- Joined
- Oct 2, 2005
- Messages
- 31
In 1970 I was 6 years old.
In Lake Holden, Florida a spry old man held me up on his hip so I could watch a big red-headed feller pount-out a Model 14 fighter out of 0-1 steel on a Little Giant power hammer.
That man's name was Bo Randall. 2 years later I gave him a Sperm Whale tooth I bought from an Inuit indian at a Native American show in Creve Cour, Missouri. Bo was a scrimshander, and I bought it for the express purpose of giving it to him. My grandfather was very proud of me. Bo actually cried when I gave him the tooth. He gave me a Bird and Trout knife with a stag handle in return, and gave my grandfather one of his first knifemaking tools: a hand-cranked giant whetwheel (which I still have.) I was doomed to be a cutler SOME day.
When Randall's Sheffield-schooled metallurgist and cutler Mr. Platts died I did not think my grandfather would survive it. We both cried and cried.
:thumbdn:
His son-in-law Daniel gave me a Model 18 off his desk when I came by the shop one day for 100 bucks. I was 19. It was all I had on me as a college student, and I needed a good camp knife. Yeah, an 18 will do!
I started making lousy knives at the old age of 11.
I made "decent" ones at 28.
By 34 I was selling quite a few over 500 bucks.
Now at 41 I am part-time, and make what someone wants (within the margins of sanity) when my crippled leg will let me. Swords are my passion, but so few can afford what they want that it can be frustrating. I was never willing to commit to shows and travel, as I had my fill of it singing on the road for over 7 years.
It is pretty cool to see one of my old knives at a show selling for 10 times what I sold it for in 1996, I admit.
I still sharpen knives and mower blades for neighbors.
I have yet to become too big fer my britches.
But I trim my shrubs with a katana that my friends would kill for!
Neighbor boys come by to watch me make damascus and ask the same questions 3 million times. JUST like I did, so I'm as patient with them as the giants were with me. (How many times did I interrupt Buster Warenski's dinner? Only Julie might know. It was alot.)
I am also a gunsmith with a little too much knife and gun work than my broken body can handle. I get by, but it will be a long time before I'm a full-time bladesmith again.
D
In Lake Holden, Florida a spry old man held me up on his hip so I could watch a big red-headed feller pount-out a Model 14 fighter out of 0-1 steel on a Little Giant power hammer.
That man's name was Bo Randall. 2 years later I gave him a Sperm Whale tooth I bought from an Inuit indian at a Native American show in Creve Cour, Missouri. Bo was a scrimshander, and I bought it for the express purpose of giving it to him. My grandfather was very proud of me. Bo actually cried when I gave him the tooth. He gave me a Bird and Trout knife with a stag handle in return, and gave my grandfather one of his first knifemaking tools: a hand-cranked giant whetwheel (which I still have.) I was doomed to be a cutler SOME day.
When Randall's Sheffield-schooled metallurgist and cutler Mr. Platts died I did not think my grandfather would survive it. We both cried and cried.
His son-in-law Daniel gave me a Model 18 off his desk when I came by the shop one day for 100 bucks. I was 19. It was all I had on me as a college student, and I needed a good camp knife. Yeah, an 18 will do!
I started making lousy knives at the old age of 11.
I made "decent" ones at 28.
By 34 I was selling quite a few over 500 bucks.
Now at 41 I am part-time, and make what someone wants (within the margins of sanity) when my crippled leg will let me. Swords are my passion, but so few can afford what they want that it can be frustrating. I was never willing to commit to shows and travel, as I had my fill of it singing on the road for over 7 years.
It is pretty cool to see one of my old knives at a show selling for 10 times what I sold it for in 1996, I admit.
I still sharpen knives and mower blades for neighbors.
I have yet to become too big fer my britches.
But I trim my shrubs with a katana that my friends would kill for!
Neighbor boys come by to watch me make damascus and ask the same questions 3 million times. JUST like I did, so I'm as patient with them as the giants were with me. (How many times did I interrupt Buster Warenski's dinner? Only Julie might know. It was alot.)
I am also a gunsmith with a little too much knife and gun work than my broken body can handle. I get by, but it will be a long time before I'm a full-time bladesmith again.
D