Of All Things, Why Vintage Sewing Machines?

Restoring a vintage sewing machine is truly a labor of love and a time consuming task, as I have quickly discovered over the last several years with each successive machine. I never imagined that such a symbol of domesticity would ever give me such joy as these hefty little beauties seem to provide. My journey into this hobby began with my grandmother's Singer 401A.

I inherited Nana's sewing machine back in 1995 when she passed away. It was her only possession that I truly wanted and fortunately for me, no one else in my family saw any value in the old machine. I don't mean monetary value, though top condition 401's can bring a nice sum of money these days; I mean in sentimental and emotional value, as each time I look at or use that 1950's beige and white machine, I relive some of the happiest memories of my childhood. That machine is priceless to me. I watched her sew and repair many garments on that machine; she patched my favorite pair of jeans where I had worn the seat out, on that machine; Nana taught me to sew on that machine.

Over the years, I have made mostly quilts with the 401, making one for each of my nieces and nephews at their birth. I've patched some clothing, hemmed a lot of pants (being only 5'6", I hem a lot of pants). A couple of years ago, I opened up the sewing cabinet to hem a newly acquired pair of jeans. As I started my project, I noticed the machine didn't quite sound 'right'; she was a little sluggish, and her stitch knobs wouldn't budge. I pushed on and finished my small project, but I was concerned that my grandmother's machine may be on her last leg.

I started searching the internet and joining any/all sewing machine forums I could find. I felt like a vacuum cleaner at one point, sucking in so much information. With my newly found 'knowledge' and printouts of parts charts, wiring diagrams, and an adjuster's manual (thank you Lord for the internet!), I set out to breathe new life into Nana's 1958 Singer 401A - the Slant-O-Matic.

Nana's 1958 Singer 401A Slant-O-Matic

Two weeks and a lot of elbow grease later, Nana's 401 was sewing like new again! I can't tell you how much joy and pride I have in this little beauty! I say little, but even with a cast aluminum body, she still weighs in at about 25 lbs! And I haven't come across a single thing that she can't sew through when using the proper needle. She could certainly handle another round of intense cleaning; 40+ years of cigarette smoke and nicotine definitely take their toll. So now each time I sew with her, I give her a nice clean up afterwards and she shines just a little bit more.

While doing my research to fix and repair my grandmother's machine, I discovered that having a few spare parts on hand might not be a bad idea. After all, this machine hasn't been produced in nearly 50 years and new O.E.M. parts would certainly become harder to find than hen's teeth. One part in particular that I was concerned about given my 401's recent sluggishness was a replacement  for the internal motor. Fortunately, dried, gummy oil had caused her slow responsiveness and not the motor, but having a spare certainly couldn't hurt.

I began scouring my local Craigslist for similar machines and one day a Singer 403 popped up, for a dirt cheap price. The 403A is in essence the same as a 401 with one major exception - the 403 requires external cams (Singer called them Fashion Disks) to be inserted to zig-zag or make fancy stitches; the 401 has the zig-zag built in, as well as multiple other stitches and can use the Fashion Disks also.  I call the owner who it turns out was settling his father's estate; his father had bought the machine new for his mom and it hadn't been used in years. All the parts were there, so I loaded her up and brought her home. After inspection, I realized this machine had seen little to no use, and using my newly acquired knowledge about the 401, I set about servicing the the new-to-me 1959 Singer 403A.

1959 Singer 403A Special

The Singer 403A cleaned up and sewed beautifully, albeit a bit noisier than Nana's 401. I think probably because the 403 had never truly been broken-in.  She became the second machine in my collection and I soon realized just how great these machines are. They were designed to last a lifetime without worries or troubles. They were made in the USA, when workers had pride in the job and in their product, and were made long before built-in obsolescence was commonplace.

I decided then that I wanted more of a challenge and began looking for an out-of-service machine. That next machine just happened to be a Singer 404 - the basic straight-stitch only introductory machine to the Slant 400 series.  That machine had been used hard and put away wet, as it were, having been used in schools to teach and it had obvious signs of abuse.  A few eBay parts later and some touch-up paint later, this bad-boy was ready for another 40+ years of sewing.

1959 Singer 404

And so a new hobby (addiction?) was born...all from the love and adoration of my Nana and her cherished Singer 401A.

A Saturday Funny

This post really should be a “Friday Funny”, but as Blogger was down all day yesterday, I was never able to post. And it may not be funny to anyone other than myself, but I wanted to share the story and the memory it inspired, as it put me in a great mood for the entire day.

Friday morning, I went out on the patio to water my burgeoning garden. No big deal, as I perform that task daily since moving my indoor seedlings to their exterior growing spots. I began watering away at 7 in the morning, having forgone the coffee since the weather had turned markedly warmer here in the South. Moving from plant to plant, careful not to waste any water, I moved on to the cantaloupes and spotted something buried in the top of the soil. Brain still in a fog, I jumped about three feet in the air, and about the same distance backwards. What on Earth could it have been, you ask? A snake, perhaps? No, nothing quite that vicious. The object of my fright was none other than a 1-1/2” frog who had made his bed for the night in my planter. Yes, that small, unassuming creature nearly gave this 41 year old, hefty-sized man a near coronary.

Once the fog cleared from my brain, I stood there, garden hose in hand, water gushing everywhere (so much for conservation), and I began to laugh. I laughed at the silliness of the situation, but more so, I laughed because that moment brought back a sweet memory of my grandmother. Nana was afraid of almost nothing; the lone exception being…you guessed it….frogs. I remember one summer, I must have been about 7 or 8, the two of us were working in her yard, planting flowers in the rock beds and such. While cleaning out one of the beds, I came across a rather large frog, basking in the warm summer sun. Being a typical mischievous young boy, I picked up the frog, turned around and said “Nana, look what I found! Can I keep it?” Not in my entire life before had I ever seen my grandmother move so quickly; I think she may have set an unofficial world record in the 100-yard dash that day. After a bit of screaming on her part, huffing and puffing on mine, I put the frog away and we went on with our chores for the day. I truly believe that was the only day she was ever mad at me, or least the only time she ever let me know it anyway and I know it was the only day I had ever seen fear in her eyes.  Never again did I bring a frog close to Nana; I learned that lesson mighty quick. Writing this now, I still have a smile on my face, believing that yet another part of her lives on in me.

I love and miss you Nana; thank you for giving me so much unconditional love.