing of the ISP withdrew from the party, forming the
Communist Party of Italy. Under attack by fascism, which took power in
Italy in 1922, the ISP had essentially ceased its activities in the
country by 1926.” Mussolini had been editor of a Socialist newspaper
but in 1915 broke with the pacifism of the socialists and was expelled
from the party. The rise of fascism should have been - and in some
cases was - exceedingly bad news for the Olivettis.
It must be to the eternal credit of the Olivettis, indeed, that in
terms of continuing to support socialism, they went their own way in
the face of a rapidly changing Italian political environment; they
went on putting their beliefs into practise with their own workforce,
and they maintained their socialist philosophy during a period when it
was neither politically expedient nor personally safe to do so.
Olivetti Builds: Modern Architecture in Ivrea(2001), by Patrizia Bonifazio and Paolo Scrivano, says, “After an initial policy of not
creating opposition to Fascism (perhaps also because of the Fascist
party’s ambiguous position on social issues), Adriano Olivetti’s views
hardened into evident dissent to the regime. Imprisoned in Rome in
1943 by the Badoglio government, in February 1944 Olivetti escaped to
Switzerland, where he met many Italian intellectuals in exile. In May
1945, Adriano returned to Ivrea and a new phase of reorganisation and
expansion in the company began.”
Camillo Olivetti had first set out his philosophy in a series of
articles in Tempi Moderni and Azione Riformista “which preceded initiatives like the creation of the Burzio Fund in 1932 for health
assistance, a complement of that guaranteed by Italian law at the
time”.
The Olivetti history says, “When many factories were temporarily
taken over by the workers, just after the First World War, the men
at the Olivetti plant decided that their best interests were served
by Camillo, and he remained in charge. What might be described as
a kindly paternalism, seen from the viewpoint of today’s large
impersonal industrial organisation, was then a personal relationship
in which the workers’ esteem for Olivetti was based on his love for
work performed as if it were an art. The economic results of the work
interested him less, and indeed he was indifferent to money in itself
… Certainly, his ideas of socialism did not stem from an economic view
of society as from a moralistic vein. He was not a Marist, and did not
think of society in terms of class conflict; he was a bourgeois and
an industrialist, and as such it would not have occurred to him to
condemn the capitalist system.”
Later, the history adds, “Camillo Olivetti never had any doubts
concerning the worker’s right to share in the profits, and it was on
this basis that he understood co-operation between the classes, a
conciliation whose ethical premises he found, with a somewhat bitter
shrewdness, in the spirit of Christianity.”
The history describes Olivetti employer-worker relations as so close
that plans often took on the character of group decisions. “Honest
workmanship and honest dealing were a moral principle with Camillo,
and he defended this principle without regard to profit.”
The Olivetti history ends its chapter on Camillo with a moving
tribute: “The day [in December 1943] he was buried it was raining;
but from Ivrea, from the neighbouring towns, and from every point of
the Canavese region, the workers got to the funeral. They came by any
means they could, most of them on bicycles, regardless of fatigue and
danger. The Nazis were slaughtering Partisans and threatening whole
towns with reprisals. The little Jewish cemetery in Biella [where
Camillo died] could have become the scene of a massacre. Yet it was
filled that day with silent bare-headed men standing in the rain.”
What more need be said about a man who turned his ideals of socialism,
of fairness and equality, into a working, practical reality, a man who
turned a typewriter factory into a worker’s Utopia?
100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: Adriano the Aesthete
In 1954, the first year of the Italian industrial design awards, for
the Compasso d’Oro, the five-man jury, which included the awards
founder Gio Ponti, handed out 15 golden compasses. The winners’ list
covered an intriguing array of designs: from a toy monkey to an
automatic hunting rifle, a fishing jacket, table lamps, chairs, a 24-
hour business suitcase, a perfume travel flask and a blue glass vase.
The only designer to pick up two of the first 15 stylish trophies was
Marcello Nizzoli: one for a “supernova” sewing machine and the other
for the Olivetti Lettera 22 portable typewriter (below in pistachio
and salmon pink).
The latter Nizzoli award was at last some due recognition, after more
than three decades of effort, for what had become internationally
recognised and admired as “the Olivetti style”.
The Olivetti typewriter company’s founder, Camillo Olivetti, had set
down the template for the “Olivetti style” in 1912. “A typewriter,”
he wrote, “should not be a geegaw [decorative trinket; bauble] for
the drawing room, ornate and in questionable taste. It should have an
appearance that is serious and elegant at the same time.”
Camillo’s company had consistently put its first president’s policy
into practise in the ensuing 42 years.
The company’s official history (Olivetti 1908-1958) described the “Olivetti style” as a “specific taste and trend … something more
than transitory fashion or gifted improvisation. It means that the
collaboration and joint effort of the management of an industry and
a group of painters and graphic artists … architects and industrial
designers has become a cultural reality. The Olivetti company gives
and has always given as much relative importance to the choice of a
colour [and] the design for a … machine, as to the choice of some
technical procedure, a type of steel or a method of casting.”
In the second year of the Compasso d’Oros, a special award was
made to Camillo’s son, Adriano, who had since 1932 been Olivetti’s
director-general and since 1938 its second president. The award
was “achievements in industrial aesthetics”.
The following year, 1956, Adriano won the Gran Premio di Architettura
for “the architectural merit, original industrial design, social and
human objectives incorporated in every Olivetti achievement”.
These prizes were much merited. Among his many other attributes,
Adriano was and always had been a committed aesthete. And it is to
Adriano that we owe the enduring visual delight of some of the most
beautiful typewriters ever made. There can be no doubt that of all the
major typewriter manufacturers of the 20th century, Olivetti stood
apart for following Camillo’s credo: it achieved lasting elegance in
its machines with an unparalleled standard of stylishness in design,
and at the same time a serious, unwavering level of technological
quality. Put together, these ensured Olivetti typewriters were seldom
matched by other brands.
These are not machines of Adriano’s personal design. Yet Adriano’s
imprint was on all of them. He had a deep, abiding appreciation of
art and architecture. It was his decision for Olivetti to enter the
portable typewriter market in 1932, it was his vision which brought to
the Olivetti design table artists, architects and graphic artists who
could give the Olivetti portable such a high degree of distinction.
It appears that, certainly in Adriano’s younger days, he and his
father did not always see eye-to-eye. Unlike his father, Adriano,
as an independent-minded adolescent, did not see his future in a
typewriter factory. But after a home education under the tutelage of
his mother, Luisa, Adriano was sent, perhaps against his wishes, to
study industrial chemistry at the Polytechnic Institute of Turin, from
1919-1924. Perhaps the architecture school at Milan, some 80 miles
further east of Turin, might have been more to his liking – he was
certainly to later make great use of the products of that seat of
learning. Or maybe somewhere else, to study art itself.
Dutifully, however, Adriano did as his father wanted – and that
was for Adriano to train to work in the Olivetti factory. Having
graduated from the Turin Polytechnic, Adriano was then sent to the
United States, in 1925. There, during the course of the following
year, he visited more than 100 factories, including the Remington
typewriter factory. “I hoped to learn,” he later said, “the secrets
of their administrative and organisational techniques. [Yet] To be
applicable to conditions in Italy, what I learned had to be adapted
and transformed, for I faced at the age of 25 the complex problem of
modernising and enlarging an industry based on a semi-artisan system.”
A major part of Adriano’s almost immediate solution to
this “modernising” problem was to successfully meld the manufacturing
techniques of the US with the great traditions of Italian art and
design; he tapped into the rich vein of Italy’s cultural history, and
its natural national eye for classic beauty.
It was timely for Adriano to have visited the US in 1925-26. This
was a period of change in the design of portable typewriters. After
the “boom” in the portable market created by the Corona three-bank
from 1912-1919, Underwood had entered the field, quickly followed by
Remington. By 1926 Royal was carefully planning its assault. The Royal
portable (the one pictured above from Wim Van Roompuy's typewriter.be
site) was to be somewhat different to the norm – bulkier and higher
than the Corona, Underwood and Remington four-banks, it was the
beginning of the approach toward what we might call today a semi-
portable. It definitely gave the appearance of being sturdier. The
move was a success for Royal, which in the three years from 1928-1930,
sold more than a quarter of a million units of its model.
Adriano was encouraged not just to add Olivetti to the list of
portable makers, but to start looking at markets far beyond Italy.
Like George Ed Smith at Royal before him, Adriano’s approach to
Olivetti’s entry into the portable market was meticulous. For the
mechanical design of the now legendary Olivetti ICO MP1, Adriano
enlisted Riccardo Levi, his wife’s uncle. (Adriano had, after his
travels to the US and also to England, married Paulo Levi, the
daughter of renowned histologist Giuseppe Levi and the sister of
author Natalia Ginzburg, wife of writer Leone Ginzburg. One of Paulo’s
brothers, Mario, also a writer, worked for Olivetti at the time as a
commercial director. Riccardo Levi would in 1934 develop Olivetti’s
first adding machine.)
Most importantly, however, Adriano had Aldo Magnelli design the die-
cast alloy outer casing, one which wraps so tightly around the inner
workings. It’s a work of artistic genius in the way it seamlessly
merges a beautifully tiered, high curved collar around the typebasket
with straight lines down to the sides of the keyboard.
It is a design decidedly born of the love Magnelli shared with his
famous painter brother Alberto (above) for the geometric abstraction
style of art which incorporated cubist and futurist elements. Alberto
(1888-1971) was, at the time his brother was working on the MP1,
returning to abstraction in the form of concrete art, featuring
geometric shapes and overlapping planes.
Aldo Magnelli, from Florence, had worked on experimental physics in
Rome with Enrico Fermi, and joined Olivetti as an engineer. He first
designed for the company a horizontal five-drawer filing cabinet
called a Synthesis (above), which went into mass production in 1931,
with the Rome Municipal Registry Office putting in a first order for
1400. That same year, Adriano established an Olivetti development
office, directed by Renato Zveteremich. The program recruited
painters Alexander “Xanti” Schawinksy (below) and Nizzoli, along with
architects, graphic artists and printers. One of the first projects
was the MP1. By 1932 it was ready to be launched on an unsuspecting
world. The following year, 9000 were made, and for the first time half
the typewriters sold in Italy were Olivetti.
The Magnellis had close ties with South America, and Aldo was later
sent to Brazil to represent Olivetti. In 1940 he opened a steel
furniture company in Sao Paulo called Securit, now run by his daughter
Christina Maria Magnelli. It manufactures office furniture systems
which combine steel, aluminium and wood.
Meanwhile, in Ivrea, Adriano was moving toward bigger and great things
for Olivetti. Having noted the success of the Royal portable in the
US, and the readiness with which Remington and Corona, especially,
had adapted the Royal portable’s size and shape to their own needs,
Adriano began to plan a semi-portable. The MP1 had been introduced
at a time when other parts of Continental Europe and Britain were
producing similar machines, notably the Imperial Good Companion (based
on the German Torpedo) and other German models, such as the Olympia,
Continental, Mercedes, Triumph, Erika and Rheinmetall (see photo
of my collection below). The market was growing, but so too was the
competition. Time for something almost completely different.
Instead of referring to it as a semi-portable, Olivetti chose to
describe the Studio 42 as a “semi-standard” – half an office machine,
in other words, rather than twice a portable. It was created in 1935
by engineer Ottavio Luzzati. Schawinsky combined his artistic skills
with the ideas of architects Luigi Figini (1903–1984) and Gino Pollini
(1903-1991) and factory technicians to come up with the futuristic
outer design and produce, like the MP1, one of the most striking
typewriters ever made.
Schawinsky was born in Basel in Switzerland on March 26, 1904,
and educated in Zurich. From 1921-1923 he worked for the Cologne
architectural firm Theodor Merill, then attended the School of Arts
in Berlin and the Bauhaus in Weimar. In 1933 he joined the Milan
advertising company Studio Boggeri, and through this organisation
linked up with Adriano Olivetti’s development program. He died on
September 11, 1979, in Locarno, Switzerland.
Just as Hermes in Schawinsky’s native Switzerland was returning
portables to an ultra-flat, light, compact shape and size – one which
was to be maintained in Germany after World War II by the like of
Gossen and Groma, and in France by Rooy – Olivetti’s Studio 42 pointed
to a whole new direction for the rest of the world.
After the War, of course, Olivetti returned to the light, compact
roots of the portable, producing perhaps the most popular model of
them all: Nizzoli’s Lettera 22. In 1959, the Illinois Institute of
Technology approached 100 leading design engineers to vote on the
best design product of the previous century – and the Lettera 22
came out on top. Little wonder it won a 1954 Compasso d’Ora. Other
subsequent winners for Olivetti included Mario Bellini, who designed
the Divisumma 24 calculator (awards in 1962, for a marking machine in
1964, 1970, 1979 and 2001), Ettore Sottsass for the Elea electronic
computer in 1959, and Briton George Sowden with a fax machine in 1991.
Nizzoli was Olivetti’s director of industrial design from 1936 until
succeeded by Bellini and then Sottsass. Both Bellini and Sottsass
designed a number of the subsequent versions of the Lettera. Other
great Nizzoli achievements were the Lexikon 80 (also 1948) and the
Diaspron 82(1959).
Nizzoli was born on January 2, 1895, in Boretto, Reggio Emilia, and
studied at Scuola die Belle Arti, the art academy at Parma. As a
painter, he was committed to futurism. He opened a studio in Milan and
designed silk scarves featuring patterns in the art déco style, as
well as designing posters for Campari. Nizzoli's product design was an
organic, sculptural form combined with functional machine construction
optimised for industrial mass production. He died in Camogli, Genova,
on July 31, 1969.
The legacy of Adrian Olivetti’s influence on the “Olivetti style” is
the impressive list of artists and architects who worked for him at
Olivetti. They include Franco Albini, Gae Aulenti, Walter Ballmer,
Franco Bassi, Bellini, Carlo De Benedetti, Figini and Pollini,
Fiocchi, Jean-Michel Folon, Jorge Fuentes, Roberto Gabetti and Aimaro
Isola, Ignazio Gardella, Milton Glaser, Louis Kahn, Perry A. King,
Le Corbusier, Leo Lionni, Vico Magestretti, Magnelli, Richard Meier,
George Nelson, Constantino Nivola, Nizzoli, Camillo, Giovanni Pintori,
Geno Prampolini, Bruno Scagliola, Carlo Scarpa, Giorgio Soavi,
Sottsass (who had the original concept for the the Valentine, above,
finished by King), James Stirling, Sowden, Schawinsky, Kenzo Tange and
Marco Zanuso.
100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: La Olivetti nel
Mondo
Marcello Nizzoli’s famous 1956 Olivetti trademark, of a continuous
line wrapped in a spiral, was hugely symbolic.
At the time Nizzoli came up with the enduring logo, in the company’s
48th year, Olivetti had circled the globe and was beginning to tighten
its grip on the international typewriter market. “The Olivetti in the
World” ran the late 1930s advertisement for the Studio 42 (above).
Olivetti was not just in the world, it had the world covered. By the
time it celebrated its half-century, in 1958, it had established these
factories and branches beyond Italy:
Factories:
Barcelona 1929
Buenos Aires 1932
Glasgow 1947
Johannesburg 1949
Branches:
Brussels 1930
Paris 1939
Vienna 1949
Mexico City 1949
New York 1950
Sydney 1952
Bogota 1953
Frankfurt 1953
Toronto 1955
Caracas 1956
Havana 1957
Copenhagen 1958
A year later, in October 1959, Olivetti bought a controlling 69 per
cent interest in Underwood. This gave it added factories in the
US, Canada, Germany and England, as well as a staff of 10,000 to
supplement its own 24,700 workers. It was the first step towards what
was the become, in the manual portable typewriter world, virtual
domination.
When Wilfred Beeching published his updatedCentury of the Typewriter in 1990, he listed Olivetti’s control as extending to Adler, Triumph,
Royal and Imperial, all of which had previously been owned by Litton
Industries, as well as Hermes (the last model Babys, below, were made
by Olivetti in Brazil, and also marketed as the Lettera 82).
Of the major 20th century brands, that left only Olympia and Smith-
Corona as independent of Olivetti – though by then, of course, SCM’s
output had dwindled to a fraction of what Corona had started out
making in 1912.
Beeching went on to make the point that “Olivetti assemble many
products in South Africa and South America, and are represented in
almost every country. They owe their place in the office equipment
world to their founder, and to a far-sighted policy towards product
development and staff relationship. They are quite unique in both the
advertising and presentation of their products.”
Yet at its beginnings, in the town of Ivrea in October 1908, Olivetti
learned to walk very slowly and very deliberately before it ever set
out to run. Its founder, Camillo Olivetti, was determined to prefect
his product before he would think about trying to sell it widely. In
1923, Camillo told the editors of A Condensed History of the Writing Machine, “The Olivetti policy is to develop a sound business in few countries where the product can be appreciated, and not to scatter few
machines everywhere.”
A Condensed History recorded, “Besides Italy, where they have branch houses and agents in the whole country, they have done good work in
Belgium, Argentina, Egypt and Holland, and a few other countries. The
result is that all of the output of the factory, which is naturally
not as large as many other concerns, is oversold; this is the only
reason why the Olivetti people have not endeavoured hitherto to
push their commercial organisation further afield, but the Olivetti
nevertheless is a typewriter product which is destined to occupy a
highly important place in the industry reviewed in this historical
compilation.”
How right this publication proved to be.
Notwithstanding Camillo’s assurances about a tentative but steady
start, he had followed his April 4, 1909, and May 24, 1910, patents
in Italy for his first typewriter, the M1, with a US patent dated May
23, 1911. He was already looking ahead, less than a month after first
putting the M1 before the public, at the Turin World’s Fair. Soon he
had also taken out patents for France, Germany, England, Austria and
Switzerland.
Olivetti’s first branch office was opened in Milan in 1912, with
two salesmen, a clerk and a mechanic. The machines were delivered
on a tricycle. The following year Olivetti expanded to Genoa, Rome
and Naples. But already, in that immediate pre-World War I period,
Olivetti, according to its own official history, was conscious of
being “still hampered by a widespread prejudice against Italian
products.”
After the war, Olivetti quickly got back on its typewriter-making
feet, launched a new model, the M20 (above), and exhibited at
the first Commercial Fair in Brussels, in April 1920. That same
year, Olivettis reached Argentina and Ruys was awarded exclusive
distribution rights in Holland. In 1928, Camillo initiated a Spanish
venture with Giulio Capara which led, the next year, to Olivetti
setting up its first allied foreign company, in Barcelona (S.A.
Hispano Olivetti, which started to make M20s and later M40s, prochure
below) in 1930).
Also in 1929, Camillo travelled to Argentina to extend Olivetti’s
operations in South America, and in 1932 S.A. Olivetti Argentina
superseded the sales office in Buenos Aires. The disastrous financial
events which spread throughout the world from Wall Street at this
time did not impede Olivetti. Camillo’s son Adriano wrote in the
company’s annual report that “by the end of 1933, our battle against
the world depression was won”. Indeed, in 1932 Olivetti changed from
a partnership to a joint-stock company, with capital of 13 million
lire (reaching 19.5 million lire in 1938, 23 million lire in 1930, 30
million in 1942 and 120 million in 1947 – almost a tenfold increase in
15 years. In 1948 it was increased to 600 million, in 1949 doubled,
and in 1954 tripled to 3.6 billion.). And in 1933, celebrating its
25th anniversary, Olivetti proudly noted it had 13 branches and 79
distributors in Italy, as well as representatives in Egypt, Tunisia,
Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Syria, the Aegean
Island, Albania, Austria, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, France,
Yugoslavia, Norway, Spain, Sweden, Turkey and Hungary.
What might well have not alone impeded Olivetti’s progress, but
irreparably damaged the company, was the rise of fascism in Italy and
Germany and the outbreak of World War II. In 1939, Olivetti’s overseas
figures were healthy: 7400 standard machines and 7375 portables went
abroad of the 23,413 office machines and 19,288 portables made. The
company had opened SAMPO Olivetti in Paris and an agency in Mexico
City; and Barcelona was back in full production after the Spanish
Civil War. The early years of the war did not hinder it. In 1942,
37,752 office machines and 26,696 portables were made, of which 7169
office machines and 7289 portables were exported.
One major setback came on August 6, 1944, with the shooting and
hanging of Guglielmo Jervis, an Olivetti engineer who was commander
of the Ivrea Partisans. An ICO factory National Liberation Committee,
which included Jervis, had been formed on September 11, 1943, the day
after the Nazis occupied Rome and three days after Italy’s surrender
to the Allies. “Olivetti men are the [committee’s] moving spirit,”
the company’s history states; 24 Olivetti workers were killed in “the
struggle for liberation”. In October 1944, a Nazi plan to destroy the
Ivrea factory was foiled by Olivetti employees. The plant at Apuania
was destroyed.
Full production and exports were resumed in 1945, and the next year
600 machines were sent to Argentina, as well as more to Uruguay, each
shipment through New York.
Perhaps one of the most significant moves by Olivetti was into Britain
in 1947. A London company was established and, at the invitation of
the British Government, Olivetti brought employment to an economically
depressed and war-devastated Glasgow. By the end of the decade, vast
numbers of Nizzoli’s Lexicon 80 and Olivetti Lettera 22 portable
(joined later by the Studio 44) were being assembled at the Scottish
factory on the Queenslie Industrial Estate on Clydeside (photo above),
each badged as “British-made”. This enabled Olivetti to overcome
1950s import restrictions in British Commonwealth countries such as
Australia and New Zealand.
Coincidentally with the British move, Olivetti formed companies
in Mexico and South Africa (where, though apartheid had just been
introduced, Olivetti gave non-white workers the rare opportunity for
meaningful, well-paid employment in Johannesburg - photo above). From
Mexico, Lettera 22s relabelled as Couriers for Sears Roebuck were
shipped into the US (photo below), opening up the biggest typewriter
market for Olivetti for the first time. The Olivetti Corporation of
America was established in New York in 1950.
Olivettis reached Australia at the time of the Studio 44’s debut
in 1952 and the company managed a major coup with the organisers
of the 1956 Melbourne Olympic Games. When the Organising Committee
found itself unable to employ staff to handwrite several thousand
participation diplomas, Olivetti offered to make a special typewriter
with a suitably-sized (3/16th of an inch) cursive typeface to do
the job (photo below). This was the first recognised support for
an Olympic Games by a typewriter company and led to Olivetti also
supplying typewriters to organisers and for use in press centres at
subsequent Olympics in Rome (1960), Tokyo (1964) and Mexico City
(1968).
Olivetti could afford to be generous with its machines. By 1958,
its 10 factories around the world were churning out 6.2 standard
typewriters a minute!
Olivetti’s massively expensive takeover of Underwood in 1959 was
its most significant international acquisition. Afterwards, most
Olivetti models were rebranded as Underwoods, while the link with
Sear continued. This allowed Olivetti to get a considerable and
permanent foothold in the US, a marketplace it had cherished from
its earliest days.
The takeover was the real culmination of the company’s huge worldwide
growth. It had begun taking over other typewriter factories in very
much a local way, in the early 1930s, at the time it entered the
portable typewriter market. The first was Invicta of Turin (later
model MP1s were also sold as Invictas, and as Harrod’s of London
typewriters) and Olivetti’s tentacles later spread to Antares and
Everest in Milan.
But the world was in its sights from the time Adriano Olivetti took
control of the company from his father. And by 1980s, ironically at a
time when the portable manual was being phased out, this diminishing
typewriter world was Olivetti’s.
TOMORROW: Fifth and final part - Olivetti's Legacy
100 Years of Olivetti Typewriters: The Legacy of
Camillo and Adriano
Would you give a typewriter to MythBusters, if Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman wanted one for one of those strike-a-match-and-see-how-high-
it-flies experiments? No? Well … maybe one of those nondescript, rust-
marked Nakajima ALLS taking up space in the shed. But an Olivetti
Lettera 32? No way.
Lettera 32s may be one of the most common, and often the lowest-priced
typewriters that pop up on eBays around the world on a daily basis,
but no one in their right mind would deliberately allow an Olivetti to
come to any harm.
Why? Because it’s an Olivetti. And that’s exactly why Lettera 32s are
so common and so low-priced these days. An awful lot of people bought
them 40 and 50 years ago (pictures above are of the author in 1979
and Richard Amery today). They were durable (think Cormac McCarthy),
they did the heavy duty work, and they were light and compact at the
same time. And they were nice to look at, too. I haven’t met a person
yet who, having once owned an Olivetti Lettera 22 or 32, didn’t retain
fond memories of it.
Some people might have abused them, and used them for garden
sculpture, or converted them into electronic devices, or used them
as models for wooden artwork, or just for artwork. But that was just
another way showing affection. So, too, it could be said, is using
an Olivetti portable as a symbol as part of a protest against the
suppression - and killing - of journalists in Mexico.
In terms of typewriters, is this all there is left of the legacy of
Camillo Olivetti and his son Adriano? Far better that, I suppose,
than the awful portable manual typewriter called an Olivetti coming
out of China today – the Olivetti MS25 Premier Plus. Premier Plus?
It’s a premier plus waste of money, as most people who have bought
one will testify.
Indeed, a brief look at reviews on Amazon from the past 18 months
reveals: “I found it to be a piece of junk. It is made in China, and
it is HORRIBLE! It just doesn't work ... The best thing to do with
this typewriter if you order one is to take it from the delivery man
and throw it in the garbage.” “It was a huge mistake! … I don't know
what circumstances might make this the ideal machine, but as is, it's
an exercise in disappointment and frustration.” “Where do I start?
Everything that could break on this machine did in fact … I took this
machine to an old antique machine dealer, and he actually started
laughing. Seriously, but so did I. Perhaps this situation alone made
the machine worth buying.” “Basically, this machine will last a couple
of weeks, if you’re lucky … A very sad product indeed ... the fact
that the Olivetti name was sacrificed here for corporate identity-
branding is another tragedy.” “This ‘typewriter’ comes ready for the
scrap heap new out of the box!”
Do the reputations of Camillo and Adriano deserve to be dented like
this? To be so seriously tarnished? No. Whoever is responsible for
bastardising Olivetti’s great name in this disgraceful manner should
be charged with defaming the dead – if that was possible.
Camillo and Adriano’s legacy in terms of the many fine buildings
Olivetti erected around the world will last for generations. In
years to come, however, people may look at these architectural
achievements, see a company name, and wonder. What was Olivetti?
Surely not the same company that put its name to the MS25 Premier.
And, one might add, surely not the same company which took the
naming rights and the designs of the fabulous Hermes Baby and
turned it into piece of plastic dross (AKA the Olivetti Lettera
82).
With the Lettera 82 (Oh, how that Lettera name was ruined!) the
Brazilian manufacturers couldn’t even be bothered putting the little
metallic model name strip on the plastic ribbon cover – it’s made of
cardboard!
One cannot resist the temptation at this juncture to raise the spectre
of Ettore Sottsass and the Valentine. Now this is one Olivetti which
also appears regularly on eBay – but at entirely the other end of the
price scale from the Lettera 32. The starting prices are invariably
way over the top, to a ridiculous degree. And almost inevitably, of
course, sellers make the claim the Valentine was designed by Sottsass.
Well, the truth is, Sottsass came up with the concept, but Perry
A.King put the finishing touches to what Sottsass was to describe as
a “tart”. Sottsass feared dying and being remembered only for this
typewriter. He did die, and his name is still associated with the
Valentine. The real irony here is that when Sottsass came up with his
concept of a typewriter equivalent of the Bic biro – a throwaway –
he claims Olivetti executives dismissed the idea out of hand, saying
a “cheap, plastic, Chinese thing” did not fit their corporate image.
So what did Olivetti do instead? Make the cheap plastic Lettera 82 in
Brazil, then put Olivetti’s name to the MS25 Premier in China.
What makes mention of the Valentine irresistible is the question: What
would have happened if Sottsass had approached Camillo or Adriano
Olivetti with his idea? OK, both men were all for quality. But would
the notion of a cheaper typewriter, “a typewriter for the people” as
Sottsass called it, not have appealed to them? Maybe the people who
took over the running of Olivetti in the 1970s just lost sight of the
original Olivetti vision.
One thing that I suppose can be said in favour of the Valentine
is that it is at least continuing to keep alive in typewriters
the broad concept of "Olivetti style". And in that regard it is
already a collector's item - of sorts. It seems most likely eBay
buyers pay the prices they do for it, not to use it but simply to
look at it, to use it as a decorative piece (three Valentines other
than the more common red are seen here, with what Sottsass called
their "too-short skirts").
If the Valentine is indeed now considered a "collectible" - way ahead,
perhaps, of all other post-war Olivetti typewriters - it may well be
because some are influenced by Paul Robert's reference on his Virtual
Typewriter Collection website. Paul shows the Valentine under the
heading "The end of history" and says of it, "If there is one post-
1920s typewriter that deserves a place in this museum, it is the
Olivetti Valentine ... This space-age machine ... can be found in many
collections of industrial design. Mechanically, the machine is not
fundamentally different from the average machine that was built half
a century earlier. Today, Olivetti is the only Western company still
producing manual typewriters."
But to me the "end of history" for manual potables came much
earlier, with the Lettera 22 and 32, the choice of real writers,
poets and singers, lovers and dreamers, and other sundry wannabes:
In terms of what they might have made of the Valentine - that is,
the Valentine that emerged after Sottsass had walked away from the
project - what we know about Camillo and Adriano Olivetti is that
their idea of a typewriter was not just something which looked good,
but something that worked efficiently as well. We cannot say that of
the Valentine. We can say it of the Lettera 32. It’s beautiful, and
it’s a workhorse. Can’t beat that.
So in four previous posts on the 100 years of Olivetti typewriters on
this blog, we have looked at the start, with the M1 going public at
the World’s Fair in Turin on April 29, 1911; the Olivetti dream of a
socialist factory and a Utopian society; the aesthetics of Olivetti
typewriters, thanks largely to Adriano’s appreciation of art; and the
spread of Olivetti from a field outside a village in Italy to become
the world’s dominant typewriter manufacturer. Taking all that into
account, what has Olivetti the typewriter maker come to today? To the
MS25 Premier. Oh, dear … what a sad, sad situation indeed.