Friday, August 22, 2025

Conklin Absurdities

 Sometimes, I breathe a sigh of relief when I find that last variant of something I know is probably out there somewhere. This was not one of those times.

I initially rejoiced when I found this red hard rubber Conklin Duragraph pencil:



The Duragraph, introduced in mid-1924, was the immediate predecessor of the Endura line. Conklin’s 1924 catalog makes no reference to the Duragraph, so it apparently was unveiled and discontinued in a matter of mere months. Duragraph pencils are thinner than their later Endura counterparts, distinguished by their hard rubber (and very fragile) nose cones, and I had been looking for the short red hard rubber one for years. It was so satisfying to take this picture:


Red, mottled, and black, all wrapped up in a bow. Assuming, of course, that I leave the monkeywrench out of the picture:


I may wait years before finding the short model with the side clips in mottled and red – if I ever find them at all. These short models are known to occur in both the Duragraph and Endura lines. I have had a short Endura in mottled for years, without finding another. One fly in the ointment, I told myself, is interesting.


But then one comes along in lapis, shown here alongside a Conklin Dollar Pencil:

Leaving me to wonder . . . did these come in all of the Endura colors?


It gets better or worse from there, depending on how you look at it. At the Ohio Show a couple years ago, I think it was Rob Bader who sold me this:


If I thought these letter openers could be found in the other Endura colors, I’d be on a rabid all-out hunt for the other ones.


Sigh . . . I suppose the only thing worse than missing a variant or two would be having all of them and nothing left to look for. Besides, the Conklin Endura spread at the museum, while arguably incomplete, still makes me smile. The oversized ones are not shown, since they are found in the next drawer. 


As I gaze upon this picture, my smile fades a bit. Did the Imperial Blue (bronze and navy blue) come in the other two sizes? Were all four sizes found in both shades of green?

Thursday, August 21, 2025

The Case for Cases

Ringtop pens and pencils made by the Carter Ink Company during the 1920s and 1930s are a relatively common sight. Sets housed in celluloid cases, while less common, do show up from time to time. The earlier ones were rectangular:


When these sets are reasonably priced, I’ll bite on them just for the cases, even if I might have the pencil at home. That lower one came as a nice surprise: the Coralite (Carter’s name for this sort of celluloid) was in very good condition:


And, when I checked to see if I had the pencil, I only had half of one. I’ve been looking (whether I remembered it or not) for a complete example to upgrade the one I have missing its cap:


At some point during production, the squared-off corners on the cases were streamlined. I believe this change occurred before Carter streamlined the pens and pencils themselves, since this next case looks too well put together. 


It came from the collection of Terry Johnson, who founded Private Reserve Inks, and it came to me through the Kennedys (Mike and Linda) - I had passed on it when I purchased the pencil part of the Johnson collection, but that gorgeous monogram on the case nagged at me . . . after the big purchase, I messaged Linda and arranged for her to bring it along to the Baltimore show in March.

The “streamlined” cases are sometimes found with the Carter’s name embossed inside the lid: this later set (mid-1930s) also came from Terry Johnson’s collection. The pen and pencil are worse for wear, but to me the case was what was important, anyway:


I have another streamlined case with that same treatment inside the lid. It too contains a later incarnation of the pen:


My favorite Carter’s case, however, is a little bit earlier, dating to 1929 or 1930. It lacks the Carter’s name, but has so much more going for it:



Larry Liebman also likes these – every so often, we get on the phone and have a text fest, sending pictures back and forth while we discuss different brands. When the subject of Carter’s came up a few months ago, he sent me this picture of something along these lines, in lapis celluloid with similar painting:


All of the foregoing is cool show and tell, but other than those last two cases, all of these are probably things with which most collectors are well familiar. And then comes the rest of the story . . . 

In an online discussion in one of the pen groups on Facebook, David Nishimura mentioned that these celluloid cases were supplied to Carter by some unknown third party, and that other companies were also known to have offered them.

Dang it, I thought to myself . . . from now on, I’m going to have to open every stinking one of these cases that I see, and I will not be able to assume any non-Carter contents that happen to reside in them are just later random additions. And then, just a couple of weeks after that discussion, Matt McColm pointed out something in an online auction he thought might interest me:


Opening the case reveals no name inside the lid, but that gold-filled pencil cap is no Carter:


Yes, Virginia, that’s a set made by the Moore Pen Company – the pen is a bit discolored, but what the heck – it has a price sticker.


But that isn’t the reason I clicked “buy it now” quicker than a jackrabbit on a date. It was what is inside the case, not inside the lid like on a Carter’s case but in the case body:


Non-Carter’s cases like these are so rare that most are not even aware that they exists - I took mine to the recent DC Show to share with a couple Moore fanatics I know . . . one had never seen such a thing, and the other had only heard that they exist. It does makes sense that two Boston pen companies would both source celluloid cases from the same supplier, and I supose that likely does narrow down who that supplier might have been to some manufacturer in the Northeast. LeBoeuf, in nearby Springfield, immediately comes to mind.

This is one of those articles I publish in the hopes that it will drag out more information. Actually, all of my articles are published in those hopes, but this time the questions I am trying to answer are very pointed: what other companies offered these, who made them . . .

. . . and David mentioned in that online discussion that there are also cases with three compartments rather than two . . .   

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

As Things Were and Are

About three years ago I picked up David Nishimura at the airport when he arrived for the Ohio Pen Show. As I was driving him to the hotel, we talked about the area surrounding the venue. I grew up in that area, and it is vastly different than it once was – not in a good way. David said something that has stuck with me . . . something I thought was very wise.

“With age and experience we develop the ability to see things both as they were and as they are at the same time,” he said. Or something close to that. 

I have thought about David’s statement in many different contexts since then. It’s true that I vividly remember riding a bicycle around that part of town, and I visualize exactly how things were. At the time, I was only perceiving my surroundings in the moment. With fresh eyes sitting next to me forty years later, I was describing what I remembered as I looked through a crumbling urban area.

On reflection, I think there is a corollary to the Nishimura Theorem: first we see things as they are, then we see them simultaneously as they were and how they are. Later in life, though, we grow weary of seeing things as they are. We long to see things as they were.

Unless those things were terrible. Those are the things we try to forget.

An annual fixture on my calendar every August is the DC “Supershow,” the largest pen show in the world. I’ve only missed one Supershow in the last 25 years.

By the time I started this blog in 2011, I had been collecting for more than ten years and I had developed an established routine for my annual pilgrimage, which I wrote about during the first year of the blog in “Eastward Ho!” (August 10, 2012: Volume 1, page 298). 

The article was wiped from the Internet in the Great Google Catastrophe of 2018, but it lives on in print. From Newark, Ohio, my first stop was always the antique mall in Barnesville, Ohio, followed with a wave at the “Marsh Wheeling Stogies” sign in Wheeling and a pass through the Wheeling Tunnel. I would stop again at a tiny antique mall in even tinier Bruceton Mills, West Virginia, then arrive at the Sheraton in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, late in the day.

That routine changed when a busy work schedule had me leaving for DC at different times, and I would often pass by Barnesville and Bruceton Mills after the antique malls had closed. John Hall and I would make those stops once in a while, until his illness confined him to his scooter. After John passed, Janet resumed her copilot duties but we never managed to make the Barnesville stop; as for Bruceton Mills, she would ask me, if there’s never anything new in there to see, why bother?

The “new” bypass around Wheeling now diverts traffic away from the route through town which passes the Marsh Wheeling Stogies sign and the Wheeling Tunnel. I refuse to use it until the day comes when I’m arrested for taking my old route through town. I don’t need no stinkin’ bypass. It’s part of the experience.

So for these last few years, other than the occasional stops for snacks and facilities, the drive to DC has been just a road trip punctuated by a sign, a tunnel, and wistful smiles as I pass the Barnesville and Bruceton Mills exits. I never found anything significant at either of those malls – I’ve just missed that part of the experience.

Since the Pandemic, Janet has been waving off attending DC so that Dad and I can have a “guy’s weekend.” My schedule has also changed again: it took me a few decades to realize that since I am self-employed, nobody will fire me if I am not back in my office at 8 a.m. the Monday after a show. Since I’m rarely worth much the day I return anyway, I have adapted well to decompressing and relaxing at the hotel Sunday night, then driving home fresh on Monday.

Dad and I departed for DC at 6am on Thursday this year, which is a real sweet spot for the journey: the last ten miles on the Capitol Beltway determine how long the entire trip will take, and that early departure puts us on that busiest stretch of asphalt at just the right time. We didn’t make any stops, partly due to smooth traffic and partly due to our anticipation of arriving at the show, and we were browsing vendor’s tables in DC by 12:30pm. 

I wasn’t looking for pencils, believe it or not. I was feeding a new obsession.

In June,  Janet and I were taking our time traveling home from the book awards in Philadelphia, and we stopped in an antique mall in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I found a neat piece: a “Fount-O-Ink” porcelain desk set with a celluloid sleeve over its inverted ink supply and matching pen. I bought it because I liked the look of it.

Of course I had to learn more about it. They were patented by Carey Gregory and sold beginning in 1935 by the “Gregory Ink Company,” which was later renamed the “Gregory Fount-O-Ink Company.”

Of course that process fueled my collector’s instinct. The Pen Collectors of America’s online library contains three of the company’s catalogs, dated 1941, 1946, and 1949 - showing a wide variety of interesting products.

Of course I began trolling online auctions and picking up more examples. By the time Dad and I were on the way to DC, I had put together a nice little collection:


I was keen to find more varieties of the pens to fill the holes, and I wondered what other varieties of the bases were out there. In anticipation of the DC show I teased this picture of my mini-collection out in one of the collector pages on Facebook, hoping that I might inspire people to bring their spare Fount-O-Ink stuff to unload at the show.

I found nothing. No bases, no dip pens – not even a single person coming up to me to talk about these things.

The show was remarkably successful in other respects . . . I bought three collections of pencils at the show which added a couple hundred items to my collection, and there’s a lot of new stories that will come out of those. Today’s story, however, is about the day after Casey’s first strike at bat on the “Fount-O-Ink” front. It got me to thinking, as Dad and I prepared to leave for home on Monday morning . . . collecting these Fount-O-Ink pens and bases through online auctions is not very satisfying, and apparently nobody wants to bring them to pen shows, as big and bulky as they are. I wondered how many pens and bases I had passed at antique shows and shops over the years without noticing them because they were not on my radar at the time.

I also wondered, since I had not been to the antique malls in Bruceton Mills and Barnesville for several years, what it would be like to see them simultaneously as they were and as they are now. Dad was game for the experience: he also collects things other than writing instruments (he has been dragging me to antique shops since the 1970s). We left around 9am, and by noon or so we were in Bruceton Mills: 


It looks exactly the same, and it still has no public restrooms (a necessity at the moment, so we diverted back to the truck stop at the exit before we explored). Nothing had changed – down to the same run-of-the-mill Parker 51 set proudly displayed in the case at the front of the shop, complete with the same exorbitant price tag, a bit more yellowed.  Yep. At Bruceton Mills, as things were and as things are were one and the same.

Casey’s second swing on the Fount-O-Ink front was another miss, but I did find a couple interesting numbering machines used to stamp consecutive numbers. Yeah, in addition to staplers and typewriters, that is another closet fascination of mine.


It didn’t take long to get through the Bruceton Mall, so we were back on the road in no time with Barnesville and Casey’s last swing ahead. Through the Wheeling Tunnel we went, craning our necks to see the Stogies sign behind us as we emerged, and by 3:30 we arrived at the Barnesville exit. The familiar route took us five miles up into the hills, past the Dickinson Ranch and through some unexpected construction on the only two-lane road into town, only to find . . . 


. . . closed on Mondays. “I should have looked that up for you online when you said you were stopping there,” Janet said. The Barnesville Antique Mall . . . on the Internet . . . I’m guilty of seeing things only as they were, back in the days when we drove willy nilly all over God’s green earth hoping a place would have an “open” sign hanging in the window. No matter – it was rejuvenating to see the place is still there, still full of stuff and promise. Janet and I have resolved to make a special trip some lazy weekend in the future.

With that third failed swing, Casey had indeed struck out – at the DC Show, in Bruceton Mills, and at least for now in Barnesville. There was some small consolation though: at home, I was greeted both by Janet and also with a little pile of packages that had arrived:


Yeah, I know I said that finding Fount-O-Ink desk sets in online auctions isn’t as fun as it is “in the wild,” but it’s still pretty fun.


Since I knew I had another one of the dog desk bases on the way, I bought the sailboat ornament so that I could take a hand at replacing this dog with it - and it worked perfectly:

The cap on my sailboat base as shown here came from that really scuzzy looking double set at the back of the group shot: I bought it just for those well caps, which often go missing, but it cleaned up really well.


So well, in fact, that I went back and bought another example online, just so my bases don’t have to share custody of the caps.


Huh, you may think. An entire article at Leadhead’s with no pencils. Perhaps someday I’ll find the evidence or an example establishing that the Gregory Fount-O-Ink Company also offered a pencil, and I’ll circle back and tell you the entire interesting story of the company.

Or, perhaps you once saw me as just a pencil guy, but now you now see me as both a pencil guy and a Fount-O-Ink guy.

And a numbering machine guy.

And did I mention typewriters . . . 


Tuesday, August 19, 2025

The Corona Pen Company

Pencils marked for the Corona Pen Company in yesterday’s article (posted here) had me thinking about our collector’s lore, which teaches us that there was some unspecified relationship between Corona and the Parker Pen Company. 

Similar rumors had surrounded the Century Pen Company – fortunately, in the case of Century there were detailed shareholder records which detailed fully Parker’s involvement with Century (that was explored here at the blog in a three-part series beginning with “In the Footsteps of Giants,” June 9, 2020: Volume 6, page 163). I did not find a comparable treasure trove of corporate records with respect to Corona, but I did find enough to piece together a reasonably complete history of the brand.

The Corona Pen Company was named for Samuel V. Corona, an Austrian born on December 25, 1884 who immigrated to the United States in 1907, settling in Illinois. His granddaughter, Grace Willems, published this photograph of Samuel online:


Samuel entered into a partnership with James Pitt called the called the Janesville Tool Company “several years” before Samuel became involved in the penmaking industry, according to the Janesville Daily Gazette on August 28, 1922. The article credited Corona with designing parts for the Woodstock Typewriter Company; that detail caught my attention, since I also have a small collection of antique typewriters. Here’s my example of the Woodstock:


That detail sent me briefly down a rabbit hole of a tangent, since the name “Corona” associated with typewriters begs the question whether Samuel was involved with the Corona Typewriter Company, which merged with L.C. Smith & Bros. in 1926 to form Smith-Corona. As a general rule I do not believe in coincidences, but in this case I believe it was. The Corona Typewriter Company was originally organized as the Standard Typewriter Company in 1909 – in New York City, only two years after Samuel V. Corona had settled in the Midwest and without any indication that Samuel relocated to the east coast. In 1914, Standard’s name was changed to the Corona Typewriter Company . . . just because it was a cool name.

On July 15, 1921, Corona applied for a patent for a fountain pen, which was granted as number 1,540,763 on June 9, 1925. I described the patent as a “compound lever” fountain pen in American Writing Instrument Patents Vol. 2: 1911-1945, because turning the knob on the end of the barrel pushes down on an internal lever to compress the ink sac:


Samuel V. Corona filed a trademark registration application on behalf of the Corona Pen Company on December 26, 1922, in which Samuel claimed to have used the mark in commerce since February 25, 1922. 


The company may have been formed several months after Samuel began marketing his Corona pens: the announcement that Samuel Corona had formed the Corona Pen Company, was published in the Janesville Daily Gazette on August 28, 1922. Samuel was the president and Herman Stubbendick was the secretary; the “principal shareholder” in the new organization was Dr. E.H. Damrow, a prominent Janesville chiropractor:


According to a follow up article on October 14, the company settled into the Picknell Building at 22 North Academy Street, Janesville. The article repeats one important line . . . “No plans are being made to move away from here, Mr. Corona said.” Piecing the context together, it appears that the company’s prospects were so promising that Corona received three offers to relocate to other locations.


From the outset, Samuel’s interests were not limited to fountain pens. At the same time his Corona Pen Company was ramping up production, he also incorporated the Janesville Refrigerator & Pump Company, according to an announcement in Iron Trade on October 22, 1922:


By June of 1923, the company’s capital stock was doubled to raise capital for increased production. Three new directors were added to the board; while Samuel was still the president, new officers would be elected “in a few days,” according to the Janesville Daily Gazette on June 1, 2023:


Perhaps Samuel’s outside interests prevented him from focusing all of his energy on the Corona Pen Company. On August 10, 1923, Corona visited DeKalb, Illinois for a meeting with local inventor Clyde Morse, who had invented a new sash lock to be manufactured in Wisconsin – presumably by Corona’s partnership in the Janesville Tool Company:

Corona was replaced as president of the Corona Pen Company by Dr. Damrow, although he was re-elected to the board of directors, according to the Weekly Gazette on August 31, 1923:

By October 1923, the Corona Pen Company had absorbed the business of the Janesville Tool Company, advertising general toolmaking and light manufacturing services in the pen company’s name. This advertisement appeared in the Janesville Weekly Gazette on October 16, 1923:


Despite the company’s early promise, its diversification into general light manufacturing suggests that its fountain pens might not have been as profitable as news reports at the time suggested. Samuel may have been having financial difficulties: on November 10, 1923 the Janesville Weekly Gazette reported that one F.I. Wilbur had sued Corona and obtained a judgment for groceries:


On November 9, 1925 the Capital Times in Madison, Wisconsin announced the formation of a new Corona Pen Co., with Dr. Damrow as one of its incorporators, along with W.W. Dale and A.H. Pember were also named. Dale was President of the Janesville Business College who also had a side job selling rebuilt typewriters; Pember was an opthamologist in Janesville. 


On November 17, the Platteville (Wisconsin) Journal and Grant County News reported that the company had invested in new machinery and was planning to move into new, larger quarters. “Many of Janesville’s most prominent professional men are interested in the company,” the article concludes:


That last statement may be the source of the theory that there was some connection between the Parker Pen Company and the Corona Pen Company, since it is difficult to imagine a group of “prominent professional men” in Janesville that did not include George S. Parker or anyone else affiliated with the Parker Pen Company. However, as of this writing I know of no shareholder records or other documentation to support that theory, so it is only speculation that there was any connection between the two companies other than their coincidental location in the same tiny Midwestern town.

That is not to say that there might not have been overlap between the Corona and Parker orbits. Two improvements to the Corona Pen’s basic design were patented by George Washington Gilman, both of which were applied for on November 27, 1926: number 1704,470 was granted on March 5, 1929 and number 1,726,432 was issued on August 27, 1929. Both patents were assigned to the Corona Pen Company:


Gilman’s name has come up before here at the blog: in “Checking Off the Boxes” (April 16, 2021: Volume 7, page 49) I explored Gilman’s patents for what would become the Parker Lucky Lock pencil, the earliest of which was applied for on November 7, 1921. Gilman’s patent for the Lucky Lock was assigned, “by mesne assignments” (that is, first to one company and then ultimately to another) to the Parker Pen Company; his later patents for a price band and the Lucky Lock’s clip, however, were assigned to American Metals Company, which had abruptly relocated from Attleboro, Massachusetts to – you guessed it – Janesville, Wisconsin in early 1922.

Was Gilman a Parker employee by 1926? I don’t think so. The later assignments of Gilman’s patents to American Metals Company suggest that American Metals remained his employer and continued to have an independent existence after the move to Janesville.

But, as always, there is more.

After the Corona Pen Company’s reorganization in late 1925, its principals decided to build a larger new factory in Antioch, Illinois. Plans were announced in the Waukegan News-Sun on July 8, 1927, in which the article states that the newly organized company was under the “leadership” of C.K. Anderson, described as an “Antioch financier.” Again, there is no mention of the Parker Pen Company.  On October 22, 1927, the Waukegan News-Sun reported that some of the Corona Pen Company’s equipment had been installed in the new factory.

Tragedy struck just a few month later. On February 20, 1928, fire broke out at the new factory in the celluloid curing room. Superintendent W.G. Baker immediately recognized the danger and ordered everyone to evacuate: without a moment to spare, employees rushed into the office area, which was sheltered from the factory by a brick wall. A few seconds later, the stored celluloid and guncotton exploded and completely destroyed the building. Miraculously, nobody was killed or seriously injured, but the loss reported was $50,000 – twice the $25,000 that it cost to build the factory just a few months earlier. The following account of the incident was published in the Libertyville (Illinois) Independent on February 23, 1928:


If that seems suspicious, things began to smell downright awful in the days after the explosion. On March 1, 1928, the McHenry Plaindealer reported that the total loss was covered by insurance and that a new factory would be built just as soon as the claim was settled with the insurance company. Vice President Walter R. Borman further stated that he already had architect’s plans for the new factory and had received “many bids” on the reconstruction:


Only eight days after the catastrophe, Corona Pen Company was publicly announcing it was doubling its money with the destruction of its new factory – miraculously, with no serious injuries – and that it already had architects and contractors lined up to spend the expected insurance payout. If that did not trigger the insurer’s fraud alerts, I don’t think anything would.

One good thing that came out of the explosion was that in response to the disaster, the Libertyville Independent reported on September 6, 1928 that the City of Antioch had enacted its first building code.

There is no report detailing when the new factory was finished and production was resumed, which is odd given the detailed coverage of Corona Pen’s activities prior to the disaster. The company did eventually rebuild, but apparently without insurance money: the Corona Pen Company was forced to secure a $40,780 loan from investment firm Runyard & Behanna on September 17, 1928.  The loan was payable in full by September 27, 1930, but by then Corona Pen might already have been gone. The McHenry Plaindealer reported on September 3, 1931, that the “abandoned Corona pen factory” had been looted, and a “large part” of the equipment and stock were taken.


Yeah, I smell a rat . . . again. Random thieves breaking into a pen factory filled with large equipment, tools, pens . . . everything one might need to start another pen company . . . when the pen company’s mortgage was nearly a year delinquent and its creditors were closing in . . . 

On January 28, 1932, the Waukegan News-Sun reported that a foreclosure decree had been rendered against the Corona Pen Company.


The notice of sheriff’s sale published in the Waukegan News-Sun on February 12, 1932 indicates that the Corona Pen Company’s factory was sold at auction on March 7, 1932. With that, whatever remained of the Corona Pen Company was gone. There is no evidence that the company's namesake, Samuel V. Corona, was involved with the company after the 1925 reorganization; he passed away on October 10, 1948.

So how do the examples of pencils offered by the Corona Pen Company from yesterday’s article fit into the story? All of the examples I have found were clearly made after the company was reorganized in late 1925: the Rex Manufacturing Company-made models all bear the 1926 patent dates, and those marked with the Antioch, Illinois location were made after the company relocated to Antioch in late 1927 - perhaps in those brief months before the explosion, or perhaps between the time the company reopened and when the company folded, likely in 1930 or 1931.

Perhaps both were sourced at the same time, and the Rex-made pencils may even have been sourced later than the Antioch-marked ones. Perhaps also the Antioch-marked examples were actually made by Rex, after Parker won its patent infringement case against Rex.

Was Corona related to Parker, other than their close proximity in Janesville for a few years? There is not enough evidence to support or refute that theory. On the one hand, if there was a relationship between the two, one might suspect that the Corona Pen Company would source rebadged pencils from Parker rather than from other companies. Rex would seem to be the unlikeliest supplier, given that Parker sued Rex for patent infringement in 1929 over the washer clip, and after that litigation many of Rex’s customers wound up with Parker-supplied rebadges . . . except . . . 

In the case of the Century Pen Company, another pen company that our collectors’ lore indicated was somehow related with Parker, internal corporate records proved that Century was clearly controlled by Parker (see “The Second Century,” June 10, 2020: Volume 6, page 166). Notwithstanding Parker’s documented control, Century also procured pencils from Rex and National Pen Products.

More documentation must be out there to answer these questions . . .