Not every great typewriter wore the name of the company that actually built it. The 1959 Tower President XII is one of those.
“Tower” was Sears, Roebuck & Co.’s typewriter house brand for decades, and by the late 1950s Smith-Corona was the one building it. The President XII sits on the bones of Smith-Corona’s 5-series machines, the same engineering underneath the Silent Super, sold exclusively through Sears instead.
Built for Only One Year
Earlier Sears typewriters looked nearly identical to their Smith-Corona counterparts. In 1959, Sears wanted its own identity: a more angular lower body, a larger space bar, bigger knobs, a rectangular rocker switch for the tab set and clear keys. Collectors call it “Atomic” styling now.
The look lasted one model year. In 1960 and 1961 the line was changed again, which makes the 1959 President XII a transitional artifact, built somewhere between the Eisenhower and Kennedy years. Because this exact form only held for a single year before the line moved on to the Constellation and then the Citation 88, well-preserved 1959 examples don’t turn up often. Collectors want them for the same reason: they capture a moment that didn’t last.
What Makes It Presidential?
True to the name, the President XII sat at the top of the Tower lineup: variable line spacing, two-color ribbon support, a touch control dial, a full tabulator. It typed in what’s called “Presidential Pica,” a bold 10 cpi face, and wore a two-tone paint job with gold badges on the case lid for a little extra glamor.
The badge does double duty. At first glance it appears to be just a classic atomic icon, a nucleus with orbiting electrons. Space Age styling straight out of 1959. Look again and those orbits resolve into an interlocking S and R for Sears & Roebuck. A piece of midcentury design hiding in plain sight.
Machine Record
My first real Marketplace bargain, purchased for just $40. The seller was downsizing his collection and was happy to see it go to someone who was as enthusiastic about it as he was. The case was in great shape, and also included a typing course contained on two vinyl records. These were an upsell in the 1959 Sears Wish Book for $2 (with purchase of a typewriter).
How about that crazy serial number? Probably the longest I’ve ever seen. Here’s the breakdown:
- 5: Smith-Corona “5-Series” mechanical chassis
- L: Wide 12-inch carriage
- TT: Factory code for a Sears Tower branded machine
- 126762: Unique production number
- X: 44-key expanded keyboard (special order)
Aesthetics
The two-tone paint and Atomic styling are why the 1959 Tower models win with me. These machines look like they belong on a turntable at a GM dealership more than on a shelf at Sears.
Looks are subjective. For me, this is peak typewriter cool factor.
9/10 clacks.
Typing Feel
This shares its chassis with the Silent Super, and the keystroke feels very familiar: smooth, a little squishy, nothing that fights you. The wider carriage adds enough heft that the machine sits more solidly on a desk, less prone to walking under a fast typist’s hands than the standard-width version. Not exceptional. Not a letdown either. A solid everyday performer.
6/10 clacks.
Features
As the Sears flagship, the President XII came loaded, and it goes further still with a 12-inch platen wide enough for typing across a full sheet turned sideways.
9/10 clacks.
Portability
The wider platen earns points in Features and costs them here. This machine already runs large for a portable, and the wider platen means a bigger, heavier case to carry it in.
4/10 clacks.
Historical Significance
No famous lineage on this one. It’s a Sears model that was more likely to be bought by Susie Homemaker than a novelist or a screenwriter. Its real claim is the single year it was built this way, a narrow window in typewriter history that closed almost as soon as it opened. That’s what makes it rare, and that’s what collectors are actually after.
7/10 clacks.
Overall
Under the Atomic styling and the Sears badge is solid Smith-Corona construction, reliable in a body you won’t find duplicated anywhere else. It doesn’t carry the design pedigree or the famous-owner history of something like the Olympia SM3, but it’s the only machine in my collection with a Cold War atom hiding in its badge. That’s worth something too.
7/10 clacks.
