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Twenty typewriters used to render war music

Image from Blast, war number, July 1915.

A symphony incorporating twenty typewriters to replicate the sounds of breaking shrapnel was noted in press accounts in 1924.1 According the reports, “At the Front” was composed by a French veteran of the First World War.

The war symphony ranks among the earliest compositions to incorporate the sounds of typewriters, predated only by Erik Satie’s Parade, which debuted in 1917. Unfortunately, the composer of “At the Front” was left unnamed in newspaper accounts.

Francis Poulenc, noted for his musical eccentricities, is one possible connection. He served in the last months of the war and worked as a typist at the Ministry of Aviation toward 1921. He gained fame in 1924 with Les Biches, a one-act ballet, so it is unlikely that he would not have been named had he also composed “At the Front.” Possibly, the piece arose from his circle, but that is merely speculation.

Battle of the Somme, July 1 to November 18, 1916. Image featuring a “mitrailleuse.”

Newspapers largely mocked the symphony, though no one seems to have heard the composition performed. That a war veteran would have composed a novelty piece seems unlikely, and the use of unconventional instruments signals a genuine effort to convey the horrors of the battlefield through Hemingway’s mitrailleuse.

Most accounts drew upon imagination to describe the symphony.

The Daily Press wrote, “The composer, who believes in innovation, is rumored to have declared in an interview, ‘It is my ambition to abolish the emotional appeal of music, and thus to capture the business man public. I shall make the date stamp do all that the harp has done heretofore, and I have not been afraid to insert a long passage for pencil sharpeners and crossed nibs'” (emphasis mine).2

Another newspaper quipped: “It is not certain, whether they are to represent machine-gun fire or the noise of a busy general headquarters.”3

This account in the Shawnee News Star (September 9, 1924), offered the most creative description of the symphony:

Final note

As I was able only to search digital archives of English-language sources, I wonder if any French researchers might learn more about this composition. It would certainly be interesting to hear this symphony.

© 2026, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.

  1. https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-evening-journal/201861457/[]
  2. https://www.newspapers.com/article/evening-news-and-star-late-final-ed/201845498/[]
  3. https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-daily-news/201845754/[]
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1912: The Albertson Folding Typewriter

The keyboard folds over the platen. Click here to see it in action (opens in new window).

Had the Alberston Folding Typewriter ever come to market, it’s likely Corona would have challenged it. Briefly noted in 1912, the Alberston featured a keyboard that folded over the platen, whereas the Corona featured a platen that folded over the keyboard. No controversy ensued, however, as the Alberston never materialized.

Interestingly, had the Albertson come to fruition, it would have been the first four-bank portable typewriter on the market. All others were three-bank machines until the introduction of the Remington Portable in 1920.

The Albertson was designed by Ernest H. Albertson, who filed for a patent for the device in 1912 (US 1082671). It was granted in 1913. In several places, he emphasized how the “front part” folded “backward” over the “back part,” explaining, that “[t]his invention relates to typewriting machines, and the object thereof is to provide an improved machine of this class having a standard keyboard and the frame of which consists of a main back part and a supplemental front part adapted to be folded backwardly over and on the back part, whereby the machine may be made to occupy the smallest possible space…”

He may have deemed this motion sufficiently novel to distinguish it from the Corona.

Folding before folding

Little is known about the inventor except that he was the son of Linden and Eliza Albertson, both of whom were born sometime in the 1850s in New Jersey. They married in 1872, so Ernest was likely around 40 at the time of his application. He filed at least one other patent in 1915, for a handle to a calculator (see here).

The Albertson Folding Typewriter Company was incorporated in New York in 1912 by Ernest, his father Linden (both of New York City), and Frederick M. Rogers (of Brooklyn). 1 According to reports, the company would manufacture both a machien and typewriter supplies. Later that year, they purchased a lot in Fairfield, Connecticut, where they intended to build a factory and produce an average of 25 machines a month by the end of the year. 2 Weighing five pounds, the body of the typewriter was to be made of aluminum. As such, it would have looked very similar to the Standard Folding Typewriter, Corona’s predecessor.

In The Writing Machine (1973), Michael Adler notes that the Albertson Folding Typewriter Company “appears to have folded before manufacture began.”

There are no known machines, and no images apart from those in the patent application.

AI-rendering of patent image, omitting figure references. Click image to see original.

© 2026, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.

  1. See https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-evening-journal/199719079/[]
  2. See https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-bridgeport-times-and-evening-farmer/199719593/[]
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Rimington’s typewriter

The caption for this photograph in Macfadden Fiction-lovers Magazine (1905) read: “THE NOVELTY OF THE TYPEWRITER KEPT POLLY QUIET FOR A FEW SECONDS.”

As noted in a previous post, the infinite monkey theorem — that, given enough time, a monkey will be able to type the complete works of Shakespeare — is just not possible for a simple reason: not enough time (and certainly there would be an attention issue as well). Reports the BBC, “[A] new peer-reviewed study led by Sydney-based researchers Stephen Woodcock and Jay Falletta has found that the time it would take for a typing monkey to replicate Shakespeare’s plays, sonnets and poems would be longer than the lifespan of our universe.”

In the 1940s, Captain G.B. Rimington “trained” a chimpanzee to type, coaxing the animal (Lucy or Mabel, depending on accounts) with bananas and limiting the typewriter’s functionality to the keys “he wanted Lucy to use.” The chimp was apparently able to type short words, but nothing close to a line of Shakespeare.

Probably the earliest primate to adopt the typewriter was Miss Tony, who, upon her death in 1909, was noted for playing the piano and operating a typewriter.

You looking at me? Hey, I’m typing here.

Explanation of blog title –

  • Rimington = Captain Rimington not Remington Typewriter Company
  • Typewriter = typist (anachronistic in the 1940s).

Another “Rimington,” connected to typewriters, can be found here.

The Start Independent (Pennsylvania), February 9, 1909 –

The Crown Colonist (London), August 1946 –

Captain G.B. Rimington a retired Kenya District Commissioner and a well known amateur wild animal trainer has been broadcasting to Kenya listeners about his famous chimpanzee the late Lucy. He told them how by tying down all keys on a typewriter keyboard except the ones he wanted Lucy to use and then bribing her with bananas he succeeded in making her the only typing chimpanzee in the world Captain Rimington’s other animal pupils have included an ostrich and a giraffe also a zebra which he trained for polo.

© 2026, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.

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1919: Woman aid war effort at Underwood

Click images to view AI-rendered versions.

Reading The Hartford Courant’s account of the local war effort, the real hero of the day was the Underwood typewriter factory, which valiantly maintained production quotas during the First World War. Not so much credit was given to the women who actually manufactured the machines. “Steps were taken,” observed the Courant, “to eliminate non-essential demands. The typewriter industry was organized along these lines: through the work of this organization, the needs of the government were most promptly met.”

From The Rutland Daily Herald, January 18, 1918.

Throughout 1918 and 1919, the government purchased the majority of typewriters, and the demand was met by a dedicated core of women who managed not only temporary careers but also homemaking. Nearly 1 million additional women joined the workforce during the conflict, though child care systems had not yet been established. To meet the needs of working mothers, the Underwood factory in Hartford, Connecticut, set up childcare for dozens of children. This also included kindergarten classes, which are pictured above.

The Courant offers an account of Underwood’s efforts, which had been hidden during the war. While the article provides interesting details (such as government purchase figures), it does not narrate the women’s experience. That Underwood provided childcare was unique. Notes Tae H. Kim (Where Women Worked During World War I), “Few employers provided childcare for working mothers or even set aside toilets for female workers.”

How many women remained at the Underwood factory after the war is uncertain, but the typewriter industry did employ women as factory workers, though generally as lower rates of pay. Somewhere in people’s collections, there are machines with a hidden story.


 

The Hartford Courant (Hartford, Connecticut), January 26, 1919 –

Note: The following excerpt is the portion of the article (see here) that pertains to the Underwood factory.

TYPEWRITERS WIN BATTLES.

What had the typewriters to do with the war? “Oh, a whole lot with the gentlemen who sat on fine mahogany chairs,” may reply some Wise Guys. “But you get down to brass tacks in the trenches,” he would be likely to add, “I don’t see where typewriters come in. Rifles and whizbangs, and all sorts of firewords, yes — but typewriters” — and he would most likely walk away with an airy wave of the hand.

But typewriters had a very great deal to do with the war, and war in its most ugly and noisy aspect, war located decidedly within shelling distance from the front; war where enemy aviators delighted to drop all sorts of cunningly contrived bombs upon typewriters, and the men who sat using them. For typewriters went to the front with the United States army. When the army advanced the typewriters accompanied it. If there were not enough typewriters the army could not advance half as well; it was not as well provisioned, equipped, furnished with munitions, supplied with doctors and medical supplies. In fact the army depended upon its typewriters as much as it did upon its rifles and big guns, for without the orders written on typewriters, usually in duplicate, or several copies as the case might be, and distributed by the proper authorities to the proper transportation units, the various necessary articles would not be brought up. And then it would not be a well-supplied army; as such it could not be expected to be a successful fighting force. If it were not successful it might be a defeated army — then the Allies might have lost the war, instead of having won it. Typewriters were very necessary at the front. Battles were fought with typewriters as well as rifles.

THE UNDERWOOD TYPEWRITER’S SHARE IN WINING THE WAR.

At the beginning of the war the demand of the United States Government for typewriters had not reached the proportions which later became so great that extraordinary steps had to be taken by all manufacturers to meet the situation.

At the start of 1918 the Underwood factory had government orders for a fairly large number of machines for use in the United States, as well as a liberal quantity required by General Pershing for overseas service. Then came the order from Wasthinton speeding up the war program in every conceivable manner — men, munitions, ships and countless articles for the equipment of the army and navy.

Orders came in for a thousand Underwood typewriters at the time. The problems raised might have staggered ordinary concerns. To continue its production despite the lack of men, the company found that many operations could be successfully accomplished by women.

UNDERWOOD PLANT A HUGE NUSERY.

Arrangements were made to furnish women workers with comfortable rest rooms and surroundings. To both the company and the women, the results have been highly satisfactory. Many of the women with children too young to leave at home alone brought them to the factory. Here a large nursery was equipped with cots and toys were provided. The children were placed under the supervision of a competent children’s nurse as well as kindergarten teachers. It was not an uncommon sight to observe seventy-five or more of the little tots playing or sleeping, while their mothers worked.

As the Army and Navy relied on the telegraph and telephone for communication, the government stated plainly that the typewriter was a “line of communication” that must not be cut. Civilians were requested to give preference to the more important demands of government for typewriters.

In connection with the proportion of machines taken by the government as against those placed in civilian use, percentage figures are given. In June, July, August, September and October 1918, the government to 84, 95, 96.5, 90 and 88 per cent, respectively, with only 16, 5, 3.5, 10 and 12 per cent sent out for civilian use. During the year of 1918, the Underwood company furnished the United States and [illegible] governments with over 100,000 typewriters.

About six months ago officials of some 200 concerns manufacturing typewriters or kindred projects met in Washington at the request of the government, which desired to regulate the supplies of fuel, food, steel, oil and essentials. Steps were taken to eliminate non-essential demands. The typewriter industry was organized along these lines: through the work of this organization, the needs of the government were most promptly met.

Possibly the most outstanding feature of the problem that had to be met by the Underwood company was the necessity of caring for small children of its women workers, who, unless they had had their little charges properly cared for at the factory, could not have supplied the labor which enabled the factory to keep up, or advance its production. That the company made a success of its entrance into the day nursery, kindergarten and child welfare work would seem to be borne out by the pictures of the “kiddies” who are to be seen engaged in the pleasing occupations of play, or fathered together in comfortable quarters for kindergarten work, or eating — all exercises which are thoroughly enjoyed by our immature future voters and struggling suffragettes, of potent possibilities. This form of industrial work did not do the company any harm, and there can be no question that it was of considerable benefit to the children themselves.

It is said that the Underwood plant is now running full blast, that workmen released from munition plants are finding excellent positions awaiting them: that the factory is expected to regain its former maximum daily production of typewriters, or even more as soon as the required number of men and women can be trained for the work.

© 2026, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.

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The rough world of typewriter agents

Buffalo Courier Express (Buffalo, New York), November 11, 1901 –

The Emporia Gazette (Emporia, Kansas), April 4, 1901 –

The Emporia Gazette (Emporia, Kansas), February 2, 1901 –

Sheridan County Star (Rushville, Nebraska), September 11, 1903 –

© 2026, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.

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