It’s happened to all of us at some point. You’re in the garage looking for a particular screwdriver, and it’s nowhere to be found. You become increasingly frustrated as you scrounge around in the mess. You start straightening things up a bit as you hunt around in the hopes that next time it won’t be so hard to find things. One thing leads to another, and next thing you know, you look up and the whole garage is organized. Maybe you found your screwdriver, maybe not. Maybe you cut the process short by giving up and sulking off to the hardware store to buy another screwdriver.
This sort of thing happened to me in a big way about a year ago, although it wasn’t with a screwdriver, the figurative garage was far more enormous and quietly closing the garage door and slipping off for a cheap replacement simply wasn’t an option.
I’m referring to that shambles of a garage known as the United States Patent databases. I had wandered in there in search of a pre-1911 patent for a particular pencil that I had been meaning to write about for some time, and I thought I had everything I needed to find it – to carry on the metaphor, I knew exactly where that damned screwdriver was supposed to be.
It wasn’t there. I tried everything, and I simply couldn’t find it. In fact, even though I was sure it was an American patent, I couldn’t even find anything issued on that
date.
The problem, as it turned out, had nothing to do with the patent itself or with the feeble skills of one hapless researcher: the patent databases were malfunctioning on that particular day, so no matter what search I ran, there were no results to be found. Although the databases were back up and running a day or so later, the experience started me thinking: what if all the tools I currently use were suddenly no longer available?
The question gained greater urgency a week or so later, when the United States government shut down over a fiscal squabble, and the USPTO posted an ominous message on its website. Despite the shutdown, they said, their website would remain available –
for the time being.
That’s why, for the next six weeks, I took a break from Leadhead’s and compiled a database of every writing instrument patent I could find prior to 1911 – not just for pencils, but for pens, penholders, stylographs – anything that lays down a line on a sheet of paper. Call it pessimism that our government might not be able to reopen. Call it determination never to lose another freakin’ screwdriver. Janet called it the mess that occupied the kitchen table for weeks, but when it was finished, I called it
American Writing Instrument Patents 1799-1910.
And I am pleased to report, in the process I did find my proverbial screwdriver. Here’s the pencil that started the project:
To learn more, this full article is included in The Leadhead's Pencil Blog Volume 3, available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and everywhere else you buy books, or you can order a copy signed by yours truly through the Legendary Lead Company HERE.