Purpose and Pretties

My Necchi guru teases. She says I suffer from SMAD (sewing machine acquisition disorder) but it was never all about acquisition. For me, it was about learning new things, applying my skills, and saving what was useful. So many machines came into the garage last summer, some stayed while others left. Some I gave away, donated to charities. There were nine that left the country entirely, bound for missionary work, but the thing that remained constant for me was an effort to keep perfectly usable machines from the landfill.

A Husqvarna Viking 6240 portable had its ‘lifetime’ lubricant turn to shellac and needed a TriFlo and hairdryer treatment. The wheel that would hardly budge in the morning ran and sewed that evening. In retrospect, I got really lucky that the cam stack and worm gear were fine.  I wouldn’t do that again without checking.

A discolored Singer 457 and a Franklin Kenmore were on the curb waiting for garbage pickup in our neighborhood. I brought them both back. The Kenmore sewed and was donated while the 457 needed a top gear.  I sat it aside and recycled the old cabinet. 

A week later the exact same thing happened with a late 80’s Kenmore. All it needed was cleaned and lubricated. That’s it, and it gave back a great stitch: one of the best stitches, picture perfect. I miss that one. Then a distressed Stylist, a Singer 603e, a 401, a 201, and the garage became a little cluttered. A five-dollar yard sale Universal donated its 1.4 amp motor to the Pfaff. 

Sis added a pink 15 clone to the shelf in the sewing room next to a metallic-blue White, and I became aware of her division. Although she genuinely needed and used a handful of vintage machines for her work, she also enjoyed a ‘pretty’ for the shelf: especially a vintage White.

 

I was beginning to sort it all out.  The 500A had been a lucky accident. Sis wanted one and yet unbeknownst to her, it became something she could use. The Pfaff 30, for all its trouble was seriously heavy duty.  An occasional White machine on the shelf paid tribute to the late 77, and having a few steel geared machines as backup was always a good idea when you sew almost exclusively with vintage machines.

The 525 and 101 remained my favorites. All the others became learning tools.  Tools I needed when ‘that’ e-mail came. The offer was literally - How many old sewing machines would you like?  Sis and I looked at each other. We shrugged our shoulders and agreed that it wouldn’t hurt to go look.

Twice.

Filling the car each time.

The story was that they had belonged to a repairman who had passed. The young lady that rescued them had known the gentleman, and somehow the lot came to her.  She spends most of her time restoring Singer 301’s and 221 featherweights and didn’t have much interest in the rest. In front of a large out-building with a wide garage door we backed up the SUV, and a sorting process began. There were rows of Kenmore models to the left, rows of Singers to the right, and in the middle was the odd lot.

It was there in the middle, in the back, in the dark, I found a machine that would challenge me as much as the 101. The body dirty, chrome dulled, and paint cracked, and of course, it didn’t want to turn. Every inch of wiring insulation crumbled when I touched it. 

Of all the machines we gathered that weekend it would be this Necchi BU that was first on the bench. I’ll admit it now, I was somewhat obsessed. Something in the back of my head insisted that it would sew. It really didn’t have a choice. I was driven.

It took days. There wasn’t any good wire. It was bad into the motor. So what, I thought. So I haven't done this before, it'll give me an opportunity to improve my soldering! This one used up all my shrink tube... and  yet, every minute was worth it.

It's heavy; forty pounds and maybe the weight has something to do with it, but it sews. It sews like mad. It sews like no other: slow, smooth, flawless. It didn't go to the sewing room, or sit abandoned on the work bench. It holds down my nightstand (a genuinely unruly piece of furniture ever since I've owned it). It's there to remind me how hard work and taking chances can have rewards. It's not entirely pure. In the pile there was another Husqvarna/Viking six thousand series. This one I checked, and the worm gear was gone. Everything else was there including a Fr560 pedal. The one in the shape of a foot. It's on the BU now, and just as responsive.

The other machines were a mixed bag. Several Singers in need of top gears, two New Homes, and eleven 70’s and 80’s white bodied Kenmore 158’s. I’d bring one up and go through it. If it would run, sew, and zigzag, then it was set it a row. All tolled, six of the 158's would do both.  Two others would only sew straight and three were left for parts.

The zigzag six, and the perfect stitch curbside Kenmore, the Singer Stylist, and a Nelco all left the garage in January for missionary work outside the country.  I never asked what group or church or affiliation because the opportunity seemed so perfect: all electric, portable, class 15 zigzag machines. Each fairly strait forward and they all sewed as if they’d never stop.  If I could have turned them into treadles… they could have gone to Africa.

The lady that emailed says I should return because there's still some left, and I might just do it. Round two of missionary machines could happen. The idea of changing lives for the better is a strong one. Some of these machines have changed mine.