A Visual Guide to Identifying Singers from Crappy Craigslist Photos, Part 1

This is a visual guide to identifying certain black, cast-iron vintage Singer machines: The 66, 99, 201, 206, and 15 both potted and belted. These are the models I find to be most common in my area (NYC).

The excellent online Singer identification guide from Sandman Collectibles is the current gold standard for identifying vintage Singer machines. It asks you to check off a list of features seen on your machine, narrowing it down until you arrive at the model number. It's predicated on having the machine in front of you, where you can see everything clearly.

But what if you're looking at a tiny, dark, poorly shot, grainy, out-of-focus photo on Craigslist or eBay and can't answer all of the questions asked by the Sandman page? This will help SOME of you (please read the caveat at the bottom of this entry) to look at a Craigslist photo and figure out if it's the model you're looking for or not. In general I don't look for common technical details like where the tension dial is or what side the light is on; I just look at the overall lines of the machine and a couple of clues that show up no matter how crappy the photo.

Case in point--the other day I clicked on a Craigslist ad saying only "Singer sewing machine" and saw this photo:

The photo's small, dark, shot from a weird angle and shows no detail, but I immediately knew it was a model 99. (I later e-mailed the woman and she confirmed it.) How did I know? You'll find out in this series of entries.



You can learn to identify different models of Singer, even through lousy photos, by a series of curves and visual clues. First I'm going to start with the model 15 because that has the most distinctive "lines," if you know where to look. When trying to identify a Singer from a crappy photo, the first thing I do is rule out whether it is or isn't a model 15.

Most photos, no matter how bad, will reveal the top line of the machine. (Some don't, I'll cover that later in this series.) And on every Singer model, the topmost profile line of the machine features a line that descends from right to left--what I'll call the "runway"--tapering down to a pinched waist before ramping back up into what I'll call the "ski jump." I'll call the bottom of the arm the "undercurve," and I'll also ask you to note the "pillar line," or front edge of the pillar. (Please note I'm making these terms up; they are not common usage and will make no sense to others.)

Now, let's look at the model 15, forgetting for a moment about the sub-model:

First, notice the Runway/Waist/Ski Jump area. It's a smooth curve. What I mean by that is, if you were driving a tiny car down the "runway" of the machine, you could drive up the "ski jump" with no problem. It doesn't go steeper than 45 degrees, and that's unique to the model 15s.

Secondly, look at the undercurve. It's kind of symmetrical, like the top of an umbrella.

Thirdly, notice how the pillar line is raked back at an angle.

In contrast, let's look at the lines of a different machine. Here's a 201:

You should notice some sharp differences. First of all, if you drove a tiny car down the runway of a 201, you'd crash when you got to the ski jump because it's too steep. As you'll see later, it's like that on the 66s, 99s and 206s as well.

Secondly, notice how straight the lines are for the runway, the undercurve and the pillar line. In actuality they're slightly curved, but to the naked eye they look very nearly like straight lines. This is an important clue.

Thirdly, look at the angle of the pillar line. Now compare it to the pillar line of the model 15. On the 201, the pillar line is almost vertical.

Anyways, I'm not going to ask you to identify 201s just yet, I'm just showing it for contrast. The first step is to be able to identify a model 15. So, let's look at some crappy pictures. Studying the runway and ski jump areas, which of these machines are model 15's?

1

2

3

4

Got it? Was it too easy? If so, don't worry, it will get trickier.

And here's The Caveat: The Sandman identification form is exact, foolproof and useful for everybody. Unfortunately, my system here is only going to be useful to some of you. Those of you whose vision is wired to be artistic--"right brainers"--will have no problem picking this up, while others more "left brain" or logic-inclined may find it inscrutable. Don't feel bad if you can't pick this up, it's like being tall--you're either born tall or you're not. (And I'm not.)

Go on to:

Part 2: If it’s a model 15, what kind of 15?

Part 3: Is it a 201?

Part 4: Is it a 66?

Part 5: Is it a 99?

A Look at Spoked Handwheels

Until the solid handwheel became standard sometime in the 1930s (I believe), Singer made spoked handwheels or "balance wheels," as they were then known.

I'm guessing they phased them out for both practical and safety reasons. Spoked handwheels were heftier than their solid successors, and the extra mass provided momentum that probably came in handy when machines were hand-cranked and treadle-powered; the advent of electric motors obviated that need. As far as safety, if a child or careless operator stuck their fingers between the spokes while the machine was running at high speed, the results would probably have been unpleasant.

Here are three different types of spoked handwheel you're liable to come across:

Left, replica. Center, Singer original 5.5". Right, Singer original 6".

First let's look at the one in the center. I don't have hard dates on this, but I believe this is the one you were liable to find on a Singer of the 1920s.

Original Singer 5.5"

It's got nine spokes and measures about five inches in diameter.

Assuming my kitchen scale is accurate, it weighs in at nearly 1 lb. 10 ozs, or 732 grams for those of you on the metric system who can't be bothered to fool with our silly ounces.

Below is a modern-day replica of the handwheel above, this one made in China. It's easy to find at a sewing machine parts supplier.

Replica 5.5"

The diameter is just about identical to the original.

It's just a shade heftier at 1 lb. 11 ozs.

I actually dislike this handwheel. Although it serves its purpose well enough, the manufacturing quality of it does not sit well with me. Up until the 1950s and arguably the '60s, Singer was known for making the best stuff to exact manufacturing tolerances. If you look at the spokes on the replica handwheel, they're sloppily cast and have sharp edges. Additionally, the paint is bubbled, uneven and rough, despite the glossy finish.

Sharp edges on the spokes. Tsk, tsk

What really drives me nuts about the replica is that the bore is off-center. Take a look:

Replica bore

Now compare that to the original Singer handwheel's bore:

Original Singer bore

In actual usage on a machine, the slightly off-center bore of the replica does not affect the operation in any way. But if I look closely at the replica handwheel while it's on a machine and spinning, I can see a wobble in the rotation that I really don't like. Admittedly this is because I am biased: I was formerly employed as an industrial designer, and part of my job was supplying tooling drawings from which manufacturers would cut steel molds. The molds cost in the hundreds of thousands of dollars and the draftings had to be utterly precise. If I got the tolerances wrong I would have been fired, and I spent a lot of late nights getting them right. So to this day, when I see shoddily manufactured goods, I feel irritated to see people getting away with it.

When I look at the Singer handwheel spinning on a machine, there's no wobble and the tolerances are perfect. That makes me happy, and proud to be working on such a finely-constructed machine. I realize that this is because I'm more hung up on the machines than the actual sewing, and that if you were sewing a project on a machine outfitted with a replica handwheel, you would not notice the difference. Nevertheless, I will not purchase a replica handwheel again because I don't want to support that kind of imprecise manufacturing. As a former product designer I hate junk and I really miss well-manufactured American goods, which is part of why I love old Singers so much.

I will grudgingly admit that the three benefits of a replica handwheel are 1) they're easy to find a supplier of, 2) they're affordable, and 3) they're slightly chunkier than the original, which may feel a bit better in your hand.

Replica at left, original Singer at right.

It is also worth noting that the replicas are slightly taller (in the orientation pictured below), which means the bobbin winder often does not contact them correctly since they sit a tad farther out.

Replica at left, original Singer at right.

If you have a Singer with a spoked handwheel of the 5.5" variety, you may wonder how you can tell if it's a replica or original. If you pop it off the machine, it will have SIMANCO stamped on the back.

The replica just features rough metal on the back.

However, Singer also made a larger spoked handwheel that does not have SIMANCO stamped on it, below:

Original Singer 6"

This one is off of a model 66 made sometime in the early 1900s, and it's a bit larger at six inches in diameter. You'll also notice it only has six outer spokes.

It's the heaviest of the three featured here, weighing in at 2 lbs. 4 ozs.

Since it's an original Singer part, the bore is perfectly centered.

You may hear that the spoked handwheel off of one Singer machine will not fit another. Here's why. Look at the bored-out center shaft on the Singer 5.5":

5.5" handwheel

Now look at the bored-out center shaft on the Singer 6":

6" handwheel

As you can see, the latter has a taller, or longer, shaft. That's because it rides on a longer bushing. The bushing is the part you see pictured below. It's a sort of flanged metal sleeve that fits over the actual shaft of the machine, and serves as the coupling for the handwheel.

5.5" at left, 6" at right, each with their respective bushing.

The inside diameters of both bushings are identical and will fit on the same shaft. So if you take the spoked handwheel off of a certain machine to put on another, make sure the bushings match in length. If they don't, take the original bushing as well.

To provide some more clarity, here is what the bare shaft of a machine looks like:

Here is what the shaft of a machine looks like with a bushing mounted on it:

Getting these bushings on and off is not easy, but it is doable with the right tools. I'll prepare a tutorial for a future entry in case any of you would like to tackle this.

Documented Fix: Singer 237 Tension Assembly

I only collect and repair certain models of black cast-iron Singers made through the 1950s, and those are all I planned to cover in this blog; but when my neighbor mentioned she had a thrift-store 237 that was giving her problems, I couldn't help but take a look. (While I solved the problem, this post will be more of a documented fix than a tutorial, as I've only performed this procedure a couple times and don't know it thoroughly enough to try to teach it yet.)

First thing that jumped out at me was the duct-tape spool pin. I don't know much about the 237 except that it's from the '60s, and my first thought was "Wow, Singer really started cutting corners." My neighbor confessed to creating the spool pin.

I started reading up on the 237 on the Yahoo Vintage Singers group--it is a wealth of information--and found that it's actually a well-regarded zig-zag machine, the last of the all-metal interiors Singer made (although the little door that holds the rotating hook in place is plastic).

She said the machine was giving her tension problems. When I first encounter a machine, I never plug it in and start running it, not since I found a finish nail buried inside a 221, and a 201 with a mis-installed hook retaining ring. Had I plugged either of those machines in and hit the gas, I might've wrecked something. So I always eyeball the machine first.

Giving the 237 a visual once-over both inside and out, it finally hit me. Folks, you notice anything unusual about this photo?

Let me zoom in for you:

Yep, while I don't know this machine at all, I'm pretty sure the tension assembly is not supposed to be shaped like the end of a ski jump. I'm guessing this machine was dropped. However it happened, there's no way you can get consistent tension if the two tension discs can't cleanly come together, and they can't if the stud they're riding on is bent like that.

I've had to fix this on one of my 201s, so I sort of knew what to do. First step is to disassemble the tension assembly. In this case, the split ends of the tension stud were so badly bent that the washer and beehive spring wouldn't even come off. I used a large-bladed screwdriver to pry them open wide enough to slide everything off.

At first I pried them too widely apart, so had to use pliers to bring them back together. Whenever you use pliers on a threaded part, always wrap the part in a leather scrap first. If you damage threads with the teeth on pliers, you won't be able to screw anything back onto them. The leather gives you a good cushion but still provides grip.

Finally I got the parts off. I left the stud in the machine--easier than putting it in a vise, which I don't have anyway--and started trying to straighten it. I did this by alternating between prying them apart with the screwdriver, then closing them back up with the pliers. If you do this you'll want to be cautious and use minimal force, as the stud metal is quite soft and easily bent.

This required a lot of back-and-forth. Here I got the top piece nice and straight, but the bottom piece was wrong, and the overall stud was still bent slightly upwards.

Next I got the main shaft straight but the split parts going downwards.

Finally I got it to this state:

It's not dead-perfect, but it's close enough to get it working right. I've found that sometimes when you try to get something perfect, you go too far and mess the thing up. The sewing machine repair teacher Ray White taught us about knowing when to stop, and I listened. The important things here are that the pin inside needs to be able to smoothly travel in a straight line, which it now can, the split part of the stud needs to be parallel enough to cleanly get that thumb nut screwed onto, and that thumb screw has to be parallel with the discs when the tension is activated.

I put everything back together and eyeballed it. Everything seemed straight and parallel enough to try. (In this photo the presser foot is up, which is why the discs are angled lazily. I should've taken this photo with the presser foot down, which would show you the discs in their proper under-tension position.)

I oiled the machine up from top to bottom, cleaned out the feed dogs and hook area, then put everything back together.

Next I did the stitch-in, as I learned to do in Ray White's class, and got the thread balanced. Everything stitched great.

Here it is back at my neighbor's house, and yes, I put in a new spool pin. The duct tape one was driving me nuts.

I know this wasn't a proper tutorial--there aren't enough detailed photos and specific instruction--but if many of you have the problem of a bent tension assembly, let me know in the comments and I'll try to prepare one down the line.