A Beginning

I can't for the life of me understand why anyone would want to read about the trials and tribulations of a letterpress printer, but a few have asked for first-hand observations, so here they are. I'm thinking a Lamborghini mechanic actually might be more interesting. Or maybe the Director of the Sand Museum.

A friend of mine, Josh Shenk, gifted writer and Director of Washington College's O'Neil Literary House, believes there should be a printer's profile listed in the psychiatric diagnostic handbook, DSM, as an illness. And I think he might be on to something.

Years ago, living in Colorado Springs, I often passed the International Typographer's Union Printer's Home. No lie. It was a sprawling almost cathedral-like facility with a panoramic view of the Rockies. At the time I didn't happen to think that some of those printers might have been "forced" to retire early after a complete meltdown (probably involving deckles, registration and humidity). It would not be too far afield to believe that many a stressed out printer went the way of the watchmaker and genius Linotype inventor, Ottmar Mergenthaler who is said to have ended up with a few fonts missing (although in all fairness I have not documented this.)

To assist the American Psychiatric Association I've established a few elements that might help with future diagnostics:

1. An inexorable ambition to be perpetually confounded.
2. (Combined with) a severe need discover the Platonic form of the Beautiful.
3. A fetish for seeing life as a reverse image.
4. A fear of anything more or less than type-high (.9186 inches)
5. A compulsion to arrange sock drawers like a California Job Case.