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Well-known sewing machine repairman dies at 72

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Where the magic happened: late repairman Edwin Baker in his home workshop, where generations of sewing machines got a new lease on life. Mr Baker, one of the last of a dying trade, died earlier this month.

A memorial service will be held this weekend for one-of-a-kind mechanic Edwin Baker, the Island’s sewing machine master, who has died at the age of 72.

A distributor and repairman of the once ubiquitous machines, Mr Baker — known as Ed or “Mr Ed” to his clients — worked tirelessly on the contraptions right up to his death on February 11.

“No matter how old the machine was, he never turned anybody away,” said daughter Donae Baker. “He fixed every single one from new to old.

“I remember he picked up one machine that had microchips in it, and I said ‘How are you going to fix this if you don’t know anything about computers?’. He just said, ‘If it’s got a motor, I’ll fix it’.”

Sewing machines, once a household necessity, remain in use — and virtually every model on the Island that required repairs would have been attended upon by Mr Baker, or ended up in the workshop crammed with gadgetry and tools behind his Smith’s home.

“People are still doing wedding dresses — they still get used, believe it or not,” Ms Baker said.

Along with private models, the Island’s hospitals, prisons and police service employ heavy-duty sewing machines to maintain uniforms.

Mr Baker recently fixed the Bermuda Police Service’s machine and was still at work on a machine belonging to the Department of Corrections when he died.

Mr Baker’s death leaves a vacancy that will be felt around the Island, according to Barbara Baker, his wife of 54 years.

“I don’t know what everybody’s going to do,” she said.

Like other older generation tinkers and repairmen, Mr Baker cut his teeth in the Church Street shop of sewing machine supplier Cecil Harris. He was only ten years old when he began his apprenticeship.

“He also did repairs on motorcycles — but Mr Harris wanted him to work on the sewing machines,” Mrs Baker said. “He worked for Cecil Harris a long time and then branched out on his own.

“He sold them and demonstrated them — he would always have demonstrations at the Hamilton Princess Hotel. He would put it in the newspaper when he was doing shows.

“He had his first shop on Union Street and also worked for General Electric and Pearman Watlington. Then he moved to a shop across from Mount St Agnes.

“He would go all over the Island from Dockyard to St George’s. One thing about him, he was a very funny and pleasant person who got on with everybody.”

The market for sewing machines endures to this day, and it kept Mr Baker in a booming trade, she said.

“He would get three, four machines a day,” Mrs Baker recalled. “There is a lot of money in sewing machines.”

However, she added: “He just could not train anybody, because every time they would come around, they wanted him to pay them while he was teaching them, and he just could not be bothered.”

Mr Baker was largely self-taught. His daughter recalled her father attending a school in Texas, but added: “Because he started showing them what to do, he ended up leaving.”

Toiling over the intricate workings of sewing machines required a special temperament, she said.

“It took a lot of patience. There are so many different parts — he would have to take it apart to figure out what the problem was.

“That’s why nobody else picked it up. It’s definitely something that you need the eye for.”

Mr Baker enjoyed driving to people’s houses if they were unable to drop off their machine and would travel to schools to keep the equipment in good order.

He also attended conventions to keep up with the trade.

In later years he brought the work home, and would remain happily ensconced in his workshop.

“He’d spend hours and hours down there — I’d bring him his food because he would be in so long working,” Ms Baker said.

Edwin Sinclair Baker’s funeral will be held at 2.30pm on Saturday at St John’s Church.

Where the magic happened: late repairman Edwin Baker in his home workshop, where generations of sewing machines got a new lease on life. Mr Baker, one of the last of a dying trade, died earlier this month.