from: Halfpenny Marvel
vol 02 no 40 (1894-08-07), p16

       Some time ago we promised to give a full description of the wonderful machinery which is called into requisition to produce a paper like this — printed, folded, trimmed, and stitched for One Halfpenny.

       If the reader will allow his imagination to expand slightly, we will take him on a "personally-conducted" tour through the great building which is the cradle of the MARVEL.

       We will now go through the whole process, following the paper from the start till it is turned out complete; so we will first look at the composing-room, which is at the very top of the house, ascending by the lift, taking it for granted that the authors and artists have already done their work, that the Editor has prepared all he "copy," written his "Chat," and given full instructions as to where the pictures are to occur.

       Here we find rows of men at work, with dozens of little square open boxes in front of them. These contain various kinds of type, and the men, (called compositors) having the authors' or Editor's manuscript before them, are "setting-up" the story, &c. Those two noisy machines over in the corner are Linotypes, and, as you see, each one has a keyboard, very much like a typewriter. The operator has only to press the keys, and the machine sets up the type, and every time the bell rings it is an intimation that another line is complete.

       When the whole story, and other matter intended to appear, is set-up into type, either by those

INGENIOUS MACHINES

(which, by the way, cost £500 each) or by the compositors, and all mistakes have been corrected, it is made-up into pages, the illustrations being inserted in their proper places. An ink diffuser is now passed over the pages of type, and impressions taken. These are popped into the pneumatic tube which connects the composing-room with the editorial office over the way, and sent across. The sub-editor, on seeing that there are no errors, either in spelling or grammar, and that everything is as it should be, returns the proofs with his signature attached.

       We now see the pages of type taken into a mysterious little room on the same floor, where metal casts are taken of them. It is these metal plates that really print the paper. They are bent while hot, so as to fit the rollers of the machine, and then allowed to cool.

1885 American advertisement for the Cranston Press. source: The Inland Printer, Vol 03, no 01 (1885-oct)

       Let us now descend to the machine-room, where the actual printing is done. A large placard on the door, saying

"NO STRANGERS ADMITTED,"

first greets us, and, seeing that we are about to ignore this, the man in charge comes forward to ask our business, but, recognising us just in time, allows us to enter.

       These precautions are necessary, for even one of those revolving wheels or leather bands would whisk off a man's arm in less time than it takes to tell, did he venture too near. We have now to shout our loudest to make ourselves heard, so great is the noise caused by the rattling wheels and whirling cogs. The metal plates we left upstairs have now been brought down and fixed on to the great rollers, and, as you see, there are three machines here, all busy preparing the MARVEL for the public. Two of these machines are printing the white pages, while the third is occupied with the cover, colour printing being much slower than ordinary black. Some day we hope to obtain a machine which will print the inside pages and the cover at once, and also put in the wire stitch which binds the pages together. Each of these great reels lying about contains several

MILES OF PAPER,

though you would not think so to look at them.

       At one end of this machine you see the paper going in in a long white stream, while at the other you find it issuing all printed, folded, and cut.

       The machine, moreover, keeps a record of its own work, and, if you look at that clock-like face, you will see that the figures change as each number is printed. Thus you can tell at any moment how many copies are finished. The machine we are looking at can turn out 10,000 copies an hour, and the dial informs us that it has already printed 106,267 copies this week; but its work is not half over yet.

       But you are getting deaf with this noise, and no wonder, for each machine has about a hundred whirling wheels, and thus when all three machines are running at once, as they are now, three hundred wheels are churning the air.

       We must now go upstairs again, to the second floor.

       Here we find huge piles of printed papers and covers lying side by side. They have been brought up from the machine-room, and have now to go through the process of stitching or binding.

THESE QUEER CONTRIVANCES

which look very much like sewing-machines are not really so. What appears to be a long thread of cotton is wire, and those huge needles stich the printed pages into their covers. These stitching machines are worked by girls, and it is really surprising what a number they can bind in an hour.

       The books are nearly ready now. But, as you will note, the edges of the bound copies are very rough and uneven, and it would never do for a paper like the MARVEL to send out its numbers in that style. So a great bundle is placed on an iron plate, and a huge knife descends and cuts off all the rough edges, leaving the paper as you know it.

       But you have not seen all yet. Follow us up this flight of stairs into a room larger than any of the others. This is the Packing Department. On every side are huge piles of the MARVEL, reaching from floor to ceiling. A man, seated at a desk with a book before him, ever and anon calls out "Heywood of Manchester, 500 quires," "Lucas of Birmingham, ditto," &c. These are the orders from the wholesale agents, and promptly many busy hands pack the required number of copies into huge bundles, and address them to their respective owners. The bundles are then lowered by a crane, as the agents' or carriers' carts call for them.

       But even now you have not seen all. We much descend into the basement, where is generated the mighty power that drives every machine in the building. Be careful how you tread, for this spiral staircase is constructed with a view to economy in space. We are now in a huge place which somewhat resembles

THE MACHINE-ROOM OF A SHIP.

Here we find immense boilers and powerful engines at work. There are plenty of revolving wheels here — that big one over there weighs eight tons — but they make little or no noise; they all run as if in oiled grooves.

       Phew! how hot it is though, almost suffocating! And yet the engineers do not seem to feel it. They are dressed in very thin clothes that once were white, and move about with ease, while we are almost gasping for breath. It is astonishing what a lot of oil is used down here. Men are moving about from wheel to wheel all day long, the oil-can seldom leaving their hands. It makes one shudder to see how carelessly they spring from side to side, narrowly escaping being drawn in by a great wheel here, while an enormous revolving band passes within an inch of their heads there.

       Here it is, apparently, that familiarity breeds contempt.

       When these great engines are not at work as much care is taken of them as a mother expends over her babe. Great cloths are wrapped round them like coasts, to keep off any particles of damp which might mar their polished surfaces.

       We are not sorry to ascend the little spiral staircase, and once more breathe the fresh air of Whitefriars Street; but you have seen how the MARVEL is produced.

THE EDITOR.