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collection1b

April 17, 2014

Francis Cashel Brown, Pt. 1


[Posted on L&P on Aug 19, 2010.]
        [This was the version of Francis Cashel Browns biography that I transcribed and placed online in 2011The original is housed at the New York Historical Society Archives, and it might be a draft of the article that appears in the Encyclopedia of American Biography, New Series, Vol. 27, on famous New Yorkers.  It may have been written ca. 1956-7 by one of his sons or daughters, probably Edward Guy Brown, or Camille Miller, and it was based upon their father’s autobiographical speech, also housed at the NYHS.  More on that later, in Pt.2.  Until then, lets deal with the text at hand.  The unknown author of the biography borrows Browns autobiography almost wholesale as the main body of the text, but he frames it with such statements as, The development of a major American industry came about when...Francis Cashel Brown introduced the first practical, enduring fountain pen”, also that his pioneer firm gave to the world its first satisfactory fountain pen, thereby laying the foundations of a major mass-production industry, and finishing with, He was...aware of the significant role Providentially accorded him in industrial history by his serving to bring to mankind one of the most necessary and most universally used devices–the fountain pen”.  But the text is conflicted because the main body, which Brown wrote, is a more straight forward, if slightly biased, retelling of the early history of the fountain pen.  He’s so self-effacing and unassuming.  He must be a Canadian.  In comparison, the hyperbolic framing remarks by the author are way overboard with their superlatives.  He must be a Canadian-American.  In any case, the main body of this text is at the opposite end of the spectrum from the Waterman creation myth.]



Biography of Francis Cashel Brown, Inventor
and
Early History of The Fountain Pen

       “The development of a major American industry came about when, in the latter decades of the Nineteenth Century, Francis Cashel Brown introduced the first practical, enduring fountain pen.  Inventor, as well as manufacturer and merchandiser, he founded and headed the Caw’s Pen and Ink Company of New York, pioneer firm which gave to the world its first satisfactory fountain pen, thereby laying the foundations of a major mass-production industry.
       “He was born in Haysville, Ontario, Canada, on April 29, 1851, son of James Major and Eliza Margaret (Crotty) Brown. His father, a native of Londonderry, Ireland, had come to Canada about the year 1835, settling in Haysville where he became a merchant. Head of a large family, he was active in civic affairs and was highly regarded in his community.
       “After completion of his education in Ontario, Francis C. Brown came to the United States in 1875.  During that year, in New York City, he contributed his business acumen and the funds necessary to launch a new enterprise for the promotion of a stylographic pen, freshly invented by a Canadian named MacKinnon.  The pen lacked the qualities for permanent success but, under Mr. Brown’s management, the enterprise flourished for a time.  Mr. Brown’s outstanding career in the field takes on additional significance when set against the background of that industry’s early development.  He himself has provided its historic background which we use to show the developments leading to Francis Cashel Brown’s invention of an urgently needed utility and to the creation of a wide-spread American industry. 
       “The origin of the fountain-pen, he relates, dates back to the mid-Nineteenth Century.  The first product of the kind which met with public recognition was the Prince Protean Fountain Pen, invented by a Mr. Prince of New York in 1855.  Its sale was considerable for a time; but, as it was made of a base metal easily corroded by ink, it was soon discarded in disappointment by everyone who had bought it.  After a few years, Mr. Prince was forced to engage in another business. Encouraged by Mr. Prince’s temporary success with his pen, many tried to imitate it, but their products were soon cast into oblivion by disgruntled purchasers and, for several years thereafter it seemed as if no further attempt would be made to improve on the steel pen, the goose quill and the lead pencil–the only writing implements then in use in the Western Hemisphere.  For the select few, a gold pen was being manufactured in a small way at that time and sold only to those Americans able and willing to pay high prices. 
       “This condition of the pen trade continued until 1875 when a Canadian, Duncan MacKinnon, conceived the idea of making a fountain pen with a stiff, round metal point.  Having no capital, however, he was unable to manufacture it himself or to interest anyone with capital, in view of his predecessors’ failures.  A year of vain seeking had passed when one day Francis Cashel Brown, then residing in New York, had his attention drawn to a newspaper article.  Within a short time a business contract was drawn up between Mr. MacKinnon and Mr. Brown and a company formed in New York under the name of MacKinnon Pen Company.  Its purpose was to manufacture the MacKinnon Stylographic Pen.  To use the phrase “fountain pen” was considered inadvisable because it was of ill-repute with the public who had experimented with the fountain pens of the past.  It may be here remarked that the prime obstacle in the manufacture of fountain pens in those days was the high cost of suitable material.  Gold was the cheapest known substance that would not corrode or rust upon contact with ink, but a fountain pen of gold would be too prohibitive in cost for the general public, even in America.  However, the stylographic was a novelty, sufficient in itself to recommend it to a nation always foremost in adopting a new product.  The first stylo pens were also made of base metal.  Despite this, they had a large sale from the start.  Their life expectancy was short, however, and they were soon condemned in vigorous language as a delusion and a snare.  The memory of the Prince Fountain Pen of twenty years previous was revived and a similar fate was predicted for the MacKinnon Pen. 
       “Up to this time, vulcanized rubber was a product little known in the world.  Experiments showed it to be very satisfactory for fountain pen use. It proved to be a nonconductor, light in weight and a sure protection from “writer’s cramp” or “scrivener’s palsy”.  But, for fountain pen holders, its chief merit lay in the fact that it is not affected by the chemical properties of ink.  The MacKinnon Pen Company grasped at this product as a drowning man grasps at a straw but, happily, it provided the solution to their problem. 
       “The MacKinnon Stylographic Pen held undisputed control of the market for approximately three years.  Although the cheapest pen cost four dollars, the demand increased so rapidly that the manufacturers could not keep pace with it.  This encouraged numerous imitators and each initiation was offered at successively lower prices until by 1881 the price had fallen to one-fourth of the original cost.  Quality and utility had declined with the price so that finally the stylographic pen became a by-word of contempt.  Mr. Brown, who had pioneered this pen so successfully for five years, sold his interest in the MacKinnon Pen Company and engaged in the manufacture of writing ink.  Its beautiful black color, suggesting a raven’s plumage, inspired the word “Caw”, the cry of the crow signalling a ripe corn field.  Mr. Brown registered the word “Caw’s” with a picture of a crow perched on a bottle of ink as the trade-mark for his ink.  Later, when he inaugurated the manufacture of his own pens, he adopted for them the same trade-mark.  This is the origin of the name “Caw’s”, accompanied by a crow, and stamped on all Caw’s Fountain Pens.
       “So closely allied are the pen and ink industries that Mr. Brown continued in touch with the writing public.  Knowing the stylographic pen to be doomed to oblivion as soon as the novelty had worn off, he began experimenting with pens, using vulcanized rubber for the pen barrel, and for his pens gold nibs which he had tipped with the hard, precious metal, iridium, to assure satisfactory penmanship.  This combination enabled every user to retain the individuality of his handwriting, a quality which had been sacrificed to the rigid point of the stylographic pen.  Complaints had been widespread that it robbed handwriting of its character.  Despite this and many other faults of the stylographic pens of that period they sold in very large quantities, both here and abroad, until after some years, the demand began to decrease with a rapidity that eclipsed the speed of their rise in popularity.  But this temporary success of the stylo revealed the public craving for a pen that would hold ink for several hours of continuous writing, one that could be carried in the pocket like a pencil, ready for instant use. 
       “It was Mr. Brown’s knowledge of the public’s wants, acquired during his management of the MacKinnon Pen Company, that inspired him with the courage to proceed with his fountain pen experiments.  So it was that by 1883 his efforts had been crowned with success, for he placed on the market his latest invention which startled the fountain pen industry.  The new pen was called “Caw’s Dashaway Fountain Pen”, and it was so far in advance of anything which had preceded it that it was hailed with delight by the American public.  The first “Dashaway” pen had its faults, but they were gradually overcome.  Improvements in the manufacturing process, together with extensive advertising, won for the “Dashaway” a worldwide reputation. 
       “During this period, other inventors entered the field.  The first to follow in Mr. Brown’s footsteps were P. E. Wirt and L. E. Waterman.  Their inventions differed from the Caw’s Pen only in small details of construction.  By this time, however, the American public had created such a market for fountain pens that Mr. Wirt and Mr. Waterman received a fair share of patronage.  While Mr. Brown and his competitors were struggling for supremacy, many imitators appeared on the scene.  With one exception, their products had nothing to recommend them save cheapness.  Thus in a short time they were buried under public condemnation.  The one exception, known as the “Swan” pen, was made in New York.  Naturally, a strong rivalry sprang up among the manufacturers of these pens.
       “Up to 1896, improvements in the fountain pen were confined chiefly to improved workmanship and careful attention to detail.  Until then, a fountain pen had never been made whose ink was immune to evaporation and leakage.  The latter defect, especially, was a serious drawback, staining clothing to the point of requiring several changes of linen a day and, in extreme cases, the wearing of gloves at mealtime.  Notwithstanding these unpleasant handicaps, a large clientele submitted to them and endeavored to school themselves in the habit of placing the pen in the pocket right side up.  Not a few, however, forsook the fountain pen in disgust, confining themselves to borrowing one on occasion.
       “This, then, was the condition of the fountain pen trade in 1896 when Mr. Brown, who had been the pioneer in every fountain pen improvement for twenty years, astonished the world with an invention which amounted to a revolution in the construction of the product.  This invention, named “Caw’s Safety Fountain Pen”, offered the long-desired protection from ink leakage and evaporation, it was so designed that, after retraction of the pen nib, it screwed tight so that ink could neither escape nor dry out under any conditions or in any climate.  In consequence, it was always ready for use. Into this pen, Mr. Brown introduced a capillary system of his own device whose action controlled the flow of the ink to the pen nib, permitting fine or heavy penmanship, the flow of ink being regulated by the amount of pressure on the pen point. 
       “Europeans had adopted the use of fountain pens with more caution and discrimination than had Americans.  It was not until the advent of “Caw’s Safety Fountain Pen” in 1896 that their faith in it was shown by a large demand which constantly increased.  But in Europe, in contrast to America, the ambition to own a fountain pen had not, in Mr. Brown’s time, taken possession of all classes of society.
       “In 1912, Mr. Brown produced what he regarded as the ultimate in fountain pen achievement, and he accordingly gave it the name “The Limit”.  It combined the qualities of both the erect carriage “Dashaway” and the “Safety”.  It could be carried upright in the pocket, ready for immediate use, or be quickly converted into a “Safety” when, in any position, it afforded immunity from disaster.  Although the new pen won quick popularity, wartime conditions following shortly upon its introduction forced its withdrawal from the market.  At the War’s end, with his extensive foreign markets in chaos, with materials scarce and uncertain in supply, Mr. Brown felt that he should not undertake the heavy burden of re-building his organization and gave his attention to other matters until his death in 1939.  This marked the close of a distinguished career in the industry he inaugurated.  His pens had won him first prize awards at the London Exposition 1905, the Paris World’s Fair Exposition in 1900, the Chicago World’s Fair 1893, and several other Expositions of note where, invariably, he won first honors. 
       “But little interested in clubs or organizational affairs, Mr. Brown preferred to spend his spare hours in the enjoyment of his family and his home.  By nature deeply religious, he professed the Episcopalian faith.
       “Of Canadian origin himself, Francis Cashel Brown married a young lady of French Creole family from New Orleans.  She was Marie Francoise Elizabeth Laurie, daughter of Francis and Marie Elizabeth (Pradet) Laurie, the latter of the New Orleans branch of the Lyons, France, lselin family, established in the New World by two Iselin brothers escaping the French Revolution, the elder settling in New Orleans, the younger taking up residence in New York.  Miss Laurie lost both her parents in early childhood.  Her father, a Scot, was a portrait and landscape artist.  She met Mr. Brown in Newport, Rhode Island where she and her aunt, Mrs. Camille Quesnal, were visiting friends.  Some months later they were married in the Church of the Heavenly Rest in hew York City, the date being April 23, 1883.  When their growing family led Mr. Brown to seek residence in the suburbs, he chose Staten Island and built a home at New Brighton.  There they continued to reside until death–Mrs. Brown’s occurring February 18, 1923.  The couple had the following children: Camille, now a resident of Washington, D.C., married George Clinton Miller and is the mother of three daughters, Mrs. William Haig Meyer, Mrs, Malcolm Ross, and Mrs. Bettina Hawthorne; their father, Clinton Miller, who died September 18, 1940, was senior partner of the Wall Street firm of Miller and Lummis, and since 1896 had been a member of the New York Stock Exchange; James Cashel, insurance broker, deceased, left two sons, James Cashel, Jr. and Owen Guy; Marie Iselin, a resident of New York City, has been associated with the William Esty Company Advertising Agency; Francis Owen, an economist, deceased, left no progeny; Edward Guy, father of two daughters, Mrs. Gordon Craig Ashford and Mrs. Charles Craig Bomont, is an executive of a Federal Savings and Loan Association and has his home in Portland, Oregon. 
       “Mr. Brown’s death occurred in New York City on February 1, 1939.  Ever a man of rectitude and probity, he had striven, single-handed, to attain his goals and never resented the competition of which he became the object, although not all of his competitors had his sense of fair play, and legal action often became necessary to prevent encroachments upon his patents.  Generosity always distinguished him, as well as a tolerance of the shortcomings inherent in human nature.  Of events and persons, were they ever so frustrating, he never complained, but adapted himself to difficulties which he could not overcome.  Always unassuming, shunning vain-glory, he was humbly aware of the significant role Providentially accorded him in industrial history by his serving to bring to mankind one of the most necessary and most universally used of devices–
the fountain pen.

Photo from the New York Historical Society Archives, ca. 1917

George Kovalenko.



.

April 10, 2014

The Pompeian Brown Duofold


[Posted on L&P on Mar 11, 2011.]
        [This article was originally placed online on the Pentrace homepage, Pentrace article #292, and was later revised and updated and placed on Ron Dutcher’s Lionandpen homepage.  The latter website is now down, and that version of the article is now available only on The Wayback Machine, minus some of the images.  Some discussion of the Pompeian Brown Duofold a while back on the Pentrace message board afforded me the chance to further update and revise the article with some additions and corrections, and to archive it and give it a new home here.]


 A later bandless Duofold, image by Len Provisor.

Some of you may be aware of the story of the early advertising strategy, merchandising campaign, and sales drive used by the Parker Pen Co. to introduce the Duofold in 1922.  The official story is that Parker decided to first test the pen in the Chicago area in the spring of 1922 using a combination of saturation marketing techniques.  If successful, they would then repeat the technique in other cities.  Salesmen armed with supplies of the pens and advertising ephemera visited those stores which did not have the pen in stock yet.  They postered the area with Duofold ads and placed advertisements in the Chicago Tribune in a certain sequence.  In those days, a newspaper page was much larger than it is today, and the first promotion was a large 800-line ad that took up two-thirds of the newspaper page.  This ad featured some Duofold copy, beneath which was a long list of all the stores in the area that stocked the pen.  This advertisement ran once in the first week of the campaign, thereafter followed by two 360-line ads each week for 3 weeks, and one 360-line ad each week for 8 weeks.  By the fifth ad in the third week, there was such a surge in sales that Parker didn’t wait to complete the Chicago trial before he went ahead with similar campaigns in New York and fourteen other major US cities.  So the story goes.
        This was the official version put out by the Parker Pen Co.  Explaining that fifty to sixty “universities and colleges offering courses in Advertising and Merchandising requested behind-the-scenes information” about the company’s Duofold ad campaign, their Advertising Department issued a booklet titled “Advertising & Merchandising Campaign On The Parker Duofold Fountain Pen, and An Analysis Of The Parker Duofold Copy”.  Here are some of the 
images and an OCR version of the text, placed online in 2000 by Paul Locasto.  The Chicago campaign was laid out in great detail in that booklet for future pen collectors to find, but it wasn’t the first campaign.  It was already a second campaign because there was a definite earlier phase.  Even if not a campaign, this earlier period was at least a first effort to introduce and test the Duofold on the market.
        If you look at the actual ads that appeared in the Tribune, another version of the story emerges.  After Lewis Tebbel made his proposal to the company for the design of this new pen in early 1921, a batch of prototypes was made up for him to sell in his sales area, Spokane and Seattle, Washington.  More batches were made up for him, and when he and other salesmen sold well over 12,500 Duofolds, Parker decided to test the pen in a larger market area.  The test area chosen was Chicago, but it happened in November and December of 1921.  And the first Duofold ad to appear was not in the Tribune, but actually a modest ad in The Saturday Evening Post, November 5, 1921, p.79.  The magazine page at that time consisted of four columns of text or advertising space, and the first Duofold ad consisted of one column only.  The pen in this ad was described as having a “red brown barrel”.  In “Proxy”, a newsletter for salesmen, in the August 4, 1921 issue, George Parker referred to the color of the pen as “maroon”.  Now, I would not describe an early red hard rubber Duofold as “red brown”, or “maroon”, so something curious is going on here.  Then a series of more-traditionally-shaped rectangular ads appeared in the Tribune between November 19 and December 22 that year, and all of them use the phrases “rich Pompeian brown”, or “red brown”, in the ad copy.  These are the ads familiar from the Glen Bowen book, which reproduces two of them, but I found five different versions of these ads.  There was another ad in The Post on December 10, this one also using the phrase “Pompeian Brown”, and then no more ads appeared for a while.
        In fact, the phrase “Pompeian Brown” appears only three times in all those ads, and one of those ads is an exact repetition of a previous ad.  So that’s just two unique uses of the phrase up to that time, a dis legomenon, a word that occurs only twice in the recorded corpus of a given language, and just one too many to be a hapax legomenon.  All that fuss from just two uses of the term!  Within a few years of the introduction of the Duofold, the Moore Pen Co. also had pens in a red-brown, terracotta color that were referred to as “Tuscan Red” and “Maroon”.  Another interesting point in all these Parker ads is that the Duofold was also advertised as “the patrician of all fountain pens”, thus preceding the Waterman’s pen of the same name by almost a decade.  Later in the 1920s, in the plastic era, Parker had a sub-brand pen called the “Patrician” that was available in a brown plastic.  It was a pen that looked exactly like a Duofold, but it was not the same thing at all.

Listing for the trademark after being filed, but before being issued.

        One thing that’s conspicuous by its absence in all these ads is the phrase “resembles Chinese red lacquer”.  Another missing element in the ads is the image of the familiar Scarlet Tanager with outstretched wings, and the line “Rivals the beauty of the Scarlet Tanager”, or “the black-tipped redbird”.  All of these design elements and lines of ad copy appear only in the ads from spring 1922.  The next Duofold ad to appear was the 800-line ad in the Tribune, March 27, 1922, p.13.  It lists over 150 stores where the pen is available, but the “Pompeian Brown” color is nowhere to be found in the ad.  Instead, the “Chinese Lacquer Red” color replaces it.  It even goes so far as to say, “Note how soft [is] this shade of Chinese-red”.  Now, that’s the orange-red color that we are all familiar with! Parker had two earlier large red hard rubber pens that preceded the Duofold, the #28 and the “Red Giant”, but they experienced a lot of cap breakage with these pens.  Could they have been apprehensive about using the same bright red hard rubber when they first test-marketed the Duofold, and so released it first in that darker red-brown shade?  Visconti chose a darker shade of red hard rubber for their Alhambra for the same reason.  They thought it might be a stronger hard rubber because of the inclusion of some black pigment in the mix.  Could it be that somewhere between December 1921 and March 1922 Parker switched to a brighter orange rod stock?  And could it be that all the Pompeian pens date to that early marketing period in mid-to-late 1921?  Or did they continue making the two colors concurrently well into 1922-23?
        After this large ad, there was a series of smaller ads that appeared in the Tribune, one every few days from March 30 to June 13.  As a punctuation mark to end this series, a small postage-stamp-sized Duofold ad appeared in the Tribune on June 30.  It was not an official Parker Pen Co. ad, but was part of the jumble of mixed-product ads included in the large half-page ad for Walgreen’s Drug Stores in Chicago.  That’s how quickly the pen had passed into the area of commonly advertised products.  At the same time, there were one-column ads in The Post on April 22, May 6, and June 3, but then no ad in the July issue.  Something big was being prepared, the first full, one-page ad for the Duofold!  This was an ad for the large-format magazines such as The Post and Collier’s in the US, and MacLean’s in Canada, but downsized versions of these ads were also placed in such small-format magazines as National Geographic.  The ad made its debut in the August 26 issue of The Post, and a one-page, or two-page Duofold ad was to appear every month for the next 11 years, until the appearance of the Vacumatic in March 1933.
        Before 1921, Parker had a very low market share, around 15 to 20 percent of all pen sales, mostly because their product line consisted of over 400 different models in many sizes, and their production facilities were too diversified.  After the success of the Duofold, however, their market share soared to around 50 to 60 percent, and their product lines shrank to about 100 different models.  The Duofold was so successful that any company that wanted to survive had to have a Duofold look-alike, a red pen with black tips.  Waterman’s already had an all-red pen, but it was only in this era that the color was marketed as “Cardinal”, and in 1923, it came out with its red and black “Ripple” line of pens to compete with the Duofold.  Morrison had its “Tourist”, and Conklin its “Duragraph”, and Eclipse and every other no-name brand had to have a red-and-black pen in order to compete.
       The Parker Pen Co. filed an application for a trademark for the word “Duofold” on January 14, 1922, and received trademark no. 155,044 for the word only on May 16, 1922.  The Statement And Declaration for the trademark claims that the word was first used September 1, 1921.  They also applied for a trademark for the red-black color scheme on May 23, 1922, and received trademark no. 163,481 (Serial no. 164,344) on October 17, 1922.  The description of this mark in the index to the trademarks reads in part, “[The] Trade mark consists of a fountain pen having a red body portion and two black end portions”, and states that this color scheme was in use since August 25, 1921.  Now, if the claims can be taken for fact, then the filing dates came much later than the first uses, and much closer to the time when the Duofold started to skyrocket, and all the competitors and imitators and scavengers came out of the woodwork.  They applied for the name-trademark earlier as part of the normal course of giving their new product a name, but the later color-trademark came about in response to the mimics, and the plagiarists, and the rip-off artists.  Big money was at stake, so they had to act quickly, and they weren’t just “folding around”.

A Duofold pen without the “DUOFOLD” imprint on the barrel, image by Rob Morrison. 

        What I have been calling the “Pompeian Duofold”, and what Tim Barker has been calling “Tebbel’s Duofold”, is just shorthand for the pen produced for Tebbel as a prototype, before it went into mass production as the Duofold.  The bandless version of the Duofold is the one that most closely resembles Tebbel’s ideal pen, but while talking with machinist and pensmith Lynn Sorgatz about this issue, he added an interesting last distinguishing feature to the checklist of early Duofold characteristics.  He mentioned that, along with the other distinguishing details, the pitch of the cap thread on the early Lucky Curve pens was completely different than the thread of the production Duofolds.  The two thread patterns are completely incompatible.  And that last detail might just turn out to be the cinching characteristic of Tebbel’s brainchild.  If a red hard rubber #26 Lucky Curve pen with black hard rubber tips shows up, one with a Manifold #6 Lucky Curve nib, with a bandless cap with the correct “Jack Knife Safety” imprint, with no “Duofold” imprint on the barrel above the “Parker Lucky Curve” imprint, and with a thread pattern that’s incompatible with other later Duofolds, then we’ll know that it’s the real thing, no matter what color it is, whether orange or brown.  I don’t really care what color it turns out to be.  I would just prefer it if it were a bright orange color rather than brown.  In fact, the two colors that really need to be distinguished are the later Vulcafor Orange Duofold color and the earlier slightly darker red color of the rodstock used in such pens as the eyedropper and Jack Knife Safety pens of the pre-Duofold era.  The difference in color is almost imperceptible.
        “Fragly, Scarlid Tanager, I dode gib a dab” about Pompeian Brown pens.  I have come to the conclusion, and it is just an opinion, that the color of the rod stock used to make those prototypes was probably not brown, because Parker had never used anything like that brown color in their previous inventory of pens.  They probably just used any old brittle red rod stock that was lying around unused in their warehouse.  It’s just that the myth of the brown “Patrician” has dragged a red herring, or rather, a stinky old pompeian-brown herring, across the trail of the Pompeian Duofold, and now everyone expects there to be a brown Duofold as well.  The pen was probably the same color as the other red hard rubber pens that Parker was already producing before the Duofold, pens such as the “Red Giant” and the other special-order filigree pens from the late 1890s, and early 1900s and 1910s.  This color was slightly darker than the Duofold, but only marginally so.  It was still a bright red color, even if not yet the later bright orange Duofold color, but it was almost certainly not brown.  Perhaps all the pens were orange right from the start, but the ad department chose to call the color “Pompeian Brown”, likening it to the color of clay tiles, and it should more rightly be called “Pompeian Orange”.  And perhaps the early public that was exposed to those early ads kept asking why the pens were not brown, and the model shop was prevailed upon to do some tests with a darker color, but that color just didn’t fly when they tested the product with the public.  Let me also add that if the Duofold had been released in that brown color exclusively, it would never have caught on, not to the extent that the orange pen had.
        Starting off in black and white, the Duofold ads very quickly became two-tone ads, with the pens pictured in red and the ad copy accentuated and highlighted with red details. And when the celluloid colors came out, the ads were in full color.  Some months it was a two page spread, and during 1926 and 1927 the ads appeared regularly every two weeks.  The ads came back to black and white only in the Depression, and only became lackluster in the last year of its production while the Vacuum Filler, later the Vacumatic, was being developed and prepared for release.  But what a glorious run the Duofold had!

Early Duofold Ads.


“First Series”, 1921.
1. Saturday Evening Post, Nov 5, 1921, p.79.
2a. Chicago Tribune, Nov 19, p.4.
2b. Ch. Trib., Dec 5, p.2, same ad repeated.
3. Ch. Trib., Nov 24, p.12.
4. Ch. Trib., Dec 1, p.2.
5a. Ch. Trib., Dec 8, p.4.
5b. Ch. Trib., Dec 12, p.10, same ad repeated.
5c. Ch. Trib., Dec 15, p.6, same ad repeated.
6. Sat. Ev. Post, Dec 10, p.46.
7a. Ch. Trib., Dec 19, p.4.
7b. Ch. Trib., Dec 22, p.10, same ad repeated.
7c.
Ch. Trib., Nov ?, 1921, in Glen Bowen’s book, p.42, repeats the graphic with different ad copy.

“Second Series”, 1922.
8. Ch. Trib., Mar 27, 1922, p.13, large ad.
9. Ch. Trib., Mar 30, p.10.
10. Ch. Trib., Apr 3, p.12.
11. Ch. Trib., Apr 7, p.16.
12. Ch. Trib., Apr 10, p.14.
13. Ch. Trib., Apr 13, p.6.
14. Ch. Trib., Apr 18, p.15.
15. Sat. Ev. Post, Apr 22, p.46, strip ad.
16. Ch. Trib., Apr 25, p.3.
17. Ch. Trib., May 2, p.14.
18. Sat. Ev. Post, May 6, p.133, strip ad.
19. Ch. Trib., May 9, p.2.
20. Ch. Trib., May 16, p.6.
21. Ch. Trib., May 24, p.4.
22. Ch. Trib., June 1, p.2.
23. Sat. Ev. Post, June 3, p.53, strip ad.
24. Ch. Trib., June 6, p.5.
25. Ch. Trib., June 13, p.4.
26. Ch. Trib., June 30, p.7, Walgren’s Drugstore ad.
27. Sat. Ev. Post, Aug 26, p.31, full-page color ads start, etc.



The Duofold ad numbered 2a.


Addenda and Corrigenda.
        Any pen that purports itself to be an original Parker Pompeian Duofold has to fulfill certain requirements.  It has to be from one of the first batches of Duofolds made, and that means that it has to have been made in 1921.  That also means that it can’t have a cap band, because the cap with the narrow band known as the “Gold Girdle” wasn’t released until the middle of 1923.  The first ad for a Duofold with this cap band appeared in The Saturday Evening Post, Aug 25, 1923, p.87.  So any pen with a narrow cap band is automatically suspect.  The pen must also be made of hard rubber.  There were some dark red plastic pens made by Parker in the late 1920s that had the narrow cap band.  This pen was not imprinted as a “Duofold”, but was sold as a “Patrician”.  I have seen some of these pens at pen shows, and some owners have claimed that they are Pompeian Duofolds, but they clearly aren’t.  There are also some other distinctive features that must be present. The first pens had “Lucky Curve” #6 nibs, because Parker hadn’t prepared the correct die to imprint the nibs with the “Duofold” name.  The Duofolds were the size of a #26 “Jack Knife Safety”.  The threads on the barrels were raised, the same as those on the early “Jack Knife Safety” Lucky Curve pens.  The threads were not flush with the barrel, and were a different pitch that was incompatible with those on the Duofolds that came out just a few months later.  And lastly, the pens did not have the “DUOFOLD” imprint on the barrel, and did have a large “Jack Knife Safety” imprint on the cap.  All these features must be present.  Nothing else can pass as a first-issue Duofold, Pompeian or otherwise.
        You must understand that my article was written in 2003, well before the Duofold book was published.  I updated and revised the article, and placed it on Ron Dutcher’s lionandpen.com website, but even that article now needs to be revised in light of my correspondence with David Shepherd before and after he published his book.  He told me privately that the authors of the book no longer believe that the Duofold was ever placed on the market in that dark color.  The only examples of the pen in this dark color that have been found so far are all in the Parker Archives, and none of them are complete pens.  They are all missing their nibs and feeds, and some have no sections, which is why they are never shown with their caps posted on the barrel end.  They are merely examples of what the pen would have looked like in that darker color, but they were probably not produced in any number.  It is highly improbable that even a single sizeable run of the pen in that dark color was ever produced and placed on the market.  Many strange pens, however, have come out of the Parker model shop, and there may be stray, isolated examples out there in pen collections that somehow made their way out of the Parker Archives.  Here’s a picture of some of the RHR pens in the Parker Archives with a Pompeian Brown pen placed diagonally across the tray of lighter orange pens for contrast.


Prototype pens from the Parker Archives.


[Posted on L&P on Dec 6, 2005, and added on Jan 14, 2016.]
        I agree with those who say the whole issue is still very much up in the air until a complete brown hard rubber pen shows up in the wild.  Mark Silvert said that he knows of “2 or 3” of the early Duofolds that are reputedly from the initial trial run.  What I’d like to know is what color they are, dull orange, or bright orange.  Those are the only two alternatives.  There’s no possibility that they’re brown.  Rick Krantz wasn’t far off when he said, “Maybe the next in-vogue thing will be to try and differentiate between Duofolds that are ‘Chinese Red’ and those that are ‘Scarlet Tanager’”, because of the major change in the colorants used in the hard rubber Duofolds.  The early Duofold hard rubber was colored with the traditional heavy-metal colorants, and the later Duofold hard rubber was colored with the synthetic dye Vulcafor Orange.  That’s what I meant by dull orange and bright orange earlier, so maybe we can dub those “Chinese Red” and “Scarlet Tanager”, respectively.  And as for the brown hard rubber prototypes in the Parker archives, for all I care, they can call them “Illudium Fozdex, the shaving cream atom”.  I give up on Duofolds.  I’m going to stick to
all-red pens.  The Duofold has all those black bits that dilute the all-red look.

George Kovalenko.



.

Postscript.
The controversy continues.

http://grandpasfountainpens.com/vintage-pens-w-unique-features.html

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1803676809861861/permalink/1841245376105004
 


 


 

April 09, 2014

Penography and Penknowledgy


, and A. Morton & Co.
 

[Posted on L&P on May 18, 2008.]
        One of my first encounters with the word “penography” was way back in 1995 or ’96 in Tony Fischier’s Montblanc and Parker websites.  Jim Mamoulides in his Penhero website, and others have adopted the word as well, but I thought Tony coined the word by marrying the words “pen” and “bibliography” together, and I thought he was the first to use it in regards to pens, until I recently ran across an earlier usage.  I found it while searching the N. Y. Times online archives for mentions of A. Morton & Co., an early maker of gold nibs.  By searching for “Morton gold pen” in the pre-1980 archive I found, along with a bunch of repeats of several textual ads from 1862 to 1864, a curious grouping of about 11 articles and ads from the Sept 27, 1862 issue, and most of them, all but two, on page 8.  Even more curious is the fact that all of the selections are subsumed under the main title “Penography”.  The word is used once and is not explained or defined, thus making it a neologism and a true hapax legomenon.  You can find the articles in the newspaper easily by googling the phrase “penography nyt without quotes.  They’re in the first and second items in the search results.  Or search the NYT archive for the word.  You can view PDFs of all eleven articles on the Timesmachine browser, but you have to pay to register with the website.  You can also find the N. Y. Times in the ProQuest Historical Newspapers database.


        As it turns out, Morton purchased a full-page ad in the N. Y. Times, with a little bit of overflow on pages 4 and 5.  The whole page consists of pseudo-articles, poems, and textual ads for and about Morton gold nibs.  They talk about their process of making gold nibs as opposed to the processes used by other firms, the prices of the various sizes, why they are better than steel nibs, which are said to suffer from “steel-pen disease”, how the Morton nibs are sent out and the safety of the mails, and various gushingly laudatory poems and enthusiastic testimonials and recommendations.  I went to the university library and looked up that issue of the paper on microfilm and found that there was a twelfth item that the N. Y. Times retrieval system didn’t find, another long poem titled “A Poet’s Pen”, under the simple heading “Poetry”.  This item probably wasn’t included in the archive because the optical character recognition program couldn’t read the blurred and darkened image in the upper-left corner of the page.  That also means that the N. Y. Times online archive isn’t quite complete.
        So the word “penography” goes back at least as far as 1862, and possibly earlier.  The list of Google citations also reveals that there are earlier uses of the word for other purposes.  Apparently the medical field of urology uses the term radioisotope penography for certain types of medical imagery of penile erections as a screening test for erectile dysfunction and impotence.  With the proliferation of terms in many unrelated fields of study, you never know where they will crossover and intersect, and where an internet search will take you these days, in this case, back to the same old argument about size.
        As with the term “penology”, the study of prisons and the punishment of crime, this medical term, “penography”, reveals a flaw in the spelling and pronunciation of both of these words as applied to pens.  When spelled “penology”, the word is pronounced “pee-nol-uh-jee”, with a long “e”, and “penography” is pronounced “pee-nog-ruh-fee”.  In order to be pronounced “pen-ol-uhjee” and “pen-og-ruh-fee”, those words would have to be spelled “pen-ology” and “pen-ography”, and more properly, they should be spelled “pennology” and “pennography”, with two “n’s”, pronounced “pen-nol-uh-jee” and “pen-nog-ruh-fee”, thus taking their first syllables from the Latin root word “penna”, and the Old French and Middle English word “penne”, not the Modern English word “pen”.  As for me, I prefer the word “penknowledgy”.



George Kovalenko.




.

April 07, 2014

The Pennsylvania Gazette


 


[Posted in part on L&P on May 10, 2013.]
The first fountain pens from the 1650s to the early 1800s were all of the Bion type.  But if we’re talking about the US in the same time frame, all of the fountain pens in the American colonies were imported from the mother country, Britain.  Between the years 1742 and 1774, there were around 326 uses of the words “fountain pen” and “fountain pens” in The Pennsylvania Gazette, mostly in ads from stationers who were selling the pens, so it was already a common writing instrument during that time.  It just wasn’t that popular and dependable, yet.  The only thing that put a stop to the flow of merchandise from the old country was the beginning of the Revolutionary War.  After Britain won the French and Indian War in North America, it was heavily in debt, and passed the Stamp Act in 1765.  The imposition of such taxes on the colonies met with strong condemnation, and organized boycotts of British goods were initiated.  The ad in The Gazette on June 3, 1762, reads in part, “Imported in the last Vessels from London, and sold by David Hall, At the New Printing Office in Market Street, Philadelphia, A Large and well chosen Assortment of Paper Hangings, Writing Paper of all Sorts, by the Ream, or lesser Quantity; embossed and marbled Paper; English Pasteboard, Parchment, Quills, Pens, Sealing Wax and Wafers; neat Cases of Pocket Instruments; Scales and Dividers; Slates and Slate Pencils; Penknives;…Black Lead Pencils, Fountain Pens, &c”.  I think it meant to say “the latest vessels from London”, but that slip of the pen gave away the underlying wish that colonization would soon come to an end.

Here are a few of the websites with which to search the issues of The Gazette.


https://www.newspapers.com/title_918/the_pennsylvania_gazette/

http://www.genealogybank.com/gbnk/newspapers/explore/USA/Pennsylvania/Philadelphia/Pennsylvania_Gazette/
 
http://www.accessible-archives.com/collections/the-pennsylvania-gazette/


And here are all the mentions of fountain pens,
326 of them, that I could find in Newspapers.com.
Interestingly, at the same time there were 457 mentions of pen-knives and 346 mentions of quills.


 
May 20, 1742, p. 3
May 27, 1742, p. 4
June 3, 1742, p. 4
June 10, 1742, p. 4
June 17, 1742, p. 4
June 24, 1742, p. 4
July 1, 1742, p. 4
Mar 29, 1748, p. 3
Apr 5, 1748, p. 6, 2 ads
Apr 16, 1748, p. 3, 2 ads
Apr 21, 1748, p. 6
June 22, 1749, p. 3
July 6, 1749, p. 4, 2 ads
July 13, 1749, p. 4
Nov 2, 1749, p. 2
Nov 23, 1749, p. 3
Dec 19, 1749, p. 2
Feb 6, 1750, p. 3
Feb 20, 1750, p. 2
Feb 27, 1750, p. 3
Mar 13, 1750, p. 3
Mar 20, 1750, p. 2
Mar 27, 1750, p. 5
Apr 5, 1750, p. 3
Apr 19, 1750, p. 3
May 3, 1750, p. 5
May 10, 1750, p. 6
May 24, 1750, p. 3
May 31, 1750, p. 4
June 21, 1750, p. 4
June 28, 1750, p. 5
July 5, 1750, p. 4
July 12, 1750, p. 3, 2 ads
July 26, 1750, p. 3
Aug 30, 1750, p. 3
Sept 27, 1750, p. 3
Oct 18, 1750, p. 4
Nov 15, 1750, p. 4
Nov 29, 1750, p. 4
Dec 11, 1750, p. 4
Dec 25, 1750, p. 4
May 30, 1751, p. 2
June 13, 1751, p. 2
June 20, 1751, p. 3, 2 ads
Dec 10, 1751, p. 2, 2 ads
Dec 17, 1751, p. 2
Jan 7, 1752, p. 4
Jan 14, 1752, p. 2
Jan 21, 1752, p. 3
Jan 28, 1752, p. 3
Feb 4, 1752, p. 3
Feb 25, 1752, p. 3
Mar 10, 1752, p. 4
Apr 9, 1752, p. 5
Apr 30, 1752, p. 4
May 7, 1752, p. 6
May 14, 1752, pp. 5, 10
May 21, 1752 ?
May 28, 1752, p. 5
June 4, 1752, p. 4
June 11, 1752, p. 5
June 18, 1752, p. 3
July 2, 1752, p. 4
July 16, 1752, p. 4
July 30, 1752, p. 4
Aug 13, 1752, p. 3
Sept 14, 1752, p. 4
Oct 5, 1752, p. 6
Oct 26, 1752, p. 3
Nov 9, 1752, p. 4
Nov 23, 1752, p. 6
Nov 30, 1752, p. 3
Dec 19, 1752, p. 3
Jan 2, 1753, p. 4
Jan 30, 1753, p. 4
Feb 13, 1753, p. 4
Feb 27, 1753, p. 4
Mar 13, 1753, p. 4
Mar 27, 1753, p. 4
May 3, 1753, p. 4
May 10, 1753, p. 3
May 24, 1753, pp. 3, 6
June 7, 1753, p. 3
June 14, 1753, p. 4
June 21, 1753, p. 4
July 19, 1753, p. 4, 2 ads
Aug 2, 1753, p. 4
Aug 9, 1753, p. 4
Aug 23, 1753, p. 5, 2 ads
Sept 6, 1753, pp. 3, 4
Sept 20, 1753, p. 6, 2 ads
Sept 27, 1753, p. 4
Oct 4, 1753, pp. 3, 6 (2 ads)
Oct 11, 1753, p. 5
Oct 18, 1753, p. 4, 2 ads
Oct 25, 1753, p. 5
Nov 1, 1753, p. 5
Nov 8, 1753, pp. 3, 6
Nov 22, 1753, p. 4
Nov 29, 1753, pp. 4, 6
Dec 6, 1753, p. 2
Dec 13, 1753, pp. 3 (2 ads), 4
Dec 20, 1753, p. 3
Jan 1, 1754, pp. 2, 3
Jan 8, 1754, p. 3, 2 ads
Jan 15, 1754, p. 3, 2 ads
Jan 22, 1754, p. 3
Jan 29, 1754, p. 4
Feb 12, 1754, p. 4
Feb 26, 1754, p. 3
Mar 12, 1754, p. 4
Mar 26, 1754, p. 5
Apr 11, 1754, pp. 3, 4
Apr 18, 1754, p. 5
Apr 25, 1754, p. 6
May 9, 1754, p. 4
May 16, 1754, pp. 3, 5
May 23, 1754, p. 5
May 30, 1754, pp. 3, 4
June 6, 1754 ?
June 20, 1754, p. 4, 2 ads
June 27, 1754, p. 6, 2 ads
July 4, 1754, p. 3
July 11, 1754, pp. 3, 6
July 18, 1754, pp. 4, 6
July 25, 1754, pp. 4, 6
Aug 1, 1754, pp. 4, 5
Aug 15, 1754, p. 4
Aug 22, 1754, pp. 5, 6
Aug 29, 1754, p. 3, 2 ads
Sept 5, 1754, p. 6
Sept 19, 1754, p. 4
Sept 26, 1754, p. 6, 2 ads
Oct 10, 1754, p. 3
Oct 17, 1754, p. 6
Oct 31, 1754, p. 4
Nov 28, 1754, p. 4
Dec 5, 1754, p. 6
Jan 7, 1755, p. 4
Jan 28, 1755, p. 3
Feb 11, 1755, p. 3, 2 ads
Feb 18, 1755, pp. 2, 5
Feb 25, 1755, p. 4
Mar 4, 1755, p. 3
Mar 25, 1755, pp. 4, 6
Apr 10, 1755, p. 4
Apr 17, 1755, p. 5
May 1, 1755, p. 2
May 8, 1755, pp. 3, 5
May 15, 1755, pp. 3, 6
May 22, 1755, p. 6, 2 ads
May 29, 1755, pp. 4, 5
June 12, 1755, pp. 4, 6
June 20, 1755, p. 5
June 26, 1755, p. 3
July 3, 1755, pp. 3, 4
July 10, 1755, pp. 5, 6
July 17, 1755, p. 4
July 24, 1755, pp. 4, 6
Aug 14, 1755, pp. 3, 4, 5
Aug 21, 1755, p. 5, 2 ads
Aug 28, 1755, p. 4
Sept 4, 1755, p. 5, 2 ads
Sept 18, 1755, pp. 3, 6
Sept 25, 1755, pp. 4, 5
Oct 9, 1755, p. 6, 2 ads
Oct 16, 1755, p. 4
Oct 23, 1755, pp. 5, 6 (2 ads)
Oct 30, 1755, p. 4
Nov 6, 1755, p. 6, 3 ads
Nov 13, 1755, pp. 3, 4
Nov 20, 1755, p. 3
Dec 4, 1755, p. 3, 2 ads
Dec 11, 1755, p. 4
Jan 15, 1756, p. 6
Jan 29, 1756, p. 4
Feb 19, 1756, pp. 4, 6 (2 ads)
Feb 26, 1756, p. 5
Mar 11, 1756, pp. 3 (2 ads), 4
Mar 25, 1756, pp. 3, 4
Apr 8, 1756, p. 4, 2 ads
Apr 22, 1756, p. 4
May 6, 1756, p. 3
May 20, 1756, pp. 3, 4
May 27, 1756, ?
June 10, 1756, pp. 4, 5
June 17, 1756, p. 4
June 24, 1756, p. 4
July 8, 1756, p. 4
Aug 5, 1756, p. 4
Sept 9, 1756, p. 4
Sept 23, 1756, p. 4
Oct 21, 1756, p. 4, 2 ads
Oct 28, 1756, p. 4
Nov 4, 1756, p. 4
Nov 18, 1756, p. 4
Dec 2, 1756, p. 4
Dec 23, 1756, p. 4
Jan 6, 1757, p. 4, 2 ads
Jan 13, 1757, p. 4
Jan 27, 1757, pp. 3, 4 (2 ads)
Feb 10, 1757, p. 3
Mar 3, 1757, p. 4
Apr 7, 1757, p. 3
Apr 14, 1757, p. 4
Apr 28, 1757, p. 3
May 12, 1757, p. 4
May 19, 1757, p. 4
May 26, 1757, p. 3
July 28, 1757, p. 3
Oct 6, 1757, p. 4
Dec 15, 1757, p. 2
Dec 29, 1757, p. 4
Jan 12, 1758, ?
Mar 2, 1758, p. 4
Mar 30, 1758, ?
Apr 20, 1758, p. 6
May 18, 1758, p. 5
Dec 14, 1758, p. 4
Jan 11, 1759, pp. 2, 4
Jan 18, 1759, ?
Feb 15, 1759, p. 4
Feb 22, 1759, pp. 5, 6, 7
Apr 5, 1759, p. 6
Apr 12, 1759, p. 5
Apr 19, 1759, p. 3
Apr 26, 1759, p. 3
June 21, 1759, p. 4
July 5, 1759, p. 5
July 26, 1759, p. 6
Jan 3, 1760, p. 3
Oct 30, 1760, p. 1
Mar 12, 1761, p. 4
Apr 23, 1761, p. 6
May 14, 1761, p. 6
May 28, 1761, p. 3
June 11, 1761, p. 6
July 30, 1761, p. 4
Sept 10, 1761, pp. 1, 6
Oct 29, 1761, p. 4
Nov 12, 1761, p. 3
Dec 17, 1761, p. 6
Mar 4, 1762, p. 3
Apr 22, 1762, p. 3
May 13, 1762, p. 3
June 3, 1762, p. 3
Nov 11, 1762, p. 3
Mar 31, 1763, p. 3
July 26, 1764, p. 4
Sept 13, 1764, p. 1
Dec 8, 1768, p. 3
June 28, 1770, p. 3
Dec 28, 1774, p. 6



George Kovalenko.




.

April 06, 2014

A Canadian Stationer Magazine



[Posted on July 21, 2013, my last thread on L&P.]
       There is an almost complete run of a monthly Canadian stationery magazine, almost all the issues from 1884 to 1922, in the Wayback Machine.  The magazine went under a few different names over the span of its history, including Bookseller & Stationer, so I called it Book. & Stat. for short, rather than Can. Stat., short for Canadian Stationer, which was what I wanted to nickname it, but that name already existed for a totally different magazine.  So instead, it can only be called “a Canadian stationer magazine”.  The list in the Wayback Machine is not arranged in any order, and is all shuffled together haphazardly with the listings for two other magazines, so in order to make it easier to navigate the listings of the magazine, I arranged them chronologically.   You’ll notice that only the dates in the URLs change from one link to another, so if you click on one link, you can change the date, or the date range, in your URL search window to get any of the other years.  Here they are.

1884-85 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffic188485toro#page/n3/mode/2up
1886-87 missing
1888-91 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffic188891toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1892-93 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffic189293toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1894-95 missing
1896-97 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffic189697toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1898-99 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffic189899toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1900 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1900toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1901 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1901toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1902 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1902toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1903 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1903toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1904 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1904toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1905 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1905toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1906 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1906toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1907 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1907toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1908 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1908toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1909 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1909toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1910 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1910toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1911 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1911toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1912 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1912toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1913 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1913toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1914 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1914toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1915 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1915toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1916 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1916toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1917 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1917toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1918 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1918toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1919 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1919toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1920 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1920toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1921 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1921toro#page/n5/mode/2up
1922 http://archive.org/stream/stationeryoffice1922toro#page/n5/mode/2up


George Kovalenko.
 
.

April 04, 2014

Acrostic Puzzle


“The pen is mightier than the sword, . . .”  

[Posted on L&P on Apr 22, 2013.]
        Finish the famous quotation in the title of this double acrostic puzzle, thus proving that “under the rule of men entirely just”, a pen is not mightier than the words it “rights”.  All the answers are penterms.  Who will be first to solve every letter and every word of the puzzle? 





[This acrostic puzzle originally appeared in the WES Journal, no.57, Spring 2000, p.52.]

George Kovalenko.

.

April 02, 2014

‘Plume-Fontaine’, and the Stylograph


  , or Only In Canada, You Say?

        What is the French word for “fountain pen”?  Some people say “porte-plume à réservoir”, or
just porte-plume” and “P.P.R.” for short.  And others say “stylographe” and “stylo à plume”, or “stylo” for short.  Still others say “stylo à encre”, “stylo à réservoir”, “plume à réservoir”, “plume-réservoir”, and most recently “stylo-plume”.  Some like porte plume à réservoir, since the réservoir is an important improvement of the simple porte plume.  Then they should say porte plume à réservoir jetable for the cartridge filler.  Actually, what is really important is the feed, so the correct name should be PPRC, porte plume à réservoir et conduit.  In fact, when you get right down to it, there isn’t just one French word for “fountain pen”.  Instead, there are many, and some would say, way too many words for it.  But what’s more, they are also the wrong words for it.
        Most languages incorporate penna”, the Latin word for quill or feather, into their word for “fountain pen”, or else a translation of the Latin word into their language.  Hence we have “pen” in English, and “penne” in Italian, and we have “feder” in German, “pero” in Slavic languages, and “plume” in French.  And in Japanese, the word for “brush” is used instead of “feather”, as in “10,000-year brush”, because that’s what they used instead of a pen, but let’s not get into that.  However, the French word for “fountain pen” was not standardized until very late, perhaps as late as the 20th century, and so it takes many forms.  Pierre Haury and Jean-Pierre Lacroux in their book, A Passion For Pens, list 25 terms, including the first six of the above terms.  I gleaned the other five of the above from various dictionaries.  To the above six they added nineteen obsolete and archaic terms that they collected, “a list”, as they said, “of some of the diverse names proposed in the 19th century [and earlier] by inventors and merchants passionately interested in either applied etymology or commercial rhetoric”, and which went nowhere.  To this total of 30 terms, so far, could be added some very old words.  In the 17th and 18th centuries, the fountain pen, such as it was, was referred to by much more colorful and metaphoric terms.  One early term Haury and Lacroux include in their list is “plume-perpétuelle”, but they also use the terms “plume sans fin” and “plume éternelle” elsewhere in their book.  And then there are also the two hypothetical terms above.  That’s a grand total of 34 different words, so far!  Haury and Lacroux go on to state, “There is no correct term; however, common usage seems to have settled the dispute.  Since [“stylo”] has been the most frequently employed term, [it] is the [French] word commonly used to designate all writing instruments with nibs”.  But the words “stylo” and “stylographe” are complete misnomers.  So, how did this situation come about?
        The earliest citation by the Oxford English Dictionary of the word “stylographic” is from the year 1808, for Ralph Wedgewood’s British patent no. 3,110 for a pantographic device called a “stylographic manifold writer”, and the earliest citations of “stylography” are for 1840, for “the art of writing with a style [or stylus]”, and an 1846 usage that refers to “a new method of engraving invented by J. C. Crossman performed by the use of a style on a tablet”.  The Larousse Du XXe Siècle cites “stylographie” as an electrotyping process invented in 1846 by a Danish inventor named Schoeler.  Haury and Lacroux mention French patent no. 7,007 for a pen called a “stylographe”, a pen with a nib patented in 1848 by a Parisian jeweller whose surname was Valory, and they also credit the electrotyping process “perfected by the Danes” in 1846 as the source for the derivation of the word “stylographe”, although they do not mention the inventor by name.  In 1849, Elizah Jordan received US patent no. 6,883 for a rudimentary stylographic pen called an “ink pencil”, which didn’t function very well, and in 1857, Joseph Silvy’s patent no. 16,514 improved on Jordan’s pen and assigned the patent to Thomas Dobins.  In 1856, Nelson Slayton patented another rudimentary stylo no. 15,622, Calvin Rogers patented his stylo precursor no. 47,577 in 1865, Gardener Kenyon patented his early stylo no. 96,598 in 1869, and in 1870, Albert Carleton patented his stylo no. 104,109, but none of these stylos amounted to anything.  All of these inventions and usages, however, are not the source of the word “stylographe” as used today, and Valory’s use of the word more properly falls into that category of just another of those “diverse names proposed in the 19th century by inventors and merchants”.  That honor more properly falls to the stylographic pens of the mid-1870s.
        Duncan MacKinnon, a Canadian druggist and pensmith, invented his stylographic type of fountain pen in the early 1870s.  He patented his pen in Canada on June 5, 1875, patent no. 4,809, and then in the UK later in 1875, no. 2,497, and in the US in 1876, no. 174,965, although he didn’t refer to it as a “stylograph” in his patents.  In his first ads for the pen, he referred to it as a “fluid pencil”, or “ink pencil”, since in appearance it closely resembled a sharpened wooden pencil. Adding one small part, a spring, the A. T. Cross company copied MacKinnon’s pen and patented their version, patent no. 199,621, only as late as Jan 29, 1878.  In their ads late in 1878, A. T. Cross started calling the pen a “stylographic fountain pen”, or a “stylographic pen”, or a “stylograph” for short.  James P. Maginnis, in his definitive Cantor Lectures on the early UK patents for steel, reservoir, stylographic, and fountain pens, writes that Charles Woodbury Robinson, an American who imported and introduced many of the early American stylographs to the UK, “claims . . . to have been the first to suggest the word ‘stylographic’ as applied to these pens”, and that A. T. Cross “was the first maker to adopt the name”.  The first US patents for “Stylographic Fountain-Pens” that referred to them as such in the patent were, however, MacKinnon’s July 15, 1879 reissue of his 1876 US patent, reissue no. 8,802, and his improvement and modification of his 1876 patent US patent no. 217,888 from July 29, 1879.  By the 1880s, it was the generally accepted word for this type of pen, but only in North America and the British Isles.  Elsewhere, there was some confusion.
        Preceding Waterman’s pen by almost a decade, the stylographic pen was the first successful fountain pen of any type to be widely popular with the public.  During this ten-year period, there was a surge in the US patents for stylographs that dwarfed the numbers of patents for traditional fountain pens.  And because of the accompanying wide use of the word “stylograph”, this word came to be closely associated with ordinary fountain pens, or nibbed writing instruments.  Thus, we can credit Duncan MacKinnon with the invention of the stylographic fountain pen, and we can credit, or blame, A. T. Cross for, if not coining, then at least popularizing, the word “stylograph”, which caused all the subsequent confusion.  In France, the word “stylographe” also came to be confused or mistaken for the word “fountain pen”, or to be so closely associated with “fountain pen” that it was seen to be indistinguishable from it, and so it was adopted, however wrongly, as the word for “fountain pen”.  This misnomer is all based on a misunderstanding, a failure to make a distinction between different types of pens.  You can no more call a stylograph a fountain pen, a writing instrument with a nib, than you can call a fountain pen a stylograph, a writing instrument with a stylus.  If the French want to call a fountain pen a stylographe, or a stylo à plume, or a stylo à réservoir, or a stylo à encre, or just a stylo, then what do they call a stylographic pen, a stylo à style, or a stylo à stylo, or a stylo à stylus?  And almost the same goes for the Italian word for a fountain pen, “penne stilografiche”, which is a self-contradiction.  Is it a nibbed “pen”, or is it a stylused “stylograph”?  It can’t be both.  That would be like saying “plume à stylo”!
        The problem with the terms for “fountain pen” in French and Spanish and Italian and probably many other languages, too, is that they leave out the distinguishing and most important feature of that type of pen, the fact that it has a reservoir, or source, or fountain in its barrel.  It has now become tradition to call that reservoir a fountain
a perpetual, never-ending, ever-flowing fountain.  Some of the early ads for fountain pens touted the fact that they carried their own inkwells in their handles, and many of the ads used some variation of the ad line that you would have to “dip no more”.  That’s what is missing from those terms in many other languages, that long-standing tradition of the origin of the term.  And all this ambiguity of terms started because of the term “stylographic fountain pen”.  The stylograph preceded the fountain pen in popularity and functionality briefly in the late 1870s and early 1880s, and for a brief period in the 1880s, the fashion was to call all fountain pens stylographs.  Thomas A. Hearson’s UK patent for a fountain pen, no. 1,419 from Mar 31, 1881, French patent no. 144,886 from Sept 17, 1881, and US patent no. 252,034 from Jan 10, 1882, was manufactured by Thomas De La Rue & Co. in the early 1880s, and as an example of the backlash against the stylograph, the 1883 Thomas De La Rue ads cite the Hearson patent, calling the fountain pen “The Anti-Stylograph”.  The term “anti-stylograph” was even briefly used in the 1880s by the general public as an alternative term for “fountain pen”, but luckily that ugly, reverse-engineered word, or retronym didnt catch on universally.  The term “stylograph”, however, did persist in some European languages as a catch-all term for any pen with a fountain, perhaps as an apocope, a shortening of the term “stylographic fountain pen”, until it finally became synonymous with “fountain pen”.
        But there is a word that hasn’t been mentioned so far.  Haury and Lacroux go through their long list of alternate terms, but they do not mention the obvious one.  In 1723, when Edmund Stone translated Nicolas Bion’s book on scientific instruments that included a “plume sans fin”, he rendered the term in English as “fountain-pen”.  He didn’t coin the word, however, for the word “fountain-pen” has been documented in print as far back as 1710, according to the O.E.D.  So, how about the obvious translation of that word back into French, “plume-fontaine”?  Where is this word in that long list?  Instead, the French prefer the term “stylo”.
        Well, there is a solution, and it comes from Quebec, or Francophone Canada, or Canadian-French, or the official governmental French of a bilingual Canada.  In Francophone Canada, the French word for “fountain pen” already is “plume-fontaine”, and has been for quite some time already.  Calling it a uniquely Canadian regionalism, the Trésor De La Langue Française tells us that only in Canada do we say “plume-fontaine”.  The earliest citations that the Trésor gives come from the 1970s and 80s, but there are some much earlier usages documented in print.  The first use of the word “plumes-fontaines” is actually in the French patents.  William O. Grover’s patent no. 19,513 is for Un Système De Plumes Dits “Plumes-Fontaines”, from June 24, 1854, but it’s the only use in the French patents.  It’s a single occurrence, a hapax legomenon.  It also appears in the Canadian patents, but with more regularity.  Starting in 1824, the first series of Canadian patents were written up and printed only in English, but when the second series started in 1873, the name of the invention was rendered in French as well as English.  Now, it just so happens that the first patent for a pen after this change was implemented was the patent for Duncan MacKinnon’s stylographic pen in 1875.  And although in English the pen is called a “Combined Pen and Ink-Holder”, thus showing from the awkward designation that this type of pen was perceived to be something totally new and different, in French it is called a
Plume-fontaine, perhaps one of the earliest uses of the word in an English-language publication.  This usage appeared in the August 1875 issue of the Canadian Patent Office Record, and it was either adopted into the technical language of patents from prior usage in everyday language, or else it crept its way from the patent usage into everyday language.  Whether it is an origination from the one side or an adoption from the other remains unresolved, until we stumble upon some other early uses of the word.  But somewhere between the technical accuracy of official language and the spontaneous creativity of common language, one can arrive at everyday words that can be used without ambiguity.  This word remained in official use by the Patent Office as the French translation of “fountain pen” until 1909, when the official designation was changed to “Plume-réservoir”.  This new term remained in use until 1923, when the Canadian Patent Office bowed to the pressure of the international Francophone community and switched to the term “Stylo”, and in 1925 it switched to the term “Stylographe”.


        Locally in Francophone Canada, ordinary people continued to use “plume-fontaine”, but internationally the Francophone community had settled on the other terms, and despite the persisting regional difference, the Patent Office chose to go with the internationally accepted terms.  “Common usage [in the rest of the world] seems to have settled the dispute” for the Canadian Patent Office, even though it has not settled the dispute for the rest of the Canadian French-speaking community.  And why not, when speaking French anywhere else in the world, use that word as well?  It could be seen as a trans-lingual retronym, translated by Stone from Bion, and then borrowed from the English and put back into the French again.  It’s such an obvious and commodious solution to the problem.  It’s not a Quebecois or French-Canadian word, and it’s certainly not Joual.  It’s a Canadian-French word, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone.  It takes a bilingual country to come up with that kind of solution.  We Canadians are always cutting to the chase.
        But why do the French avoid this obvious term?  Didn’t the solution occur to them, or were they studiously trying to avoid it?  Was it seen as a too-close translation of the English word?  

Was it seen as caving in to the English language, and were they trying to create their own uniquely Gallic alternatives?  This sounds like governmental interference in lingual affairs.  This term is certainly not as bad as “un bon boss”, or “un hot dog”, or “le poke check”.  At least it’s still tout en français.  Perhaps as a reciprocal gesture to the French language the English language could adopt the word “plume” in the metaphoric sense of “to pen” or “to write”, so that the phrase “he penned his name” would now become “he plumed his name”, to borrow a phrase from James Joyce.  One could even say “Shakespeare plumed the depths of the English language”, just as Montaigne plumed the depths of the French Language, but que sçais-je?  And “to ply the pen” would become “to ply the plume”.  And “flights of the pen” could be called “airy plumeflights”, also from Joyce.  Alright, enough of this wordplay.  It’s time to stop this joie of living and stop jouering with the Joual.  It’s time to get down to lingual les affaires and adopt the obvious term.  The answer to the question with which I opened this article is the word “plume-fontaine”.


George Kovalenko.


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 [An earlier version of this article titled “Only In Canada, You Say?” first appeared in Stylophiles, June 1998, The Pennant, Fall 1998, and on Bruce Marshall’s website since July 1998.]