When my wife and I first opened our orthopedic clinic six years ago, we were greeted with a wide spectrum of patients. Most were pleasant but of course the insurance and litigation scammers were quick to try and take advantage of us. And then there were the yakuza, the Japanese mafia types, who would come in to have their fight wounds mended or to stop the bleeding from their severed fingers. Never a dull moment. But I want to tell you about one patient in particular, more that just a patient; he was one of the dearest friends I've ever known. His name was Dr. Shinji Oba.
He first came into the clinic with severe chronic back pain. He had a nasty L5 compression fracture, and he had suffered lower back pain for most of his adult life. We treated him with a few nerve blocks that worked rather well, but even so he came to the clinic nearly every day for acupuncture treatments, which he said guaranteed that he would be able to sleep soundly afterwards. But perhaps part of the reason he continued to visit so often was our budding friendship.
He was a third generation doctor, and his family had continued a practice for over 100 years. Perhaps I flatter myself, but I think he unofficially adopted me. I certainly looked up to him and thought of him as a father. I will never forget the joy we shared when I told him that the obstetrician had made a mistake from the first ultrasound. From the second ultrasound it was clear that my wife and I were going to have a boy. Keiko and most of our friends seemed disappointed by this turn of events. Only Oba-sensei understood how desperately I wanted a son. We celebrated by sneaking a few beers in my office; a high crime if one of the nurses caught us.

When I took up pen collecting, I had all my acquisitions shipped to the clinic. At the end of the day Oba-sensei would stop by my office and he would look over the pens. He had no interest in my Wirt pens, but he liked to see the Japanese pens that I found. Often he could tell me about the advertising he had seen for some of the pens or often he could remember a friend that had owned a similar pen.
One day I had a special pen to show him. An early Pilot overlay that I had found at an antique market. When I showed it to him, I thought he was going to have a heat attack. He took the pen in his trembling hands, and said that he knew this pen very well, and he had a story to tell.
When Shinji was a young boy back in 1923, his father was a leading doctor in the community, but they were by no means rich. His father often invested heavily in bad ventures, and several times they nearly lost everything. Money was always tight, and the tension was palpable.

Not far from their home stood the Kaihin Hotel. It was a grand place that catered to the very wealthy Japanese and English and American tourists. They would come to the quiet town of Kamakura to see the historic sites and to enjoy the beach. It seemed a slap in the face to the Obas. They were often living in near poverty and just a stone throw away was one of the most majestic hotels in the world.
Since Shinji's family lived on Omachi, the main road, they could see the cars drive by on their way to the hotel. At that time automobiles were still a rarity, so when Shinji and his younger sister, Eriko, heard a car coming they would run to the road to wave and hope that the driver would favor them with a honk of the horn. Nothing pleased them more. However, sometimes there would be a child their age riding in the car. The sense of envy would be so overwhelming that Shinji and Eriko were reduced to tears.
Shinji and Eriko dreamed of walking into the hotel lobby. It was rumored to be the grandest in Japan if not the world. Kings and queens had stayed there. What a fairy tale it would be to simply sit in the lobby. Obviously they couldn't just walk in. The hotel was exclusive and when a few of Shinji's friends tried to enter, the doorman threw them out on their ears.
One day Shinji had an idea. Shinji and Eriko dressed in their best kimonos and waited in front of their house. They waited for hours, but finally a car came driving down the road. Shinji ran out into the road and stopped the car.
"What are you doing, son? Bloody hell, I could have killed you. Stay out of the road." the driver said. He was a very tall elderly Englishman. Sitting in the passenger seat was a woman wearing big pearls. Her perfume was strong and it made Shinji dizzy. Sitting in the back was a girl Shinji's age. The loveliest girl he had ever seen with hair the color of a shining red penny.
"I am sorry, Sir. Are you going to the Hotel? My little sister sprained her ankle and can't walk.
The Englishman replied, but Shinji had no idea what he said. Shinji's dialog had come mostly from his English textbook. When he read it in school it had given him the idea on how they might smuggle themselves into the hotel. He made a few alterations to the text and he memorized it perfectly. It had gotten them this far, but he was lost now.
Fortunately, the Englishman simply pointed to Eriko and the back car door opened for them. They were so excited that Eriko forgot to limp.
The car was a wonder. They had never ridden in one before and the sound of the engine and the feel of the road was exhilarating. Eriko was sitting between him and the young girl. He tried not to look at her but he couldn't help it.
The Mother asked him questions, but he didn't understand anything. He simply answered each question with, "Thank you, Madam." Soon the family was roaring with laughter. He took a quick look at the red headed girl. She gave Shinji the sweetest smile and he instantly fell in love with her.
The ride only took a few moments, and as they drove up the drive, a small army of bellhops ran up to the car, holding the doors and picking up the bags. At this point the Englishman and his wife began to argue about something to do with the bags. The tall Englishman was red-faced and trying hard to contain his temper. They seemed to completely forget that they were there, but Shinji and Eriko walked closely to the family as they entered. The Doorman looked at them suspiciously, but since they had arrived in the same car as the English family he didn’t say anything.
Diamonds! The hotel was so luxurious that they had a huge chandelier hanging in the main lobby. Shinji had no doubt that the dazzling crystals were diamonds. Both he and Eriko were frozen with awe. This was something that they never dreamed existed. The marble floors the English furniture. It was all too much.
The Englishman and his wife were still arguing, so it was easy for Shinji and Eriko to drift away on their own and explore the cavernous room. To their delight they found a sunroom off to one side of the lobby. From here they had a marvelous view of the ocean. The real treasure though was a coffee table neatly stacked with English magazines. He and Eriko sat on a sofa and went through them. Each page was a new wonder with women wearing furs and slinky dresses, men wearing funny hats. Every time he turned a page Eriko let out a squeal.
After awhile Shinji noticed the red headed girl. She was sitting at a writing desk on the other side of the lobby, working on a letter. Shinji stared at her for a long time until Eriko poked him in the ribs, giving a little smile that said, “I know a secret.” Shinji pretended not to know what she was talking about.
After leafing through all the magazines several times, Shinji noticed that the girl was gone. He felt a great sense of despair, having missed her departure. He had hoped for another smile. He and Eriko decided that they had better make good their escape, while they could. As they sauntered towards the exit, Shinji saw that the girl had forgotten her pen. It was sitting on the writing desk, and he picked it up as he walked by and placed it in the sleeve of his kimono. They nervously passed the doorman and as soon as they were out of his reach they could not help but run as fast as they could all the way home.
After dinner Shinji excused himself from the dinner table and went to his room. Once he had closed the door he took out the pen. Wow. He had never held a fountain pen before. Even his father did not have one of these. It was so modern. Shinji’s plan seemed almost noble. He would go back to the hotel the next day and return the pen to the girl. The doorman would be forced to let him enter when he showed the pen. He could imagine handing the pen to her, and she would surely give him another smile. Maybe something better.

Shinji closed the door to his room and at his desk took out the pen. It was a Pilot with an interesting gold band that sparkled in the lamplight. He touched the pen to his paper and was delighted to see the way it skated across the page. He started writing a letter to the girl, something he would never have the nerve to give her and even if he did, she could not read it, but it was exciting to write anyway. He focused his attention so strongly to the page. That he didn’t notice when his father and sister entered the room.
"What is this?” his father asked. Shinji nearly jumped out of his skin. He tried to gather his composure and replied. “It is a fountain pen, Sir” "I see. Where did you get this?” "I found it on the road.”
It was foolish to lie, but Shinji was far too embarrassed to explain about his plans to return the pen to the redheaded girl. Eriko seemed unable to lie. She quickly revealed the whole story about the pen and their little adventure at the Kaihin Hotel. Shinji’s father pointed out that Shinji was a liar and a thief. Punishment for this was good ol’ moxibustion. This was a type of acupuncture with burning incense. The idea was that it would drive out the demons that had made him lie and steal. It was so painful that Shinji felt the demons leave immediately, and he never planed to lie or steal again.

The next day however, made the moxibustion seem pleasant. Shinji’s father marched him to the hotel where he explained what his son had done. Shinji kept his head bowed in shame. As it turned out, the pen hadn’t belonged to the red headed girl, she simply had borrowed it from the front desk. Even so Shinji performed the deep bow and asked for forgiveness. While he was groveling, the English family passed by. Shinji was so ashamed to be seen there, bowing deeply to the front desk clerk. He hadn’t the nerve to look at the girl and he never saw her again, though he never forgot her.
Shinji and Eriko never went near the hotel again. Being labeled a thief was hard to live down. However, a few months later the Great Kantou earthquake struck and the hotel and nearly every other building was destroyed. The hotel was never rebuilt.
I offered to give this pen to Oba-sensei, but he declined. He said he wrote with it once as a boy. His hands were too old to hold it now, but it had done his heart good just to see it again.
Less than a year after he told me this story, Oba-sensei fell and broke his hip. When you are 94 that is not such an easy thing to recover from. He withered away in the hospital and died a few days after his birthday. I visited him on the night of his Birthday. At his request I brought two items, that pen and a small bottle of rice wine. We shared a drink, just a sip, when the nurses were not looking. He said with a sparkle in his eye, that the moxibusiton had never fully cast out all his demons. Then he held the pen for a long time. I do not know what he was thinking. He didn’t say, but then he handed it back to me and told me to take good care of my family.
I told him that I hoped he would get better soon. He took my hand and with a misty tear said he hoped he didn’t. He said he was too old and in too much pain to keep going. His life had been full, and he was satisfied with it. Even the sweetest Mozart concerto needs to have an ending.
I miss my friend.

About the pen.
This is a 1923 Pilot eyedropper with a hoshiawasei ink cutoff system. This was one of the most popular Pilot pens in 1923, but still a very hard pen to find today.

If you look carefully at the bevel on the section, you will see a red dot. This bevel rotates. If the red dot on the bevel and the red dot on top of the section line up, ink will flow to the feed. If the dots are not aligned the ink flow is cut off. It has nothing to do with the filling system, just an interesting safety mechanism.
The overlay is 9k gold and is known as the Bird Foot overlay. I have seen a one example in silver, but that may have been a special order.

The Postcard with that says “self-filling pen” is interesting. I am not sure why, but Pilot called eyedroppers “Self-fillers” perhaps to distinguish these pens from dip pens and the traditional Japanese brushes. This card is a Pilot Customer service card. The stationary and pen shops were required under their contract to mail out these Pilot cards one month after a customer bought a pen. The card asks the owner to contact the shop where it was bought and tell how the pen is writing for them. The card goes on to explain that if the pen is not working well it is probably because the owner isn’t using Pilot ink.

Ron Dutcher has lived in Japan for over 15 years, where he owns and runs a small orthopedic clinic with his wife, Keiko; which leads him to many Japanese pen finds. His patients, once they learn of his pen hobby often give him pens as gifts or offer to sell them to him. He is a member of the Tokyo Pen Association, and has learned a great deal from Japanese pen collectors. He sells a great many Japanese pens on ebay under the name Kamakura-Pens, but his true love is for early American pens. He can be contacted at rd@kamakurapens.com