Halcyon Once Again

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Some of my Parker-fan friends rankle a little bit when I write about their beloved brand, because I don’t seem to have a lot of positive things to say about it.  I’m really not a Parker hater, and I’ve got enough examples in my collection to back up that statement.

The perception that I am anti-Parker, I believe, comes from the fact that I don’t treat Parker any different than when I’m writing about any other brand.  For example, whenever I write about a dumb idea that came from Wahl, nary a blip of discontent is expressed. People have long accepted that Wahl had dumb ideas long before I came along, so even if I’m writing about a new boner from the company, it’s accepted.

What I enjoy about writing this blog is writing about things that haven’t been written about or thought about before.  When it comes to Parker, a disproportionate amount of what has been written before sings the company’s praises, to the point that it is almost taboo to suggest the company made any mistakes.  It’s become almost like some prized show dog that is only expected to crap turds made of solid gold, so if I suggest that one doesn’t smell like daisies the devotees of the brand take almost a personal offense.  “Wounded bears,” I once referred to them . . . predictably, I suppose, that didn’t help.

Parker is as fascinating to me as every other brand, but posting an article just showing off a wide range of colors in a model you’ve already seen and admired for decades is . . . boring.  As with any other brand, Parker is more interesting when the company failed or flubbed, and the flubs haven’t been written about nearly as much as the company’s triumphs.  If I’m writing about Parker and I’m writing about something that hasn’t been written before, more often than with other brands I’m documenting a swing and a miss.  Remember, Babe Ruth not only dominated baseball with home runs – he also was a leader in the number of times he struck out.  To carry on the metaphor, perhaps Parker was always swinging for the fences.

I took some heat a few years ago when I wrote an article that suggested those crappy later Conklin pencils with washer clips might actually have been made by Parker (Volume 5, page 187 - that’s where the “wounded bear” comment comes from):

The pens shown in that picture are Conklins, and the pencils are Parker “Zephyrs.”

I made another Conklin-Parker connection when I showed off the insides of a similarly cringeworthy Conklin Minuteman pencil, sporting one of Parker’s distinctive (and patented) lead cartridges, though unmarked and painted red (Volume 5, page 165):

I hope the last two articles have softened up the Parker crowd, because I have to circle back around to that point in light of a recent find.  When I referred to every beginner’s “halycon” days, in which we all were excited by things we really shouldn’t have been excited about at the time, I don’t think I was alone when I thought there must be a connection between Parker and the Penman, a low-quality brand that often sported arrow clips – just like a Parker, I thought in those early days:

Incidentally, you’ll find the mosiac plastic that top example was made from on some later Conklins . . . that might just be a coincidence, and it isn’t the point of today’s story.  That middle one?  Yes, it is made from that same brown Parker Zephyr plastic, but that isn’t the point of today’s story, either – in the case of the Penman, these pencils are fundamentally different from anything Parker is known to have made.  The Penman, like so many other low-quality brands, is a cheap, nose-drive pencil, and the barrel halves unscrew to reveal an eraser stuck into the bushing that joins them.

When I last poked my beloved wounded bears out there, the consensus was that Parker must have sold off leftover plastic to the hucksters who made those terrible Conklin pens, never sullying its good name by associating itself with such a low-quality production.  As for the Conklin Minuteman with the Parker lead cartridge?  Crickets.

The Parker sloppy seconds argument seems to work just as well with the Penman as it does for those Conklin pens, and in fact might seem even stronger since the only things that brown one has in common with a Parker is the color of the plastic and a Duofold-style washer clip in the shape of an arrow, made long after Parker’s patent on the washer clip expired.

After all, Parker never made anything like the Penman, right?  I’ll just set a red pill here in front of you . . . whether you take it is up to you:

I was certain the online auctioneer was adding pizzaz to his or her listing, but yes . . . this one is clearly marked “Parker” on the clip:

And . . .

Same construction, too.

We can continue to make excuses for Parker, but the only excuse left is that some huckster made a blatantly suicidal decision to put Parker’s name on a low-budget imitation that wasn’t going to fool anyone.  If we deny Parker had anything to do with stuff like this, we are denying an increasing pile of evidence to the contrary:  now we have the same plastics, a rudimentary version of Parker’s patented lead cartridge, and now a Parker-marked pencil constructed the same way as nearly every low-budget production made during the 1940s.

I think this is an extremely rare glimpse behind Parker’s gilded curtain.  Like any other business, Parker had to find ways to survive.

I’d offer you a blue pill as an alternative to that red one, but I’m fresh out.  

UPDATE: on the day this article posted, Trevis Young commented that he had found something similar, a later pen marked Mabie Todd with that same clip, in a lizard-skin plastic:

By chance, that very day I was spending some time researching the “Wilrite,” a third-tier brand from New York - and I had found an advertisement in the September 27, 1941 issue of the Pottstown, Pennsylvania Mercury that puts an exclamation point on the end of this article:

There’s the same plastic, same clip . . . and it’s a button-filler, “with all the Best Features of a nationally-known pen . . .” such as the button-filled Parker Duofold.  And last but not least, notice the nib illustrated, with that funny arc below the breather hole:

Just like a Parkette, but arched the opposite way.

Whole Lotta Love

 This article has been included in The Leadhead's Pencil Blog Volume 7, now available here.

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Ah, those halcyon days . . . early in our collecting, when we thought if the word “Parker” turned up on something in a flea market cigar box, we’d hit the jackpot.   We all have paid our tuition at some point, paying too much for that golden ticket only to learn that, as is the case with all other brands, not all Parkers were created equal.  

Many of us learned that lesson paying too much for a Parkette – one of Parker’s budget lines of pens and pencils from the 1930s.  I know I did . . . I don’t remember which Parkette pencil it was as I look at the spread today, but I do remember thinking I’d thrown away $20 after I excitedly showed it to a more experienced collector and received a derisive snort rather than a “way to go.” 

Times have changed, and Parkettes receive more love these days than they once did.  They are still cheaper than more expensive lines, but there’s enough varieties on the theme to keep collectors interested.  Over the years Parkettes have checked in at Leadquarters but they haven’t been checking out, unless they are exact duplicates of what I’ve already found.  Recently, I’ve been making more of a point to find examples that fill gaps in my little hoard.  

Take this grouping, for example:

I’ve known for years that sometimes you’ll find these marked “Parkette,” and other times marked “Parco.”  I went a little crazy bidding when the black Parco turned up in an online auction, because I thought that completed a nice little set . . . until I pulled all of these together for a family photo and recalled that the grey/red plastic is out there.  Now I’m going a little more crazy thinking there’s another color Parco out there to chase.  

That green one is kind of fun, with its reverse trim nose cone and a double imprint . . . definitely a measure of Parker’s somewhat lax quality control with this series.  

I don’t know what the “Pat. Pend.” means, since the pencils are unremarkable nose-drive affairs.  Either a patent never issued, or it was for some general manufacturing process not filed in Category 401. 

There’s plenty to explore in the Parkette series, as far as variants go – and when I’ve got more information, I know I’ll circle back around for at least two follow up stories about the ones in this next picture:

My favorites in this group are the top two, with those arrow clips.  They are really close to the arrow clips found on later Weidlich pens and pencils, and I’d like to know whether Parker sold leftover clips to Weidlich, or whether there was a mini-turf war over Weidlich’s use of them.  There's follow up number one.

My other question is how Parker managed to get away with producing streamlined writing instruments at a time when Sheaffer was so aggressively litigating with companies who dared round off the ends of their pens and pencils.  Was there gentleman’s agreement with Parker, or did Sheaffer simply decide Parker was too formidable an adversary to arm wrestle?  I’m sure there’s more out there to learn on that subject, too.

From this small sampling, I’m deducing that the “Parkette Deluxe” had a single wide band.  That’s the only difference, at least as far as the pencils go:

Unlike that first group, these are generally imprinted with date codes which specify the date the barrels were made, and Parker switched the way they were coded during the run.  That top example has a 9, for 1939; the other two are imprinted 26 and 16, for the second quarter of 1936 and the first quarter, respectively.

Continuing down, the next one lacks a date code.  The black one has a 17 code and the red one, with an imprint like the ones in that first Parkette/Parco image, is marked 25:

The last two are interesting.  The grey/red one has a 16 date code, but it also has two dots, reminiscent of how Parker added dots around date codes on the Vacumatic series, which doesn’t make sense . . . two dots didn’t mean first quarter in Vacumatic-ese.  I like the bottom one because it is made from the same burgundy/black celluloid used on the earlier Duofolds.  It has a 9 code with three dots, signifying first quarter 1939, during Parker’s parts blowout that year (see the “Class of ‘39" in Volume 5, page 281):

Given all of the variations, and the way Parker mixed and matched different elements on the Parkette series, assembling a truly comprehensive collection of these would be both demanding and infuriating, since online auction pictures rarely capture all of these subtle nuances.  

I’ve saved my favorites for last, when “Deluxe” meant more than just a wide band:

I’m always drawn to these neat fluted barrels, and the black ones with nickel-plated trim really pop.  I kept both black ones because there’s a subtle difference you can see in this picture: some of these with the metal top ring have flatter ends, and it appears to be deliberate.  Date codes on these range between 1937 and 1939.

At some point in this series, Parker made similar Parkette Deluxe pencils with a white plastic ring at the top, rather than matching metal.  These came in two sizes and . . . gulp! . . . very rarely, in ringtop configuration:

These don’t have date codes, so I am not sure whether these were made before or after those with metal rings.  I am sure, however, that the teal plastic on those bottom three examples is about my favorite color on any pencil, so I was thrilled when Brian McQueen was willing to part with the ringtop.

Since I’m so enamored with that color, and there seems to be an almost infinite range of variations, when another teal Parkette Deluxe happened my way, I was looking for an excuse to keep it here:

It’s the smaller of the two sizes, but when I compared it to the other example, I noticed something:

The top just doesn’t look the same as any of the other Parkette Deluxe pencils . . . it’s definitely more tapered at the top, and it looks to be intentional.  Also, the black top piece is decidedly thicker than any of the others I’ve found in this series:

Maybe I’m just wanting to find a subtle difference so that I have an excuse to keep what would otherwise be a duplicate:

But then again, maybe there’s a reason it was made that way, and there’s an entire subseries, within a subseries, within a subbrand to explore.

Checking Off All the Boxes

This article has been included in The Leadhead's Pencil Blog Volume 7, now available here.

If you don't want the book but you enjoy the article, please consider supporting the Blog project here.

Note:  this is the third part of a series.  If you landed here directly, part one is posted at https://leadheadpencils.blogspot.com/2021/04/perfect-on-third-try.html.

As mentioned earlier, the sudden, inexplicable demise of the Perfect Point pencil is like a century-old murder investigation.  Something catastrophic must have happened in order for Stull-Boylson to collapse just as it appeared the Perfect Point was rocketing in popularity.  Did the Attleboro firm that made the pencils obstruct Stull-Boylson’s efforts to start making the Perfect Point on its own?  Did the Wahl Company, makers of the “Perfect Point Eversharp” engage in a Trojan Horse operation to get control of the company, only to kill it off?  

Now that I’ve dug around trying to find out who was making the Perfect Point, as well as the Acme, I’m firmly convinced it wasn’t a murder at all – both the Perfect Point and the Acme, I believe, were simply collateral damage.  

The first clue I found as I searched for Attleboro pencil manufacturers was a curious reference:

In the February, 1922 edition of The Metal Industry, under “Verified News” a firm named “American Metals Company,” “busy manufacturing gold and silver pencils and other metal novelties,” had packed up its stakes and left Attleboro, Masachusetts, relocating to Janesville, Wisconsin.  

That can’t be random, I thought. There is only one logical reason for anyone in the writing instruments business to move to Janesville: The Parker Pen Company.

I’ve described Parker’s entry into the mechanical pencil business as an “Oh Crap” moment: after decades of ignoring mechanical pencils as companions to the company’s pens, Parker realized by 1921 that Sheaffer and Wahl had come out of nowhere to command a significant market share at Parker’s expense.  Pencils were no longer a point of distinction among manufacturers, an extra that could et a company apart from the pack.  Pencils had become a point of parity, and any company that wasn’t offering them by 1921 was falling behind.  

Parker had recognized that it needed to do something to maintain its position as a market leader, and with the onset of the 1921 mini-Depression, it needed to do something quick.  Did Parker reinvent the wheel, developing its own pencil and all the equipment and expertise it needed to make them on a large scale overnight?

No.

On June 4, 1921, the Janesville Daily Gazette reported that Janesville would soon be the production center for a new mechanical pencil to be made by the American Metals Company, “associated with the Parker Pen Company of this city.”  The article states that production “in the eastern plant” was under the direction of J.S. Gilman, but all of the machinery would be relocated to Janesville and installed on the fourth floor of Parker’s new building by the beginning of 1922.

Although the article states that American Metals Company was a new company, incorporated for $100,000, it stops short of stating that it was incorporated by Parker representatives.  A short piece in The Capital Times (Madison, Wisconsin) on June 7, 1921 stated that American Metals “will be associated with the Parker Pen Company,” suggesting that Parker was in the process of purchasing an ongoing concern:

The Janesville Daily Gazette reported on September 24, 1921 that Parker’s new pencils “are now being manufactured in Attleboro, Massachusetts”:

On October 15, 1921, The Janesville Daily Gazette indicated that the pencil was on the market as of that week and 5,000 pencils had been presold “without even a sample to show.”  The article further states that American Metals Company was, at least by that time, a wholly owned subsidiary of Parker:

I haven’t been able to find evidence concerning when the “American Metals Company” was established, or by whom.  Another “American Metal Company,” from New York, was one of the largest American smelting companies – it was broken up during World War I when it was discovered that controlling interests in that company were owned by German companies, which used American Metal to divert American metallurgical products for use in the German war effort.

Even if we were to assume that Parker set up all the machinery and equipment to make pencils from scratch, Parker wouldn’t have set everything up in distant Attleboro, only to move its new company to Janesville just a few months later.  There are two possibilities:  either American Metals Company was already in existence and Parker bought it, or Parker set up a new company for the purpose of buying some other existing business.

That suspicion is further supported in Parker’s 1923 catalog, a copy of which resides in the Pen Collectors of America’s library.  The catalog illustrates pencils in “triple plate,” sterling, gold filled and green gold filled:

Note the introductory text, in Parker’s own words:

If Parker’s pencils were “in the process of development and refinement for a period of two years before being first offered to the public for sale,” that means development and refinement started in 1919 – and there’s no evidence Parker was seriously considering making pencils prior to 1921.

The addition of the American Metals Company to the Parker story explains something else about Parker’s entry into the pencil business: I reported Parker’s patent for what would become Parker’s “Non-Clog” (later “Lucky Lock”) pencil in American Writing Instrument Patents Vol. 2: 1911-1945:

The patent, number 1,632,371, took an unusually long time to be issued.  The inventor was George Washington Gilman – of Attleboro, Massachusetts, and doubtless a relative of the “J.S. Gilman” whom Parker reported was supervising pencil manufacturing in Attleboro.  It was applied for on November 7, 1921 and was assigned, “by mesne assignments,” to Parker when it finally issued on June 14, 1927.

“Mesne assignments” means there was at least one intervening assignee, probably American Metals Company – that would make sense, because Parker likely absorbed and dissolved American Metals by 1927.

Gilman patented two other innovations, both of which issued more quickly and both of which were assigned to American Metals Company.  The first, patent 1,442,720, was for a price marker band, applied for on July 5, 1922 and issued on January 16, 1923.  The text indicates it was made of metal “or other resilient metal,” clipped around a pencil or pen and removed at the point of sale for reuse:

The other was for the familiar clip found on Parker Lucky Lock pencils: Gilman applied for patent number 1,468,562 on September 1, 1922, and it was issued September 18, 1923:

A few early Parker pencils made by American Metals Company have worked their way into my collection.  In ringtop configuration, I’ve found two sizes not shown in Parker’s catalogs: an extra short model, and an extra thin one:

All but one are stamped below the cap; the short stubby example has the stamp on the cap:

That example also includes an additional “Made in USA” imprint, suggesting slightly later production

Side clip models track what is shown in Parker’s 1923 catalog, in two sizes:

It’s a real shame the clip is broken on that sterling example - that pattern, like undulating waves, isn’t shown in the catalog.

I look at these pencils now with a fresh set of eyes.  Last fall, Wayne Bagley asked me to have a look at a Lucky Lock pencil of his that wasn’t working.  After a bit of fiddling, I figured out how to extract the mechanism and replace it with one I had on hand:

I need to find Wayne’s broken mechanism, so I can further dissect it and compare its components to the Acme – I know that I kept it, but finding it is like roaming a vast junkyard.  I’m sure that when I find it, I’ll also find undeniable similarities: all bells and whistles aside, at the core of a Lucky Lock pencil is that same propel-repel device I found inside the Acme.

History floats to the surface when seemingly random facts are put in order.  When I overlay the Parker, Perfect Point and Acme stories, a seamless version of events emerges:

1.  Jacob Stull invents the Perfect Point sometime prior to June of 1919, when he applied for his patent.  He becomes associated with E.J. Boylson of Attleboro, Massachusetts, who arranges for a firm in Attleboro to manufacture Stull’s new pencil.  I believe that firm was owned by George Washington Gilman and J.S. Gilman – maybe it was called “American Metals Company,” but maybe it was called something else.

2.  Stull-Boylson was a customer of the Gilmans’ “eastern plant,” but the arrangement was not exclusive.  In addition to manufacturing “Perfect Point” pencils, the Gilmans manufactured Acme pencils for jewelry wholesaler Max J. Averbeck using much of the same machinery, but with internal differences developed independently by George Washington Gilman that differentiated the Acme, so that it didn’t infringe on Stull’s patent.

3.  At the same time, George Washington Gilman was  developing another pencil design, which would ultimately become the Lucky Lock.  

4.  The Parker Pen Company decided to offer mechanical pencils to accompany its pens – Parker claimed that decision was in 1919, but it was probably in 1921, due to market pressures exacerbated by the 1921 Depression.  Parker didn’t want to start from scratch (and didn’t have time to do so), so the company approached the Gilmans and become interested in acquiring the Gilmans’ company, including the new design George was developing.

5.  By mid-1921, Parker announces that it will become affiliated with American Metals Company, and plans are announced to relocate American Metals from Attleboro to Janesville by the beginning of 1922.  By the end of 1921, American Metals is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Parker; it is unclear whether Parker purchased the company from the Gilmans, or whether it was established by Parker as a standalone company.

6.  At the beginning of 1922, American Metals relocates to Janesville as planned, and its machinery and equipment are installed on the fourth floor of the Parker Pen Company’s new building.

7.  The Gilmans, either through American Metals or through some other company, may have continued to manufacture Perfect Point pencils as the company transitioned to Janesville, but it became increasingly impractical (not to mention awkward) as Parker took over the company.  The Gilmans ceased production of the Acme, and Averbeck is “out of business” as far as pencils are concerned.

8.  Stull-Boylson had no manufacturing capability of its own, and unlike Parker, it had to start from scratch now that the Gilmans’ firm and equipment had become Parker property.  Stull-Boylson scrambled to raise capital in September, 1922, and E.J. Boylson went to Attleboro in October, 1922 to attempt to acquire the machinery, equipment and expertise to continue production of the Perfect Point.  The effort failed, and Stull-Boylson “retired” from the business by mid-1923: the company sold all its remaining stock to a local bookstore and collapsed.

I look at Perfect Point and Acme pencils from a different perspective now, because I think Parker counted the time during which the Gilmans were making Perfect Points and modifying Stull’s design into the Acme as Parker’s two years of “development and refinement” of what would become the Lucky Lock pencil.  Viewed in this light, while the Perfect Point and Acme were independent products with their own separate histories, they are rightly seen as evolutionary steps in the development of Parker’s “Lucky Lock” pencils.

Suspecting the Former

This article has been included in The Leadhead's Pencil Blog Volume 7, now available here.

If you don't want the book but you enjoy the article, please consider supporting the Blog project here.

Note:  this is the second installment in a three-part series.  If you landed here directly, the first installment is posted at https://leadheadpencils.blogspot.com/2021/04/perfect-on-third-try.html.

It’s impossible to discuss the Perfect Point without mentioning its crude cousin, the “Acme,” and I do have something new to show in that department, as well:

Third from bottom is the new addition.  An online seller had several Acme pencils with original price stickers; I was surprised how much a couple of the full-length pencils brought, but when one of the ringtops came around I was better prepared:

I’ve always associated the Acme with the Prefect Point, due to the similarities between the two:

Other than patterns (and the fact that the Acme came in three sizes, rather than just two), the only real difference I’ve noted between Acmes and Perfect Points is at the top end.  While the Perfect Point has a top button attached to a lead magazine, the Acme has a shorter button, more coarsely threaded, and spare leads are stored in the barrel itself:

There is, however, one other important difference inside:

Missing from the Acme is Jacob Stull’s patented combination pushrod and screw drive.  That subtle difference I believe, is what unravels the story of the relationship between these two brands.

From yesterday’s article, we know that Perfect Point pencils were made for Stull-Boylson by some unknown firm in Attleboro, Massachusetts, until Stull-Boylson suddenly decided to set up its own manufacturing operations in Lima, Ohio in late 1922, only to fail and “retire” from the business by mid-1923.  I mentioned that it was unclear whether Perfect Point pencils were made by an independent firm on Stull-Boylson’s behalf, or whether they happened to be made off-site using Stull-Boylson’s own equipment.  I suspected the former, and I believe the Acme proves it.

In the last article I wrote about the Perfect Point (Volume 1, page 334) I also discussed the Acme.  The brand name was reportedly used by jeweler Max J. Averbeck of New York, who was “out of business” by 1922, when that year’s issue of Trade-Marks of the Jewelry and Kindred Trades was published:

“Acme” is a generic name, and there may have been more than one.  An “Acme Pencil Company” in Pennsylvania looked promising, until I noticed that it was in operation well before these would have been made.  No trademark registration was ever granted for the name, probably because it was so generic, so I was left to see when and by whom these pencils were offered.

References I found to an Acme all-metal propelling pencil are consistent with them being offered by a jewelry wholesaler such as Averbeck, but he was most certainly not “out of business” in 1922 as claimed – perhaps he simply was no longer offering pencils under the Acme name by then.  There was a flurry of advertisements for the pencils in mid-1921; these appeared in the New Castle (Pennsylvania) Herald (this one is from June 1):

This mention was in the Hartford (Connecticut) Courant on June 10, 1921, establishing that Acme pencils were widely distributed:

Advertisements in 1922 show a different version of the Acme, with a bell top lacking that screw-in eraser.  This one was in the Akron Beacon Journal on December 20, 1922:

These resemble other versions of the Acme, that I haven’t been able to place:

Then, the Acme – just like the Perfect Point – disappears.

The Acme and Perfect Point pencils are so similar that they must have been made using the same equipment and tooling.  The Acme is a later, modified version of the Perfect Point design, different enough from the Perfect Point that it wouldn’t infringe Stull’s patent.  There is no connection I have been able to find between Stull-Boylson and Max Averbeck.  

The conclusion is inescapable that one firm in Attleboro, Massachusetts made pencils for two unrelated customers using the same machinery and equipment.  

And that same firm quit making both brands, some time in 1921 or 1922.

I started digging around, trying to figure out what Attleboro pencil maker might have been that manufacturer, and what made that company stop doing so.  I found one that checked off all the boxes, and suddenly an untold story emerges which explains the Perfect Point, the Acme . . . and pencils introduced by a third, much better-known company . . . 

A company that was having an “Oh Crap, we’d better start offering pencils quick” epiphany at precisely that moment.  

Note:  the story continues at https://leadheadpencils.blogspot.com/2021/04/checking-off-all-boxes.html.