Friday, October 26, 2018

Un sacco di cucito (A bag of sewing)

It all started (again) with a nondescript photograph near the very end of over a hundred other posted photos found online in regards to a local estate sale:


This sale was in a part of town I've never visited and with a 7am start time in the middle of October, it meant navigating unfamiliar Pittsburgh streets in the dark - and none of that worried me.  Another person might have looked at that picture above and never noticed the bag on the floor. Or if they did notice it and the partial view of the sewing machine, would they have recognized the make and model?


Here's an exploded view. There's only one sewing machine that looks like that: cream and coral two tone, central control dial, top cam door, ventilated front door... I felt it had to be a Necchi Supernova Julia 534. It just had to be.

Maybe?

I had to go find out...

At ten till seven on a very cool mid-October morning there was a short line of people already standing on the stone stairs climbing up to the door of the estate sale. The light in the eastern sky was just beginning to change. I was a little concerned that the one thing that brought me all this way might escape my grasp. (How silly!) When I was finally I waved inside, I stepped into the foyer, turned, went straight up the stairs, scanned the first bedroom floor, and then the second... saw the bag, read the 25 dollar price tag, peeked in to see the white letters: Supernova, lifted up the bag by the handles and headed quickly for the cashier.


I asked her if I could set the bag behind her table for just a moment, and then dashed back inside to grab a Singer Sew Handy 50, nearly complete, in it's original box with case and another 25 dollar tag. I couldn't resist. The amusing thing is that the original price is printed on the cardboard Sew Handy box: $24.99.  So much for inflation!


After an hour drive home and a short nap... I headed downstairs to see just what had I got myself into this time... and sure enough it was indeed a Julia 534. What I didn't know was how filthy the machine would be inside that bag.


For awhile I thought maybe the dried-on icky brown stuff might have been nicotine... but the more I cleaned off the brownish film, the more it began to feel like old, dried-on, oil.


I should say that before I began all the cleaning,  I did check every inch of the wiring, especially underneath and where the wires enter the pedal and junction box (ie: anywhere wire could come in contact with metal). I had also removed the bobbin and bobbin carrier and then carefully read the instruction manual on how to make sure the embroidery settings were not engaged.

For those who don't know, running a Supernova in stitch settings that do not need a cam (straight and zigzag) without disengaging the embroidery mechanism can cause permanent damage to the embroidery unit. This is not a warning you'll find anywhere in the manual. It's a warning handed down by long time Necchi owners.


The next cleaning step for me was as usual, a little sewing machine oil on a cotton rag. Once the surface filth came loose I went over it again with warm soapy water and a sponge. In the case of this machine, and because of the really tight spaces around all those delicate switches... I bought a pack of inexpensive tooth brushes and followed my work with a dry wad of cotton.


It would take several attempts to dampen and loosen the film on this machine, but eventually it began to look good.


If it was only one oily film on the top surface of the machine, there were a dozen such layers underneath. You can see the difference above. It would all eventually come clean. I carefully propped it up on it's side (being paranoid not to damage the plastic thread spool pins on the back). The brown film acted more and more like old oil.


This was another time where I went for a cotton rag and denatured alcohol. No damage to the paint, or decals, and the work went quickly as long as I could reach the surfaces. The change was more dramatic here.

With the machine surfaces cleaned, the wiring checked, and the embroidery mechanism disengaged, I went over  all the oil points again and turned the machine easily by hand. Every night as I closed up the shop I added another drop of oil here and there. It was almost time to see if Julia would sew.

Without returning the bobbin and carrier or threading the machine, I plugged everything in and tested the switches. The light switch has to be in the on position for this machine to work. The light bulb glowed and I tried the pedal and the machine ran, but something odd happened.  I noticed a strange black dust on the deck area in between the feed dog drop lever and the light and motor switches. I knew had carefully cleaned that area, so I cleaned it again, and wondered.... then ran the machine for a moment and more black dust returned. That's when I knew I was going to have to check the belt. I was almost certain it would need a new one.


The belt change became problematic. The first problem were that there were no screws in the balance wheel lock. That didn't stop me from removing the lock, but then the balance wheel did not want to come off. I ended up removing the wheel pulley from the motor shaft to have the belt loose and then spent a day oiling and nudging the balance wheel.


This balance wheel isn't your normal vintage sewing machine one piece unit, it's a two piece affair where the lock washer is riveted into the outside balance wheel half.  Removing the top cover gave me access to the back of the balance wheel assembly and soft taps with a wooden dowel rod and a mallet finally convinced the wheel to move.


When the back half moves, the entire assembly moves with it. It was a slow process; turn the wheel and tap, turn again and tap... more cleaning, more lubrication and TriFlow and then finally the two balance wheel halves came off. I managed to find two matching screw head bolts the correct size and thread for the lock nut.


By now, it was Thursday and I'd brought the machine home on Saturday. I didn't spend all day every day cleaning and working on the Supernova. Most of my efforts were reserved for the early and late hours. It still seamed to me that this was taking a little longer than usual. In retrospect and as I write this, I realize that yes, I have taken my time. There are items on this machine I have never come across before; the two piece wheel, the two speed control, the rumored 'brittle' switches and also the 'push button' needle release. Add all those concerns and a heavy layer of dark film, along with with the care needed to make sure the embroidery unit isn't damaged, and there's little wonder why my work was a little on the slow and cautious side.


Eventually, I had to trust my work and the fifty-plus year-old craftsmanship built into this Italian-made machine. I didn't try everything, but the straight stitch and zigzag stitch were working well. Soon, I'll sit down with the cam sets and see what else it will do. I've been told there's thousands of combinations.

It's not like I needed another sewing machine. For that matter, it's not like I needed another Necchi. I have yet to write a post about the early Necchi BF sitting behind me on a shelf, or a black Nova found forlorn and in need of rewiring from at another estate sale - and there's a mint green Mira as well. (I need to find a wonder wheel!) I have to admit that the Necchi's here are beginning to outnumber any other marquee.

The Supernova's are a challenge. As with any of the more complicated vintage machines they have their strong points and their weak points. On these curved bodied Necchi Supernovas made from 1957 on, there are things that can wear out. The push button needle mount has been known to fail (replaceable with a traditional mount) and occasionally the old rheostat will go bad which means having to rewire the machine and eliminate the dual speed - or some people choose to slip them into a treadle. The one other thing that can go is the tiny little spider gear in the embroidery unit. That can't be fixed, but replacements units can occasionally be found or the entire mechanism can be removed leaving the machine to do straight and zigzag only.  There are lots of options to keep an old Necchi sewing - which can't be said for many of it's competitors built during the same time period. When the timing belt goes on a Pfaff 130 - that's it, it's done - which is not the case with the Necchi.





1 comment:

  1. Loved the process description you gave about the Necchi. I have never been close to one in real life. Probably a good thing. I finally got around to opening up and cleaning a 301 I bought weeks ago. Just finished repairing a Featherweight for a friend of my sister-in-laws. I have learned that you always have to take your time. Once I cleaned someone's Universal machine that had a film like you had- inside and out. Used a lot of KrudKutter and rags. Fixed it up and never even got a thank you. Congratulations on getting it to rock and roll!

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