I am not a gearhead. Unlike Rachel Kushner, whose adrenaline rush of an essay “Girl on a Motorcycle” details her custom bike modifications for the Cabo 1000, I have never had “long discussions with friends…weighing the pros and cons” of machine parts. I say this not to assume a stance of false humility for what follows or to imply that caring about technical specifications is a waste of time. Rather I hope to encourage other machinery-ambivalent people that restoring a tabletop printing press is within your reach. If you are willing to enter a hardware store, if you have the patience to embrace some trial and error—you can do this. It’s really not so bad.
Here’s my press in all its pre-cleaned glory:
As mentioned, I inherited this Kelsey 5x8 from my mother, who tells me that she bought it from a neighbor selling off his ex-wife’s stuff (why was he the one who ended up with the press?). For various reasons the press hasn’t been used for at least twenty years, but on first inspection it seemed to be in relatively good shape. After consulting the Kelsey Company Printer’s Guide, I learned that a few parts were missing: the ink rollers and the screws that will eventually help lock type into the metal frame known as the “chase.” One of the springs that control roller tension was bent, and the rest were slightly rusty, so I decided to replace those, too. (For those who are interested: I found replacement screws by searching for “Kelsey 5x8” on eBay and bought new rollers and springs from Fritz Klinke at NA Graphics.)
Next came some light disassembly. The Kelsey’s ink table, chase, and chase bed are held on with levers—all easy enough to depress. I also wanted to clean the screws that control pressure behind the platen (the flat platform that holds paper up against the inked type). Four of the screws came out, though a couple removals required a wrench. The last screw refused to budge despite the liberal spraying of WD-40 and, later, some “rust-busting” penetrating oil whose advertising I naïvely believed. So I’ve left the stubborn bolt in. As long as the other screws match its pressure against the platen back, any printing I do should be even, though I may have to experiment until I’m happy with the result.
To clean the press, I followed Brannon Solomon’s helpful illustrated guide, then oiled everything liberally with 3-in-1 oil, which gives off the distinctive odor of Car Repair Shop.
Following the oil, on went fresh springs, clean nuts and screws, and the rollers. The press isn’t exactly bright and shiny but it’s looking more functional by the day:
That’s all for now, at least until my ink shipment arrives. Still to come later this week: nineteenth-century union drama and women in the typesetting room.
Yours in 3-in-1 oil,
Ms. Printer’s Devil