The Four-Trick Pony

 I dropped a teaser the other day when I included a picture of that tray from Jon Martenson (ex Susan Wirth) that included two examples of The Keeran Pencil:

The Keerans are on the right; second from left is a Autopoint 1925 Model with the early “spoon clip” (by 1927, the clips on these terminated in a round ball). That one is no slouch, but it wasn’t the reason I took this picture.

The other pencils in this tray come from the Swanberg Manufacturing Company, in their hard rubber, Keeran Pencil-derived incarnation. A rough outline of Swanberg (named for Julius Swanberg, inventor of the Shur-Rite pencil) was laid out in “Cult Collection” (April 4, 2018: Volume 5, page 214). When I started collecting, I thought Swanberg was a one-trick pony, since the most common examples from the brand are those thin aluminum pencils, branded either with the Swanberg or “Tubit” name.

More on these later. These next pencils, I later learned, were the second trick from this particular pony . . .

. . . or so I thought. Most examples along these lines are made of hard rubber. Some earlier examples, including those featured in A Century of Autopoint on page 78, were made of celluloids carried over from the Keeran Pencil, but apparently Swanberg wasn’t as effective in procuring these materials as Charles Keeran had been –  most of these straight-top models are made from hard rubber. Here’s the image of some of them, which was also included in Volume 7:

Most, that is . . .

That center example is made from an interesting celluloid, not derived from one of LeBoeuf’s exclusive materials but something quite different. 

Note also that the bottom example is branded as a “Swanberg Special,” a crown top example of which was featured here in that last article, as well.

Even the relatively mundane example in black adds an extra backflip to Swanberg’s usual routine: gold filled trim on these utility models is out of the ordinary, and this one sports a shop imprint near the top: “150" might denote a model number, but it also might have referred to a suggested retail price of $1.50:

All three of these are minor variations on Swanberg’s second trick. But there is something interesting about this tray: those random bits and pieces are not so random when examined closely. All are Keeran or Swanberg parts, and if Swanbergs and Keerans are scarce as hen’s teeth, spare parts for them are unicorn feathers.

Over the years I’ve coined the phrase “junk box provenance” to describe those cases in which the circumstances in which something is found suggest there is something more than initially meets the eye going on. In this case we have a tray full of items which have a clear but obscure connection: Charles Keeran, Autopoint, and Swanberg. They were found all in one place, and while they were in the possession of Susan Wirth – a towering figure in the pen community – I believe they were kept together as they came into her possession.

Susan Wirth was many things, but organized was not one of them. She appreciated pencils, but her primary interest was pens; assembling a grouping like this would have required years of dedicated and focused hunting. Besides, Susan had acquired large portions of Autopoint’s factory archive, which would reasonably be expected to have acquired whatever remained of Swanberg and The Keeran Pencil. I have no doubt she would have recognized the value of keeping these things together, but I believe she acquired them in one go, close to the source.

And what a go it must have been! There was another tray I haven’t shown you yet that was in Jon’s possession:

As John Cleese would say, “and now for something completely different.” These aren’t some pitcher who only throws fastballs eeking out an additional couple miles per hour . . . this is Bugs Bunny suddenly “perplexing ‘em with a slowball” and striking out the Gashouse Gorillas, all at once with one pitch.

For starters, consider the aluminum examples which look at first like someone might have just stuck colored caps on them:

Wait a tick . . . those caps are the right shape for Swanberg’s plastic models, but those colors? I’d never seen them before. But wait again . . . there’s more . . . each is loaded with a lead matching the color of the cap, and what leads they are!

These are .075" “Checking” (as they were called by Eversharp) or “thick” (as Autopoint referred to them) leads, something I haven’t seen on any Swanberg before. This would not be a simple modification to existing tooling: with screw drive pencils, the entire mechanism would have to be retooled from scratch.

There are other interesting things about these aluminum checking pencils. Note the clips:

These were sourced from Van Valkenberg, which sold generic unmarked accommodation clips and referred to these as the “Holyoke B” model in Van Valkenberg’s 1931 catalog, preserved in the Pen Collectors of America’s online referenced library. 

Among the three otherwise pedestrian aluminum pencils, there’s another variation worth noting, the top example in this next image:

That top example also features a Holyoke B clip which granted, could have been added at any time. Not so easily explained are the steel tip, which has been substituted in place of the usual brass, and two additional knurled bands:

Now for a closer look at those last three in this tray:

The top example isn’t too far off the beaten path, although I haven’t seen this model in mottled hard rubber before:

The bottom one, however, is another matter entirely . . . a fat pencil in a striking, subtle olive-swirled plastic. It is the only example I know of in this size and in this material, and the bottom two sport specially marked accommodation clips I haven’t seen on any Swanberg before:

These were also sourced from Van Valkenberg - these were the company’s flagship “Security” clips as shown in the 1931 catalog:

Given the unusual twists and turns in this tray, it appears these were Swanberg’s last gasps . . . although the word “prototype” is overused, the absence of surviving examples of any of these “in the wild” suggests either very limited production or experimental pieces, perhaps acquired by Autopoint and later passed on to Susan Wirth before finally being passed on to me . . . with no notes to explain why or when they were made. 

Therefore, the search for additional documentation continues . . .  and so does the hunt for this particular pony’s fifth trick!

The Silent Cue

 Here’s a shot of one of the other trays I acquired from Jon Martenson at the “catch up” Chicago show in September 2021:

Finding examples of The Keeran Pencil in any condition is cause for celebration, as rare as they are. In this tray are two examples, shown on the right . . . the others we’ll get to tomorrow.  

Finding two examples of the Keeran which neatly fill in one detail in the history of the American pencil industry, however . . . now that is cause to sing praises to the universe that you were in the right place at the right time.

Gorgeous colors, yes . . . especially that golden brown, which resembles tiger eye and absolutely glows as if it is a living thing. The colors are stunning both to look at and to think about, because they exist somewhere else:

The ringtops are pencils made by the LeBoeuf Pen Company of Boston . . . or at least the barrels are. The mechanisms were sourced from A.T. Cross, which used identical mechanisms on Cross “Alwrite” pencils. The red is an exact match; unfortunately I didn’t have a ringtop in that distinctive brown, but that pink has the same depth. As for the brown, I do have one from LeBoeuf’s later “Pilgrim” line of pencils, which featured in “A Tale of Two Clips” (May 20, 2020: Volume 6, page 98):

And then, consider this example: it also turned up at that Chicago Show, in the hands of Eric Fonville:

This one resides in the cancer ward at the museum, since the celluloid is well into the process of disintegration. The nasty gasses celluloid gives off when it breaks down corrodes metal trim and will affect other items stored nearby, so this Keeran only joins birds of a feather for the occasional photo shoot, such as this one, alongside three other LeBoeuf pencils:

We tend to become jaded as we gain experience in this hobby, dismissing theories connecting manufacturers on the basis of celluloid material. It is true that the same or similar plastics is not usually a reliable indication of a connection between two manufacturers or producer. After all, celluloid companies sold to the entire American industry, and there is frequent “cross-pollination” as the same celluloids were supplied to several makers.

But not this time. Although celluloid had been in use during the Nineteenth Century, LeBoeuf’s pioneering use of celluloid in the early 1920s is frequently credited as triggering the industry-wide shift from metal and hard rubber barrels to brightly colored plastics. Furthermore, LeBoeuf had negotiated an exclusive contract with DuPont for the celluloids it used.

I had long suspected, but could not prove, that there was some cooperation between Charles Keeran and LeBoeuf to supply some plastics, since Keeran pencils are found in celluloid and were made in the early 1920s, when LeBoeuf still had somewhat of a lock on the stuff. As detailed in A Century of Autopoint, for a brief period after Keeran’s departure from Autopoint he associated with the Dur-O-Lite Pencil Company. Dur-O-Lite’s first president, D.O. Fredrickson, left a partnership in Smith and Fredrickson, which distributed writing instruments for . . . wait for it . . . LeBoeuf.

In most of the world, there are seven degrees of separation. In the pencil world, there are usually two at best.

Finding examples of the Keeran Pencil in plastics known to be exclusive to LeBoeuf nudges me from suspecting a connection between Keeran and LeBoeuf to accepting it as fact, one which fits neatly into Keeran’s post-Autopoint activities. Even without primary evidence to indicate when the Keeran Pencil was made (such as an advertisement), I believe they were made in 1924 - just as LeBoeuf was shaking up the writing instrument world with its snazzy new celluloids.

And then . . . clearing my throat for dramatic effect . . . should you still remain unconvinced, these images are from an online auction that closed shortly after I wrote the first draft of this article. I am still kicking myself that I had saved it in my watch list, then diligently forgot to bid on it.

Here is a Keeran Pencil, in yet another exclusive LeBoeuf celluloid, in the company of a LeBoeuf pen in the same material, all together in a LeBoeuf-marked box. The Keeran Pencil was marketed in sets alongside LeBoeuf pens, at least for a short time.

Yes, the LeBoeuf Pen Company popularized the use of attractive celluloids in pens and pencils in 1924 . . . and so did Charles Keeran and his Keeran Pencil.

A Beautiful Mystery

 At the Chicago show a couple years ago – I think it was the post-pandemic “catch up” Chicago Show in 2021, when there was a second Chicago show in September – Jon Martenson had piles of things from the late Susan Wirth’s collection on hand. Most of it was likely stuff that Susan herself didn’t know she had.

Deals were made by the box, not by the item, and I bought several. One such box included this gem:

The similarities to Charles Keeran’s Eversharp are overwhelming, particularly with that floral crown top. However, it has no identifying markings - not even a stamp to denote that the fittings and overlay are sterling silver, which they appear to be. It bears a strong resemblance to other pencils of the 1920s, all of which have one thing in common: a connection to Keeran:

From the top, there’s our mystery pencil, a Heath-made Ever Sharp (two words at the time) made between 1914 and 1916. Next are two examples of “The Keeran Pencil,” produced by Keeran after his departure from Eversharp in 1917 and likely after Keeran was ousted from Autopoint for the second time in 1924. The clipless example is a shame, but I include it to show that Keeran also used that same or very similar red celluloid.

At bottom are two Swanberg pencils. After Keeran struck out on his own, he briefly associated with Julius Swanberg, inventor of the “Shur-Rite” pencil. Earlier celluloid Swanbergs were rebadged Keeran pencils, but later examples like the example at bottom were more streamlined.

What is going on inside of our mystery pencil, however, doesn’t resemble any of these:

Starting at left, note that the later Swanberg and our mystery pencil share a similar ribbed metal washer: that’s a distinctive design feature one doesn’t see often outside of Swanberg pencils. However, the cap on our example unscrews to reveal spare leads - it is a nose drive pencil. That nose drive sets our pencil apart from the Eversharp to the right of our pencil. While both The Keeran Pencil and Swanbergs are both nose-drive pencils like this, both have caps which are friction fit over a straight top.

The quality of our mystery pencil is top notch; it is a shame more were not made and that this one is not marked. My best guess is that this is something Keeran had made during the time he was set adrift from Autopoint in 1921, although nothing says he might not have been tinkering with new designs before he left Autopoint. The timeline is tight, since he associated with the owners of the startup Realite Pencil Company almost immediately in 1921, but perhaps his agreement was not exclusive.

The use of celluloid in the barrel rules out the possibility that it was made earlier than 1924, and likely rules out the possibility that some other unknown maker turned this one out with design features that copy Keeran’s work . . . I’ll talk about that tomorrow.

So, for now, this one rests comfortably among my examples of The Keeran Pencil.