In lieu of any other identifying marks, I've decided to name this no-name pen Murray. Like too many things in my life this year, Murray came by way of shopgoodwill.com. I'd been looking at desk calendars for some time, as a little extra retro-junk to litter up my workspace. I'd lost out on a ticky-tacky World's Fair model, but the fates provided, and Murray in all his brassed glory is now enjoying his retirement in California.
Why "Murray?" A little quick research on the nib (marked "Velvet Point 6") shows this pen to be what's charitably classed "third-tier" by those in the know, a kinder way of saying "a step above junk." Still, I'd been also meaning to get a desk set at some point, and this fit the bill. Murray's nib was broken ages ago -- it's only got one tine -- but after careful application of force and swearing, I was able to remove the old nib and feed, and shove in replacements from a cheap gold-nibbed calligraphy set I had picked up last year, thus converting this into a Frankenpen. "Murray" seems like a pretty average name for an otherwise average pen, even if he has had some work done.
I figure this pen sat on the desk of some middle-aged, Midwestern*, middle-of-the-road manager, maybe a thank-you gift for years of uneventful service. The finish on the date knob is brassed away from patient years of counting off the days. It's not a flashy set and yet... I like it. We have a lot in common, Murray and I: generic heritage, utilitarian without being flashy, just trying to be ready and useful without leaking everywhere.
* Don't take offense, Midwesterners. The pen came from Illinois. This wasn't meant as a pejorative.