The site is running reasonably well again so I’ll celebrate with a link to an article on fountain pens from a Manila paper. If you read closely you may see a familiar name.
Just click here.
Back In Business
Arco Light
Everything changes with the times. Even items as inherently archaic as fountain pens respond to fashion and technology, albeit at a glacial pace. These alterations can be for the good, the bad, or sometimes just to save a few bucks at the factory. Today’s lesson in evolution finds us gazing at the products of the historic old Italian firm of Omas. That name is an acronym for Officina Meccanica Armando Simoni and the somewhat eponymous Bolognese firm was founded in 1925. It remains one of the grand dames of the pen world continuing to innovate along with paying homage to the past with a varied product line. In the last few decades many of their pens were of a design that mimicked the pre-war glory days of writing instruments. Classic and understated models like the humbly named Paragon conveyed the special Italian sense of style. That certainly was not an exclusive pursuit as Omas introduced many models of extreme modernity sometimes by guest designers. The Tokyo and more recently the Emotica show that taste for the unique and futuristic.
If there is one thing that comes to most minds when Omas is mentioned now it’s the lovely celluloid they use on their top tier pens. One of the earliest plastics celluloid is still unrivaled for deep, luminous patterns and a warm, comfortable feel. After a period away from that material it returned in 1991 for the introduction of the Arte Italia line. These came in a wide range beautiful colors and styles reminiscent of their classic models (and of the Wahl Doric as many will point out.) One of the most sought after colors in these pens was arco, a brown and cream that brings to mind glowing wood. Many people consider an Omas in arco a grail pen (one that is coveted above others) because of this striking appearance.
In 2000 Omas was bought from descendants of its founder by LVMH (Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A.) a luxury goods group that is known for ultra high-end products such as those indicated in its name. A few years later in 2005 a major redesign of their upper range of pens occurred which broke from their previous vintage look. Two new models replaced and bracketed the position the Paragon held in the Omas hierarchy: A new Paragon that is larger and has more bling and a Milord which is more comparable in size and looks to the old Paragon. The former has a large nib, bright metal section, large engraved cap band, inset cap-top “O”, and a new wide roller clip which makes it more ostentatious than before. Modest in comparison is the Milord which has a body colored section and smaller nib. Both pens have a more strongly tapered and chunkier appearance then what they replace but are still recognizably Omas with faceted sides and continuation of trademark celluloid.
A little while ago a friend gave me a leaky Milord to repair and I got a look at the new Omas construction. Since I also had on hand an example of the previous generation Paragon I decided to put it to use as a benchmark to see what has changed. I discovered an awful lot has changed. The entire filling system and construction of the pen has been thoroughly revised in the new model. Upon inspection it seem like Omas has taken a step back from elegant simplicity. This reminds me of the golden age of fountain pens when manufacturers were competing to see who could find the most complex methods for simple jobs in order to generate impressive engineering blather for advertising copy.
Let’s take a look at the picture above to get an idea of what I am talking about. In it you’ll see the old Paragon (top) and new Milord (bottom) and what they are made of (you’ll want to click the image for a larger view). The older pen is the straight forward piston filler and similar to many vintage and contemporary writing instruments using that system. You can see there are only a few important parts including two cylindrical pieces, one with the seal on the end; a barrel; a filling knob; section; and nib/feed assembly. Simply put the barrel holds the ink and a piston travels lengthwise to draw or expel such. More specifically it works because the shaft that carries the piston seal is a hollow spiral and can freely move up and down but not twist. Into this meshes a threaded rod connected to the turning knob at the barrel end which can only rotate. If the knob is turned that rotational motion creates linear motion on the seal creating a vacuum to fill the pen with ink. Some pens reverse what shaft is the outer and inner (as in the Milord here ) or change the part lengths but the principle stays the same.
So if the standard piston filling system is reliable and often used (Montblanc and Pelikan among others have utilized it for decades) why mess with it? I’m not sure but Omas did on their newer pens with a flourish of complexity. Take a look at the disassembled pens and you can see more parts for the new Omas then the old to illustrate that point. On the outside the celluloid section of the Milord has gotten much longer and friction fits to the rear portion. It doesn’t look all that ink tight with such a joint but luckily it doesn’t have to be. That’s because the mysterious long clear tube in the picture is what really holds the ink now when slid into the pen. Yep, it’s a barrel in a barrel which makes the visible celluloid part just window dressing. The image below shows that the functional components can work independently from the pretty outside bits as a pen. It’s similar to what is called a “captive converter” which is a removable converter (often used in cartridge fill pens) permanently put into place and passed off as a piston filler. What we have here is kind of a jumbo version of that which sniggers down into the celluloid wrapper and is retained there to create the final pen.
If you go back in time this actually is very much like a Tibaldi pen I fixed a few years ago which had a remarkably similar inner structure (see pic below.) I wasn’t too fond of the filling system then and I’m still not now. Besides being complex it seems delicate which increases the chance of a malfunction. A weak point in both I noticed was that the inner barrel is made of a brittle plastic which can develop stress fractures. The tight fit of this in the outer cosmetic barrel means it is submitted it to a lot of pressure when being removed or replaced thus the fractures. Lastly when you reduce the diameter of the tube holding ink such as done by the double wall we have a smaller ink capacity then in an equivalent sized standard piston filler.
I sound pretty negative but are there any upsides to the new design? I can think of a few possibilities starting with the fact that the celluloid is protected from any ink discoloration due to exposure. Not a problem I often see but it is a consideration. Also there is insulative value in having two barrels even without airspace between them. This could mean that rapid warming and cooling is slowed and so the ink doesn’t expand and leak out as easily when the pen is full. Yes, this may be a bit of a stretch. Lastly, and of concern to the manufacturer, it may be more economical to make a pen this way. The inner barrel could be simpler to produce since it’s not celluloid and has rougher finishing. Also repair is made much easier when a cheaper internal structure can be swapped in and no expensive celluloid needs to be touched.
I only have conjecture about why the change in construction was made but I do know that the old style Paragon is the pen I’d prefer out of the two. Both in looks and function I think it is superior. That’s not to say the new Milord or Paragon will not be a good pen with a long life. We’re not talking an accident waiting to happen so in all likelihood it will give good service. However, I do like elegant design in an expensive pen so just call me old-fashioned.
DC…and Burnt Out
About 4 hours into the DC Fountain Pen Supershow I burn out. The way I feel when I get there is like this: 1. Overwhelmed; 2. Confused; 3. Equilibrium; 4. Burn Out.
There is so much to see, do, and talk about for one man to do.
I’ve written a few posts about this show in the past (here and here) and it’s basically the same now as it was then. Thus, let me share some snapshots with you.
Safety Dance
This post is about the joining in writing bliss of two orphaned items: A nib and a pen. It’s always heartwarming to bring about such a lovely union and in this case worthy of a few words since both parties are quite interesting. Let’s look at their backgrounds briefly (just to be sure no one is a gold digger) and then see if they function happily ever after.
Our suitor is a “safety pen” which came about as an odd answer to the question of how to keep a fountain pen from leaking. These pens showed up at the end of the 19th century and gained a niche that kept them on sale through the middle of the next one.. The best known early maker of Safety Pens was Moore who introduced a model in 1899 heralded as the “non-leakable” pen. Why didn’t these pens leak? Well, basically it’s an ink bottle with a nib. The ink is held in the barrel and a short cap screws tightly down on a lip at the end of that which is open. Where is the nib and feed you ask? When not in use they are hiding down in the barrel. The Moore accomplished this by using a sleeve you pushed to extend the nib out of the end like a turtle’s head popping out to see if the coast is clear. You pull it back to retract the nib into the barrel and then you cap it up tight which makes this a marvel of hermetically sealed safety.
Sometime around 1908 the design most people think of when they hear “safety pen” was introduced by Waterman. The difference here was that these functioned in a fancier way. To extend the nib and feed a knob at the end is twisted and that magically extends the writing point out and into action. The principle was pretty simple and effective: A pin set at the base of the rod that holds the nib and feed extends sideways into a hollow spiral attached to a knob. Due to a restriction in the pin’s axial motion it travels up and down when the knob is turned. This simple method was copied by other manufacturers and became the de facto construction for a safety pen.
Our inky groom happens to be a Waterman safety likely from the 1930s.. This is the late version of the pen which is more from the art deco era than the earlier models most people come in contact with. The interesting military style clip and the smooth sides make it a most modern looking safety but under the skin it’s still the same pen that was made for years prior.
The better half of this marriage is what the safety pen will hold to write: A music nib. I’ve certainly written about music nibs before (or at least my poor memory twinges me in such a way as to make me think that’s a possibility) so my description will be brief. A music nib is the unforgettable Cerberus of the pen world and like that mythic figure it has parts that seem too plentiful. Specifically I refer to the tines where three are in residence instead of the usual two. If you want to know why just take a moment to recognize the use this nib it put to (hint: read the name again). Musical notation has some thin and very thick lines so writing them requires quite a bit of stroke contrast and the ink flow to go along with it. Two ink channels going to a chisel tip can keep ink flowing during those big bold bits.
The formerly single music nib which accepted the proposal to join this pen is the Waterman #5 above. It is hard to date but possibly from the 1940s. It’s a lovely nib with flexibility which makes it a great joy to use.
So now that we know the couple in this pen story we wonder how they function together since blind dates don’t always work out. The deeply channeled feed on this pen supplies a great deal of writing fluid to the nib which is fine with it. Lines go from thin to extra bold in an instant. The ink is liberally doled out so this is a pen you need to blot a lot when using. As you can see in the writing sample you really can have some fun utilizing it and together they make a great team. Indeed a pair for the ages.
An Old Bird
I’ve become subterranean. I’m not a bat yet but I’ve moved all my pen repair tools, parts, and various oddities down to my basement. Combine that with a desk, shelves, lights, and a chair and I’ve created what I now call a pen cave. The reason for this was more than just getting all this out of my home office to a larger area but a step to be more professional since I plan to start offering my repair services for a fee. So from now on I’ll be generating posts from the dark pen cave and having Alfred bring me some snacks while I do so. OK, there’s no Alfred and no pole I can slide down and be garbed in a fancy outfit but it’s the same idea.
I’m a sucker for classic design and the Pelikan 100N is a prime example. I love the celluloid barrel sleeve’s contrast to the ebonite parts along with the proportions of cap and body. Its squared off look seems just so right for something from the golden era of fountain pens. Overall I think anyone could see it’s an unassuming, refined design that quietly proclaims good taste.
It’s under the exterior where this pen shines to me the most. Teutonic manufacturers have been and continue to be the Rock of Gibraltar for piston mechanisms having popularized and improved that means of filling for many years. There’s good reason for sticking by it since it’s a reliable, efficient, and satisfying way to move writing liquid into your pen. The downsides are that there are methods with greater ink capacity, fewer moving parts, and lower cost. Whatever drawbacks you come up with no other filling method can capture the exquisite feel of watch-like precision you get from twisting the piston knob slowly and smoothly when the pen is submerged in an ink bottle.
How piston fillers work is simple enough that anyone can understand from the briefest of outlines: The barrel of a pen is a tube and if the end of that tube is moved upwards expanding the empty space inside you get negative pressure. If you create that void while the end of the tube (with nib and feed attached) is in ink then ink is drawn in. Nature abhors a vacuum and so does a fountain pen. Even the specific parts are very simple in this system since basically all you need is a seal which acts as the air-tight end of inner barrel, a long rod like screw inside an internally threaded shaft which the seal attaches to, a fixed end collar which keeps the shaft straight so it goes up down when turned by a knob attached to the screw.
If you look at the picture of the disassembled Pelikan 101N above you see the aforementioned parts and a few others which make the pen a pen and not just a piston. What warms my heart about this vintage pre-war design is the excellent engineering. There is only the minimum number of parts needed to make this pen work well. No fancy or illogical bits thrown in much like how the pen’s appearance forswears the gaudy. All of the pieces come apart easily (as easily as they could on a pen over a half century old) and fit back together with no fuss. The piston seal snaps onto the end of the rod without needing any form of fastening using the elasticity of the material to hold it on like a bottle top. I can take this pen to pieces and have it back together in seconds which makes me feel a bit like a fictitious action hero who can field strip and reassemble his weapon blindfolded in minutes. The successor line to the 100N (400/400N/400NN) replaced this screw in piston with a friction fit one (which continues today on the lower end Pelikans) and while still a fine pen I’m not quite enamored of that change which makes repair more difficult.
Of course if the pen didn’t work well then all I’ve said would be much ado about nothing but it does. This should not be a surprise since the ink delivery and transfer mechanism here reflects the refinements of the 70 odd prior years of fountain pen making. The open nib and finned hard rubber feed with dual fissures are conservative and well proven to do the job. Pelikan nibs are known to be high quality units that have always been shaped and ground well so no problem there. Probably the large green ink window is the showiest bit of this pen but also extremely useful and welcome. All in all if not an exciting pen to use one that won’t let you down.
If I were asked what classic fountain pen someone should get first based on price, quality, and design I would be hard pressed to think of anything better than a Pelikan 100N. While not flashy it is one of the jewels in fountain pen history.
It Ain’t Hip To Be Stiff
Flexible nibs (which I did an earlier post about here) are often coveted but just as often misunderstood by fountain pen collectors. That’s to be expected since nearly all current pens have nibs that flex very little. If not stiff then they are what is often called “soft”, a term that means under some pressure the tines will spread a tiny bit.
Idolatry
So why are flex nibs so coveted and how do you get one? People can get sold on them sight unseen due to all the dialogue praising them but don’t know of the downside. Most new owners would find them hard to use on a daily basis. You have to take your time writing with one and the necessary high ink flow means a lot of drying time which leads to disappointment and some grumbling you don’t often see expressed due to embarrassment. If given a little perseverance (and practice) most folks do come to enjoy their use.
Getting the real McCoy usually involves finding a good vintage pen from the golden era of flexibility which ended in the late 1930s. It’s a hard quest since so many people selling “flexible” nib pens have no idea what that adjective really means in those cases. Thus caveat emptor needs to be strongly observed so you don’t wind up holding a nail when you wanted a noodle. Trying out pens in person or buying from a known, recommended, or trusted seller is really a very, very good idea.
Into the 21st Century
The other way to obtain a flexible nib also can be tricky. Some very high end manufactures have special order flexy ones and some nibmeisters can alter what you have on hand to be such for a hefty price. People debate the qualities of these all the time asking if they are truly flexible or just rigid with a lazy streak. Results do indeed vary.
Now Into this comes a new much talked about entry from Noodler’s, the people well known for ink and low cost fountain pens. The Nib Creaper (or NC since I’m lazy) is billed to have a flexible nib on a very low cost pen. Intriguing, yes? Well I’ve managed to get my hands on a couple through the auspices of kind friends and took some time to get to know it. Let’s take a look.
The Same, But Different
Do you like the look of the exsisting Noodler’s piston fill fountain pens (as shown here)? If you do then you’ll like the Nib Creeper. I don’t find the design unattractive or all that attractive. It’s a nice generic pen shape with little adornment. There’s nothing wrong with that, as I said before, since it’s an inexpensive pen. For this price point you don’t expect too much and just the fact this is a piston filled pen is a nice surprise.
This is one of the cheapest new piston filling fountain pen I can think of. The Dollar Pen rivals it for price but I’ve had no experience with them so I can’t comment on quality. Oh, and the Dollar does not have a fancy nib. The TWISBI piston filler is a fine pen and built to a much higher level of quality but it goes for nearly 4 times the price of the Nib Creaper. If someone wants to get away from converters or cartridges first stop is here.
How long a Noodler’s pen such as this will last in use is an open question. It looks to me built to perform a good long time and you can buy new piston seals from Noodler’s to replace worn ones (a nice touch.) The design is straight forward and simple much like the “school pens” from European manufacturers in the 50s and 60s. You see the minimum of parts to get the job done on this pen so rough handling should not break it.
The Exciting Bit
Now that we’ve discussed the supporting cast let us get to the star of this pen: The new flexible nib. If you look at the overhead comparison shot between a regular Noodler’s and the NC’s steel nib you immediately see the difference. The slit on the normal nib is goes part way up and ends in a breather hole. No surprise there since it’s the classic nib look and the one people visualize when thinking of one.
Now look at the nib next door. Wow! The NC’s slit travels much farther up the nib and does not have a breather hole. Why is that? Well you can also see that both nibs are about the same thickness and (I assume) made from similar steel. Flexible nibs from the past were made thinner and some say from a different alloy of gold to make them springier. If you can’t do that kind of engineering then the long slit is a path to flex on the cheap. Here the two nib tines have more freedom to move since they are effectively longer and of less width than a common nib. Visualize this by thinking of an index card being cut along its length: If the cut is an inch into it and you push up on one side it moves a little but if the cut is 3 times that long you’ll have something a lot floppier.
What about the vent hole you ask? Well, what about it? The purpose of one is supposedly to allow air to flow in to replace the outgoing ink more efficiently. However a lot pens have done without it and seem to have no ill effects. Additionally with a slit that goes up to where everything snugs into the section it makes little sense on the NC to have one.
The Unseen Hero
One thing about flex nibs that people should know about is that they need a lot of ink. When they are flexed to make a thick line they have to put down a wide swath of that liquid stuff and if there’s not enough ink coming up through the feed they “railroad”. That means each tine makes a thin line and there is a blank nothingness between them. That is bad. Now if there is enough ink to cover that gap you see a very wet line indeed. The balance between too much and too little ink is usually in major part controlled by the feed of the pen. Of course I should mention there is always a point where railroading will happen if a nib is flexed really far and capillary attraction loses out to gravity and other forces.
Flexy pen feeds that work well have deep channels holding ample ink ready to be called upon when needed. In the picture below I’ve taken a few photos of the regular Noodler’s piston fill feed and the one from the NC. I love that these are great looking old school ebonite feeds since it’s nice to see something made today that looks just like it’s counterpart from 100 years past. No molded plastic fanciness here, just good old lathed hard rubber.
You can see that the feed for the flex nib pen is more robust in construction especially along the bottom where material was added. Perhaps the idea was these new pens will get more of a workout and so this part was beefed up to prevent breakage? The other change is the very important use of larger feed channels to supply more ink. Seeing this shows that the pen isn’t just a “swap the nib” endeavor but there is thought behind it.
In summary we see that that the Nib Creaper has a new nib and feed on the same barrel as the regular Noodler’s piston fill pen. Well, there is one cool additional difference: The colors (or lack thereof.) Initially the NC was introduced in black mottled red and clear demonstrator plastic but at the time of this writing a black mottled white pen is being sold too. The swirled colors are a welcome and interesting visual change from the solid ones. As for the demonstrator, who doesn’t love those? (If you don’t please just slink out of the room now.)
So, What About That Flex?
We all know the real question everyone wants answered about this pen is how flexible is the nib really? Using it gives an impression but that is subjective and hard to relate in words. One person’s flexible nib is another’s rock hard nail like scratching device.
What I had to figure out was how to test and show the Creaper’s flexnibedness. A comparison between a vintage pen I think anyone would describe as having a flexible nib and this modern upstart made sense. Looking for a good wet noodle as a comparator I was lucky to have a vintage model also sporting a steel nib (even better for the comparison) on hand. This flag bearer for flex is a 50s Montblanc that can accelerate from narrow line to wide in the wink of an eye. Once that choice was made I moved forward to formulate a hair brained scheme.
What I needed was a way to illustrate how much flex there was using the same downward writing pressure on both pens. After a great deal (practically minutes) of thought I came up with two options which could work. In the first one I would buy expensive equipment to apply the exact same measured force to both pens and run a moving belt of paper underneath to capture the lines. Then I use magnification and a micrometer to measure the line width to high accuracy.
Yeah, right. I’m lazy and all for loose, unscientific tests that don’t cost me anything so I selected the second path: duck tape. Since it can do anything I figured it would provide me a cheap and cheerful testing solution. So what I did was tape both pens together with the points at an equal level to each other and on the same plane.. With that done I made lines across the paper increasing the pressure as I went. Since the pens are, so to say, a single unit the pressure was pretty equal on both.
The results in the scans above (you’ll want to click on the images to see it all) show a couple things: Yes, the Noodler’s Nib Creaper will flex. No, it doesn’t flex as easily as a vintage nib does.
So, How Is It to Use?
My use bears out what the duck tape experirama shows in that the Noodler’s pen was not an entirely willing flexible partner. It takes a good deal of pressure to get line variation and that makes it a bit less enjoyable.
The next issue is that both nibs I tried were a bit scratchy. I’ve read some people’s reviews where they state the pen was very smooth so this may just be an anomaly or maybe I am a tougher judge of smoothness. As always this is something you will have to see for yourself.
My last comment has to do with ink supply. Even with the modified feed the pen railroads quite a bit. To stop this you can write slowly and deliberately which slows the rate of ink being put on paper so the flow can keep up. This is something some flexible nib pens require but it can be a bit exasperating.
Everything I said in my review of the normal Noodler’s piston filled pen goes for this one. It’s a featherweight pen which makes the NC easy to use and carry. The piston works as advertised and there are convenient ink windows in the barrel to see the level of such. On top of all this is a screw cap which is my favorite method of holding one on.
Whadda I Think?
A fountain pen that is this inexpensive makes me want to play up the positives and minimize the negatives. You get good value for your money with a Noodler’s Nib Creaper for sure but as with all things you do get what you pay for. That turns out to be a fun pen to use but not an amazing wet-noodle nib writing experience. For that your best bet still is going for a vintage pen.
More Than Two Monologues
It’s a newly minted year but I shan’t be going on about auld lang syne. I’m going to look back only a few days to this past Christmas and one gift in particular. I was given a lovely pen which I was not expecting in the least and it surprised the heck out of me. Earlier in the year I was spied examining this particular writing instrument finding it quite interesting and now, suddenly, I own it.
I have a tendency to ramble (although when I write these posts the words come out at a glacial pace) and with this pen I’m going to give myself an underlying structure for this and future reviews. I’ll keep things in a format like this:
1. Introduction
2. Appearance
3. Engineering and Features
4. Relevant Comparison
5. Usage Comments
6. Summary
So let’s give this a shot with the aforementioned pen: A Lamy Dialog 3 (or D3 for short.)
Bow House
Lamy pens often attract the adjective of “Bauhaus” when described. That famous design school (Staatliches Bauhaus) is well known for clean, machine age creations that are often associated with the aphorism “form follows function.” (Because Louis Sullivan is my favorite architect I must insert that he coined that phrase long before used in this context.) Lamys are smooth and modern and if you are familiar with the metal tubular furniture from Bauhaus designers you can see a similar rationale and resemblance. Pushing the envelope in this direction keeps all the new Lamy designs looking fresh.
Tubular Bells
The above brand of modernism can be seen in The Dialog 3 (even though it was designed by the Swiss Franco Clivio) and it is a pen that elicits strong reactions. It’s one of the least adorned pens I’ve seen and resembles a cigar tube. This design is broken only by the slender clip and access hole for the nib on one end. Textured and shiny metal is what you see and what you feel holding it. People could be confused and not even take it for a writing instrument.
I’ve read many comments on this pen and a large number of those are negative. Some have joked it needs an LED so it can become the penlight it was born to be. I’ve read even more colorful commentary on what it might look like (ahem, tampon). In my eyes I find the shape simple and compelling. I appreciate this unadorned mechanical appearance in many items from Porsche Design watches to Braun appliances so I’m predisposed to a favorable impression. Looking like some kind of tool is not terrible for what is really a tool to write.
Wienermobile without the Wheels
It used to be said Germans over engineered everything due to their skill and perfectionism. The gist of that idea is elegant engineering cuts no corners and exceeds all specifications. Lamy’s Dialog 3 fits well into that ethos. To begin with you can see the quality in its manufacturing on close inspection. You see smooth threads; polished internal parts, and well dampened movements. From the exquisitely knurled grip on the nib unit to the rotating half spheroid that acts as seal on the nib end the feeling of no cut corners comes on strong.
Of course there is a down side to this feeling of quality and that is weight. The pen is quite heavy which I can see turning a few people off. It feels like it was machined from a solid block of steel. Good? Bad? It’s a matter of preference, of course. It doesn’t bother me since I can adapt to massive or featherweight pretty easily.
There are three parts when the pen is disassembled (not counting the converter): The top section, the nib section, and the bottom section. The pen is separated by twisting the bottom past a detent in the direction that you would to retract the nib. Once apart the nib and feed come out in a unit which unscrews from the bottom of the pen. You can run water through or soak this for cleaning.
As if this pen wasn’t already complex enough the clip even has to show off. It’s on a spring tensioned hinge so it slips over fabric easily. Showier is how when the nib is extended the clip will actually move closer to the barrel and lock into place unusable. Even the most absent minded user won’t wind up with the nib staining any article of clothing.
East Meets West (Germany)
The obvious pen to compare the D3 to is the most popular retractable nib model on the market: The Pilot/Namiki VP or Vanishing Point (sometimes also called the Capless.) I have one from the 1980s which is similar to some of the current models in length and girth. You’ll see when it is placed next to the Dialog 3 there is quite a size difference. You’ll next notice the push button on the end of the Namiki which denotes a functional difference. This pen extends the nib by pushing this button like a click ballpoint. Compared to the D3 it has a simpler mechanism, a flap to close off the nib end, and a fixed clip.
In use the VP feels light as air in comparison to the D3 (mine has a plastic barrel but newer VP models have a brass one and weigh substantially more). As with all retractable point fountain pens you will have to deal with holding the clip end and some people with different gripping styles can find this problematic. Usability testing ends there since I can’t compare the much smaller Capless nib which was ground to italic with the Lamy’s medium.
Bullet with Butterfly Wings
What can I say? I like using this pen. It took a little time to get used to handling its thick and hefty body. I don’t find it uncomfortable though and it has a nice cool tactile feel on my fingers. It’s no nonsense, here to write, and don’t forget that.
The twist action to extend the nib is easy to get used to after a few instances of disassembling the pen when turned it too far but that is certainly not the worst learning curve in the world. Once opened it starts to write without hesitation. I’ve read some people have had their Dialog 3s dry up easily which hasn’t happened to me. I assume if that was a problem with the pen it has been fixed as production moved along or the inks I use are more resistant to drying than those of other folks.
The nib is nothing fancy. Two tone 14kt gold and slightly plain looking it won’t shock you but that is fitting to this pen. The range of points available will elicit a yawn as bold is about as fancy as it gets. Mine is the often hated medium and it creates a textbook example of that line width. So much so I won’t bother with an exemplar of the writing since you should be able to picture it well if you’ve ever used a medium nib. My example is very, very smooth with good flow in use, perhaps the smoothest nib I own. Once again I’ve read some people have flow problems which may have been fixed by the time my pen was made. The smooth, slightly soft nib makes writing with it is no chore and for a daily use pen I couldn’t ask for more.
Sometimes A Pen Is Just A Pen
I said this pen was polarizing before and I can’t stress “try before you buy” more in this case. You may hate what I find lovely about the Lamy Dialog 3. It’s big, solid, complex and these attributes could both be positives or negatives depending on your predilections. Over the last few weeks the D3 has performed reliably and I’ve enjoyed using it which about sums this all up.
“Unlike any on this planet…or any other”
The Parker 51 changed the face of pen design with such advanced features as the tubular, hooded nib and aerometric filling system. Unlike many radical designs it worked incredibly well and its successful production run was decades long. Parker was on a roll and eventually an improved, ingenious successor model was readied to eclipse the 51. We all remember that one, right? Um…right? I’ll give you a hint: it was called by another number. Got it now? No…not the 75. That was a terrifically successful pen with an incredibly long production run but this was before that one. Got it yet?
OK, I was being mean with the guessing game. Few people remember the Parker 61 and for good reason: it followed a legend and had several disappointing flaws. Let me rephrase that and instead call it a fabulous flop. Every once in a while a pen comes along with an advanced and clever solution for a problem that people didn’t realize existed and the Parker 61 was one of those pens.
The 61 was the last advance in the category of self-filling pens that began when the rubber sac and lever came into being. In fact this model not only saw the switch to ink cartridge/converter fountain pens it was swept up in the change. A watershed pen that may have been so advanced it was partly responsible for its own ill luck.
Now that I’ve reached this point I feel I may have been a little harsh. The 61 did have one of those super long production runs Parker pens always seemed to be blessed with like the 51 (1940 to 1976) and the 75 (1963 to 1994). Its run was not as long as those two but was an astounding 27 years (1956 to 1983). You can’t fault that kind of longevity even if it was not quite the same pen at the end as the beginning (more on that later).
Let’s take a look at the 61 and the mechanics so you can get an idea about what I was alluding to. At first glance the 61 is only subtly different from its predecessor. The pen has a plastic barrel with a hooded nib and metal cap à la Parker 51. Closer inspection shows it cuts a svelter figure and is squared off at the jeweled barrel end. Overall a very evolutionary design showing the change in preferences as the 50s marched towards the next decade.
A few other things should be noted about the new duds the 61 wore. First off is the “arrow” on the top forward position of the hood. It certainly reminds you how to hold the pen and has a great “jet age” feel to it. More striking are the rainbow metal caps on the first edition pens. Parker used several different metals in these to create a very pleasing layered effect. Due to a high rejection rate in production eventually these were deemed too costly to continue.
Inside the pen there were changes more revolutionary then belied by the staid exterior. In the front the nib, collector, and feed were generally along the same lines as the 51 with one important change: A new tab on the nib acted at a locating element to finally make alignment with other pieces far easier. If you’ve ever assembled a 51 you know this is no small thing. The real pièce de résistance was behind that part of the pen: The capillary filler. Fountain pens always used capillary action to move the ink along the feed to the terminus of the nib point. The 61 took this to the next level by being filled by this very same phenomenon.
Capillarity is the when a liquid tends to rise in opposition to the force of gravity in narrow tubes or small openings like between grains of sand. Parker decided to build itself a capillary filler so that when backed up into ink would suck it in with no effort needed. There were no moving parts to need service and was “clean” in use due to being coated in Teflon, another modern magic material which repelled ink residue. It’s often said that this filling system was in response to Sheaffer’s Snorkel “clean” syringe filler (first seen in 1952) however Parker bought the rights to this idea in three years earlier which shows they were thinking it had potential before the Snorkel went on sale. The working bit was a thin polyethylene film rolled tightly together but not fully touching inside the housing. That’s where the ink went and waited to gather and flow out to the feed and nib.
So, this all sounds great, right? Who wouldn’t want a clean, easy, and gadgety way to put ink into your pen? But all was not well with Parker’s attempt to push the edges of technology and problems reared their inky head quickly. First off if the ink was allowed to dry up in the pen it was a terrible and tedious job to try and get it out. You couldn’t run fast flowing water through it and so soaking and shaking was about the only answer. Parker had to sell bulb that could be fitted to the filler end and force water in and out to their repair people. Even doing it that way was slow. You probably realized the previous issue did not bode well if you wanted to change your ink color. If you can’t easily clean out a pen then you will always have old ink contaminating the new. This kind of thing meant a high rate of repair returns which is never a good sign.
Eventually Parker redesigned the 61s filling system to be a cartridge or converter type in 1969 and all pens returned for service automatically got switched. So it really became quite a different pen in one fell swoop and ushered in that soon to be the most common method of holding ink. Thus the complex marvel Parker advertised as “a gift unlike any on this planet…or any other” and the fountain pen’s rocket age came to an end. It would be decades before we would see a wide variety of self-fillers again beyond the stalwart Germans and their piston fillers.
Now that you’ve been through Parker 61 101 we can take a peek at the subject pen of this post. The well rounded and erudite pen and paraphernalia collector known on Twitter as Toaster_Pastry called it “Probably the coolest design of the 20th Century next to the Coke bottle” and I see why he is so enthusiastic about the Parker 61 desk pen.
There is now a certain retro-coolness to the proportions of this pen. Without a long taper it’s shorter than desk pens I’m used to and terminates instead with a metal cap which is a head-on intersection of two conical shapes. That along with a sleek gold trumpet holder perched on the ball of the “magnetix” articulation system immediately plants it in the era of slab sided Lincolns, thin ties, and beehive hairdos. It’s got style of a kind forever lost shortly after it was made. You could easily see someone in a neutral gray sleek silk suit reaching for it across a Danish modern desk located in a suite at the Century Plaza hotel in Los Angeles.
Parker’s desk sets also were advanced over other brands with the aforementioned “magnetix” system. There is not friction dampened ball joint here but a ferrous sphere and a strong earth magnet in the base. The holder is held tight in a metal socket and can swivel to any angle. The base it sits is black-gold Italian marble which has such a mid-century feel to me I can have flashbacks to the lobbies of International style skyscrapers I’ve seen it used in.
There are far better histories of the Parker 61 than I have written like this one. I hope my brief background helps you appreciate this unique pen. For the collector and lover of vintage pens the bad reputation should be avoided because with a little TLC these pens can be not just fascinating yestertech but also good writers.
Wic Wrap Up
Sadly I’ve been rather slow at updating this site as of late. So here is something I should have mentioned quite some time ago but am now only getting around to.
If you remember I gave away a vintage Eversharp Tip-Wic some time ago:
The one caveat was I wanted the winner to write about how it was to use. Lauren won it and did a great write up on her blog here:
It’s a very interesting read so I hope you go over there and take a peak.
Wheee! Wic Winner!
Here’s the announcement you’ve probably not really been waiting that much for: The winner of the Tip-Wic pen I’m giving away. I counted up those who wanted to be part of the contest and there were 13 entries which I numbered oldest to newest. The random number generator told me the winner was number 11 which is Lauren. Congrats on winning something of little value and possibly no real use!!! A notification email is on the way.
I really do appreciate all the people who took the time to read my blog and enter the contest. So many were from people I knew not and I can’t figure out how they found my contest. Lauren was one of those mysteries, btw. Maybe next time I’ll give away more than one thing since I do wish everyone could have won.