Sumac and Willow

Dr. Emerson Wulling of the Sumac Press of La Crosse, Wisconsin must hold the record for the longest running private press in North America. He began printing when he was 11 (1915) and continued until age 101 (2005). He produced over two hundred letterpress books, pamphlets and publications in those ninety years. A close friend and mentor to my father Gary Hantke (Willow Press), he was a family friend too. I remember him from my childhood as a delightful gentleman with a quick wit, a kind heart, and a wry sense of humor.

My dad told me how he and Emerson Wulling had met. He was a freshman in Professor Wulling’s English class in 1938. Asked to write about a hobby, Dad wrote about printing. Dr. Wulling called him over after class and told him that his hobby was printing, too. That was the start of an over fifty year friendship between the two men.

Emerson Wulling usually visited on Saturday mornings. An unfailing gentleman, he would always call first. When we lived near the college he often arrived on his ancient bicycle, which he rode in slow circles before parking in front of our house. Only later did I learn that was his way to slow down because the bicycle had no brakes.

Usually Dr. Wulling brought something printing related with him when he visited -- a book, a specimen sheet, or an item he’d printed. He was my father’s mentor as well as mine. When I printed a children’s fairytale at age 8 (with lots of help from my dad), Emerson Wulling listed it in one of his publications of recently printed pieces. I was so proud.

Dad wrote about his friendship with Emerson Wulling in a printed piece called, “On Printing ... and Friends”: “I muddled along. My father made me a composing stick formed out of sheet steel, but my lines were still uncertainly justified. I acquired another quoin and a can of black ink. Then, in my freshman year at college, there came a turning point and the beginning of a friendship which still continues. My English prof was himself a hobby printer. Emerson Wulling, already a craftsman with type and press, gently guided my crude attempts and taught me to use my press properly and to appreciate printing done in good taste. His work is still today the example which I strive to emulate.”

Together Emerson Wulling and my father – Sumac and Willow − formed The Impromptu Chappel. When another printer came to visit La Crosse, Dr. Wulling and my father would print a cooperative piece. I helped out in The Impromptu Chappel, setting type, feeding the press, and enjoying the fun with the printers.

After my father’s death in 1990, Emerson Wulling was a support to my husband Bob and I as we reduced dad’s print shop to manageable size and moved it to St. Louis. On a trip to La Crosse in the late 1990‘s, we visited Dr. Wulling and his wife, and enjoyed a tour of The Sumac Press. Dr. Wulling was delighted to show us his shop, printing books, and collection of composing sticks. He was particularly pleased with a pulley arrangement his son had created to help him lift the chase into his C&P press.

We retained our friendship with Dr. Wulling through correspondence, phone calls, and holiday cards. An optimist despite increasing age, Emerson Wulling signed his letters “Good Cheer!” We delighted in his hand printed New Year’s card for 2004: “With a combined age of 193 years, we have had how many times to say HAPPY NEW YEAR? Here is another! Jean and Emerson Wulling”

Emerson Wulling passed away in 2006, an active private press printer to almost the end of his lifetime. He was a superb craftsman, creating classic, beautifully designed books and booklets. But I most remember the kind, witty, intelligent man that he was. His generosity, warmth, and enthusiasm for living made him a person truly worth knowing. I feel fortunate to have called him a friend.


Press Preterite 1 from 1945, a record of Sumac Press printed pieces for the first thirty years of the press. Wulling printed eight Press Preterites throughout his lifetime.


"Again the Kensington Stone", a 1969 booklet printed by the Sumac Press.


An article about private presses in La Crosse, Wisconsin in the 1970's mentions Gary Hantke and Emerson Wulling.


Emerson Wulling's printed piece on the double knee composing stick. Wulling was fascinated with unique composing sticks and had a large collection of them.


Ever the printer, Emerson Wulling explores his printery in his later years.

Why I'm A Hobby Printer

Why am I a hobby printer? Why not make money with our letterpress shop? With the current popularity of letterpress wedding invitations, birth announcements, and other hand-crafted pieces, there’s a market for what my husband and I could produce. Despite this, we have remained primarily printing hobbyists.

The growing appeal of letterpress to the general public is certainly a trend I applaud. More people are recognizing the beauty and skill that goes into creating a handmade printed piece. And why not commemorate a wedding, anniversary, or birth with something one of a kind? I’ve seen wonderful creativity go into many of these letterpress pieces for hire done by other printers.

But instead of dealing with sometimes demanding customers, Bob and I have chosen to print what we want, when we want, how we want. It’s just the way we are. We’re stubbornly independent, and if we printed mainly for money it would take much of the joy out of it for us. So apart from the occasional job that interests us, we choose what we want to print − a poem, a saying, a holiday card, a booklet, a historical piece. We design and print each piece the way we want to print it. This keeps letterpress open-ended and exciting for us.

Something we’ve had fun doing over the years is using our press to print quotes that are significant to ourselves or others. For example, the custodian at the public library where I worked found a battered photocopy of a quote on attitudes inside a returned library book. He shared it with me, since it was a favorite of his. When he retired, Bob and I printed and framed the quote and gave it to him. I know it was one of the more meaningful gifts that he received.

Another friend had a favorite saying that we printed to decorate her desk at work: “Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.” We enjoyed designing the piece using old Victorian type that bent and curved, with a wiggly border to match.

We have a friend who loves to go out for breakfast, so much so that he calls himself, “The Commissioner of Breakfast”. We printed a business card for him to leave at restaurants where he’d had an especially good breakfast − and we liked the idea so much that we printed cards for ourselves, too. It’s amazing to see how happy you can make a waiter or waitress by handing them a simple hand-printed card. Interestingly, people tend to believe there’s really a Commissioner of Breakfast, even when you tell them it’s a joke − if it’s printed on a business card, it must be true, right?

One piece we printed, “Destined for Greatness...” sums up much of the feeling I have towards printing for pleasure. When I print I try to remember to take it easy, pace myself, and remember that the things I do just for the love and joy of it truly matter.


This quote on attitudes by an anonymous author was printed in Grolier with Empire border.


The eccentricities of Scribner by the Central Type Foundry of St Louis fit this quote.


We love handing these out whenever we have an especially good restaurant breakfast.

Purple Ink and No Composing Stick

Seventy-six years ago my late father Gary Hantke became a letterpress printer, trading his chemistry set for a 5 x 8 Baltimorean hand press, two fonts of Caslon, a tube of purple ink, some leads, and a lead cutter. The year was 1934, and he was 14 years old. Dad had become interested in printing through advertisements in the Kelsey catalog, which urged depression era boys to earn extra money with their own press.

With no type cases, no composing stick, and no instruction, the would-be printer faced challenges. The first time Dad printed his name, it came out upside down and backwards. But he was determined to learn. A school friend’s father owned a print shop, so Dad started helping out. Gradually his printing got better, as he termed it, “slowly, painfully, and without sensational results.”

The young entrepreneur discovered a gold mine in printing graduation name cards for seniors at his high school. He charged 40 cents a hundred and made a grand profit of 18 cents on every order. But everybody needed graduation name cards, and 1935 wasn’t a time of great wealth. Dad was encouraged by the jingle of change in his pockets. He bought a little more type, a composing stick, and a tube of black ink, “having gotten tired of purple by now.”

Then came a huge order for 50,000 envelopes. Dad started printing as fast as he could pump the handle of the little Baltimorean press. After several thousand pumps, though, he started thinking of ways to mechanize the operation.

A little cobbling came to the rescue. As Dad writes in his booklet, “Brief Biography of a Basement Printer”: “Quite by chance, our old washing machine, after years of faithful service, chose this time to spring a rather bad leak, necessitating replacement. With parts from the old washer and some odds and ends the press was motorized, and I was clicking off a thousand impressions per hour almost without effort. Although the press lacked a throwoff, misfeeds caused me little trouble, for by use of the washing machine’s wringer control gear mechanism, I was able not only to stop the press, but even reverse it when necessary.”

So the young printer’s hobby was launched. Dad printed for 56 years of his life, until his death in 1990. Along the way I learned from him, as did my husband Bob after we were married. We owe our printing heritage to my father. His Baltimorean hand press resides in our basement along with his other presses, and it is still being used.

Dad passed away 20 years ago today, on May 12, 1990. This series of printing remembrances, past and present, humorous and serious, is written in his honor. Dad, we hope you’re puttering around somewhere in an incredible print shop in another world with all your old friends. What marvelous things you’d be creating! Without you we wouldn’t be printers. Thank you for teaching us, and giving us this wonderful hobby to enjoy!

Dad's autobiography, "Brief Biography of a Basement Printer", printed in 1958.


Carole in the printshop with the Baltimorean, shortly after moving it in.