When Robbi and I moved to Chestertown way back in the fall of 2006, we had no notion that we’d start a small press. We hardly knew what a small press was. We just wanted to make books together, and so we quit our jobs and moved into the barn so that we’d have some time and space to do it.
Our first book, Facial Features of French Explorers, required no other tools than a rotary trimmer and a stapler. It was a simple construction, known as a saddle-stich. Here’s an early post from our old blog that shows the process.
Our second book, Death of Henry, was slightly more complicated because it was perfect bound, meaning the insides of the book are stapled together first and then a separate cover is glued on. To make Death of Henry, we needed to purchase a scoring wheel to make the sharp folds that would enable us to create a nice-looking spine.
By the time we got to our third book, Ten Thousand Stories, were were already experimenting with delusions of grandeur. Robbi had the idea to make a mix-and-mach book, a format that requires wire binding, which is the only type of binding that allows pages to open absolutely flat. In order to bind with wire, we needed a wire binding machine. And so we went online and ordered one.
For years, the Offi-Wire has been a faithful companion, binding thousands of copies of Ten Thousand Stories, The Baby is Disappointing, Babies Ruin Everything, After Everafter, The Contented, Homer Was an Epic Poet, and Build Your own President. To say it has done yoemen’s work is to pay a compliment to yoemen.
But recently, tragically, the Offi-Wire has fallen on hard times. The handle, which used to stand straight up, has started to slump, the function of a broken spring inside.
Further, something has gone awry with the inner mechanics and the die no longer punches evenly. 
We went inside to have a look and found that this piece is not where it should be.
And so, bucking sentiment and loyalty, we placed a call to our trusty purveyor of all things wire-related (they are called Lloyds of Indiana [I kid you not], and placed an order.
The new Offi-Wire looks a great deal like the old one.
Save a rounded front and an untextured handle.
Stoic and masculine, I was able to hold it together when the time came to take the old Offi-Wire to the curb.
Robbi, not so much.
And her sentiment is justified. The work of the Offi-Wire has taken us to miraculous mountaintops we never could have predicted when we punched our first version of Ten Thousand Stories. With the Chronicle version coming out in October, it seems somehow right that there be a passing of the guard.
But one glance at the new Offi-Wire, and Robbi’s heartache cleared up.
It still has that “new Offi-Wire smell,” after all. Just like catnip to your average book maker.
