Impressions of a Shop Boy (intro)

Some days I feel like the Wicked Witch of the East, except it’s a 1,200-pound Vandercook No. 3 that fell spinning from the sky to crush me. Whose idea was this printshop thing? Not mine, that’s for sure. Ten presses later? Here’s a hobby for you: knuckle-busting platen adjustments. Scraping 50 years of black ink off the guts of a press with a razor blade. Getting gunk off a cabinet full of “rescued” wood furniture. Cleaning ink rollers … and everything within 10 feet of Mary — she who runs the place — as she learns to mix ink.

Oh, who am I kidding? I love this letterpress stuff as much as she does.

Just not all the time. I’ll tell you all about it.

Me? I’m Shop Boy. Just Shop Boy.

Mary? She’s the brains, the inspiration, the drive and the charm behind Typecast Press. She’s a regular force of nature, which might just explain my predicament here.

Speaking of which, would you please help get this thing off me?

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