On December 22, 2024, typographer and publisher Piet Jacobs, with whom I had the pleasure of being friends, passed away.

I wish I had found the time—and the right frame of mind—to write this article a little sooner, although perhaps, on reflection, it’s sometimes better to let the memory of certain events mature a bit.

I won’t try to be objective; my wife, Paula, and I had great affection for him and deeply regret his passing. Every year, we tried to visit his stand at the Boekkunst­beurs, the annual book arts fairs organized by Drukwerk in de Marge (the Dutch association of artisan printers) in Leiden and later in Amersfoort, and we always bought from him a type specimen book or perhaps a small printing tool. We often returned home with items for which Piet had refused to accept payment.

Piet was born in 1944, and despite the 25-year age gap between us, we shared a common musical taste. A huge fan of Iggy Pop, he proudly claimed to own all of his recordings, and his eyes sparkled when he recalled the times he was able to attend his concerts. In contrast to his affable nature, Piet always had a rebellious spirit, and from the few times we spoke about politics, I gathered that he also possessed a healthy dose of class consciousness. Like me, he didn’t care for the posh guys in typographic circles.

He often wore dark T-shirts of hard rock bands, of which he seemed to own dozens. Over time, I learned that they had been inherited from his brother-in-law, Jozsef Horvath, a former Paradiso employee who collected them for decades.

Piet worked for much of his life at the firm Joh. Enschedé, where he served as typefounder, engraver, brass rules operator (koperenlijnenbewerker), and type-shaver (schaver). At this company, Piet had the opportunity to collaborate with prominent typographers, type designers, and engravers such as Bram de Does, Gerard Unger, and Henk Drost, with whom he deepened his knowledge of these trades.

His love and dedication to printing led him to establish his own private press, De Priegelpers, publishing his first work in 1976.

In 1979, he published the most significant title in his catalog: A tot Z. Een autobiografie van P. H. Rädisch. This autobiographical text of one of the most prominent punchcutters of the 20th century was made possible after painstakingly transcribing and editing the interviews that P. Jacobs and H. Drost conducted with Paul Rädisch during successive visits to his home. The book was published in Dutch in a print run of only 135 copies, a fact that has contributed to its being virtually unknown outside the Netherlands.

However, we should not underestimate the importance of this book or the significance of P. Jacobs’s contribution to the history of typography. The art of punchcutting has always been shrouded in mystery, due in no small part to the scarcity of specialized literature and the reluctance of punchcutters throughout history to pass on their knowledge. Very few texts exist that are dedicated to this discipline or that recount the lives of those who practiced it.

A tot Z… is a work full of relevant historical details and useful information for those interested in understanding the role of the punchcutter in traditional lead type production. Furthermore, by chronicling the professional life of a German craftsman during the years of the First and Second World Wars, the text possesses a human dimension that far transcends the merely technical. It is to be hoped that in the future this work will be translated into other languages and published in an expanded edition, together with the unpublished letters and drawings that P. Rädisch sent to William G. Haynes Jr., in which he explains, as fully as possible, many of the technical secrets he had long refused to share.

Last year, as we were saying our goodbyes—on the last occasion we met, at the Prodentfabriek in Amersfoort—Piet gave us a present: Beschaving, een onbeschaafde kijk op misdadigers (“Civilization: An Uncivilized View of Criminals” in Dutch), which would also be the final volume published by De Priegelpers. This booklet brings together sixteen limericks laced with crude insults aimed at contemporary dictators and presidents accused by various international human rights organizations of committing crimes against humanity.

In the professional world of typography, where frivolous discourse, supposedly apolitical posturing, and strategic flattery often abound, I believe that a committed and uncompromising work like Beschaving is proof that its author and editor possessed qualities that far surpassed those we too often, and mistakenly, attribute to a humble typographer.

A printer in love with his craft, a witness to and participant in important chapters of Dutch typographic history, and a warm, altruistic person has left us.

Farewell, Piet. I’m sure many of us will miss you.

Ramiro Espinoza.