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Reborn S.M. Frank Bakelite Bent Billiard

Blog by Pam Otto

This week’s refurbing adventure comes courtesy of an eBay estate lot, for which the seller accepted my “Best Offer” bid. The transaction occurred on a Sunday and by Wednesday the pipes had arrived. This is the photo that accompanied the listing: All of the pipes appeared quite old, with orifice bits, and two of them really jumped out at me: a KB&B Blue Line that would need to be restemmed, but otherwise appeared to be in decent shape, and a C.P.F. Chesterfield that looked to be, and indeed is, positively enormous.

The other two pipes were older S.M. Franks. One is stamped Genuine Amber on the shank but as the stem on it is quite dark I’m going to guess it’s a replacement. The second one is stamped Frank Bakelite on the shank. It has a lovely bent red stem, way overturned, and a metal band stamped EP Silver. A few dings and a couple scratches on the bowl, and no tooth marks on the stem. I’m thinking this one, for whatever reason, was not a favorite.

Even though I’m anxious to get the Blue Line and Chesterfield cleaned up and smokable, the Frank Bakelite, with its simple needs, beckoned. It moved to the front of the queue.

I don’t know old this particular pipe is, but if it dates to the same era as the KB&B Blue Line, it could well be past the century mark. Thoughts, anyone?

At any rate, the stem of this old boy seemed like a logical place to start. I took a couple of pictures of it in its overturned state, then unscrewed it completely to see if an internal problem was to blame. Thankfully, the bone tenon was clean and solid.

Knowing I’d read how to tackle overturned stems, I looked to Steve’s blog and, sure enough, there it was in clear, easy-to-follow directions. Following the steps he listed, I filled a cup halfway with water, leaned the stem against the side of the cup and put it in the microwave. I used the highest setting and, because the cup was only half full, set the time for 1 minute—plenty of time to get the water boiling.

In those 60 seconds, two things happened that I hadn’t really counted on. One, it worked (not that I had any doubts in the recommendation; it’s just that I rarely get things right the first time). And two, whether because of the vigorous bubbling of the boiling water, or because my microwave is a carousel, or even because the Bakelite was so smooth, the stem fell all the way into the water.

The material itself was fine; in fact, some of the debris from the airway got cleaned out by the bubbling water. However, the heat caused the bent stem to straighten.

Reheating the stem to restore the curve was no big deal; all I had to do next was re-bend it over a rounded object. But as I hadn’t foreseen this step, I didn’t have many options from which to choose. Paper towel tube? Nope, too flimsy. Peanut butter jar? Too big.

Then I saw it, sitting amid the excelsior of a near-empty holiday gift basket: a small summer sausage. It had a slightly narrower diameter than I’d hoped for, but it was a solid cylinder and certainly convenient. I heated the stem in boiling water again, laid it across the curve of the sausage, and applied slow, steady pressure.

The results weren’t perfect, but they could be worse. Or wurst, har har. The stem feels good in my mouth, and the curvature looks okay. However, it’s not quite as deep as it was originally, and that bothers me just a wee bit. If I can find the rolling pin I know I used to have, I may try re-curving the stem at some point in the future.

To make the tenon fix on the stem permanent I dunked the tenon-stem assembly once again in boiling water—this time holding onto the stem so it couldn’t submerge completely. I twisted it tightly onto the pipe, counting on the slightly swelled tenon to grab hold inside the shank and the slightly softened glue in the stem to let go. I untwisted and, sure enough, the stem came off while the tenon stayed in the shank.

I dried the tenon with a soft pipe cleaner and applied super glue sparingly to the narrow threads, then twisted it back into the stem. Satisfied with the alignment, I put the pipe down to let the glue cure.
The following evening I unscrewed the stem from the bowl and the tenon withdrew from the shank just fine. I screwed it back in to make sure the repair held, then removed it once again and set it aside.
I took the bowl over to the sink and scrubbed the outside with a toothbrush dipped in Murphy’s Oil Soap. I wiped it down, then took it back to the table and rubbed it good with cotton balls soaked in 91% isopropyl alcohol.

The rim had a pretty good chip—maybe 1mm or so deep–missing at about the 8 o’clock position as you look at the bowl from the shank. While an extreme topping of the bowl would smooth things out, I felt it could also compromise the bowl’s shape. So after sizing it up from all angles, and finding that there really wouldn’t be much chance of tobacco being in contact with that area, I decided to try filling it instead.

Before proceeding with the fill, I thought it might be good to first address the inside of the bowl, which had minimal cake but a troubling bit of what looked like fuzzy mold or fungus. I didn’t want any spores getting into the fill, so I wiped everything down with 190 proof alcohol, then wrapped a piece of 220 grit sandpaper around my finger and sanded the interior thoroughly. More alcohol, then the addition of a flame. Take that, moldy fungus! After another heavy swabbing with Everclear I declared the inside done.

Back to the rim patch… I cleaned the area to be filled with alcohol, then scrubbed it with a green Scotch Brite pad to remove any dirt and debris. I was glad I used a wide pad like that because the briar on either side of the chip was loose and came off when I scrubbed.

The fill would need to be a little wider but not any deeper—not a big deal. I packed some briar dust along the rim, then reached for the super glue to drip onto the patch.

I’ve done this many times but am still perfecting the technique. This time I learned an important lesson: Don’t attempt a maneuver like super glue-dripping, which requires a certain degree of precision, with a parrot perched on your shoulder.

(Time out for a side note: I have a large macaw named Tom who is a frequent observer of my pipe renovations. I don’t let him near smoke or fumes but other than that he’s close by pretty much all the time. He normally sits on his stand and looks down on the proceedings, but this particular night he was on my shoulder.)

Anyway, Tom shifted just as I was letting a little drip drop onto the pipe. I totally missed the briar dust and watched as the dribble made its way down the inside of the bowl. Shazbot.

I tried again, Tom shifted again, and I dripped on the outside of the bowl. Arrrr!

Fool me once, fool me twice… I wiped up the outside drip as best I could and put Tom over on his stand. I sat down and, with steadier hands, I dripped the glue a third time—on target—and after sprinkling on a little more briar dust, set the bowl aside to cure overnight. The next morning I took a flat needle file to the overfilled fill to jump start the removal of material. After that a thorough sanding with 220 grit sandpaper, first with the paper in my hand and then on my topping board, got the fill flush with the side of the bowl as well as the adjoining rim surfaces.

Follow-up sandings with 400 and 600 grit smoothed things out even more, but also revealed a couple of small holes in the fill. I probably had left some small air pockets in the briar dust; I couldn’t pack it down as tightly as I normally would due to its location on the rim. I refilled the fill using minute amounts of briar dust and applying the superglue with a toothpick. While these tiny patches dried, I took on the task of shining up the metal band. I wiped it down with white vinegar, then ran through the sequence of 1500-12000 micromesh pads to make it good and shiny. Using the same pads, I polished the stem as well. To give the patches a little more time to cure, I set about cleaning out the shank. Two—count ‘em, TWO—pipe cleaners, one bristle and one regular, dipped in alcohol was all it took.

I don’t know why the former owner didn’t smoke this pipe much, but as I set about sanding the patches I started coming up with scenarios. One, maybe it’s a crappy smoker. Only time will tell on that one. But other situations came to mind too. Maybe the stem was a problem from the get-go. Maybe it overturned after only a few smokes. Maybe the bend didn’t feel right. (Not that that will be problem any more. Ha.) Maybe it gurgled.

Whatever the reason for its nearly new condition, the pipe was rapidly coming back together again. Even with a 20 minute detour to sand off my super glue mistake inside of the bowl, the end was in sight.

I sanded the outside of the bowl and shank with 400 and 600 grit paper and followed up with the 1500 micromesh pad to take care of some slight scratches and dings. Next I got out the aniline stains to even up the color of the briar. Although much of the bowl was still quite dark, it was lighter on either side of the rim patch. I wiped on some oxblood stain, flamed it, wiped on dark brown and flamed again. A little bit of dabbing here and there with the dark brown and the staining was complete.

I slipped the metal band on the shank, screwed on the stem, smiled when it stopped right where it should, and headed over to the buffer.

(New development here at Casa Otto: Aided by a couple of gift cards from my brother, I invested in a Foredom M.BL—a small bench lathe with a variable speed motor that tops out at 7,000 rpm. I haven’t gone over what I estimate is about 1,200 rpm, based on the intervals marked on the speed control, and the results have been outstanding. Not only is it a fabulous machine, but it’s also small and fits nicely on the kitchen counter. It’s a huge improvement over my jerry-rigged drill press buffing station in the garage, and on a day like today when the outside temp is 2°F, a heck of a lot warmer too. Next step: Setting up the buffer in a spare bedroom. Upside to this will be getting counter space back. Downside is that the spare room is quite a distance from where the beer and snacks that fuel all good pipe projects are stored.)

I first buffed the assembled pipe with White Diamond, wiped it down with a flannel rag, then gave it three coats of carnauba, buffing with a clean wheel after each application.

This old pipe didn’t see much action during its go-around. But today, chip-free, moldy fungus-free and with a stem that sits where it should, it stands ready for a new century of service. Pam15 Pam14 Pam13

Putting the pieces together and arriving at a Parker Super Bruyere Billiard

3 Replies

Blog by Pam Otto

It is with pleasure that I introduce to you all the work of one of our readers, Pam Otto. I think as you read this first blog of hers posted here that you will join me in hoping we have not heard the last of her. She has done work on this Parker that rivals what an early writer, Gan Barber did with a Peterson. (If you did not read it or don’t remember here is the link: https://rebornpipes.com/2012/10/03/all-the-kings-horses-and-all-the-kings-men-a-petersen-adventure-gan-barber/). Pam has done the work a masterful job of rebuilding this old pipe. Its finished beauty is amazing. Thank you Pam for being willing to post here. It is a privilege to have you here. Without further ado, here is her post. — rebornpipes

I discovered the hobby of pipe restoration about a year and a half ago and jumped in with both feet. I soon discovered Reborn Pipes and Steve, let me tell you, my life hasn’t been the same since. Thanks so much for the information, techniques and methods you share, and for this opportunity to contribute to your blog.

Most of the pipes I’ve worked on, and learned on, have arrived through the “usual channels”–flea markets, estate sales and of course eBay. But this particular pipe, a Parker Super Bruyere, came via a more unusual route.

I was at work one recent Saturday (I manage a nature center when I’m not fiddling with pipes) when I received a text message from my friend Suzi. It contained this photo, along with the words, “Thought of you at Geneva Mothers Club bazaar!” One look at that pic and I knew work could wait. I jumped in the car and within minutes arrived at the craft show location.

I half walked, half jogged up to the building, paid my entrance fee and made my way through the throng—a well-dressed, Ladies Who Lunch crowd—in search of a sign that read Exit 22E. A subsequent text from Suzi had given this added detail, which turned out to be absolutely essential in navigating the cavalcade of vendors.

After a couple of wrong turns I at last found the booth, staffed by a pleasant woman peddling hand-crafted snowman décor. With sawdust and a little mud crumbling off my jacket, I reached for her basket of “Frosty’s Pipes” and began laying them out on the counter. We exchanged pleasantries—the woman and I—and she told me that the pipes were US$4.95 each. She also encouraged me to consider a snowman for my front door. But by then I wasn’t really listening.

I emptied the basket and studied what Frosty had to offer, eventually deciding on five Yello Boles of various vintages going back to Honey Cured Briar; a Medico Ventilator I want to try unventilating; and the Parker.

Clutching my prizes, swathed in tissue paper within a plastic Wal-Mart bag, I then faced the daunting task of navigating back through the crowded aisles. (Exit 22E, it turns out, was for emergencies only.) Along the way I bumped into Suzi and excitedly showed her the pipes—especially the Parker—while she in turn showed me the handmade greeting cards she’d found. Both happy with our purchases, we went our separate ways—she to peruse more holiday wares, I to head home and triage my treasures. Spread out on the dining room table, the pipes ran the gamut from barely touched to smoked nearly beyond recognition. Oddly enough, rather than dismiss pipes in poor condition, I find myself drawn to them. Clearly their previous owners found them quite delectable; there’s a good chance some of that former glory remains. And so it was that the Parker went to the front of the line.

Carbon clogged the bowl and had fractured the briar in three separate places, the cracks pervading the crusted rim and converging at the bottom of the bowl. The shank too was obstructed with decades of hardened goo, to the point where the mortise could accommodate only about half of the stem’s tenon. I turned up the lights and rubbed the shank a bit in an effort to remove some surface grime and get a better look at the shank’s stampings. The left side bore a faint PARKER SUPER BRUYERE, the SUPER inside a diamond; closer to the bowl was stamped the number 5. The right side read MADE IN LONDON over ENGLAND and the number 18. Below this was PAT. NO. 116989/17 and, about 5mm toward the bowl, a capital letter T.

I did a quick check of Pipedia and PipePhil for Parker date codes and discovered that this old boy* dates to 1941. (*As a female, I find it funny that men tend to refer to pipes in the feminine, i.e. she/her. To me they’re clearly male. But to each his or her own, right?)

At any rate, I couldn’t wait to get started on the pipe’s revival. I started by gently pulling the stem from the shank and laying it aside. For all its years of service, its oxidation was minimal. There were some troubling dings, one nearly marring the P logo, but the delicate work they would require could wait.

Instead I turned my attention to the amazing carbon cake. I tried to picture the very last time the previous owner loaded up the bowl. Roughly half its original capacity remained and the draw, if there was one at all, probably caused some pulled lip and/or cheek muscles. I put the smallest head on my Pipnet and gently twisted it inside the cake. I expected the bowl to disintegrate immediately but, no, that took a good two or three turns more.

Moments later, with three distinct pieces in my hand and a lot more carbon to remove, I headed down to the garage and the Dremel. Even though this tool and its potential for destruction scares the bejeebers out of me, when equipped with a sanding barrel it does make quick work of hardened cake. A few minutes later I returned to my dining/work table blackened with carbon (thank goodness for dust masks and goggles) but with three much-cleaner pieces of briar to assess.

Parts of the bowl were not only caked but also charred, so I’d had to remove a considerable amount of material. Worse, due to the uneven nature of the char, the bowl innards were something less than round.

The good news tho was that all the breaks were clean, and the three pieces fit neatly back together. Before reassembly I scrubbed the outer surfaces with straight-up Murphy’s Oil Soap, then wiped them down with a damp towel. The grain that was hiding beneath the grunge made me smile. I mixed up some JB Weld and applied it to the breaks, placing more on the inner edges than the outer. I reunited the individual parts, pressed and held them together for a couple of minutes, smoothed the interior with a toothpick and then set the bowl aside to cure.

A combination of demands at work as well as home meant that it was another week before I returned to the Parker. I tried twisting and turning the bowl and thankfully the “welds” held. JB Weld is tough stuff. 🙂 I ran a needle along the external surfaces of the cracks to clean out any loose debris, then applied briar dust and super glue. While waiting for the glue mixture to cure, I began work on the stem. Starting with a small, folded bit of 220 grit paper, then 400 and 600, I gingerly worked on the small gouges near the base. If it weren’t for their location near the logo, I would have tried using a flame and then sanding. But I opted instead to make the raised edges flush with the stem, then mixed powdered charcoal with super glue and filled in the small cavities that remained. After curing, I sanded the patches smooth.

I also decided to experiment with the inside of a cigar box as background for picture taking. The next day I sanded the briar-dust crack repairs with a succession of 220, 400 and 600 grit sandpapers. I also topped the bowl with that same sequence to see how the cracks appeared from the top down. I put the stem back in the shank to size up how things were coming along and, when it only went in halfway, remembered that I still had a lot of internal cleaning to do.

I dipped a bristle pipe cleaner in 91% isopropyl alcohol and threaded it through the stem, then set it aside to soak. I attempted to do the same with the shank, but it was so clogged I had to first abrade away whatever gunk I could reach with a round needle file.

I dripped some alcohol down the shank and eventually was able to poke through to the bowl with a bristle cleaner—the first of many. I worked for about an hour, switching between bristle cleaners and cotton swabs, before finally finishing up with a few regular pipe cleaners.

The stem took a little less time, maybe 30 minutes, and a dozen bristle and regular pipe cleaners combined.

The P logo on the stem was a little worse for wear. The lower right side of the diamond, as viewed from the button end, was virtually nonexistent. Using an Exacto blade, I pushed on the faint outline that remained until there was a slight indent. It wasn’t quite as deep as the other three sides of the diamond, but I thought it prudent to stop before I went too far.

I tried using white nail polish to brighten up the logo but, perhaps because the bottle was 20 years old, the results weren’t quite what I was looking for. I wiped away the nail polish residue and applied Liquid Paper white correction fluid, which I’ve had success with in the past. I would say the results were “Meh,” except that, in looking up other Parkers online, it would appear that their stem stampings are not always super-crisp. Rather than waste more time on a detail that probably can’t improve a whole lot more, I decided to celebrate its unevenness and move along to the next step: resolving the bowl’s myriad issues.

Using 220 grit sandpaper, I moved along the inside of the bowl, sanding away excess JB Weld along with microns of briar. I eyeballed the progress as I went, hoping for a shape that approximated round. When I was satisfied it was as close as it could get, I mixed up a small batch of Steve’s sour cream-n-powdered-charcoal bowl coating and applied it, first with a dental spatula, then a folded pipe cleaner. I used my index finger for a final smoothing.
It was during this process that I noticed the left exterior of the bowl was itself somewhat flattened. Maybe a few too many whacks on a tabletop or boot heel?

Whatever the reason, I moistened a towel, heated a table knife and proceeded to steam the area. Maybe it worked, maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but the flatness did seem to raise up a bit. With that issue addressed, it was time to start staining.

When I’d cleaned up the briar with the Murphy’s Oil Soap, the grunge on the towel included a considerable amount of red pigment. Hoping to recreate the same hue, I swabbed the bowl with oxblood aniline stain, wiped it immediately with an absorbent cloth, then swabbed it with dark brown stain and wiped again. After a few touch-ups I was satisfied that the coverage was even, and flamed the stain with a lighter.

The seams where the bowl had been mended were still a little too visible for my taste, so I went at them with a black Sharpie marker. A quick dab with the marker followed by a quick wipe with my finger helped the cracks blend in a little more.

At this point I decided this Parker was about as reborn as he was going to get. Down to the garage workshop we went, one last time, to apply some carnauba. Only then did I realize just how cold our recent cold snap has been. I brought the wax bar inside to warm up a bit, then went back to the garage for a couple quick coats. More will come, after the next thaw.

If you look at the pipe up close, the cracks are still apparent. But like a bad memory, they fade with some distance. This is one pipe Frosty is going to have to do without.

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