The Making of a Knife Nut

What self-respecting boy didn’t want a knife when growing up? Back when I was a kid, all boys pined for their first knife. It was akin to the first step of adulthood to my way of thinking. Plus, Danial Boone and Davy Crockett (both played by Fess Parker) carried a Bowie knife hidden in fringed high-top moccasins, always at the ready.

Almost every episode showed him using his knife to help him escape or kill something, in a last-ditch effort to save his life. If that isn’t reason enough, I don’t know what is. There are a lot of dangers lurking in a 7-year-old’s mind.

Obstacles

Moms are less enthusiastic about these cutting yearnings, fearing unexpected trips to the emergency room. Fortunately, dads, uncles and grandads understood these struggles. For boys, sharpened steel is mythical. Why wouldn’t it be? Having your own shiny, sharp folding blade pocketknife, while not as cool as a Bowie knife, could still get you out of trouble.

My own fascination started on my grandpap’s dairy farm. Following my uncles around during chores, I noticed both carried pocket knives. They’d cut feed bags, bailing twine from hay bales, pick out splinters, or even cut a hunk of venison sausage for a quick snack. These observations proved the handiness of a pocketknife. I surely and sorely needed one.

Pap To the Rescue

My Pap retired from farming when he turned 50, selling the farm to my two uncles. Having the gift of gab, the trust of fellow farmers and knowledge of growing corn, he was a natural at becoming a corn seed salesman. Part of being a successful salesman is making the customer feel appreciated. Hats, down vests, sweatshirts, gloves and pocketknives were common fare for buying clients.

Pap, being a good Pap, saw fit to buy pocketknives for all his kids, grandkids, neighbors and any potential customers. I had my resource to pocketknife ownership. The knives were three-bladed Stockman style, with one “blade” being a combination bottle cap/screwdriver — handy indeed. One side had the Trojan Corn emblem on it and the recipient’s name in red cursive writing on the other. I finally had my knife!

Turbo Grind

Happy as a lark for my pocketknife, I noticed it wasn’t hair-shaving sharp, even though I was lacking hair on my forearms. My pap had a tool/tractor shed with just about every kind of tool known to man. On his heavy work bench were bench grinders. Surely, I could hone a hair-popping edge with a course stone bench grinder? And it would be much faster than using a sharpening stone, right? Those were for amateurs.

I flipped the switch to the bench grinder. When reaching full RPM status, it hummed along almost silently. I figured I’d just grind a nice, neat edge on my newly obtained prized possession. After all, I’d had it for a whole 40 minutes at this point. Boy, won’t everyone be jealous of how sharp my knife is?!

Holding the knife to the spinning grinding stone, a hail of sparks erupts. This is good, right? That grinder ate up more blade faster than I could eat grandma’s iced Christmas cookies. I quickly switched sides, to maintain an even grind. Can’t do one side without the other. Even I knew about blade geometry and symmetry back then.

The blade was sharper but had a rough-edged appearance to it. A lesson was learned, but it took years for me to appreciate it. This knife was the catalyst for the rest of my life. I’ve pretty much carried a knife with me from that day forward.

Present Day

Since I managed to keep all my fingers intact, a Cub Scout knife quickly followed from mom. Then it seemed like the floodgates opened. Knives appeared everywhere. Folding Stockman are always a favorite, along with single-bladed Buck Knives, handy Victorinox Army knives, Al Mar blades, and then … fixed-bladed Bowie knives.

The KA-BAR brand “Kabar” was my first fixed-bladed knife. Though the brand has since become synonymous with the style, Kabars were also made by several other manufacturers, including Camillus, Case and a few others.

It wasn’t long before I started collecting Kabar-style knives. They had a simplicity to them, made from 1095 carbon steel. A rattail-styled tang with stacked leather washers for a handle, if you worked them enough, you could hone a razors edge on them, but it defeated the utilitarian edge the blades were made for.

Kabars were made for digging, opening crates of ammo, hammering nails with their flat-steel pommel, opening C-ration cans in a pinch, or any other duties called upon. They could, and have been used, to take out enemy combatants, too.

Others

The Kabars lead to Randall Made Knives, followed by other big Bowie-style blades. I guess once knives get into your system, you become a lost cause. Or are we predestined to become knife nuts? I think it’s a little of both, but one thing’s for certain: knife collecting/accumulating is fun and educational. What better way to learn about history than the type of knives, axes, and hatchets our forefathers used and carried?

I could easily go into far more detail on the different brands of knives I’ve collected over the years. Perhaps I will at a later date? I could go on forever talking about different Randalls, Buck Knives, my Ruana Knives from Montana, and much more.

I just wanted to scratch the surface and let you know you’re not alone in your quest for sharpened steel. Guns and knives go hand in hand and are the perfect way to complement any outfit before venturing out.