Jackknife Requests "Your" Story...

J

jackknife

Joined
Oct 2, 2004
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I have something I've been wondering about, and I'd like to run it past our two great moderators, as well as the rest of you.

In my very humble opinion, I've come to love this forum as it has some of the best people I've ever met on the 'net. So;

If it fits in with the folksy atmosphere, could we hear from some of the members on folksy things, like who took them on thier first squirrel hunt, and what knife was used? Or what pocket knife was thier first one and who gave it to them? Does anyone here still have any pocket knives of their passed on family members? Whats your earliest pocket knife memory? What got you into traditional pocket knives?

I guess I'm interested in the different backgrounds of people, and it's very interesting to hear from somebodys different culture. Like Bosse and the way things are in the north of Sweden. We are shaped by different life experiances, yet we all have ended up here with a common love of traditional pocket knives. I have to wonder how, and why?

With permission from Gus and Blues of course.
 
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This is a good question. I like to read most things written here but its this kind of storys that Jackknife deskribes above that realy interests me. Feelings, memories, activities that include knifes. Those descriptions of ocean chores, mountains, works, past times. and hopes for the kids in future times to come.
Im from a corner of the world where the variation of knifes is not like in America, and even though Im know more than most swedes about slipjoints, thanks to own interest and this forum, I have lots to learn and mabye a few still to test if I can get my hands on them.
I seldom write about some things like if CV is a good steel because I only got one and dont know if its typical.
I feel more free to share experiences from the world of using knifes because I done that much and for a long time.
The ones who share storys of the sort Jackknife describes above should know I apriciate and is interested in what is written.

Bosse
 
Seems like this topic is always being discussed here in one fashion or another so I can't think of any reason for folks not to take the floor and reply if they're of a mind...

As I've said many times here, it was my late maternal grandfather (died when I was 9) who instilled in me the love for pocketknives. Unfortunately, I've lost each one he ever gave me (falling out of pockets playing sports etc. as a kid) but I have many of his tools and instruments and an awesome pocket watch to make up for their loss. (They were usually small, synthetic scaled pen knives with well patinated and very sharp blades. (As befits a former master machinist.)

Carry on ladies and gents...
 
Jackknife, I've taken the liberty of changing the title of the thread to make it more conducive for folks to reply to your request.
 
Blues said:
Jackknife, I've taken the liberty of changing the title of the thread to make it more conducive for folks to reply to your request.
Click to expand...

:thumbup:

Thanks sir.

I know that sometimes I feel like I run on about my experiances, but I am curious about the experiances of my fellow forumites. We have such a wide cross section of people here, I'd love to hear some of your stories about growing up where ever that was.
 
My first experience with a knife was from my father. He got me one of the Daniel Boone folders out of the SMKW catalog. My first name is Dan, and he was sort of a mountain man when he was younger, I knew who Daniel Boone was, but wasn't really that knowledgeable about him. I was into cowboys and indians, or Star Wars, with my buddies. That got me interested in pretending mountain man style, out in the woods etc. My first experience with a real knife was when a neighbor gave me his old Schrade 7OT. I used that knife for everything. I even broke the tip off of it. It was an ice cold morning, I was off from school, and was out taking care of my fathers horses. It was cold, and they were excited to be getting their breakfast, a bale of hay. As the two horses and pony fought around me for first dibs, my frozen hands were shaking as I tried to cut the bales, with the now somewhat dull blade. In my frustration, I drove the knife into a nearby fence post, while I contended with the horses. When I pulled it out, I broke the tip off. I sharpened it over the years, got a point back on it. Like an idiot, I sold it on eBay.
 
I barely remember my first knife, it was a little bigger than SAK i think, red plastic scales, had a fold-out fork and spoon to go with the blade.. i found it in the seat of some old truck and my dad let me keep it, i think i was around 3 at the time, this sparked my knifeloving, unfortunatly i dont have that one anymore. after that one, i had almost all modern knives, my dad got me a buck 110 and i used that almost exclusively, its all loose and rattley now. only recently am i getting back into slipjoints.
 
Thank you JK.

We have been needing a thread like this.

I promise to add my story after Blade. I have some pictures to take of my first rifle and knife that are integral to my story. (I still use them both.)
 
My own first knife was a Scout pattern, likely an Imperial, bought at a little newspaper shop in Acton, MA about 1965. It's long since gone, the victim of childhood negligence. I do still have and use an old Imperial mini Jack that I got from my Dad's antique shop in the '70s. No paint left on the aluminum shell scales, and the blades are black with patina, but it gets used all the time. I have several tools and edged implements from this era. Dad was a tinkerer, refinisher, and all around tool guy.

I also have the old "Aitor" brand SAK knockoff that I carried in my pocket all through jr. high and high school. That was in the 70s, the last time you could still do that. I also still have the slightly larger Vic SAK my wife got me shortly after we met (I knew I loved that woman). These two SAKs are special in that they're the only SAK pattern that includes a guitar pick. ;) (Wedged between the blades, of course.)

However, the guy that taught me the most about wood & field craft, was a friend I had in my 20s. He showed me more in a weekend of camping than I had picked up in previous years; Mostly about enjoyment of and being in the element. He carried a Buck 110 and would use it for everything from cutting shelter to dressing branches for drop lines to cutting his fish dinner. He would bring a tarp, some rope, a cot, his knife, and some cigarettes, and he'd be good for the weekend. He'd place the tarp in such a way that it provided shelter, blocked the fire from the rain, and created a chimney effect to keep the smoke out of the dry area. He passed on a few years later, taken out by a brain aneurysm while in his early 40s.

I've always admired people who knew how to use the tools at hand. The right tool for the right job, but more importantly, knowing the when and how.

-- Sam
 
One knife related event that left an impression on me as a child was the snake. We lived in the woods near a river and had a lot of snakes around the house, black snakes, garter snakes and copperheads abounded.

One evening there was a commotion on the front porch, we ran around the house to see what happened. Dad has his Boker Stockman out and had just cut the head off a big garter snake that happened to be lying across the back of his favorite wicker rocker on the front porch.

Apparently Dad had sat down in the rocker and caught the movement of the snake out of the corner of his eye. He then eased out the Boker, opened it up and cut off the snakes head.

End result one dead snake, and I have the Boker.
 
So what drew me to traditionals? When I was growing up that's all I had ever seen. My first knife?

When I was growing up, my dad's fix-it tools were in a drawer in the back room of the house. Among them was a two-bladed carbon steel knife. Going from memory and looking at knives I have seen posted here, I would say it was an equal end jack with black grooved synthetic scales, a clip blade, and a pen blade. I have no idea about the brand. This was sometime between 1958 and 1960 (It was a long time ago and dates don't really sink in when you are between 6 and 8). I looked at that knife with covetous eyes. One evening I gathered my courage (and the knife) and brought it to my dad. I asked if I could use it as my own. Dad had his own pocket knife and never used the one in the tool drawer. He gave me an "OK". It was before I learned how to sharpen and the knife already had many years on it, so it was not terribly sharp. But I carried it and used it for years for boyhood adventures. Lost it some time in my teens. I think it was during a move.
 
I grew up with a desire for almost all the interests my father loathed, except for camping and canoeing. He gave his boys the right to their own interests and experiences though, even if they were against his personal prejudices.

He hated firearms; I wanted a rifle. He allowed me to have a .22 if I met two conditions. That I have an uncle's permission to use it at his summer place in the N.J. pine barrens, and that I paid for it myself. I think that little single shot Winchester cost me 15 or $16 dollars, new.

Dad hated hunting, but asked his brother to take me for a year, to be sure I learned safety. Dad drove me to the hunter safety course required for a license, and bought me a used Fox Model B, double 12 for a Christmas gift.

Dad did appreciate the need for a knife, for a boy who wanted to ' camp out ' in the local woodlots, and gave me my first, a scout utility type when I was about aged eight. That knife never left my pocket, and was probably ruined playing stretch or mumbley peg in the schoolyard, or by trying to stick it in a tree. Later, Dad provided a Western bird & trout, which I thought was required garb for any outdoor activity.

During what is now called middle school, and through high school, I trapped muskrats for Winter pocket money. Without guidance, I learned to prefer a toothpick pattern knife for skinning. One evening as a teenager, I tried to bid on a pocketknife at a local auction. A 'regular', seated behind, pushed my arm down and said " Don't buy that junk. What kind of knife do you want ?" That gentleman claimed to know someone who worked at Robeson, and gave me a wood handled fish knife, a pattern and brand I carried into adulthood.

Since that first scout utility, I've never been without a knife. Losing one, or leaving home without one, is like being without my wallet, hankerchief, or pants. I feel just as unprepared, incomplete, or naked. For 58 years, a knife has been with me at work to sharpen a pencil, cut insulation, or scrape paint. At home, to prune a shrub, open a hay bale, or the mail. One in the pocket, one in the tacklebox, and a spare with the tools.

Dad passed away eleven months ago at age 92. While cleaning out his house, my brother wanted Dad's old Remington sheath knife. Dad carried that knife on a two week camping/canoe trip with a friend, through the Jersey pine barrens in the late 1930's. He often told the story of running the Barnegat Inlet in the canoe, with the Coast Guard following them all the way. I opted for a large knife Dad made for himself in the ship repair shop at Pearl Harbor, during World War 2. He made two others, identical. One for his brother who was a bombadier in the European Theater, and another for his youngest brother who was piloting cargo over the Himalayas into China. I passed Dad's knife on to my oldest grandson, along with the story and Dad's shipyard I.D, badge.

They are all gone now, the last generation, but one thing Dad and I always agreed on was the need for a good knife.

Fran
 
I grew up in London, in a middle class family.
There was no tradition of knives or outdoors.
I went thru Cub Scouts, Scout and ROTC in High School.
There is where I learnt all my bushcraft skills
And from there in the NE Seaboard (Upstate NY, NH. Vermont), I went on long distance hiking and used all my learned skills.

My first knife was when I was about 8.
It was a small penknife with the blade no larger than the pen on a peanut.
It was a Rogers in the paper thin fake MOP with a bail.
I carried it in my pencil case to school and used it for shaprening pencils.
I purchased a very small carbarundum stone and sharpened it.
I managed to let the knife slip off the stone and cut into my finger into the bone.
I still have the scar 47 years later.

At about 10 in Cub Scouts, I got my first Camper (scout) pattern knife.

By 11, I had a collection of 6 knives.
Dad confiscated these as he did not want me to have too many knives.
He hid them in a box in his bedroom.
I found the place and would take them out and play with them, then return them to his 'hidding' place.

By 12, I had passed my Knife and Axe badge in Scouts and he gave them back to me.
As I have passed my badge I was allowed to buy and carry a Rogers Stag handled sheath knife, also bought a small stag sheath knife.
A set I still have.

At 14, I bought my first 8" cooks knife in carbon, which I have in my kitchen drawer and is my main cooking knife.

As a Scout, I had my Camper knife on a Lanyard plaited around my scarf and clipped on to my belt, and my sheath knife on my belt.
I was in a Jewish troop, and when we went in to Synagoge or a Cemetry for Rememberence Day, we were required to leave our sheath knives at the enterance with a boy to guard them.
This was because they were considered weapons!

My troop was very traditional and we spent a lot of time learning how to use axes.
We were proficient enough to split matches.
The final competition was to be able to light a non-safety match by friction of the axe blow!

In ROTC, we shot Lee Enfields from WWII on 100 and 200 yard ranges.
The first time I shot I was 13, and the recoil shifted me back in the gravel a couple of inches each time I fired!
By 15, I had my British Army Marksman First class.

When I was 18 I move to NYC.
I spent the summer in Upstate NY as a camp counsller in charge of the range teaching Shotgun and Rifle.
I passed my NRA Expert exam.
It quickly became clear in the camp that the boys did not know knife and axe, so I taugh that as well.

As a Union electrician in NYC, the Colonial Electricians knife (T29) was obligatory on our tool pouch.
I used that knife daily for three years, and I still have it.

The only knife I have from my father is a Fairburn copy that he got when he serve in India for 5 years.
He carried it in his kit, but did nor wear it as he was a Staff officer in General HQ.
It is a hand made knife with a wooden handle, made by some Indian gentleman's forge.
It has no War Department markings so it was a private purchase.
When he was debmobbed, ordanence broke of the tip, this was the policy so he could take it back to Blighty.

So I have a knife on my person since I was 8, that is 47 years.
 
Jack, I don't remember my first knife, all I know it was a slipjoint of some kind. It was probably swapped for or given to me by one of the older kids.

The different patterns were unknown to me then, as we called them all just "Jackknives". They were all carbon steel as they all had gray blades. I used them for just about everything from cutting up mangoes to cutting kite string. I remember stripping of the bark of some kind of hedge plant (they grew straight and long) to make arrows lol. We would score the bark with several lines around one end then strip the wood till it was white except for the strip of bark that was scored. this was our way of cresting the arrows. I always had 3 bands of bark on my arrows, lol that was my mark. Dennis always made only 1 or 2...he had what we now call ADD, and had no patience.

We would wait for Eddie (a neighbor, he was in the army) to bring out his stones to sharpen his knives, then we would all line up so he could do ours, which he did grumbling the whole time, lol but we all knew it was just bluff gruff. By the time our knives got to him they were all pretty dull and he had to work on them awhile I guess.

Every kid, well the boys anyway, always had a "Jackknife" in his pocket along with a couple, three marbles and sometimes a Duncan yo-yo, or top and the ever present sling shot.

The very first brand new knife I got was when I was 9. I just graduated from Bobcat to Wolf in the Cub Scouts. It was a Camillus, blue handled (terra cotta like) material with a gold Cub Scout emblem. It had locks kinda like a liner lock. Brass tabs that you had to push aside to close the blade. I clipped it on my belt loop when in uniform...boy I remember feeling pretty good about that.

My pops was a Merchant Marine and an avid fisherman so we always had several Yellow handled anglers knives around you know the tooth pick pattern but with a scaler/hook remover blade. Pops is gone now and I have several of his knives: his big fixed blade dagger he picked up in the Philippines (I think) , his big Sheepsfoot and Schrade that he used on the ships he worked on. We found a brand new in box Schrade Walden 80T among his possessions and I have just recently started carrying it (in my EDC rotation). His last EDC was a Bench Made mini AFCK, which was a gift from me when they first came out. He thought the clip on it was the best thing since sliced bread lol.

Jackknife thanks for the chance to stroll down memory lane! Now I know why you write your stories, it just plain feels good:D All Aloha, Mike
 
I'm not sure what my first knife really was. I'm fairly sure it was a logoed knife that is plastic and the blade slides in and out of the front. I've always been interested in knives I don't really know why. My family were road builders and most of those logo knives were given to me by salesmen. The first knife I remember buying was a blue handled Cub Scout knife when I was around 10. I lost it in the woods near my house fairly soon after I got it. I'm still bummed when I think about loosing it. That Cub was the first carbon steel knife I ever had and was amazed at how sharp it was.
 
Jackknife,

I too wonder why I like knives so much. I have several other tools that I use, but I do not have multiples of each tool like I do with knives.

As far back as I can remember, I have always wanted knives. When I was a kid my grandmother would take me to the flea market on Sat. mornings. There I would see all kinds of knives. Back then ( late 80's) the sellers at the market had decent knives that I could afford. I had always picked up some kind of ussed slip joint, or what ever else I could find that week that I thought was too cool to live without.

The very first knife I remeber was from my grandmother which she picked up at the market which is what me going to them. It one of those survival knives with the blade that bolted onto the handle. It also had the fishing line and matches in the handle, with a compass on the screw on butt. It did not last very long, but as a kid I thought it was the coolest knife ever.

As a young boy my grandfather always fished, and I was lucky enough to tag along. My dad was never too much into hunting or fishing. I learned to clean large mouth bass from my grandfather at a very young age. My grandfather always used a thin carbon fixed blade knife. It was one of the Old Hickory knives that had a very dark patina from many years of use. As a kid I wondered why grandpa would use such an ugly knife that looked 100 years old. Now that I am older I understand why he was using that knife.

As I got a little older, most of the guys around my neck of the woods (Scotland county NC) carried Buck 112/110's on their belt. Well you guessed it I had to have one too. So there is a soft spot for the Buck folding hunter.

As time worn on, these one handed openers with pocket clips started to come around. Wal Mart had Gerber EZ-outs, and I picked up a couple (one for me and one for a good friend). Every time I had some money I would go to Wal-Mart and pick up a new knife. They used to have Old Timer knives and I did get a sharpfinger, which I wish I knew what happened to it. ONe knife I got was a Gerber Gator for $20 on sale. One day my girlfriend had it for some reason or another. Later we broke up and she told me she gave it to her new boy friend. So a few years back I found a gator in 154CM so I had to pick it up to replace the one that was given away about 14 years ago.

As a little more time move along I am introduced to Benchmade knives and thats when it started to get costly. After getting into the higher end knives, I sarted to look for an OTF automatic knife. I found Microtech knives. I bought many knives from MT and BM. Today I do no own any MT auto knives :p. I sold off/traded many knives that I did not plan to use.

A few years back I found this forum and it re-lit the fire for traditional knives, and here I am today.

John
 
I grew up in a small farming town. My Mom and Dad had a house built on land my Dad got from my Granparent's when I was about seven.

So, I was a woods bum at an early age, my "backyard" was well over 100 acres owned by family or friends of family. When not in school or doing my chores I was in the woods, with my trusty BB gun,pocket knife, BSA camp axe, and GI canteen..... alone. ( Dad was big on self-reliance...It was expected that I'd be able to not get lost,or be able to drag myself back home if injured :))

I bought my first "real" knife with my own money. Dad figured I'd respect my "tools" more that way. It was a Camillus three blade Cub Scout Utility.It never left my pocket,ever.

As I aged I bought many knives, daggers, KaBars, Pilot Survival, and got swept into the tactical folder craze.

It wasn't untill a year or so ago that I rediscovered traditionals. I came across a folder that was my Grandad's, I had packed it away long ago.

PICT0013.jpg


A simple Imperial my Dad bought for him on his 8th grade class trip to NYC.

I have since added many more older knives to my slipjoint collection,and my Tacticool's are packed away.:)

I find myself drawn to custom fixed blades now, "bushcraft" style..as I still am a woods bum. But a slipjoint is again my pocket knife (folder) of choice.
 
Why am I not surprised that there is a common thread running thru most of these posts? There seems to be an uncle, father, grandfather, or in Yosemite Sam's case a friend with a Buck knife who used one knife for all his woodcrafts, who was a helping hand alont the way. Sauconian's dad gave him a scout knife like my dad gave me.

So many of these knives have a memory of summer days and Daisy BB guns, or fishing. Great memories. How on earth could a boy make a sling shot without a knife?

John, you're right; I don't have multiples of tools exept for pocket knives. I have one crosscut saw, one bw saw, *A* drill, and *A* power saw. I have one each of large and medium adjustable wrenches, large and small Vise grips, but severaal pocket knives that see rotation. One of those mystyeries of life; why do some people love and accumulate lots of knives?

Great posts. We need to talk more often.
 
From my journal, with edits:

The first knife I recall 'owning' was actually a little 1.5" long folding knife that my dad had. It was stamped TRIM on the handle. I was around six or seven years old when I found it, and at first I could have cared less that it was a knife, or that it had some kind of sentimental value to my dad. I decided to use it as a weight for one of my many homemade parachutes. (Take a garbage bag, cut out a large square, tie a string to each corner, weight it, roll it up and throw it. They worked pretty well.)

Well, when I found that little chrome plated knife, with the hollow pin through one end, I knew I had the perfect parachute weight. On the third throw, it wound up in the tree in our front yard. I couldn't get it down, even when I climbed the tree; so I figured it would come down in the next storm. I figured that with the weight of this thing, it wouldn't go anywhere, but it would just come down in the yard.

Well, before the next storm hit, my dad found the parachute. With my (his) knife tied to it, eight or nine feet up in the tree. And boy, was he PO'd. I vaguely remember the what transpired next.

As we grow up, every kid knows the sound of impending doom. It's the sound a parent makes when a kid has done something that usually earns a life-changing spanking. For me, it was hearing my full name (first-middle-last) bellowed across the neighborhood by my dad; this was usually followed by one of two other things: "WHERE THE HE!! ARE YOU?!" or "GET OVER HERE!" We all knew that sound. When one of our parents called us that way, all of us other kids found any excuse we could to go in the opposite direction. Nobody wanted to be around ground zero when the pain started. ;)

Anyway, when I went out into the front yard, dad was standing under the tree, pulling the branch down and trying to get to the parachute/knife. His mood was not improved by the fact that I ran out to the yard wearing his firefighting boots - he was a volunteer firefighter - and things got decidedly worse when he realized that my sister Heidi had drawn all over them with a ballpoint pen. So, I figured: this is it, he's gonna kill me this time, or worse, put me on 'restriction' ('grounded' to you non-Navy types) until I'm old. Well, dad lifted me up so I could reach the parachute, and between him pulling the branch down, and holding me up, I could just reach it; I finally got it untangled, then handed it down to dad, and he put me down.

Then, dad looked at the parachute, thought for a little bit, then said something like, "you know, this is neat. Who showed you how to do this?" I couldn't remember who had showed me originally; and at that point, I was too scared to really explain it anyway. I just remember that we all had made parachutes . . . well, for as long as I could remember. His expression kind of softened a little, and we walked into the garage, and he handed me several steel washers, saying, "here - show me how you make one with these." He made me promise not to use his little knife again, or any knife for that matter. The new rule in our house: if it was shiny and heavy, leave it alone. I guess he realized that it had never occurred to me to open the knife up, so I wouldn't have hurt myself with it. It had three blades, but at this point I don't remember what they were. Dad kept the little knife; but later, he showed me how to open it & use it, and what each blade was for; then he gave it to me before leaving on one of his patrols (He was a missile tech on a Madison-class boomer). I remember having it for a while, but sometime around the time we moved to Montana, I think I lost it.

thx - cpr
 
My grand dad used knives around the yard when I was a kid. He did't do much hunting or fishing but used his knife for little things aroud the house. My dad was/is a truck driver, he was not a hunter or fisherman. He used his knife for cutting rope, boxes, hoses and other jobs that went along with working on big rigs. He took me fishing once at a family get together at a lake in Arlington, TX. He told me to catch a grass hopper and put it on the hook. Thats the only time I have been fishing with my dad, and was the turning point with my love for the outdoors. After that he gave me a shrade pocket knife. It was a $5 knife but I used it and love carrying it. I have had a knife ever since. I think I was around 8-9 yrs old. I seem to recall having a pocket knife younger than that but I don't remember what it looked like much less the brand. Had a bucnch of gerbers growing up to be a young man. Then got into Spyderco knives up until recently when my attention turned to traditionals. I find myself reaching into my pocket and fiddling my slip joints and it kind of gives me comfort in a weird way. It also reminds me of my now deceased grand dad, and my dad. I will always have a pocket knife of some sorts with me till the end. I find that I even listen to the music that I remember them listening to when I was a kid. I guess I just looked up to them so much and still do. I think I will give my dad a ring today.
 
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