November 2011: Time Traveling the Neutrino Way

[ Extra Fine Points Index ]

BY DON FLUCKINGER • All this talk about neutrinos moving faster than the speed of light and rewriting the laws of physics is kind of laughable, until physicists get their stories straight on why the earth was showered with neutrinos from a 1987 supernova that arrived at the same time — statistically speaking, at least — as the light did.

While they sort things out, it's given rise to some decent jokes. My favorite:

The bartender says, “We don’t serve time-traveling neutrinos here.” A neutrino walks into a bar.

I’m no physicist, myself, but if would seem to me that if time travel were to be perfected in my lifetime, then Future Don would have messaged Present Don at least a couple times, e.g., at least a few seconds before hitting the “bid” button on a few eBay pens that ended up arriving broken or otherwise much less appealing than the auction listing made them look. Just saying: Looks as if Einstein really wasn’t a chump after all, despite his theories getting diced and allegedly disproven in the last six weeks or so.

But if time travel did come about, I’d definitely try it. With my pocket watch and fountain pen fetishes, if I were given five shots, I’d take these:

This is a 17 jewel 16 size Hamilton Model N^o 992 railroad watch.

Waltham, Mass., 1900. Today, I work about two miles from the center of Waltham, which used to be known as “Watch City, USA.” I’d waltz into some shop selling the company’s railroad watches and, by hook or by crook, score a new-in-box 16 size, 23 jewel model N^o 1899, also known as “Riverside Maximus.” Which, technically, didn’t qualify for all railroad workers — just some — because it was a pendant-setting watch as opposed to a lever-set, but still one of the finest American timepieces ever made. If the shop carried Hamilton/Ball railroad watches, I’d also go for a 17 jewel, 18 size Model N^o 999. Oh, and if time permitted, take a tour of the Waltham factory.
Janesville, Wis., 1938-39. There’s so many moments in the Parker Pen Co.’s history (or opportunities to clean up at the outlet store, if they had one) that it would be tough to pick just one. Forced to choose, I’d love to be a fly on the wall while senior leadership debated the fine points of the close-to-done “51” prototypes.

This is a first-year “51” with a “Wedding Band” cap.

This 1926 Parker advertisement ballyhoos the famous Duofold drop off the top of Chicago’s then-incomplete Stevens Hotel. (Click the image for a zoomed view.)

Actually, I’ll take two from Parker: Chicago, mid-1920s, specifically the day they tossed a couple “Permanite” Duofolds off the Stevens Hotel roof, and they…well…as the ensuing ads breathlessly put it, “One pen struck on asphalt, the other on cement — away they bounded into the air, then landed in the street — unharmed!” I just wanted to see what really went down that fateful day, and maybe check the pens for brassing. I think one of those may have ended up in my hands from an ignorant eBay seller (see above).
Whatever date it was, I’d bust back into the 1970s or early 1980s and throttle — or at least tongue-lash loudly — the person at Sheaffer who decided to issue silver-plated Targas. Finding these today just completely sucks the joy out of collecting an otherwise outstanding and typically affordable, quality fountain pen. Then I’d offer to make my peace if they’d hand over a Harrods Targa or two.

This is a Fred Force Targa, not a Harrods Targa.

Ridgeville Corners, Ohio, 1947. Seriously. I never met my father’s mother, who passed away a decade before I was born. Would love to sit down with my grandparents back then and ask them about the pens they used, which ones they liked, and why. Collectors today, we pick our own favorites among those pens that survived the decades. We tend to value certain sizes and models because collectors who came before us explain to us at shows, in their books, online, or wherever, why they are valuable. I’d like to cut through the layers of pen-collector lore and chat with a couple no-nonsense fountain pen users who became adults during the Golden Age of Fountain Pens. And, of course, get some funny stories I could use against my dad when I finally got back to 2011.

Something else I always wanted to ask my grandfather Clifford (on the left): How on earth did you survive the Great Depression and raise four kids running a fox farm? Fur coats, last I checked, were a luxury item, and a lot less cash was flowing through the economy back then. It’s a familial mystery.

Further Reading: History of the American Waltham Watch Company of Waltham, Mass, by Henry G. Abbott

Back in the day, many American watch companies in the Northeast and Midwest produced some of the world’s finest timepieces. Few were bigger than American Waltham, whose history is documented in this 2010 reproduction of a 102-page book first published in 1923.

Don Fluckinger lives in Nashua, New Hampshire, and is the son-in-law of Richard Binder. His articles have been published in Antiques Roadshow Insider, The Boston Globe, and on the Biddersedge.com collectibles Web site. Please note: Any opinions stated in this column are Don’s alone and do not necessarily reflect those of Richard Binder or this Web site.