What pens am I carrying today? Find out here.

Pens on this page are part of my personal collection and are not for sale. Click the magnifying-glass symbol () next to any pen to view a zoomed image for more detail.

In 1985 Sheaffer introduced one of the most genuinely likeable — and, in the event, popular — pens of the latter 20th century. Sold until 1995 under Sheaffer’s own marque and resurrected in 1998 as the Levenger Seas, the Sheaffer Connaisseur is a truly attractive, vintage-styled, and reliable pen. Sheaffer produced the Connaisseur in several versions, from a plain black or burgundy model to the chased black version that I have and love, to the Grand Connaisseur in a variety of elegant metal finishes. My Connaisseur is 5⁹/16" long capped and 6¹⁷/32" long posted — a delightful size, I’ll have you know — and its broad factory stub smoothed up to a delightful signature stub!

In 1906, De La Rue & Company, of London, England, began marketing a remarkable self-filling pen called Onoto the Pen. The company chose the name “Onoto” for its euphony and the fact that it needed no translation for international sales. The pen’s innovative pneumatic filler, invented by a tinkerer and vaudeville performer named George Sweetser, flushes the pen and refills it in a single out-and-in cycle of a barrel-length plunger, and in 1934 Sheaffer began selling pens with its own version of the system.

My first Onoto is one of the earliest versions, a slip-cap model with a very firm stub oblique nib and an over-under feed. When this pen was made, De La Rue had not yet adopted the Waterman channeled feed technology, and the feed on this pen cannot control the flow very well. I’ve found that I can adjust the filler knob very slightly to make the pen flow well enough to write easily. This pen is 5¹¹/16" capped and 6⁷/8" posted.

At 5¹³/32" capped and 7⁵/32" posted, my 1930s celluloid Onoto is a very long pen, delightfully slender and light in the hand. Its peculiar long section is actually very pleasant to use, and it reflects a design that De la Rue had begun using about 20 years earlier — and continuing into the 1920s — with slip caps.

In some parts of the world, school systems still understand that writing is an important skill, important enough that it should be taught to children. By the time they’re old enough to handle most ordinary fountain pens safely, children are past the optimum teachable age, and so there are special pens for them to use while they’re young. One such is the Lamy abc, widely used in several European countries but not even available in the U.S.A. My abc came to me courtesy of a Dutch friend who attended the 2005 New England Pen Show. This durable wood-bodied pen is 5⁷/32" capped and 4¹⁵/16" uncapped. (It doesn’t post; the cap won’t fit over the ball at the end of the barrel.) I’ve fitted it with a modified Parker converter. There are a name space on the cap and a circular place for the owner’s initials on the back end of the barrel, and the pen comes with adhesive labels and clear film overlays to fit both of these spaces. I was surprised by how nice the abc is and how well the ergonomic section fits my adult hand, and I keep it handy near my workbench. With a little smoothing on the nib, it writes amazingly well.

I don’t know whether the Lamy Safari might have been planned to fit into the progression of pens available to young writers as they grew up, but I do know that the Safari is a remarkably good and very inexpensive pen suitable for nearly all ages. It’s sturdy and, at 5¹⁵/32" capped and 6¹⁷/32" posted, it’s a very good size. The section is ergonomically shaped, like that of the abc, and the Safari is easy on the hand. The postmodern styling is unique and practical, even to the extent of an ink-view window in the barrel. My Safari has a black fine nib that I’ve tuned to write smooth and wet.

Dr. Lamy’s idea was that parents, after their children had learned to write well with a Lamy abc and maybe a Safari, would take the children out and buy them better pens — specifically the Lamy 2000. I didn’t learn to write using an abc, but I finally broke down anyway. and bought a 2000. At 5¹⁵/32" capped and 6¹/16" posted, the 2000 is a comfortable size, and its “brushed” finish makes it pretty much impervious to fingerprints and most other day-to-day disfigurements short of actual damage. Mine has a smooth, wet medium nib, and I really like it. Although my pen is modern, I still think of the 2000 as being sort of vintage; it’s been in continuous production since 1966, a remarkable record.

The rOtring Core is so ugly it might well be the pen that inspired the slogan depicted to the right. (The artwork is mine.) “Deliberately and with malice aforethought,” it was designed to look like high-tech athletic footwear. The odd profile purports to be very ergonomic, much as the multicolored knobby things sticking out all over modern athletic shoes claim to improve performance. The various Core colors have techy-sounding names like Titanium, Corridium, Lisium, or — on my Core — Tanakor, and there is no doubt that the pen’s looks appeal to the younger set. I took this pen in trade from a friend, and I’d long since have gotten rid of it except for one small thing: with its astonishingly nice medium steel nib, the doggone thing is one of the best writers in my collection. At 4²⁹/32" capped and 5³/8" posted, the Core is quite normal in length, but with that puffed-up cap it’s just plain big. And did I mention that it’s really ugly?

© 2008 Richard F. Binder

Contact Us | About Us | Privacy Policy

http://www.richardspens.com/