This Is a Bigger Deal Than You Think It Is

I love sentimentality but I have to admit that it can be a problem sometimes. Some months ago - no, actually more like a couple of years ago - I was in an antique shop and saw a treadle and cabinet, without the machine, just like mine (which you can also see in the picture below) except that it was in much better condition - in near perfect condition, actually. I was tempted. I actually do sew on my antique and the peeling veneer and rough spots can be a problem functionally. It would be nice to have a nice cabinet. But then I thought, "It's my grandmother's machine. I can't swap the cabinet; I can't do anything to change it." So I let it go and I sort of regretted that I passed up the chance to get a nice cabinet but at the same time was glad I didn't because, "I can't do anything to my grandmother's machine."

Well, feeling like I shouldn't let sentimentality rule me, yesterday I somewhat hesitantly bought this:

The treadle and cabinet are a different style from my grandmother's machine but the top, the machine itself, is the same. But see, here's the thing. From poking around on the Internet trying to figure out what model it is, I have pretty much come to the conclusion that my grandmother's machine was put together from parts of two different machines. It also has some small missing parts and there is a lot of play in the treadle because it has been "repaired" using a non-original part.

Something I've always sort of felt guilty about because of sentimentality is that I've always wished I had a prettier machine. I wish it still had the decals and I have always liked the style of cabinet and treadle like the one I bought yesterday. But it's my grandmother's machine and I'm supposed to love it and never want anything else. I actually do love it but still, that doesn't keep me from guilty wishing. I don't think my grandmother would mind at all. I once heard her say she didn't even particularly like this machine. Before it she had a different one, a different brand, not a Singer, that she liked better but it stopped working and she bought the one I have now. Later a sewing machine repairman told her that old machines can always be fixed and she really regretted not keeping her other machine. I was pretty young when I heard her talk about this and I can't remember what brand she said the other machine was. But anyway, it's not about whether or not she would mind; it's about having and using the same machine she used and having that connection.

The machine I bought yesterday is in sad condition. The treadle is rusty but it moves smoothly. The machine still has the decals but its parts are also rusty and when I try to turn the wheel it barely moves. Nothing a tanker load of WD-40 couldn't fix, I'm sure. The cabinet is in worse condition than I thought at first. The center tilt out "drawer" is missing. The bottom piece - I don't know what you call it - is coming apart. The veneer hasn't actually peeled off as badly as on my other machine but yet, it looks more dried out, like it could easily peel off.

I'm still considering what to do. At first I thought I might just swap out the treadle but it won't fit the other cabinet. I would have to swap both cabinet and treadle. But what if I could get this machine working? Why bother to swap anything? Why not just repair and use it? But what about my grandmother's machine? My grandmother's sewing machine! Well, do you see the problem?

One thought I have had is that I might use one of these old machines as a stand for my electric machine since I normally just set it on the dining table when I use it. It doesn't really have a place.

The machine I bought yesterday also had this stuff in one of the drawers. I have no idea what any of it is or how to use it but I'm sure it could be useful.

UPDATE: Just realized something. The two machines are not exactly the same. The bobbin filler is the same but the tensioner is in a different place. Funny how sometimes it takes a while to see the obvious.

Old Sewing Machines

UPDATED: I was so wrong! See below.

Aren't these antique hand crank sewing machines beautiful?! There are a number of treadle sewing machines on the page also.

Two years ago I saw this old sewing machine outside a store in Silver Dollar City. (a theme park south of Branson, Missouri)

They have a lot of old rusty farm and household items just sitting around. It's supposed to be part of the charm of the place. Of course I had seen pictures of these before but this was the first (and so far only) one I've ever seen up close and in person. It made me sad (and actually a little shocked) that someone had just neglected it and left it to rust.

Ever since I saw that I have wished I had one of my own. I'm not going to buy one of the restored ones. It seems too self-indulgent. It's an expensive item that I don't need and I don't even have anywhere to keep and display it. But if I ever saw one un-restored but still somewhat functional for a good price I probably would not be able to resist the temptation.

UPDATE: This is NOT a hand crank machine. It's a Willcox & Gibbs electric machine. Actually a very, very interesting sewing machine. It uses only one thread, no bobbin. I so much want to try using one.

UPDATE II: Or I could still be wrong. Or even more wrong. Or I could have been right in the first place. Here is another page about Willcox & Gibbs sewing machines with more about the machines themselves and more pictures. There was a hand crank model that looked a lot like the electric model, just without the motor. There were also a number of clones so it might not be a Willcox & Gibbs machine at all. Anyway, I am increasingly fascinated with these machines.

Old Friend, New Friend

I inherited my maternal grandmother's treadle sewing machine when I was 18. I had done a little sewing but this is what really kick-started my sewing life. It never occurred to me to keep it just as an antique sitting in a corner, something to set plants on, or turn it into a desk or something. (sacrilege!) It's a sewing machine! Besides that, I always liked the idea of being different, of doing something almost no one else does.

It's not pretty. It was already old and beat-up-looking when I was a small child but it sews like a dream. I have sewn everything on it from the most delicate fabrics to some really heavyweight stuff and the things it can't do, like buttonholes, I learned to do by hand. I am, frankly, quite proud of it and what it can do. I have never felt limited by it at all.

In all these years I have never had any desire to have a modern electric machine. Until recently. A couple of things caused me to change my mind. Last fall I was doing a blanket stitch to finish the seams on a pair of jeans. It's a fun stitch; I always enjoy it, but, for the first time, I started thinking, "I could get this done faster if I had a modern sewing machine."

Another thing that happened is that I got older. (Wait! Really?) When you're in your 20s and you use a treadle sewing machine, exclusively, you might be cool and a bit of a rebel, but when you're 50+ (No! That can't be right! I demand a re-count!) and you use a treadle machine, exclusively, you're just an old woman who can't handle modern technology. So I hinted that I might like a new sewing machine for Christmas and I got this one:

I like it. It has lots of nice specialty stitches, most of which I will probably never use, and it's almost as easy to use as the treadle machine. My original intention was to just use it for things like finishing seams and buttonholes but I have made one "outfit" (a set of knit pajamas) on it and I think I might always make knit garments entirely on this machine. The old machine sews knits just fine but it's nice to be able to finish the seams neatly. I tried using it once to make buttonholes. I think I will probably continue to make buttonholes by hand.

I will continue to use the old machine most of the time. I'm in the middle of making a shirt on it now. But it's nice to have the new one for certain things.