These Eberhard Faber Tee-Vee 1142 pencils remind me that there must have been thousands upon thousands of pencil brands in their company catalog. Over the course of 138 years, how many different brands of wood-cased lead pencils could there have been? Even with all the information I’ve gathered over the years, creating a comprehensive list seems like an endless endeavor (but one I consider pursuing from time to time).
I’m assuming the Tee-Vee pencil dates back to the 1950s or 1960s, but even so, how long could they have lasted in the catalog? A decade? One year? As No. 2 pencils go they don’t seem to offer anything notable in terms of performance. Instead they seem more like a novelty pencil: The name Tee-Vee is flanked on both sides with what appear to be cathode-ray tubes shining their light. (This reminds me of the Icelandic word for television, Sjónvarp, which I’ve read can loosely be translated as “picture-thrower” [from James Essinger’s Spellbound, 2006.])
I’m sure some brand names were more ephemeral than others, especially those commemorating a particular event or anniversary. But when Mr. So-and-so at the Eberhard Faber Company conceived of the Tee-Vee pencil, was it with the hope that it would remain in the catalog for more than one year? Was it more Darwinian, i.e. survival of the who-sold-mostest?
Left wanting for answers, we can at least enjoy the creative legacy of Mr. So-and-so.
A photo by Laurie Spiegel of her Eberhard Faber Blackwing, which to me evokes the image of a rocket flying past the sun or perhaps the moon. Laurie’s music was included on the Golden Records affixed to Voyager 1 and 2, all à propos of today’s anniversary.
In 1894, the Eberhard Faber Company dissolved its agency with A.W. Faber in Germany. A point of contention between the two companies—one that would see twelve years’ worth of lawsuits fought in New York and Bavarian courts—was the use of “E. Faber” as the label on their products. A.W. Faber felt that it promoted confusion between what were now two competing companies.
Around 1893, Eberhard Faber II (son of Johann Eberhard Faber, who died in 1879) began manufacturing pencils under the name “Graphite Pencil Company.”
The E. Faber Company began manufacturing pencils as early as 1861 while they were still an agency for A.W. Faber. However the pencils they produced were “of the inexpensive sort”; they continued to import high-quality goods from A.W. Faber in Germany.
It seems like the Graphite Pencil Company was created in part as an attempt to sidestep the lawsuit, but without the equity of the Faber name, it was just another in a sea of burgeoning American pencil companies.
A.W. Faber would go on to win the lawsuit, only for it to be reversed on appeal. It was all moot, however, as the E. Faber Company began labeling their products with the full name “Eberhard Faber” before the first decision was handed down by the court.
(Click photos for a larger version.)
Pencil-making in 19th-century America is part history and part folklore. William Munroe is often cited as one of the earliest American pencil manufacturers, along with the Thoreau family, Ebenezer Wood, Horace Hosmer, and Benjamin Ball. But there was also the lesser-known David Hubbard, and an unnamed woman (sometimes referred to as a “schoolgirl”) from New England who purportedly removed the center from some twigs then filled them with a mixture of graphite and glue.
By the 1800s, the Conté/Hardmuth method of mixing graphite and clay was being exploited by pencil-makers in America, though the results were hit and miss. Added to this, leads were often off-center, length and width varied from pencil to pencil, and some might be better described as being “round-ish” than “round.” This was due in part to their design—rather than gluing together two symmetrical halves a channel was cut for the lead, which was later capped or plugged, then the pencils were rounded. Here is an illustration from The Pencil by Henry Petroski:
The pencils here have round leads rather than square leads, but you can see the channel with the plug removed:
I’m not certain of the manufacturer just yet, and I may never know. But the way they were made points to a certain time period, and comparing them against known exemplars could help narrow things down. I have a chief suspect, but there’s more work to do.
An early example of an attached eraser: the ferrule is a thin piece of paper, colored blue on one side, which wraps around three times. The end of the pencil was narrowed slightly so the ferrule is more or less flush with the barrel:
The Eberhard Faber “Woof Woof” was issued in 1923, something that The American Stationer and Office Manager saw fit to note:
There was even some poetry written by an ‘admirer’ of the Woof Woof:
It’s hard to say how many Woof Woofs (Woofen?) were made, but here at least is one that remains:
While we might come across contemporaneous price points for pencils and pens in vintage advertisements, information about dealer cost is less forthcoming. In December of 1911, the Eberhard Faber Co. brought out three new display boxes: “Luna Park”, “Fortress” (Ein feste Burg ist unser ‘Stift), and “Arch Assortment.” They are mentioned in the minutes of the board of directors meeting:
Here is the “Luna Park” assortment:
And the “Fortress” assortment, complete with a diamond star flag:
The minutes also mention that the cost of each box, to the dealer, is $1.35. Using an online inflation calculator, $1.35 is approximately $36.12 in today’s money. Dividing by one-half gross (72), that would be about 50¢ per pencil for today’s dealer. Providing in 1911 that those pencils sold for 5¢ each, today that would come to about $1.34—a would-be profit of 84¢ to be had. Of course, knowing nothing of the nuances and subtleties of economics, this is just a crude approximation.
I often think of Petroski’s statement that “pencils have always been a business of pennies.” But it seems there were some pennies to be made indeed. To draw a more complete picture though, an accurate account of the manufacturing cost would need to be determined.
Bassist Jeff Andrews has died, aged 58.
I remember, decades ago, hearing the word “swunk” (a combination of “swing” and “funk”) for the first time. It was from Jeff Andrews who was describing the feel of Jaco’s playing on The Dry Cleaner From Des Moines from Joni Mitchell’s album Mingus.
I was lucky to have met Jeff a couple of times, at guitar shows where we were giving clinics (not much more than a handshake and “good to meet you”). Luckier still was when he and Mike Stern stole off to a quiet side room and played for over an hour to the handful of us who were fortunate to have been in the right place at the right time. Included were a sprawling, unapologetic version of Giant Steps, and a delicate version of Softly, As In A Morning Sunrise that I’m still unable to forget.
Many already know about Jeff’s incredible playing and musicianship, but I wish it were more.
A new cover idea:
Several Eberhards Faber:
A general timeline:
The early years:
The mills of Cedar Keys, Florida:
Origins of the “Diamond Star” logo:
The occasional nib and leadholder:
An extraordinary pencil:
The History of the Lead Pencil by Eberhard Faber II:
All a work in progress.