Whatever the bar is, Henry Petroski clearly cleared it with an obit headline that introduces his life as: "Henry Petroski, Whose Books Decoded Engineering, Is dead at 81."
It seems when you are able to write a 448-page volume on the lowly pencil and have a publisher who is willing to take a chance on it and produce it for the general public, you gain the attention of the NYT obit editor on your passing.
But there's more. Mr. Petroski wrote about many prosaic things and again notably gave the world a volume on the toothpick, another object made of wood.
Like many accomplished people, Mr. Petroski's parents were not engineers, or even probably college graduates. His father was a rate clerk for trucking companies in Brooklyn, and his mother was a homemaker.
Henry, obviously of Polish descent, was reported to have grown up in Brooklyn, likely Greenpoint, because that was and still is a Polish stronghold. There is a tale about Greenpoint that so many of the city's window washers lived there that the area was said to have the cleanest windows in the city. Might even still be true.
Henry took the NYC route to an engineering degree by getting one in mechanical engineering from Manhattan College, that despite its name, is in the Bronx, near Van Cortlandt Park. Manhattan has probably produced more engineering graduates than any other NYC school. I like to think that the elevator inspector, P.J. O'Connor, whose name I saw on nearly every elevator certificate in any apartment house I ever delivered flowers to in the '60s, gained his mechanical engineering degree from Manhattan College. Nowadays, the elevator inspection placard is held in the building's office.
Henry went on to earn a master's degree in theoretical applied mechanics from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign as well as a Ph.D. from there.
Mr. Petroski took a great interest in trying to determine why projects failed. When a neighbor asked him to define engineering he came up with "engineering is achieving function while avoiding failure." Making it work. Better life through engineering. We've probably heard the laudatory phrase, "German engineering." or, "it's a well-engineered product."
His first doorstopper grew out of a paper he wrote about pencils. It became the 448-page tome "The Pencil: A History of Design and Circumstance." There is no mention if it landed anywhere on a bestseller list, but it gained Mr. Petroski the reputation of explaining engineering concepts for those who weren't engineers.
But here's the best part, and I like to think this might be a source for a future question on some Jeopardy category.
His book about the pencil apparently contained a full chapter on Henry David Thoreau, who famously wrote "Walden", who was a "self-taught pencil engineer who learned about the graphite and clay mixture that made European pencils superior, and who helped adapt them to his family's pencil manufacturing."
Who knew that the cradle of manufacturing in Massachusetts included that of making pencils, and Henry David Thoreau came from a line of pencil makers. Did he write "Walden" all in pencil?
Mr. Petroski became interested in pencils when he got to Duke University to teach and was unhappy with the quality of pencils they supplied the faculty and student body with. The points always broke.
Quite honestly, although I certainly remember using pencils in grammar school in the 50s, and always needing to sharpen them with that grinder pencil sharpener mounted on a wall near the teacher, I certainly can't imagine someone writing about them.
I would have thought that someone like Mr. Petroski, an engineer, would have long ago taken up with a mechanical pencil whose refills might break, but were always made useful again by just pushing out a little more of the stored lead.
But were pencils ever made with lead? There was, and still is the expression uttered by those whose relatives are expecting to have to call a nursing home or home service agency for a loved one who will tell you that eating oysters or clams will put "lead in your pencil," How can that be a good thing?
This is said to males who have crashed through puberty who might be eating shellfish, because the belief is that the consumption of raw shellfish will create virility and enhance their sex life.
I have to say this just might be a very old wives tale, or a fisherman's tale, because I've eaten raw shellfish for many years and have to say I've never experienced any increased libido. And have pencils ever had lead in them to begin with? To that there is an answer. No. "Lead pencils" are made with graphite, a form of carbon, and were never made with lead. They'd be heavy if they were.
Perhaps the "lead in your pencil" grew out of the opposite of "shooting blanks," having sperm that can't impregnate. Since bullets that work are usually from lead tips, then if your virility is enhanced by eating shellfish then you're not going to shoot blanks with more "lead in your pencil." Just a thought.
Mr. Petroski's book on pencils takes the reader through invention and evolution with brands like Faber-Castell, Dixon Ticonderoga and Koh-I-Noor. I was always using just a Ticonderoga pencil when I was growing up. There must have been a merger.
We were in Ticonderoga once. My oldest daughter's track couch came from that upstate New York town. The area is known for its paper mills, making pulp from wood. Thus, the wood in a Ticonderoga pencil is from the town of Ticonderoga. Parts of the town have a heavy odor from the manufacturing of pulp for paper. Just in case you were thinking of passing through.
How well the book on pencils sold I don't know, but 20 years later Mr. Petroski produced a book on
He didn't, but he did write many books and one on simple objects, "The Evolution of Useful Things: How Everyday Artifacts—From Forks and Pins to Paper Clips—Came to Be as They Are."
I almost feel I'm qualified to write about toothpicks, but not 400+ pages. Probably not even 400 words. I do remember they once had a blunt end that tapered down to a point. I remember they were flat, and as a kid I used them for either applying glue to plastic models, or using them in the construction of something for my train set.
Then there were round toothpicks, with a point at either end. And now, I see my wide has brought home a supply of round toothpicks that are notched at one end, sort of eliminating any duplex use of the toothpick. I don't know what function the notch is meant to provide. A better grip? Easier to pull one out of the stack?
I need toothpicks especially when corn is in season. I was never fitted for braces, and some teeth are somewhat on top of each other, trapping food. Every time I use one of the notched toothpicks and reduce the number left by one, I wonder if I'm destined to outlive this supply of toothpicks, or will the unused portion be part of my estate?
At 74 I think like this often. Will the three-pack of Colgate toothpaste outlive me? Will the supply of staples I have be all I'll ever need, or will I outlive the supply left and have to order more? Does anyone ever live long enough to use all the staples they bought for use in the home?
Only time will tell.
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