Leigh Reyes. My Life As a Verb.

It almost didn’t, actually, because it had been mailed to my old office address. Luckily my secretary is persistent, and she intercepted it at the EMS office on the day it came in.

The nib is a Nathan Tardiff (he of Noodler’s fame) special, retipped with what seems to be a fistful of iridium. The nib rests in an orange Parker Duofold body with a repaired cap lip, a tiny flaw that allowed me to buy the pen for less than it would have cost pristine.

Parker Duofold on Prat journal

The nib is equal parts iridium and whoa.

Super stub

It looks even wonkier from the back.

Super stub (back)

It’s not a firehose. In fact, it’s a dry writer, and often a hard starter. When it does get into gear, though, it’s amazing.

Writing sample

The ink is Styl’ Honoré Cocktail in Poudre d’Iris.

A duo of Duofolds

Two Duofolds, both button fillers. I just thought they made a handsome pair.

These vintage Conway Stewart pens will be the wagging finger in my face. “Leigh, you said you were going to focus on Japanese pens. You said.”

I will eat my words. I always do. This pen is too pretty. Produced between 1957 and 1963, the 85L has a slim, tapering profile and a single band around the cap.

Conway Stewart 85L

The seller included the box. Inside it was the original sac, now petrified, carefully wrapped in tissue.

Conway Stewart 85L, medium stub nib (3)

The nib is a medium stub. It’s semi-flexible and oodles of fun to write with.

Conway Stewart 85L, writing sample

I think there might be an air flow issue, but it’s easily solved if I ever get around to it. In the meantime the sac does take up some ink, enough for a couple of paragraphs. I dislike matching my bags to my shoes, but Private Reserve Arabian Rose and the mottled red body of the pen go together so well that I forgive them for being such a perfect pair.

One of the best things about working in advertising is I can shoot myself writing in my notebook during internal meetings when only 4% of my brain is required.

I sold my first Waterman Carene Deluxe. It was dependable, it wrote even if I’d left it inked and unused for weeks, it was deep blue and sterling silver, it was… well, it was the kind of guy you married, I suppose, as guys like that usually come with medium nibs. I dislike medium nibs.

Then National Bookstore slashed their prices on the Carene. Did I miss it? At that price, I certainly didn’t mind giving it another chance. Around the same time, I discovered a seller on eBay who sold Carene and Charleston nibs (with sections) separately. He had stubs available.

Now, a Carene with a stub is another thing entirely. It’s the pen equivalent of finding out that boring reliable guy collects old issues of The Invisibles.

Waterman Carene stub, in box

I placed the order before the holidays, and fretted about its non-arrival all throughout, but when the stub unit arrived in its blue Waterman box last week, it was the holidays all over again.

Waterman Carene, stub nib

I cannibalized the Waterman converter from the Oldwin (which is being used as an eyedropper, anyway), and inked the pen with Pilot asa-gao.

Waterman Carene stub, writing sample

The ink flow is steady and controlled, a touch on the dry side – which makes this pen a good choice for signing documents. Now I have a medium nib unit sulking on my desk. Does anyone want it?

(Note that very mild humor invoking stereotypes was used in the writing of this blog entry.)

Stubs are the smartly-cut jackets of the pen world. They can make anyone (and their signatures) look better. Stubs make broad vertical strokes and thinner horizontal strokes. Unlike italic nibs, the corners of the stub nib are rounded, so upward strokes don’t bite into the paper.

A Stub Sampler

Here’s a sampler of my stubs. They’re all factory stubs, meaning they’ve not been modified from other nibs. The Bexley stub writes a tad dry compared to the Danitrio flexible stub, which gushes like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Stubs - writing samples

I hope to have a stub on my Waterman Carene before Christmas. I don’t think it will make it in time to address holiday cards, although if it did, I will consider that a fine gift.

A friend sent me a surprise in the mail. It was a Frankensnork. There are at least five different Sheaffer Snorkels in this Sheaffer Snorkel, and it makes me smile every time I pick it up and write with it.

(On the permutations of “Franken:” in my line of work, we’re used to cobbling together pleasant-looking wholes from parts of images. “I like her hair there, but only the sides. Can we take the front from this other image here?” The aim is perfection. In Frankenpens, the aim is more likely to be, “I’ve got this great nib/cap/barrel, it’s a shame to leave it lying around unused and unloved.”)

Frankensnork

The Sheaffer Snorkel fills using, what else, a snorkel: twisting the end piece extrudes a metal tube underneath the nib. Plunge the metal tube into your choice of ink, twist the end piece the other way, and the pen fills with ink. My friend walked me through the process via IM, as I’d never had a Snorkel before, and I was worried about accidentally extracting blood from my thumb.

Frankensnork, uncapped

The Frankensnork is a one-of-a-kind pen, and it certainly has a rare nib: a flexible stub, marked FS5 on its underside. Sheaffer rarely made flexible nibs, as far as I know. That it’s a stub as well adds to the rarity.

Frankensnork, nib

Frankensnork, nib marking

This vintage stub’s stroke is thinner compared to a modern Sheaffer factory stub. It widens with pressure on the downstroke. (I’ll post a side-by-side sample of this stub compared to the only modern flexible stub I know that’s available without modification, the one from Danitrio.)

Frankensnork, flexible stub writing sample

Rarity is a thrill, but what matters more to me is the generosity of spirit behind this gift. Perhaps fountain pens, and the shared love for them, do take us back to a kinder time and place.

This was my first Danitrio. I haven’t seen another pen similar to it, so perhaps it never passed the prototype stage. The entire pen is ebonite, except the feed. The barrel features sterling silver inserts: one engraved with a phoenix, the other with a dragon.

I’ve had it a couple of years, and it shows. It’s scuffed in places, and it used to be shinier.

Danitrio Dragon and Phoenix

It’s big, but not heavy. The girth of the barrel makes it comfortable to grip. I do hold my pen in an unusual way, with my hand higher on the barrel and my thumb hiding under my forefinger, so this observation might not hold true for others.

Danitrio - detail

It came with a flexible extra-fine nib, originally. I had it replaced with a flexible stub.

Danitrio flexible stub nib

The ink is J. Herbin’s Gris Nuage, and the writing sample is on Rhodia paper.

Back in the day, you didn’t have to change your pen if you became bored with how it wrote. You just bought another nib. Vintage Esterbrook pens are affordable and easy to find, and offer new-to-vintage fountain pen collectors the joy of interchangeable nibs. (Esterbrook.net is the online destination for Estie information, pictures and more.)

Esterbrook Nib Sampler

I managed to acquire several uncommon nibs, including a 9128 (Flexible Extra Fine) and a 9284 (Signature Stub). The most common Esterbrook nib is the 2668, an all-purpose medium. Well, you know me. I am adamantly anti-medium.

Green Esterbrook

The nibs screw in and out easily. I think I have to replace this Estie’s sac, though.

Esterbrook nib (showing threads)

These nibs were the workhorses of their era: steel nibs, not gold; and no iridium tipping, which meant they would eventually wear down from daily use. The previous generation’s disposable is now our collectible. That only seems fair.