Not my machines, but....

I'm spending my weekend with karent at her house. A lot of time spent with new appliances (hers, not mine) and some shopping and generally eating too much and drinking too much and talking too much. You know, good times.

Anyway, a mutual friend recently found an "old Morse machine at an auction for $5, and do you want it?" Karen bit and got this: Friend claimed it was a Morse - no she actually claimed it was a Featherweight - but that's not the point, but (not so much closer) inspection - see the label? - proved it to be a Singer 127 bastardized by Morse and spray-painted black - right down to the presser foot! But since Karen thought she had a Morse, she went in search of a Morse manual. She found a manual for $8, but a machine - including manual - for $15. Well, do the math and figure out what she bought. And this is the answer: Isn't it pretty? And CUTE! SOOOO CUTE! SOOO CUTE. Did I say it was cute? If it had cheeks, I'd pinch them. It's a badged 128 - same machine just a little different in size. Me and mini-me. And a bottle of wine.

Both machines were originally treadles and have add on motors. And we were thinking of taking one or both to the repair shop tomorrow because, well, they were made before our parents were born and then messed with and are a little scary. Especially the Singer. I think she should put that one on her porch for Halloween. But I was sitting in her sewing room and my eyes wandered off and saw this. Do you see what I see? Closer inspection reveals, yes a TREADLE! A White, but whatever.... So now, instead of a trip to the repair shop we just need a couple of belts. And maybe a carpenter. OK her, not me. But still...

Another Sewing Machine Story

This story is stolen, blatantly, openly and with permission from JamesO( http://http://caughtupintherace.blogspot.com/ ) So far the machine stories have been nostalgic, and (awwwh) a little heartwarming. Stories of care and nurturing and preservation of emotions. This one is just darn funny. Sure, it's about an older machine that got an new life. It's about the love of the craft and the machines that make it happen. It's about passing down tradition. It's about making the best of a difficult situation when you're young and broke. And when I read it last night, it was about squirting wine out my nose. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

The class finally ended. In the fifteen minutes I had to make it across campus to Non-Euclidean Geometry, with the professor who didn't believe in an attendance policy, I made my way to the dorm, changed clothes, and went for a run. Perfect day for a run. Me, thoughts of pinning and planning, and the English Beat in my cassette Walkman making our way. Not running to, not running from, just running, just getting the rush, just shaking off the boredom.Halfway into the journey, I cut through a side street, into this great old neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood where the trees lining the streets overarch. I love that way that looks in the late fall, the trees, just bare and stippling the sky. I'm looking at the sky as I nearly run into a pile of junk spilling forth from the driveway of the house beside me. Then I saw it. It looked like a sewing machine case, 50's era, hard sided, with the leather handle affixed to the top, the toggles on hold the base and the lid together at the sides. Naturally, I'm looking into this.I opened the case and died laughing. I reached for the hand wheel, it turned. The presser foot moved, the feed dogs barked, the manual, the box containing the attachments, all there. A Greist buttonholer with not just the four feet that came with it, but additional feet, including the "new" eyelet template. God looks after children and fools. I was nineteen. You, kind reader, may decide on that score.So, halfway through my run I'm now running-ish with a Morse "Lightweight" - 30 pounds with case, but the price you pay for all metal gears - sewing machine in it's case. I'm thinking about what fun this is going to be. The machine was nearly thrown in front of me. It was clearly meant to be. The space issue, hmm, that's tricky, but I'm not accepting the oppression of issues like that, not while I'm running-ish down the street carrying a sewing machine. I kept laughing. It was ridiculous. It was such an endorphin rush. People watching me at intersections, wondering what was in the box. I just laughed. It was all coming together in my head. This machine was perfect for me. It suited who I was: this 6'4" guy with shoulders as wide as a seat and half in coach class, running down the street with a sewing machine, thinking of the rugby jersey that needed the sleeve cap reattached and the pile of planning and pinning and the thrill of rescuing this Morse "Lightweight" - no one knew what to do with it, so they sent it out into the world. I knew what to do with it. I would make people wonder. People have a hard time fitting me into a category. I would name the machine Enigma. And Enigma would do his part to perpetuate the wonder. Enigma was vivid lilac PINK.

And the story doesn't end there. Enigma lives!

He is, though not with me. At the end of my senior year, as I was preparing to make the big move, I decided to pass him on to a great friend. She'd asked if I would teach her to sew and I'd been happy to oblige. She'd had the use of the machine, understood it's ethos, and had made the coolest boiled wool jacket in her new favorite color, Enigma Pink. It was meant to be.

I hope the font color shows well, as this is the color I envision for Enigma. Still sewing away, I like to think on a marvelous leopard print faux fur jacket.

I don't know that either of the the photos I found are the "Lightweight" that James carried running-ishly thru the streets, but they ARE Pink and ARE Morse. And all together manly. (sorry, James, I just couldn't help that one). I had never heard of Morse before, but I think we can all agree that Enigma must be a very pretty machine and looks like he could be a real workhorse. And yes, James, it was meant to be. Thank you for sharing your story. Sew on....

If you enjoyed James' story, check out his blog: "Caught up in the Race" linked either on my blog list or at the top of this post.

Edited to change the font color. As cool and matchy as it was, it was really hard to read on my laptop screen. So it's a less vivid, less Enigmatic, more readable shade of pink

Another Sewing Machine Story

I snagged this off SG. I love sewing machine stories and am trying - slowly - to collect them. They are so much a part of the people who sewed, their lives, their dreams, their souls. This one is short and I'd like to know more, but here it is:
"No out of the box machine this year, but something, at least to me, much better. I received my great-grandmother's final sewing machine, a diminutive Kenmore Model 71. This machine was bought by my grandmother as a birthday present for her mother. The machine weighs 17 1/2 pounds and was easier from my great-grandmother to use. The machine was, I suppose, intended to compete with the Singer 301. This machine was a source of endless fascination for me as a child. It's the reason I started sewing, in fact. I'm still amazed that it's now living in my house. I'm from a big family of stitchers and this is something of the Holy Grail. How lucky for me that a great-aunt deemed me worthy of, as she explained it, the knowing and sewing of this machine. The original receipt is in the carrying case. I was amazed to see this machine sold for $134.95 in 1956. Adjusted for inflation, that's getting into the Bernina range. I have the button hole attachment, the "Automatic Decorator", both additional purchases; and the complete box of Griest attachments included with the purchase of the machine. Everything works, the full rotary movement is quite and smooth, and while I do wish for an 830, it could never warm my heart like this 53 year old Kenmore"
I'm sorry there's no photo and I would love to know more about his (yes, his) great-grandmother. What kind of clothes did she make? Where is she from? Did she love to sew or do it because she had to? Did she teach her children? Or did they hate/love it like she did? Ahh, inquiring minds....

Edited to add this photo by SewClassic that James confirms is the same as his. It's really pretty!

Edited to update my photo comment per a comment from Sew-Classic. This is NOT James' "new" machine. It is another that his GM had and that Jenny had a photo for. So, for all of you drooling over THIS machine and pea-green with envy for James, just calm down and move along. But I'm leaving the photo, 'cause it IS still pretty, if not that great a machine. So we're still waiting for James to come thru with a REAL photo. And thanks, Jenny for the correction.

Another Sewing Machine Story

I ran across this on Ebay today. It's the write-up for a Singer 201-2. Buy it now for $195, only bid is $25, so far, it has some time left. Now I don't need a 201, I have one. But if you do, here's the link while it lasts: http://cgi.ebay.com/Singer-201-2-Sewing-Machine_W0QQitemZ280241570807QQihZ018QQcategoryZ3118QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem I copied the story for my "Does your machine have a story" list. This one does and I wanted someone to keep that tale. The Serial number is included as are several photos.

"I was a Christmas present oh so many years ago and yes I know my cabinet needs to be restored and that I could use some surface cleaning, but under that exterior is a sewing machine that purrs like a kitten.
I'm a model 201-2 Singer Electric Sewing Machine, #AH048644, in a cabinet and a whole lot of history. I still have my orginal sales receipt dated December 19, 1947 which shows that I was purchased from Singer Sewing Machine Company in 1947 by Robert Saunders for the huge amount of $250.00. Wow, now that was a whole lot of money in those days. Within the folds of my receipt is a picture of a lady who was probably my orginal owner.
I come with the orginal box full of accessories, needle packets, cabinet key and the instruction booklet for using the "Singer Electric Sewing Machine 201-2". Also within the folds of the instruction booklet is a newspaper article about Joseph S. Sanders being sentenced to 3 months in federal prison for theft of a government check and a newspaper picture showing the prisoners inside the prison in front of their cells. If I could only talk!
Yes I'm a little rough and I'm a little on the tough side, but there's still plenty of life in me and I'll work hard for you. I am not some cheap plastic modern machine, no, I am an all metal, gear driven machine that has already stood the test of time. Buy me and you won't be disappointed."

Does your sewing machine have a story?

Prompted by a thread on PR, I copied my post from there. Does anyone else want to share their machine's story? I know they're out there, waiting to be heard. Hoping not to be forgotten, not to be overlooked as the "thing that's always been in the corner". Your hopes, your salvation, your frustration, your mother's pride and joy, your grandfather's footstool. The prize from the flea market or the ONE YOU'VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF!! Even if you don't tell me it's story - though I'd really love it if you did - write it down for you and for your machine.

I have a mid-grade Pfaff that's too new to have a story. But I also have my mother's 201. She was a Home-Ec major in college - the only child of 13 to go to college. She and my dad married in 1952 (today, in fact would have been their anniversay :cry: - but I digress). Her machine was commissioned in April 1952, so I assume they bought it soon after - actually it would be like them for it to have been a wedding gift to themselves. She made most of my clothes as a little girt (until I was old enough to pooh-pooh handmade in favor of cheap RTW) and some of my sisters. Most Easters we all (3) had matching dresses. Lot's of halloween costumes and a dress for every holiday - down to St. Patty's day and Valentine's day :cool: . I know that sewing for little girls was one of the things she liked about being a parent. It's the machine I learned on and made my Little House on the Prairie :blush: knock-off's in high school. She sits comfortably next to my new Pfaff today, a steady workhorse but a thing of beauty just the same. She's not one of the ornate models with gold scroll work, she's just your basic black - a real classic, everything goes with black - and she's as pretty as she was in 1952, though I think she may have a touch of indigestion that needs to be remedied, but we're all getting older. A real regret of mine is that I have no one to pass it on to, my son's just not into the whole sewing thing. :tounge: