Paper Dreams

As luck would have it, paper has made its way into the spotlight again. Totally unaware of what was coming and what Saturday’s post would leave in my mailbox, a pleasant shock arrived in the form of six note pads from Richard Binder. They came to me via my friend and cousin in Louisiana, Carolyne the Cajun Queen. She has the perfect knack for knowing just the thing that will bring the greatest pleasure and enjoyment.

Richard Binder is no stranger to anyone with an interest in fountain pens and his website is in my bookmarks, but for those unfamiliar with the name… Richard Binder is a fountain pen and nib expert running a family business repairing and restoring pens. He and his wife and two assistants work out of an 1846 Italianate house in Nashua, New Hampshire. In 2002 he gave up his work in the computer business to become a full-time pen person.

The Richard Binder Note Pads are not anything new, or at least I don’t think they’re new. Pocket Blonde put up a post about them earlier this month, and 2008 appears at the bottom of the cover sheet with all the note pad information. There are six note pads in a set, each measuring 5¼ x 8½in, a size that fits into a standard A5 pad folio. Each pad contains 50 sheets of ultra-smooth 28lb bright white paper. Richard Binder’s printer researched and tested paper, ending up with a smooth high-brightness premium paper. It is produced by the last family-owned paper mill in the US. One point explained is that the paper is uncoated, giving it the best surface for smooth writing, and because it’s uncoated there is no risk your pens will be clogged with clay or chalk.

Each of the six note pads in a set are printed with a photo of a vintage fountain pen. The photos are crisp, high resolution pictures unlike the low resolution photo shown here.

The six pens, one for each note pad are, from left to right:

• Conklin’s Endura Senior, c1926

• Parker “51” Nassaue Green, 1940s

• Sheaffer’s Model 47 Crest, 1937-1941

• Wahl 652C, c1925

• Waterman’s Ideal No. 5, c1927

• Waterman’s Hundred Year Pen, 1939

For those wanting to use the note pads as stationery, the Binder website also offers a package of six plain pads. The photo pads are printed on a high-speed Heidelberg press and allow writing over the pen photos without worry about skipping or blurring of the photos.

Once again the Cajun Queen has surprised me with a handsome and useful gift. She wrote an email note today saying that she found the Binder Note Pads on Pocket Blonde and ordered a set of the plain for herself and a set of the pen design pads for me. My thanks to both Diane at Pocket Blonde and my cousin Carolyne in Louisiana.

Mabie Todd Swan

Still caught up in the tray of fifteen fountain pens which I am looking over (cleaning and polishing) for a friend. Yesterday’s focus was on the Montblanc Marcel Proust from Germany, and today the spotlight moves to a vintage pen manufactured in England sometime in the 1950s, a green marble Mabie Todd Swan Leverless with gold clip and trim.

Production of Swan fountain pens began around 1890 in the US. Manufacture continued here until the late 1930s, with the quality and production volume declining sharply towards the end of the decade. Meanwhile, the British Mabie Todd firm was enjoying great success, and the Swan model was widely advertised as “the pen of the British Empire.” The company’s factory and pen works were destroyed during the blitz of World War II, but they rebuilt and initially prospered during the immediate postwar period. However, production ceased altogether before the end of the 1950s—casualty of a new era of ballpoint pens.

Swan Leverless pens were offered in a wide range of colorful celluloid alongside the similar Swan lever-fillers, which were less expensive. By the early 1950s the Swan was being offered in twist-filling versions.

The pen in my friend’s collection is in good, though nowhere near mint condition. The green marble celluloid barrel and cap are in excellent shape, testimony to the durability of the celluloid. The gold plated clip with its engraved swan emblem is slightly out of line, but hardly noticeable. The worst wear is seen in the three gold rings at the base of the cap, which show a good bit of brassing. You have to look closely, but the gold swan emblem set into the top of the pen’s cap has suffered some corrosion, though not so much to the swan as the raised lip surrounding it. Hardly anything that stands out, and without any effect upon performance, but a tiny detraction.

It’s in the nib that the Mabie Todd Swan shows its flare. This one has a No. 4 Eternal 14k M nib, one that still moves across the page laying down ink like creamery butter. I gave the nib a thorough cleaning in my Citizen ultrasonic cleaner, and later while wiping it and examining it under a magnifying glass, got to wondering about the origin of the heart-shaped ink intake hole. I was unable to find any information on that design, but it certainly does catch the eye.

One aspect of the leverless twist-fill valve on this fountain pen still puzzles me. Normally we expect the twist-fill motion on the valve to have at least five or six turns, a number that encourages the thought that the pen is getting a good fill. Contrary to expectation, the Swan mechanism is a short screw stem and allows no more than two to three turns, leaving you to wonder if the reservoir has been adequately filled with ink. I haven’t had occasion to write with the pen long enough to determine how much ink is going into the barrel or reservoir, but the first impression is that it isn't a lot of ink. After a single page, I sense that the line is getting dryer and the pen close to empty. Could that be right? Perhaps there is something I don’t understand about filling the pen.

Nonetheless, I like a vintage pen and am willing to accept some points or attributes (or deterioration) along with the good. There is no question that the No. 4 Eternal M nib writes in precisely the manner I most prefer in a fountain pen. I have even begun to wonder if the same nib would fit in any of my own fountain pens. It leaves me with something to look into.

Meanwhile, I would give the Mabie Todd Swan an excellent report card.

The Pelikan Experience

Long before discovering Pelikan, Montblanc was the fountain pen in my pocket. At the time, it was nothing more than a serviceable tool for putting words to paper on occasion. The pen was a Meisterstuck 146 and went through two nib changes before I could even say I liked it a little. Nothing like enthusiasm, and certainly no passion surrounded the pen, or my use of it. I saw it simply as an okay kind of fountain pen that had cost too much money. Well, about Montblanc and that old Meisterstuck 146 my opinion has done an about face, but that’s another story.

After a few years of using the Montblanc, a friend led me to a small pen shop in Tokyo and urged me to try a Pelikan Souverän. I mark that as the day my eyes were first opened to the beauty and craft of fountain pens. I experienced then the particular Pelikan joy of written words generated by a well-made fountain pen. That day I bought my first Pelikan, a Souverän 600. I have never wavered in my enchantment with Pelikan, and since that first Souverän have added another five Pelikan fountain pens to my treasure box of pens.

I like all of my Pelikans, but view one of them as the jewel in the crown. A year ago I bought a vintage Pelikan 100N from a dealer in Budapest, Hungary. The pen came to me in excellent condition, and from the first day became a special member of my collection.

The Pelikan 100N (N for ‘neu’ or ‘new’) was a modification of the 100, and was first produced in 1938. Some say that the 100 and 100N marked the beginning of Pelikan’s distinctive styling. The company produced the pen in a number of different versions, or models. For example, the export model was slightly different from that produced for domestic use. It was during Germany’s war years, and that fact determined things like available materials. During those years, the pens were all made with nickel or steel nibs and pocket clips.

My own 100N was manufactured in the years immediately after WWII, between 1947 and 1951. The barrel of the pen is marbled gray celluloid with a bottle green ink window (a post war feature). The cap is black with a 14 carat gold plated pocket clip and single band—both with a fluted design. The nib is 14 carat and the size is M. The logo on the top of the cap shows the traditional Pelikan design, with two chicks in the nest, and is white-filled engraving. Around the top of the cap (not seen in the photos) is ‘Pelikan PATENT’ also in white-filled engraving.

The pen measures 12.3 centimeters (5.24 inches) and 15.5 centimeters (6.1 inches) posted.

I have written in an earlier post (Rainy Day Favorites) a brief description of the 100N’s quality of writing. I will repeat that brief description here: The 100N makes a sound that I like very much as it moves across the paper. Other Pelikan pens have nibs that flow across the page without a murmur, but for some reason (related to age?), the 100N whispers to the paper in a soft susurrus as the words unfold. Ears as well as eyes bear witness to the pen’s writing.

This is one that I expect won’t allow my enthusiasm for fountain pens to wane.