Lillian Worley, Printer and Friend

One of the most delightful people I met through my dad’s involvement in letterpress was Lillian Worley. A letterpress printer with a passion for cuts, Lil had a contagious sense of fun. I first met her and her husband Parker, both printers, at the 1964 Munster Indiana Wayzgoose. It was Munster where she taught my sister and me how to spit watermelon seeds as we devoured melon from a nearby produce stand.

A year later at the 1965 Lansing Michigan Wayzgoose, Lillian had printed “Print Pox” signs. Designed to look like a quarantine sign, “Print Pox” was a tongue-in-cheek warning about contagious letterpress addiction. Lil enlisted my sister and me to help her hang signs on the doors of the strip motel where the convention was taking place. Giggling, the three of us sneaked around taping “Print Pox” signs on all rooms where the printers were staying.

Lillian loved cuts, especially large or unusual ones. I remember one Wayzgoose where she bought an enormous cut of the Statue of Liberty. The thing must have been 8x15 inches or larger. Everybody teased Lil that she’d never use it. But she sent a big folded piece through the APA bundle a few months later, decorated with that Statue of Liberty cut.

Lillian often wrote and printed humorous pieces. Below is an example, an honorary “degree” printed for me from the fictitious Deuceace University, and a reference to it in a Christmas card that same year. Notice that the “official seal” is from the Clearfield Wrecking Company!



After my husband and I joined the APA together, Lillian presented us with dress printers' aprons. Bob's looked like a tuxedo, and mine was white satin. The hand printed label on the box said, "A. Frank, Clothier" -- a reference to printing warehouse dealer Al Frank.



In the early 1990s my husband and I visited Lillian and Parker in their Haddonfield, New Jersey home. We had a great time seeing their elegant carpeted press room, and taking an excursion to nearby Cape May. On that trip we hauled home in the back of our yellow AMC Pacer a 7x11 Pearl press they found for us. Despite the care the four of us took loading it, the weight of the press threw the car’s steering off. A torrential rainstorm on the freeway through Philadelphia made driving even harder, but we did get that press home and were grateful to have it.


Lillian was one of the earlier female printers in the Amalgamated Printers Association. At a time when most wives went shopping while the printers talked type, Lil hung out with the printers. She didn’t hesitate to paw through dusty offerings at Al Frank’s warehouse, to bid hard on auction items, or to hunt for bargains at the swap meet. She was an inspiration to me in that way, making it acceptable for me to be a girl and interested in printing.

I can’t imagine where I’d be today without Lillian Worley. I was a serious child, and she taught me how to laugh. She was a role model for me as a printer, and an absolute joy to know. Anyone who ever met her would never forget her. How lucky I was to have known her for so many years!

The Schori Press

One of the most interesting and delightful people I met as a child through my father’s association with letterpress was Ward Schori. Ward and his wife Marty lived in Evanston, Illinois when I first met them in the early 1960s. Ward ran a commercial printing business there called The Schori Press, but was also an enthusiastic letterpress hobbyist.

Enthusiasm was a defining term for Ward. He loved letterpress printing in its every aspect: designing and printing books, booklets, and ephemera; acquiring new type and cuts; and talking with others about printing.

Ward loved to talk, and he talked with his hands. I vividly remember riding in Ward’s car as he drove the freeways of Chicago, periodically taking his hands off the wheel to emphasize a point as he talked with my dad in the front seat. The mixture of enjoyment of Ward’s stories and absolute terror at the way he drove is something that will always stick with me. If the hands-free driving got a little too scary, Marty would gently chide him, “Now Ward, pay attention to the road.” That would last about five minutes, then Ward would be talking with his hands again.

Marty herself was a delight to know. An elegant woman with white hair in a French twist, she had a beautiful smile and a hearty laugh. I loved her wink, which she’d send my way every now and then. By the time I met them, Ward and Marty were grandparents. They raised their two grandchildren, who were about the same age as my sister and myself.



Together with my father Gary Hantke and his printing friend Emerson Wulling, Ward was a key organizer of the 1st Amalgamated Printers Association Wayzgoose in 1961. In those days the host provided food for the convention’s “picnic” that took place on Sunday. So Ward roasted a big turkey on his barbeque grill while Marty made side dishes, beverages, and dessert for all the printers in attendance.

At my first Wayzgoose in 1964 in Munster, Indiana, Ward encouraged me to enter the typesetting contest on the lawn in front of the motel. A case of type was set up on the tailgate of someone’s station wagon, and printers were timed as they set copy by hand, one letter and one space at a time. I was pretty young yet so I didn’t end up entering the contest, but I felt proud that Ward had believed in me.

In addition to regular sized books (he printed several), Ward became well known for his letterpress printed miniatures. He created over fifty of these intricate books, including some bound in hand-tooled leather from Spain. My husband and I are happy to have half a dozen Schori Press miniatures on our bookshelf today.

Part of the joy of being a hobby letterpress printer is getting to know other hobby letterpress printers. Ward and Marty Schori certainly stand out in my memory as two people I met through letterpress that I was privileged to know.

Title page of The Fortsas Bibliohoax, a private press book published by Ward Schori in 1986.

Six Schori Press miniature books and the full sized book "Printshop Nostalgia", all printed by Ward.



With the Schoris at the 1991 Wayzgoose in St. Louis, as we board the excursion boat "Belle of St. Louis". From left to right, Ward Schori, my husband Bob, Marty Schori, me, and my mother Ruth Hantke. Dad has just passed away the previous year.