The Conway Stewart 14, like its very similar neighbour the 15, had a long run from the early 50s to the early 60s. These are nice little casein pens and come in some vibrant patterns.

This one is in hot burgundy with black lines. The pattern is strong and eye-catching and is uninterrupted from the top of the cap to the end of the barrel, in the absence of a cap ring.

The 14 and 15 don’t just look alike, they share a nib, the CS1A.

Conway Stewart nibs, if they haven’t been dropped or mangled in any other way, are nice writers. They are not known for being extremely flexible, but this nib does give some easy line variation.

For a pen that is more than half a century old, it looks pretty good.

If you buy a pen from me and you don’t like it, I’ll take it back. You don’t even need to tell me why you don’t like it. I see no point in sticking you with a pen you don’t like. All it will cost you is the price of sending it back. If there were to be something actually wrong with the pen, I’ll pay the return postage. That’s how it works and I make that plain to my customers.

On the subject of customers, mine are great and I’m happy to say that many have become personal friends. In any walk of life, though, you do occasionally bump up against an awkward customer. Some weeks ago I sold a nice little Swan 3160. It’s a very nice pen and I believe the price was very good. A few days later I received an email acknowledging receipt of the pen. This is what the customer had to say:

I should like to return this to you for a refund please. I have not inked or written with this pen but it is obvious that it will not write correctly. There is a large easily visible gab (sic) between the nib and feed, the nib has obviously been sprung at some point. If you have replaced the sac then you must have shellacked the barrel again as there is no way it will unscrew by hand?

The customer hadn’t inked or written with the pen but he knew it wouldn’t write properly! That’s a clever trick, especially since I’d written a page with the pen as part of post-restoration testing. That’s what I do with every pen. The “gab” between the feed and the nib is an illusion. It’s perfectly set.

As you can see, the nib is perfect. It certainly has never been sprung. Then this delightful gentleman questioned whether I had replaced the sac! This was because he couldn’t unscrew the section. Ignoring the question why he wanted to remove the section, he was evidently unaware that these sections rarely unscrew by hand without the application of heat. Of course, I never shellac sections – it’s bad practice and unnecessary.

All in all, I thought it was a pretty nasty communication and it came as rather a shock. It’s a little like answering a knock at the door and getting a punch in the face. I told the customer to return the pen for a refund, and I did complain about the tone of the email and the wrong accusations. He assured me he was not trying to be nasty. Well, there you go.

I love my job. There is no aspect of pen restoration and sales that I don’t enjoy. Interaction with customers is the best of it, usually, and I try to provide a good service, happy to give advice and information to anyone who contacts me. I’ve only rarely had difficulty with customers but when such an event happens it’s a rude awakening and a reminder that – as in any other business – not everyone in the pen world is nice. I’m very glad most are.

Boots the Chemist provided its customers with very nice fountain pens for many years. It’s still a major presence in the High Street but sadly it no longer sells pens.

Different companies had the contract to supply Boots with pens over the years. I’ve seen very handsome black chased hard rubber pens that have a Langs look about them. Later, perhaps the thirties and forties, De La Rue made the Boots Chatsworth pens and after that Burnham had the contract. Regardless of who made them they always bore the name Chatsworth.

This, rather obviously, is the Burnham version. It has the typical Burnham pressed steel clip with a slight coating of gold plate, now mostly gone. The plating has survived a bit better on the plain, straight, unadorned lever. Like most Burnhams of this period it’s a casein pen, in a glorious red, gold and black marbled pattern. The top of the cap is finished with a domed black clip screw. “Chatsworth” is stamped on the barrel.

Though the nib is stamped “Warranted 14 carat 1st Quality” instead of Burnham, its shape clearly shows it to be of their manufacture. It’s a lovely writer, a semiflexible medium. All in all, it’s a rather delightful pen!

I don’t know whether Boots sold their pens at a lower price than the manufacturers’ versions, but rebadged pens tend to go at a discount nowadays. There are serious bargains to be had when you think about it. The De La Rue version of the Chatsworth sells a little cheaper than De La Rue’s own version, which is identical apart from the rebadging. Considering that the De La Rue pen shares a nib with the Onoto, this means you can get an Onoto in disguise for probably one third of the price or even less.

Of course the Burnham version doesn’t have quite the same prestige and it would be pushing credibility to suggest that it’s comparable pen, but a good Burnham is a very nice writer and this one is made from exceptionally pretty casein. The buyers at Boots had an eye for a good pen!

I’ve been calling this a Waterman 515 but I’m not entirely sure.

 

Any ideas?

I was given a Sheaffer Targa not long after they appeared, a brushed steel one with a gold nib. They sold in huge numbers in the 80s and 90s. A well-designed and deceptively simple-appearing pen, they seemed to have been the shape of the time in fountain pens.

Though their design and quality seems to have fallen away in recent times, I’ve always admired Sheaffer pens, especially their 1920s flat-tops and the leverfill cap balances. I particularly admire the Triumph nib and the inlaid nib of the Targa is a clear descendant of that design.

The standard, everyday Targas like my one don’t make a lot of money. Because there are so many of them available, they’re really undervalued, considering their quality and how robust they are. They were in production for 23 years and for most of that time they were a best seller.

After selling the standard-sized Targa for a few years, Sheaffer brought out the Targa Slim, their version of the slender pen that was fashionable in the 80s. They made it in the same patterns as its big brother. This one is in the Tulle pattern and it is part of a set with a ballpoint. They are elegant pens.

The ballpoint is no problem. Refills are widely available online, but Sheaffer stopped producing the slim cartridges that the fountain pen uses, which was a dirty trick! As luck would have it, though, this pen has a converter installed and there’s even a cartridge. I’m told that Waterman mini-carts fit, as do Kaweco converters.

For an 80s or 90s pen and ballpoint set, the condition is excellent. I think I struck lucky and got hold of a set that has been little used. They’re good enough to be collectors’ pieces, though they are eminently practical too. The pattern is very eye-catching. I confess I’m very tempted by them but how many pens can I keep?

When we mention vintage pens, we all think of something slightly different.  For you it might be pens before 1980.  For me it’s pens before 1960.  That’s because by that date, the place of the fountain pen in the world had changed.  By that time the ballpoint had become completely reliable and was the writing instrument of choice.  My husband was ten in 1960 and he says that the ballpoint was the cool choice by then.  That’s what the schoolkids wanted to use but the teachers insisted on fountain pens.

After 1960 fountain pens were no longer just competing against each other; they were in a death-struggle with the ballpoint pen.  Several pen companies had already gone to the wall and the rest were suffering.  From then on, every fountain pen would be made in the knowledge that it would be in a fight for market share.  Pens were made for an ever-smaller niche.  As time went on more and more fountain pens were made with the hobbyist and collector in mind.

It was in 1960, right on the cusp of my date for the end of the vintage pen, that Parker brought out its budget 45.  I don’t propose to repeat the history of the 45.  You can find that on the excellent parkercollector.com.  The 45 was Parker’s first attempt at the cartridge/converter pen.  Some people say that the name is a nod to the Colt 45 and its cartridges.  Be that as it may, the 45 has some resemblance to the Parker 51.  It has a collector to control ink flow and the first 45s followed the plastic barrel/metal cap pattern of the 51.  Later ones were all plastic.  Then came Flighters, Insignias, the 45 CT Arrow and colourful Harlequins.  In one form or another the 45 was in production for 47 years.  I don’t know how many pens were sold, nor, I believe, does anyone else.  Hundreds of thousands I should think, and I believe it was Parker’s last really big seller.

For years I ignored the 45.  Most of its production years were too late for it to attract my interest.  Ebay is full of them and they don’t make much money.  Of course some came my way when they formed part of lots that I bought.  Apart from the converters, which can fail, every one I had worked well right away.  The nibs come in all shapes and sizes and are easily interchangeable.  With the exception of the Parker 17 (that’s for another day), I don’t like hooded nibs.  I find their looks unappealing and I have to look to ensure I’m holding the pen the right way.  That’s why Parker put the arrow on the hood of the 61.  But the 45 isn’t really an enclosed nib.  It’s partially hooded but enough of that little trangular nib protrudes that it’s instantly apparent which way up the pen is.

For one reason or another I’ve ended up with a lot of Parker 45s in recent times.  I put them up on the sales website for a peppercorn price and sooner or later they go.  Apart from the rather more special ones like the Harlequins and Insignias, they’re never going to be money-spinners because there are so many of them available.

I’ve kept one or two fine-nib Parker 45s because they write so well.  The plastic they are made from is light and they are very well balanced.  They don’t seem to be subject to any obvious faults like cracking or shrinkage.  The press-on cap can become loose but that’s easily repaired.  I find myself using a Parker 45 often.  The pen has sneaked into my heart.  From ignoring them for years I have become a Parker 45 enthusiast.

At a time when other pen manufacturers were struggling to sell fountain pens, Parker managed to turn out a succession of successes from the Aerometric Duofolds to the 45s and 17s and on to the elegant 75.  That may have fallen away in more recent times and, no longer a stand-alone company, its products may have lost the obvious stamp of Parker quality.  However, as long as the 45 remains ubiquitous we are unlikely to forget how good Parker once was.

(Excuse B&W photographs.  They had to be taken under lamplight and the horrible colour cast was persistent)

This is a beautiful grey striated Waterman 513 pen and pencil set. This range of pens and pencils went into production in 1948 and it was the first style of pen that Waterman made in its new British plant. The plastic is delightful; it gives the impression of transparency in some lights. It’s a standard-sized pen at 13cm capped.

The pens that have been made for Waterman by Altura in the 30s and 40s were good writing instruments but they lacked flair. Watermans new, distinctive clip in the Art Deco style makes for a very attractive pen. The only thing that lets it down is Waterman’s notoriously poor gold plating. On the other hand, this range of pens is better than its successor of the 50s, the “W” range of pens, which was similar at first glance but did not have a lever box, and seems to have been more cheaply made. That’s the Waterman story, I suppose. If you were to draw a graph of Waterman’s quality, it would describe a pretty steep decline after the late 50s, and this resulted in a fall in sales.

This pen and pencil set, though, was made before the rot set in. It has a quite large no.3 nib. It isn’t flexible but it has a comfortable springiness. The broad cap band is personalised: MP Mulchrone was the proud owner. I hunted him down. The unusual name made my job a little easier. It appears he was a Royal Marine, and may have used this pen to write home from overseas postings.

The matching pencil shows less wear on the plating than the pen. That’s often the way. Pencils don’t seem to have had the use that pens did. The pen and pencil are housed in an unusual case. It’s obviously not original but I have kept it because it probably was chosen by the original owner, it being more robust than the Waterman box.

I’m still using Baystate Blue and I’m still grateful for the gift. Of course I would throw the bottle to perdition if it tried to get anywhere near a pen that has any value or that I’m fond of.

The husband says it reminds him of the blue Parker Quink he always used when he was at school. It’s much stronger though, much bluer, like Quink went to the gym and developed its muscles and, not content with that, paid the trainer for illegal steroids.

The result is blue with brutality. I like that about it. I’m on my second fill of the converter in this cheap Chinese pen. Despite its muscularity it hasn’t done the pen any harm yet. The steel nib shows no sign of assault and the plastic remains undamaged.

Frankenstein of the ink world, I’m a little disappointed that it remains so mild-mannered. I’m pretty sure that when I least expect it, it will turn on my pen snarling and leave it in bits on the floor, molten and smoking.

I’ve owned a few Pelikans, the modern Souverans and some of the older pens, but I don’t really understand the range of Pelikans in the way I do with Conway Stewarts, Mabie Todds or even Watermans.

Take, for instance, this 500. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe it to be an upgraded 400, made in the mid 50s. A medium-sized pen at 12.6 cm capped, it is strikingly handsome with its gold-filled cap and blind cap. The barrel is green/black striated and translucent.

It has the nesting Pelikan emblem on the cap top and the traditional Pelikan clip. The gold nib is fine and semi-flexible.

There is a professional personalisation on the barrel. The gold is in good condition and shows no wear. This is a pen with a lot of bling but it is also eminently practical.

It’s a pen that you really want to write with. I’ve had other good Pelikans, early pens with very flexible nibs, but this is the best writer of them all.

 

She can fix pens all she wants.  I’m off!