Radio Workshop

Of typewriters and Microsoft Word (Transcript)

by Piya Kochhar

NARR:

Chester's Typewriter Repairs is nestled deep in the Bronx.  It stands on a slightly slanting street amidst liquor stores and 24 hour groceries.

AMB:

Phone ring…Chesters…

NARR:

Irving Abrahamson works here.  He is 75-years-old.  He's been repairing typewriters since he was 18. 

ABRAHAMSON:

Father opened this store in 1946. 

NARR:

Abrahamson remembers those early days, when he and his parents worked together. He would stay in the back room where customers could not see him, fixing typewriters. His father was the boss. And his mother would come in to help with phonecalls and advertising.

ABRAHAMSON:

And...they're both gone. So I've remained. That's the story of my life. That's why I love these typewriters.

NARR:

Abrahamson is not entirely alone in his shop.  He says he has one other technician here. The technicians name is Bright Eyes.  He is an old gray furry cat.  He barely ever meows.  Instead, he appears and disappears without sound…popping out of a hole in the ceiling or sliding behind shelves filled with old royal typewriters.  Bright Eyes' favorite spot is at the front of the shop in the display window. He likes to sit amidst the Olympus typewriters and watch the people going by.  Irving Abrahamson's favorite spot is at the back of the shop in a small work space.

AMB:

Click click click

NARR:

Here, he listens carefully to the clicks and clacks of a disassembled Smith Corona typewriter.

ABRAHAMSON:

It wasn't working at all. It was the motor drive. Then we give it a shop cleaning a lubrication. Check it.

NARR:

To check the machine, Abrahamson lifts each of the long thin bars with a letter attached to the end. He pulls them up and down gently, making sure they tap the right part of a paper.

ABRAHAMSON:

Just checking to see the way the bars fit into the segment. They have to move freely. We have some 40 odd bars here... and they all have to work. It's one thing to assemble a machine and another to get them working together as a unit. People think we just get parts working but you have to get them working together.

NARR:

Abrahamson learned everything he knows about typewriters from his father.  His father got into the typewriter business because a friend told him it was a sure thing. Everybody needs typewriters, the friend had said.  Irving Abrahamson's father kept coming into this shop until he passed away at the age of 85.  Typewriters were his life.  But for Irving Abrahamson other dreams beckoned when he was young.   

ABRAHAMSON:

There was a time in high-school when I had great aspirations of being an electrical engineer...that was a prime interest....But so many things happened after that....Like the war.

NARR:

Abrahamson was drafted when he was 18 and he fixed typewriters in the military. When he returned he was faced with a career obstacle-he was Jewish. And New York was run by Irishman, he says. So he decided to join his father's business instead. And so it was at Chester's that his old dreams faded and his life-long career as a typewriter mechanic began.

ABRAHAMSON:

When I came back to work here...he realized I was not going to pursue that any longer. I think he was probably glad. I don't blame him. That was probably better for the both of us.

NARR:

Irving Abrahamson's shop has barely any room for people. Typewriters fill every inch. These are not new and shiny machines. Some have letters slightly smudged off the keys. Many are doubled up on wooden shelves. The entire center of the shop is filled with a work bench crammed with typewriters. Threads of dust catch the light and hang in the air.

ABRAHAMSON:

When father had it the place was clean. He would paint once in a while. I was the one that in the past ten years or so that bought alot of machines and stacked them up like that.

NARR:

Abrahamson bought these typewriters as an investment to protect his finances.

ABRAHAMSON:

It's more than ten years, maybe twelve, I lost a lot of money in the stock market. Now I thought that by buying typewriters I'd have a little control over something. But it didn't prove right.

NARR:

Abrahamson looks around his tiny shop and shakes his head. He had thought that by buying typewriters he was investing his money in a sure thing. He could always resell them when times got tough, he'd thought. And that's why he went on a typewriter shopping spree ten years ago and bought about 100 typewriters.

ABRAHAMSON:

This I could work on, I could do something with it. The money I'm investing in it, instead of stock. So I didn't buy stock after that.

NARR:

At its height, Chester's Typewriters was as popular as the old-time neighborhood theater it was named after. In those days the shop was filled with customers. But that was yesterday. Today, the shop caters to only a few old-timers. And today, Abrahamson has made a decision. One he's been mulling over for a few years.

ABRAHAMSON:

I know I have to leave it. I know I have to give it up. That's facing reality. Sadly.

NARR:

After 56 years of business, Abrahamson is closing shop.

ABRAHAMSON:

Everything is electronic, and technology is just leaping...leaping across. Can't keep up with it. It's very hard. I tried to hold on...can't do it no more. That's the sad truth.

NARR:

Abrahamson's wife died 12 years ago. He has no children. No one to pass the shop onto. But he says that even if he did have an heir, it would not make a difference.

ABRAHAMSON:

If I had a son I wouldn't want him to be here. Not under these conditions. Something else perhaps. Something more techncial like computers... or something else...telephone...something. It would have to be something more than typewriters.

NARR:

That something more is right next door to Irving Abrahamson. It is the present and it is sitting side by side with Abrahamson's fading past.

RALIANO:

This is Bee Electronics and computer...and we opened about three years ago.

NARR:

Bee Electronics is a computer repair shop. Julio Vijraliano is the owner. He's in his mid-thirties and fixing computers has been a dream of his for a long time. He used to work for Radio Shack but he decided to strike out on his own. Vijaliano's store is brightly lit and stacked with computer hard drives and parts. By the front of his store is a framed photograph. In it Irving Abrahamson is standing side by side with Julio Vijaliano. They are standing in front of their stores proudly, smiling. The photo was taken two years ago.

VIGRALIANO.

I will have that picture...because maybe in another 46 years if I am still here I can look a that picture and say, 'Oh this is from when I began doing business.' In 46 years if I'm still here, it will remind me that we did a good job. At least we do something. We gonna be proud...

NARR:

For Vijraliano, his neighbor is an inspiration as someone who has done business for a long time. Perhaps in his neighbor, he sees himself. Despite their different ages and despite their different passions. When I talked to him, Vijraliano did not yet know Irving Abrahamson was going out of business. Instead he talked excitedly about future plans on how the two of them can expand their businesses during these hard economic times. Vijraliano is also helping Abrahamson with an old Chester's sign. It is 40-years-old and was taken down last year for renovation.

VIGRALIANO:

Even if I have to pay to put it back up, I'm going to pay that money.  Because sometimes I know, I understand, that he can not afford even 50 dollars to get some guy to put the sign up.  And I say, ok, we share.  I put 25 and you put 25, to put the sign up.

NARR:

Some day Vijraliano even sees a possible merger between the two stores.  Because both Abrahamson and he are mechanics.  Both fix machines.  Of course Vijraliano is quick to point out if such  merger does happen… Chester's name will come first.

AMB:

Typewriter repair sounds.

NARR:

And in the neighboring shop, there's a new hand-written sign on the door. "Typewriters for sale" it says. Manual typewriters are going for $75 and old IBM electrics are going for $390. Bright Eyes remains curled silently amidst the typewriters in the display window. And if you look carefully you can see Irving Abrahamson way in the back of the store... bent over a faded typewriter, patiently fixing its parts. This scene seems unchanging. At least for today.

AMB:

repair sounds. "We have to get all the parts working."

Piya Kochhar. Columbia Radio News.