story images courtesy of The Sherwood Press

Jami Heinricher, 61, was not yet alive when the first Heidelberg Windmill printing press arrived at The Sherwood Press in 1953, but her predecessor was.

Jocelyn Dohm, who founded the press in 1940, had to cut a hole in the floor and pour a concrete block to support the machine’s 2,400-pound weight. The 400-square-foot cottage Dohm had built with her father to house her business sat atop a steep, forested hillside in Olympia, WA. Back then, it had no driveway, so workers delivered the Windmill to the site by dragging it on skids.

When Heinricher began working for Dohm in 1989 as a “printer’s devil,” (an old term for an assistant), she noticed how Dohm, a small woman, fit the Windmill perfectly. She could adjust it as she worked based on sound and intuition, without interrupting the job in progress. “She had adapted herself to the press so well that it was unconscious,” Heinricher says.

Seventy-two years later, that same historic Windmill press—one of the first to be imported to the U.S.—still sits atop its concrete block, and Heinricher tells me it’s still the “heart and soul” of the business she inherited from Dohm in 2003. Initially, I assumed she meant it nostalgically, and that the Windmill saw only occasional, specialized use. But Heinricher corrected me. “This machine can still deliver hairline registration and perfect impressions… it was thoughtfully crafted by people who wanted it to be attractive and durable, sensible and efficient.”

Heinricher contrasts this mindful aesthetic to modern printers—for instance, an inkjet—where the components are hidden behind beige plastic. On a Windmill, “the mechanical aspects are a delight,” she says. It’s made of cast iron and dense steel with “beautiful levers and cranks.”

Heinricher also delights in the cost-benefit analysis of the Windmill: Jocelyn purchased the press for about $5,000—a small fortune at the time—but the investment paid for itself in just a few years, and continues to generate income many decades later.

“It’s incredibly satisfying, and kind of a f*ck you to capitalism, to take a machine that is, to some people, junk. It’s obsolete. But this machine could probably deliver perfect results for another fifty years.”

This machine could probably deliver perfect results for another fifty years.”

Just a few years after Heinricher assumed ownership of The Sherwood Press, Terry Bunce, Heinricher’s boyfriend at the time, advocated for expanding. A print shop in nearby Centralia had recently gone out of business and was selling a 1958 Windmill for $2,500. Heinricher didn’t have the cash, and couldn’t see much purpose in owning two nearly identical presses. But Bunce worried that having a single press was “like a farmer over-relying on one tractor.” So, in a grand gesture, he offered to buy it. Shortly thereafter, just as Heinricher was ramping up production for an important new client, the original Windmill broke down. The second Windmill came in handy as Heinricher worked to find a press mechanic.

Heinricher and Bunce, who have since married, now have a family of four Windmills: Heidi (the original), Hans (the Centralia purchase), Schatz, and Johannes. Owning multiple machines enables Heinricher to move between jobs with ease, and she makes a point of spending quality time with each one. When I visited, Heidi was freshly repaired. Hans was set up for color printing; Johannes awaited a deep clean after printing a run of tags; and Schatz was configured for die-cutting and foiling. While Heinricher is skilled in fine-tuning production settings, Bunce has taken on maintenance and repair. As in all functional families, division of labor is essential.

The Windmill’s timeless appeal extends to the labels, cards, and posters that travel through its rollers, drawing loyal customers from the local community and beyond. Olympia Coffee, for example, continues to commission labels from The Sherwood Press, even though its reach has expanded far beyond the capital region. And Kathleen Byrd, Olympia’s poet laureate, recently hired The Sherwood Press to print broadsides and cards of her poems.

“I spend so much of my writing time on a screen now; it was satisfying,” says Byrd. “That feeling of seeing the imprint on the page—to feel like I’d created a physical product.”