Refine Search

Your Servant​—the Pencil

By “Awake!” correspondent in Australia

FOR many years now I have been employed by you to make records of your business, to express your feelings and emotions and to plan your future activities. But how much do you know about me?

Just when and where I started my service is a little clouded. Different dates and places are cited by authorities. However, without being dogmatic I’ll give you a brief summary of my background.

My name “pencil” is drawn from a Latin word penicillus, meaning “a painter’s brush,” and in the beginning my ancestors were fine brushes, a long way removed from my present form. Later, “graphite” (from the Greek graphein, “to write”) was discovered in Bavaria. That is what forms my inner core, encased in wood. Graphite was formerly known as “plumbago” (“acting like lead”) and so to this day I am referred to as a “lead pencil,” even though I contain no lead.

Although graphite had been known for some time, it was not until 1564 C.E. that high-purity graphite in solid form was discovered in Borrowdale, England. Around that time I started to develop. The story has it that, during a particularly violent storm, a huge tree was uprooted and a farmer found a substance caked in the roots that could be used to mark or brand sheep and that would not wash off.

Later, the Borrowdale mine was founded. Graphite was cut into rods and sold as a writing implement. The main drawback was the mess that I made of the writer’s hand and all that I came in contact with. Several developments followed. One was to wrap me with cord or string-type material, to be cut or wound off as my end wore down with use, similar to the way some of my crayon friends are wrapped with paper that can be wound off as the crayon wears. Another development was to encase me in a metal tube or holder and push the rod through the tube so that only the end of my graphite would be exposed, similar to my cousin the propelling pencil today.

The more common pencil, like me, a wood-encased graphite rod, was first manufactured in Nürnberg, Bavaria (now the city of Nuremberg, Germany) about 1660. By about 1790 to 1795 at least two different people had developed methods of grinding graphite with clay, these being Josef Hardtmuth of Vienna, Austria, and Nicolas Jacques Conte of France. Their method made for a more consistent and smoother pencil, which, basically, is still in use.

Now let me introduce you to some of my modern relatives​—the propelling pencil and the clutch pencil. They come in many shapes and sizes, being manufactured from plastic or metal with a mechanism inside to hold and advance the “lead” through a small hole in the end when required. In some cases this is achieved by a screw thread that advances the “lead” as the cap of the pencil is rotated. With the clutch-type pencils, a button on the back end of the pencil is depressed, small jaws grip the “lead” inside, push it forward and lock it in position.

Usually the “lead” manufactured for propelling pencils is much smaller in diameter than that which is used in the common wood pencil, being only 0.036 to 0.046 inches (.91 to 1.17 millimeters) in diameter and between two and a half and four inches long, in similar grades of hardness, although not as extensive.

Manufacturing My Heart

Using modern methods of manufacture, graphite and clay are ground together with water to a stiff doughy consistency, which is then extruded through a small hole in a tungsten carbide die. The finished graphite is then cut into about seven-inch lengths. These “leads” are dried and fired in a kiln at a temperature of from 1900 to 2000 degrees Fahrenheit (1038 to 1093 degrees Centigrade) and finally impregnated with a lubricant that has a waxy or fatty acid nature to make me smoother for writing. The real advantage of the above method over the use of natural graphite is that the texture of graphite can be controlled and its hardness varied, from soft 6B grade, through HB and F, to the very hard 9H grades, by varying the amount of clay added to the mixture. The more clay, the harder the graphite. The soft “B” grades are used mainly for artwork, sketching and the like.

Being soft, the “B” grade “leads” do not hold a sharp point but round off and allow the artist to blend and shade linework for contours and depth. The harder “H” grade is used in architectural and engineering drawing. The harder “lead” maintains a sharp point, with the result that very fine and accurate lines may be drawn.

The middle range, the HB and F grades, are for general use, combining both hard and soft grades. Additionally, many special-purpose “lead” pencils have been developed, such as a very thin pencil to fit into the back of notebooks or diaries, and the carpenter’s pencil, with its hard, rectangular “lead” for drawing on rough lumber.

Encasing My Heart

So far we have discussed only one part of me, my heart, the “lead,” but the wood that encases me is equally important. The wood must be soft enough for sharpening, strong enough to support the brittle lead at the point and stable so it will not warp or bend. Red cedar fills all these requirements, as well as having a rich, natural color and a pleasant aroma when I am sharpened. To this day it is considered the best for pencil manufacture. Scarcity of this timber, however, has necessitated the use of other varieties, such as the cedar of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California.

The wood is first milled into slats about seven inches long by two inches, or six pencils wide by half a pencil thick. Next, six half-round grooves are machined along one side, to accept the “lead.” Then two of these slats are glued together with the “lead” between them in the grooves. After the glue has cured, they are cut to shape by first machining one side with the form of six half pencils. Then the other side is machined the same, leaving six separate pencils that are now cut to the exact length. Painting then follows. In the case of some of my more expensive friends, this can mean as many as ten coats of lacquer.

I am almost ready to leave the factory, but, first, my name, identification and grade have to be printed on my side. From the printing machine I take a quick trip to the automatic sharpening machine, visit the inspector for a final OK, then off to the packer. Now I’m ready for distribution. One hundred and twenty-five separate operations have been employed to make me what I am, your pencil.

Yes, I have been in your service for a long time. The next time you pick me up, remember, “Better it is to have a servant like me than a poor memory.”

[Diagram on page 22]

(For fully formatted text, see publication)

DRAFTING

ART

6B 5B 4B 3B 2B B HB F H 2H 3H 4H — 9H

1 2 2 ¹/₂ 3 4

WRITING