Pax Stylographica

When Rob Bader brought his “teaser case” of Victorians to show me in the ballroom at the DC Show, he wasn’t worried about triggering a bare-knuckled feeding frenzy.  The old days of sharks and swimmers has evolved into a much more collegial atmosphere, in which the primary goal of most sellers at shows is to escort rare artifacts into the hands of those who appreciate them the most.

Rob invited me to view the rest of the collection privately and free of distractions, and David Nishimura asked if he could tag along. Of course, I said – there was a time when collectors worried about whether others might try to “steal the deal,” but David and I don’t see each other as competitors. Besides, if Rob had some things that rightfully belonged in David’s hands, that’s where they should be. 

It was a good thing that I did, because Rob had so much stuff that I didn’t have enough cash to buy it all. After a brief negotiation, we arrived on a fair price – David and I each paid half and agreed to divide the collection between us.

We boxed everything up and adjourned to David’s room, where Dad and Karen Beluso (David’s significant other) watched us figure out who was taking what. Karen watched with a glass of whisky in her hand – her familiar amused smile indicated that she both got it and didn’t get it at all at the same time. Dad later commented that he was surprised how swiftly and peacefully David and I got the job done.

We were done in an hour. Over the rest of the weekend we had the things we didn’t want for our collections on my display, and we escorted most of it into the hands of fellow collectors, splitting the proceeds; at the end of the weekend, we divided what was left between us in a matter of minutes.

“Pax Stylographica,” I call it.

One of the items that I hadn’t noticed during our initial viewing was this one. David found it and pointed it out to me:

The condition is not the best, with a couple small dents, but it had a name on it that I hadn’t seen before. David had, of course – but all I had to say was “I’d like to write about that one,” and into my pile it went without objection. “J.W. Greaton,” it reads:

The pencil end is reversible. It can be turned around and stowed away, or the entire front end can be reversed so that it can be used as a dip pen. The nib, unfortunately, is missing.

As I settled in to learn all about J.W. Greaton, I quickly found out why David was so ready to let me have this one to write about – he had already done so back in 2012, and he did a fine job of it (his article can be found here). Fortunately, by the time I had finished my search of period newspapers and had did my researcher’s prayer, I had already found a few details that were not covered in David’s article, so there’s plenty of meat remaining on the bone for me.

John Wheelwright Greaton was born on January 1, 1823, according to his obituary – David’s article provides the link, but due to my ever-present concern about another great internet catastrophe, here it is as published in The American Stationer on April 1, 1897:

While Greaton’s obituary identifies him as a gold pen manufacturer at 23 Maiden Lane, that omits his earlier business location at 71 Cedar Street, where he entered the pen business in 1847. The earliest announcement I found for J.W. Greaton & Co. was published in the New York Tribune on March 12, 1847, announcing “pens of all the best manufacturers in the country.”

Greaton advertised heavily in New York newspapers during 1847 – not as a gold pen manufacturer, but as a discount retailer selling Levi Brown and A.G. Bagley pens, “all cheaper, either wholesale or retail, than can be found anywhere.” His advertisements were typically followed immediately by pens offered by J.Y. Savage, whose business included gold pens, watches and clocks at 92 Fulton Street . . . “don’t mistake the number,” Savage cautioned. This advertisement, in the New York Daily Herald on April 30, 1847, is typical of Greaton and Savage advertisements published during that year. 

Advertisements for these two appeared together so frequently – even though gold pen ads were not grouped by subject – that there must have been some relationship between the two. Perhaps Savage was a wholesale customer of Greaton’s; Savage’s advertisements were only for retail sale, while Greaton’s contained exhuberant claims to attract other retailers, claiming prices so low that “It may not be so agreeable to their rivals, but it is very acceptable to their customers” (New York Daily Herald, August 10, 1847).

Greaton quickly expanded his operations to Philadelphia, establishing a depot at 45 Chestnut Street, as announced in the Philadelphia Public Ledger on August 7, 1847.

As Nishimura indicates in his article, J.W. Greaton & Co. first offered “Pens of their own and other manufacturers” for sale on January 1, 1848, as announced in The Golden Rule, and Odd-Fellows’ Family Companion.

That announcement coincided with the departure of James W. Clark and J.W. Beers from J.W. Greaton & Co. On February 8, 1848, Beers & Clark invited “friends of the late firm of J.W. Greaton & Co.” to visit them at their new shop at 25 John Street in the New York Herald:

Greaton apparently did not take well to exaggerated rumors of his demise, and on February 11, J.W. Beers ran another announcement “from the fact that my removal sign has been removed and defaced.” In the notice, Beers states that he and Greaton were the only members of the firm, which had been dissolved on January 1. This announcement, like Greaton’s earlier advertisements, was accompanied by one from J.Y. Savage and another retailer, B.E. Watson & Co., advertising Savage’s “Richelieu” gold pens.

Such salacious details of the breakup could not have been good for either Beers or Greaton, so perhaps to resolve any misunderstanding and settle their dispute publicly, on February 28, Beers, Greaton, and Savage ran adjoining advertisements in the New York Daily Herald. Greaton had changed the name to “John W. Greaton & Co.”

Greaton quickly reverted to his prior business name of J.W. Greaton, but his advertising ended abruptly in May, 1848. He was still at 71 Cedar Street in 1849, according to an advertisement Nishimura includes in his article, but exactly when he relocated to 23 Maiden Lane is unclear.

According to his obituary, Greaton became “estranged” from his family in 1854 and moved to Brooklyn. The experience caused him such mental anguish that he left the pen business entirely to embark in a new career, for which he remains better known today: as a metallurgist and assayer.

When the United States Mint decided to replace silver half-dimes with nickel in 1873, the government faced a problem: nickel was so hard that it would break the stamping dies. It was John W.  Greaton who came up with the alloy that made the material feasible to use. Thereafter, the half-dime would be called the “nickel,” and it was John W. Greaton who made it a practical reality.

John never recovered from his family dispute, preferring in his later years the company of books, which were as his obituary states “his companions, counsellors and sympathizers.” He died on March 26, 1897.