Of Pencils and Pencil Boxes

There are pencils and then there are pencil boxes. A significant part of the joy in vintage pencils comes from their boxes, which are so much better made and designed compared to the ones on offer today. But there are some surprising details that we can tease out, other than what meets the eye, too.

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Of these two Mongol variations, the seemingly older version on the top had a patent for box design. I often google patent numbers I find on pencils for fun – and while patents on lead composition and processing are too technical for me to understand, the one for the box was simple, and illuminating.

The design for the box (which were used for several Eberhard Faber models other than the Mongol too, such as the Van Dyke and Round Gilt) was submitted by one Carl H. Kappes in 1923 and granted in 1927. Sean of Contrapuntalism has written about the Mongol packaging before, but like a dunce I completely forgot having read about it and went over the original patent information again. I found it interesting for different reasons:

This invention relates to paper boxes of the slide-type comprising a tubular cover section and a body section slidable in said cover section […] and is specially adapted for boxes of shallow depth and extended length, such as is required for lead pencils, and similar objects, arranged in a single layer.

The invention has for one of its objects to construct a paper box of the kind specified, strong and light in construction, and which embodies a novel and improved construction and combination of the body section and the cover section which affords easy access to the contents of the box and enables such contents to be displayed without completely opening the box and by merely sliding one end of the body section from one end of the cover section. [emphasis mine]

A further object of the invention is to provide means for reinforcing such a box at the portion where strength is most required, without extending said reinforcing means throughout the entire box, thereby producing a strong serviceable box with a minimum amount of material.

Which, in practice, looks like this.

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I always liked the look of old Mongol boxes, but thought the sliding sleeve a bit iffy – it didn’t fit snugly into a specific slot, and I was unsure where exactly to stop it (it slid around). Also you wonder how stackable it was, given the slight irregularity of the sleeve. But now I understand that the purpose of this box was as much to aid the display of the items as to store them.

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The sleeve would have been a good idea especially if the pencils were displayed standing up (“Thus when the box is used for the display of pencils or other relatively heavy articles, the cover section […] provides a substantial brace or support for the tray and its contents”). Indeed, the Mongol boxes can stand on their own, whereas the other boxes can’t! The Mongol seems to have had other advantages too, for example not having a detachable lid like the Ticonderogas and Turquoises. The Tics are also missing the support at the back.

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Have you ever seen pencils displayed in storefronts? I haven’t. Not ever. How wonderful to think that they were once premium products worthy of such showcasing! It’s details like these that, for example, make archival photos of window displays such as this come alive for me.

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Jewel-Toned

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These two pencils happened to cross paths on my desk recently, and I was struck by the combination of the two unusual colors.  The overall “look” and finish of the two pencils are somehow similar too – I’d love them to be contemporaries but the Schwan Stabilo is probably a bit younger.

Granted, this kind of color-play can go on forever, but there was something about the turquoise and ruby that was absolutely lovely.  One of the simple, everyday pleasures that pencils can afford us.