Category: Restoration

  • Re-purposing a Box—Part 1

    One of the things we enjoy about restoration and conservation is that sometimes you come into an artifact that is sad and forlorn; whether it be due to damage, humility, or other reasons, there is no reason to conserve it, and it just isn’t sensible to do a full restoration. However, that doesn’t mean that such an item is beyond hope. And that is where the fun begins! The box we feature here is just such a case, and is an excellent candidate for showcasing how to re-purpose what was once a beautiful and functional piece.

    A Sad and Forlorn Box
    A small and forlorn box…
    A Sad and Forlorn Box
    …with a shallow tray…
    A Sad and Forlorn Box
    …and a storage space beneath.

    In the world of material culture professionals, re-purposing is a last resort. An artifact must have no historical significance in and of itself. It must not be usable within an existing collection, or there must be other, better quality, examples already held.

    “Re-purposing” is often antique-dealer double-speak for a shoddy attempt at making a piece of junk sell-able. When done with care, skill, and high-quality materials, however, re-purposing can take something in poor condition and make it beautiful and useful again.

    We came across this small box at an antique market this spring. Typical of such boxes produced in the late 1800s, it was once used for holding either jewellery, sewing, or both. However, it had no immediate cultural context: no owner’s name was evident, and it had been removed from wherever it had originally been kept, never to return. Sadly, as is also typical, it was in rough shape. The interior fittings were in terrible condition. The glue was crumbling, the velvet was coming off and was permeated with the smell of mouse pee.

    We have, then, decided to take this somewhat forlorn box, and make it anew. It’s bones are good: quarter-sawn oak, joined with splined mitres at the corners. The hardware is the original sensible, solid brass, and in excellent condition. The interior tray is in beautiful shape. The only big question is, what should it become? Jewellery and sewing boxes abound, even in this 21st century. However, it’s size is perfect for something harder to find: a fountain pen & stationery storage box.

    Over the next few weeks we will post a diary of the restoration/re-purposing of this box, including details of our techniques, and what materials we are using. Hopefully you will find it interesting, at the very least. At the most, we hope that someone else can use these methods to repair, restore—or even resurrect anew—something sad and forlorn that they have found or inherited.

  • Breakdown of a 1946 Yard-o-Led Pencil

    We recently had a batch of vintage Yard-o-led propelling pencils sent to us for repair and restoration. One in particular was such an excellent example of what makes these pencils so outstanding that we thought we would share it with all of you.

    Since Samson Mordan patented the first helically-driven propelling pencil in 1832, not much has been done to improve on his original design. Yard-o-Led, established in 1934, used Mordan‘s basic design, but made several improvements (which we will point out as we go along.) In the earliest days of the company, their manufacturing was outsourced to Johnson Matthey & Co, thus the “JM&Co” hallmark on pencils like this one.

    Yard-o-led products come with a famous lifetime warranty, and this information is not meant to replace the care of a qualified technician. If you have a Yard-o-led pencil, we encourage you to contact them and arrange for service that way.

    However, there may be occasions when you want to do some work on your pencil yourself, or when you feel that it would not be appropriate to assume their warranty would apply (such as destructive damage due to abuse, or coming into several parts pencils which could be combined into a working one.) In the interests of education, and to help foster an appreciation for the fine workmanship produced by this company for decades, we are happy to provide this information.

    I. An Overview

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    So here we have a typical Yard-o-led pencil of the era, in sterling silver, hallmarked for 1946. It is round in cross-section (other models were triangular, square, and hexagonal), and 117 mm (4 5/8″) long. This particular model has a brass nozzle (where the lead comes out), and a clip which is riveted to the body (earlier models had a loose clip, held in place by the retaining nut, which we will talk about below.) (note: the clip in the photo is sprung a bit; we tightened it up later on. There should be no space between the clip and the pencil’s body.)

    II. Simple Dis-assembly

    These pencils are meant to come apart to a certain extent, which is one great advantage to Yard-o-led products. It means that any owner can carry out basic maintenance, including cleaning and drying (more on the importance of drying things out later.)

    The first step in simple dis-assembly is to unscrew the nozzle (although not all models had a removeable nozzle.) It should be on tight enough that you have to use a piece of rubber to grip it hard enough to unscrew it. Sometimes a bit of heat can be used to break any corrosion bonds—pass the end through a heat gun until it is warm to the touch. If neither of these methods work, don’t force it. It may have been cross-threaded in place by someone careless, and in that case not much can be done but to leave it be.

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    On the other end, retract the lead as far as you can. Then, pull up the plunger/drive shaft assembly as far as it will go. Loosen the retaining nut off completely, and then twist the drive shaft out of the pencil body. (In the photo below, the brass baffles for the storage silos have also started to pull out. That almost never happens—I loosened them before I took the photos.)

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    You should end up with: the pencil body; the unthreaded nozzle; the drive tube/plunger assembly; the retaining nut, probably still on the shaft.

    III. Not-So-Simple Dis-assembly

    Now for the more difficult part. Because there are brass parts inside the pencil, and because brass tends to corrode into a greater volume than when it began (unlike silver, which just changes colour), things tend to get stuck together. We take a couple of simple steps to clean and loosen things up. First, we soak the barrel in warm vinegar (known as a pickle solution in the metalsmithing trade), which dissolves any corrosion. Second, we run it through an ultrasonic cleaner, which vibrates off any dirt or muck quite effectively. One reason this pencil is before you now, is that it was looked after: kept dry and clean. There was very little dirt or corrosion cementing the pieces together, and the inner workings literally just lifted out:

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    The threaded propulsion tube is enclosed by the storage baffles, which are thin brass, press-fit together into one piece. The easiest and safest way to try and get this out is to replace the retaining nut, and use it as a handle to gently pull on the assembly, trying to gently work it loose. Again, soaking and/or gentle heat can help. However, the barrel and threaded tube are so thin that they can be easily damaged. Sometimes this part just cannot be safely removed. Often the storage baffles will come out, but again be careful, as they are easily deformed.

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    The storage baffles are loosely held around the inner drive tube. If you can get them out, then they can be pickled in warm vinegar and rubbed with the finest of steel wool to clean them. A small test-tube brush can be used to clean the interior. This cleaning and polishing goes a long way to rehabilitating the lead storage silos, and is often all that is needed to keep access to the full “yard” of storage capacity.

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    If we take a look at the cone, we can see where some of the only soldering is on these pencils: where the cone fits over the drive tube. This is why we are careful about using heat to loosen the inner assembly or the nozzle. Lead solder melts at around 176ºC (349ºF), and it is very difficult to re-solder brass and silver accurately again! This is also why we can’t just drop one of these pencils into a silver pickling solution: the tin in the solder will muck up the pickle, and the steel spring (which we will show you later) will actually copper-plate your pencil! So, vinegar, the ultrasonic cleaner, and steel wool are again the best cleaning agents.

    You will notice the slot milled along one section of the cone. This is so that it can get past the clip rivet. One sign of quality in the Yard-o-ledpencils is that, rather than just using two wee rivets to hold the clip in place on the body, they used a more robust system. Inside the barrel is actually a small bar of silver, parallel to the tube, with the two rivets projecting out of it, through the body, and through the clip. These two rivets are then hammered out to hold the clip in place. Thus, the clip is held in place by one large, long, solid piece of metal, which is why it rarely works loose. Our hats should go off to Yard-o-led for choosing good engineering over cheap expedience!

    IV. Shuttling About

    To round out our understanding of these pencils, we need to examine the shuttle: the bit which actually holds the lead and moves it up and down the drive tube. And a picture is worth a thousand words:

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    The three bumps which protrude from the slot in the shaft engage in the threads of the drive tube. When you twist the finial, the shuttle moves up and down, following the threads. This is Samson Mordan’s genius at work, and simple machinery at it’s best! For the purposes of demonstration, we have placed two parts removed from other pencils next to the mechanism from this one.

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    A closer look shows us that the shuttle itself is made up of three pieces: the outer shuttle, the inner shaft, and a steel spring (the only steel in these pencils.) The shuttle body holds the lead in place (sometimes this gets bent or loosened. It can be re-shaped to hold leads more firmly if necessary.) The brass inner shaft both engages the drive threads and serves to expel the lead from the socket when the mechanism is fully extended. The spring serves to ensure that the lead is only expelled at that point of full extension. AS you can see, the inner shaft is held in place by two tiny folds of silver at the mid-point of the shuttle body.

    The steel spring is one reason why it is so important to limit water exposure. Because of it’s small size, it will rust very quickly. And because the barrel is completely enclosed, evaporation is very limited. So, washing a pencil is guaranteed to shorten the lifespan of the entire ejection mechanism. (If a pencil does get flooded, compressed air is the best way to dry it out. WD-40 is a water dispersal agent, but it is greasy and stinky, can collect dust and muck over time, and should not be used. Only use a good graphite lubricant for mechanical pencils, and only use a dry graphite lube for any vintage pencil with plastic parts.

    V. Body Work

    With the pencil apart like this, it is a great opportunity to look at the body. A good set of mandrels is indispensable is servicing pencils; a set of machinists’ “transfer punches” is perfect. In this case, as soon as I slid the mandrel into the end of the barrel it was plain to see that it was slightly out-of-round, which effectively prevented one third of the barrel from being used for lead storage. A little quick re-shaping with a wee teflon-faced hammer fixed that problem. A mandrel just smaller than the diameter of the clip rivet worked well to support the minimization of some dents.

    Any time we do work on sterling silver (a portion of which is copper), and gold alloys for that matter, we have to keep a few metallurgical principles in mind. Any copper alloy will harden the more it is worked; the crystal lattice of the metal is literally compacting more and more, to the ultimate point where it will fracture. This means that any dents are harder than the surrounding metal. So, if you simply push on a dent, the tendency will be for the surrounding metal to rise up, so that you end up with an in-dentation within an out-dentation. The entire area to be worked must be fully supported, and the best method is to roll out the dent, rather than hammering. (As a quick aside, one reason you often see dents just above the cone of these pencils is that they are so well supported inside by the cone at the tip of the drive tube. At the point at which the support is gone, the dent-causing force collapses the thin tubing making up the body.)

    One means of avoiding metal stress in copper alloys, and of equalizing the hardness of the worked and non-worked areas is to anneal it, heating it to red hot with a blow torch. This process can only soften the metal, and will never harden it. However, because copper transmits heat so efficiently, the entire area of this thin metal tube will quickly become very soft. This may make for easy dent removal, but also makes for huge vulnerability to future denting. When we say soft, think of the consistency of refrigerated butter! This can also make any decorative pattern cut into the body more prone to wear.

    So, when it comes to dent removal, balancing aesthetics with wear-resistance is vital. Sometimes you just have to put up with scars.

    VI. The Complete Picture

    Yard-o-Led Pencil

    So here are all of the parts of this 1946 Yard-o-led pencil, broken down. We could conceivably de-solder the cone from the threaded drive tube, but that shouldn’t be necessary too often. To reassemble the pencil, we can simply follow the steps backwards.

    Yard-o-led made, and still makes, an excellent, world-class pencil. They are simple enough to be robust, and complex enough to do the job well. With a little care and thought, many forgotten or abused pencils can be brought back to life for more decades of service.

    Our thanks to Irvine, for his kind permission to use his pencil in this post.

  • Esterbrook Nibs Advertisment

    Esterbrook Nibs Advertisment

    From the mid-1940s to the 60s, Esterbrook produced a huge number of their iconic “J” series of fountain pens. While Parker and Scheaffer fought for supremacy in the high-end pen world, Esterbrook made one of the most acute marketing moves of the day: take the leftovers. All of them.

    The result was a series of pens made of sturdy plastic, using the simplest of lever-filling systems, and sporting plain steel nibs. Sold at first for $1.50 (just under $20 today), they cornered the student market recently vacated by Waterman.

    As a brilliant innovation, the company introduced one-piece nib/feed units which could be threaded by the user into any of their pens. Why would anyone want to change the nib of their pen? For variety! Using the slogan “The world’s most personal fountain pen”, they sold users on the ability to find the right nib for their own writing style, at a fraction of the cost of other pens.

    Recently, browsing through old National Geographic magazines in the cut-these-up-for-your-art-project pile at her school library, my daughter found this lovely 1947 Esterbrook advertisement. While one occasionally comes across nib-sample cards used by vendors of the day, this ad highlights the company’s drive to break into the market with a new idea.

    1947 Esterbrook Ad
    1947 Esterbrook Ad

    Click here for a 12 Mb archival pdf of this document.

    Public Domain Mark
    This work (1947 Esterbrook Fountain Pen Ad, by Unattributed-no copyright notice), identified by David Armstrong, is free of known copyright restrictions.

    The Esterbrook “J” series of pens—in all of their sizes—are good, solid pens. Even after years of use, the sacs are often pliable and in good condition. Replacement nibs are easy to come by, and the plastic and stainless steel bodies are usually in good condition. They can often be had on-line in the $20-40 range, and make a great starter pen for a young person. Even over 60 years later, they are still a hit with their original target market!

  • Waterman’s “Ideal” Fountain Pen Ephemera

    Ephemera—the various pieces of paper that are a part of everyday life—are, by definition, disposable. In many cases (thinking of my shopping lists), that is no great loss. However, there are times when it would be more than just idle curiosity to see what is on those old papers.

    Being the sharing types, when we recently came across a pristine Canadian-production Waterman’s “Ideal” fountain pen in the wild, we were thrilled to find the original paper documentation included with it in it’s box. This pen is typical of many sold in the early part of the 20th century, and such ephemera gives us insight into that world. We get glimpses of such things as: prices, repair practices, intended uses, materials, available ink colours, advertising practices, factory locations, and more. (Interestingly, even one hundred years ago, on page two, pen repair technicians were reminding their customers not to ship pens with ink in them!) While similar ephemera are documented elsewhere, it is also of interest to note the differences between documentation produced by different branches of the same company.

    Along with the pen was originally included a four-page pamphlet which lists filling instructions, contemporary repair charges, “Directions and Suggestions for the Use of Waterman’s Pencil” (including a cutaway diagram and reload instructions), and an ink advertisement page (gallon jug of ink, anyone?) This pamphlet is printed in black ink on both sides of a sheet of 22.9 mm x 28.6 mm light newsprint paper, folded once. The printing job is not great, with patchiness to some areas that has nothing to do with age. As well, the clarity of some of the illustrations is not great: the darkness on page three (the pencils) is the actual printing, and not our scanner.

    Additionally, there is a small, full-colour, advertisement for ink, fitted to match the bottom of the box. This is 2.5 mm x 14.6 mm, and is printed in four colours on one side of a higher-quality, sized white paper. The paper weight seems to be around 20 lbs., about the same as our modern office paper.

    Below are facsimiles of all of these, suitable for printing in the original sizes, or for viewing online. We decided on adding subtle watermarking to each page to discourage any unsavoury types from trying to pass off reproductions as originals (sadly, it does happen.)

    Waterman Pen Ephemera, page one

    Waterman Pen Ephemera, page two

    Waterman Pen Ephemera, page three

    Waterman Pen Ephemera, page four

    Waterman Pen Ephemera, Ink Insert

  • On Hide Glue

    With the sheer number of adhesives peering at us from every hardware store’s shelves, it is hard to believe that most glues seen on antiques fall into only one category: animal. Hide glues were used extensively, and almost exclusively, until the mid-twentieth century, when aliphatic resin glues were developed. Even today, with a plethora of choices, hide glue is irreplaceable in the shop.

    But why would anyone be willing to use glue made from an animal? What qualities make hide glue useful, when so many other products are out there?

    Animal-based glues take advantage of a wonder of the natural world: collagen. This is the gelatinous substance which literally holds all of us together: a protein which is the foundation of skin, bones, tendons, cartilage, and hooves (for those of us who sport those.) The oldest example of hide glue is about 8,000 years old.

    Collagens are easily processed out of the waste products from meat packing plants, using heat and water. When dried and pelletized, hide glue keeps indefinitely. Liquid, ready-to-use hide glues have a shelf life of about a year.

    What are some of the working advantages of hide glue? Here are a few:

    • tack: parts stay put with minimal clamping, and joints actually close up during drying;
    • reversibility: hide glue softens with heat, which means that parts or overlays can be readjusted if need be. Also, a little warm water enables you to take a part right off, even decades (or centuries!) later. This also is a great aid in solvent-free clean-up.
    • strength: as strong as many synthetics on oak and maple. It’s strength easily exceeds the strength of most woods you might be gluing.
    • consistency: because it is thinned with water and heat, it can be custom-mixed to the consistency you need for the job at hand.
    • creep-free: unlike synthetics, parts don’t slide around, and the glue doesn’t wick into places you don’t want it.
    • universal: effective on a number of materials, including paper, cloth, metal, felt, and wood. Traditionally used in adhering beize on writing slopes, and felt hammers on pianos; used by ancient jewellers to hold gold granules in place before permanently soldering or fusing.
    Hide Glue

    Hide Glue Clean-up

    When working with hide glue, we mix up only what we need in a small silicone bowl. We pour in some granules and cover them with water. About an hour later, we pop it in the microwave oven for about ten seconds, and it is ready! A brush is the best applicator, and it can simply be rinsed with warm water if it gets too gummy. When we are done, we simply let the leftover glue set in the silicone bowl: it peels right off, into the garbage, like the jelly it is. When working with larger quantities, we use nesting steel bowls as a double-boiler, on a mug warmer.

    Hide glue is an effective, and authentic, tool in any restorer’s shop. If you get over the mental hump of using it the first time, we are confident you won’t look back.

  • The Great Inkwell Experiment—Conclusion

    The great inkwell experiment is complete! While none of the results are particularly surprising, it has definitely given us some good information and insight as to what to look for in a working inkwell.

    The final documentation is available here. It is a stand-alone paper, in PDF format, and includes all of the data, including actual tenth-of-a-gram measurements, observations, and discussion from this forum, and conclusions, etc. Feel free to copy it, distribute it, give it away, use the information in any way that will benefit the pen community. I have digitally signed it to prevent changes, and would prefer that no one sell it and make millions, but those are the only restrictions.

    Much of the information in the PDF documentation duplicates what has appeared in earlier posts here on our blog. In order to round out the information here, the remaining excerpts follow:

    Data

    Our complete data, including specific measures, are recorded in an MS Excel spreadsheet. Copies are included in the PDF documentation. (Realistically, I could spend several hours transferring them to html tables. But I shan’t.)

    Observations

    The trends we see in this experiment are established quickly, and follow through the entire data collection period. Especially when viewed in graph form (see page seven), there are three main groupings: low, medium, and high evaporation rates. When it happened, evaporation happened steadily and decisively.

    It is obvious from observation that the design of an inkwell has a strong impact on it’s performance as a means of efficient storage. Those containers with soft gaskets were the top performers, those with a close-fit lid did less well, and those with plenty of air space and loose-fitting (or absent) caps did the worst.

    The most efficient group, as far as concerns liquid retention, were the modern ink bottle, the pottery bottle, and the travelling inkwell. The top two performers had almost no measurable loss, although there is a miniscule amount of loss in the raw data not entered on the spreadsheet (which I can make available upon request.) The middle group includes the two looser-fitting-cap inkwells, and, perhaps most surprisingly, the open control. The underdog of the group was the brass-cased glass insert. This one was, as they say, an epic fail which was evident from the first few days. It should be noted that I took a good look at the physical integrity of the insert, as well as for evidence of leakage into the case, but it was sound.

    We also observed that what minor fluctuations in humidity and temperature there were had minimal impact on our measurements.

    Conclusions

    One interesting conclusion is that the role of an ink container is to slow down evaporation as much as possible. Even the best materials and design—even modern ones— will still lose solvent , given a long enough period of time. Given that ink is meant to be used regularly, miniscule loss is acceptable. There are, however, some obvious conclusions at which we can arrive:

    1. Inkwells with gaskets or tightly threaded caps are superior in terms of long-term ink storage.
    2. The age of an inkwell is irrelevant as long as the materials are sound, and the original design is superior. With these caveats, an antique inkwell is a viable choice for ink storage, either long- or short-term.
    3. Badly-designed inkwells might be candidates for retrofitting with a gasket or cork, depending on design.
    4. Certain inkwells are best reserved for aesthetic purposes, or for temporary use. Any inkwell with a loosely-fitting lid needs to have its contents either removed daily, or watered-down every few days, so as to avoid either ink loss, or a change in the quality of the ink due to evaporation.

    The numbers show that, in a low-performing container, a ten dollar bottle of ink will lose at least 18¢ of ink per day. This means that the entire amount of ink will have disappeared in just over a month’s time! On a more positive note, a well-made and well–engineered inkwell can keep ink sound and in good condition almost indefinitely, with no attention from it’s owner.

    As an interesting side note, the many antique inkwells on the market today are the loosely-fit, hinged type. This put us in mind of the old axiom about suits of armour in museums: their small size is not because the people in medieval times were physically smaller than we are today. They are smaller because the surviving suits were ornamentally made, largely for the young nobility. The truly representative armour was always used to pieces, literally, on the battlefield; too valuable to store away where it would be preserved for posterity and scholars. Perhaps the really efficient inkwells were used so much that there aren’t many left?

    What design factors are good when it comes to ink storage? A tight-fitting lid, preferably one which is threaded on, is also very effective. Obviously, many inkwells designed for travelling will have such effective design features. Any soft material seems to do well in preventing evaporation; interestingly, natural materials, such as cork and wood, proved nearly as effective as modern materials. It reminded us of the Japanese chests, made of paulonia wood (the same wood as many traditionally made Japanese kitchen knife handles). One significant characteristic of paulonia is that it absorbs huge amounts of water, very quickly. The reports are that, when caught in a flood, the drawers of these chests swell shut almost instantly, perfectly preserving the clothing inside them. It made us wonder if the wood of inkwell D is simply swelling shut enough to limit air exchange, and thus evaporation.

    Finally, it is obvious that there is more work to be done in analyzing the efficacy of older inkwells. Why is it that C failed in such a spectacular way? Would similar designs likewise perform poorly? How do early plastics affect efficient ink storage? What retrofits are possible in order to increase the efficiency of poorly-designed inkwells? Could such retrofits be done in a such way that the aesthetics of an antique inkwell could be preserved? Further experimentation may well shed light on the answers to these, and other, questions.

    Discussion

    Various discussions and brainstormings were done on a thread on the Fountain Pen Network; partial transcripts are included in the documentation, but the full thread can be read here. A number of good suggestions were made, and the discussions certainly helped to refine the entire process.