"Old Knives"

This youngster (60's) arrived today. Queen Jack

QueenJackMaybe013_zpsb44ee1b7.jpg
 
Horace came into the house that cold winter evening wearing a scowl instead of his normally pleasant expression. He set a fresh pail of milk next to the old farm sink in the kitchen. A gray haired woman hovered over the stove, stirring something in an iron pot.
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Edna, his wife of nearly forty years.
“Well, I lost my knife. I was cutting the twine on some bales and I must have dropped it somewhere in the barn. I thought it was in my overalls, but the next time I went to pull it out, it wasn’t there. I’ve been looking for it for the last half-hour.”
“Oh, that’s too bad dear. Go and wash up for supper now.”
And so, even though he looked for several days, he couldn’t find his prized possession, a fine Camillus brand jack knife with shiny blades and bolsters. He had paid 25 cents for it just last summer when they had gone into the city, and now he would have to buy a replacement out of the milk and egg money. Edna would not want to part with that money, as she had planned on buying material for a new house- dress.
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Horace was enjoying a beautiful spring afternoon as he struggled along behind the disking plow. “Haw!” he yelled at Briscoe, the old Percheron gelding. “Haw, gol durnit” he hollered again. At the end of the row, he stopped and cut himself a plug with his brand new Camillus jack knife, a replacement for the one he’d lost months before. Forgotten now, was the knife he’d lost last winter.
As daylight faded, he unhitched the disk and headed toward the barn with the big animal. After stabling the horse, he again took out his new pocket knife and cut the twine on a bale of alfalfa. He forked a measure into Briscoe’s feed bin, and as fate would have it, he kicked something hard when he moved, and when he looked down he discovered the long lost knife! Quickly he bent and scooped it into his hands, but something wasn’t right. The frame was bent and a chunk of bone was missing from the handle. “musta stepped on it” he thought. The time lost hadn’t been kind to the unprotected knife, and it was dirty and rusty. “Damn!” he said out loud.
He showed the recovered knife to his wife that evening and told her how he’d found it. Disgusted with the damage, he tossed it into the drawer of his bureau and promptly forgot about it.
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Years later when Horace and Edna’s great grandson was going through his late father’s belongings, he came upon an old knife. It was dirty, rusty and bent, and since he had a modern assisted opening pocket knife made of stainless steel and G-10, he had little use for the old relic and so threw it in a box with the other stuff going to auction.
And that is how it came into my possession. Much more than an ordinary pocket knife, but a living piece of American history, I am proud to be the present curator.
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This story is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people is unintentional.










 
Great story, Barry... beautifully written! I've often wondered about some of the old knives I have... to whom they once belonged and how they came to be sold/auctioned. There's a touch of sadness to it. Of course, it's tempered with the joy of putting the knife to use once again.

ETA: I love that knife, chipped bone and all!
 
MerryMadMonk said:
Great story, Barry... beautifully written! I've often wondered about some of the old knives I have... to whom they once belonged and how they came to be sold/auctioned. There's a touch of sadness to it. Of course, it's tempered with the joy of putting the knife to use once again.

ETA: I love that knife, chipped bone and all!
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Yes, exactly Al. I wish they could talk sometimes, as I often wonder myself. So many old knives were lost, broken, or simply worn away from use that when you find an intact example, you figure there must be a good story behind it.
 
gunstockjack said:
Yes, exactly Al. I wish they could talk sometimes, as I often wonder myself. So many old knives were lost, broken, or simply worn away from use that when you find an intact example, you figure there must be a good story behind it.
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Great work Barry - I enjoyed the read !!! :thumbup:;)
 
I imagine I have a few with a similar story, Barry! Now that is one fine EO and I enjoyed its story:D
 
Barry, you are right about being a knife curator, they can and do outlast many men! We are all only temporary curators/guardians/keepers.

Regards, Will
 
Thanks guys; just one of the aspects of knife collecting that makes it so special. Seems like many of the old ones survived due to some mishap, like a broken blade tip or bone scale where the owner just got PO'd and tossed it in a drawer somewhere to be discovered at a later date.

I was looking around a antique store for knives some time ago when I realized the owner was in the middle of a deal with another knife collector at the counter. The collector traded him a Case Fly Fisherman knife for an old Remington Jumbo Whittler in pristine condition with etch and all, except half of the pile side scale was missing. That is the only knife like that I've ever seen, and I remember the collector telling the shop owner that he probably would throw it in his 'repairs' drawer, but of that was pure nonsense, of couse. I sure did want that knife!
 
Nice, Barry! I like how you reached into that old knife and pulled out a story. :thumbup:
And, it's a real sweetheart, too! I'd carry that one around proudly, who cares about the chipped bone!! :)
 
Cattaraugus Cutlery Co., Little Valley, N.Y., U.S.A., circa 1886 to 1963, cocobolo wood handled swell end jack, 3 1/4 inches closed, with blade half stops and gator snaps. This ole knife has a look that reminds me of the GEC 15 frame, this one being a bit smaller. It is a sweet little carry knife, complete with razor edge sharpness. :p
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I like the swedging on the front and back side of the blades.
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and poised with the Kinfolk. :)
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What a great story!!! I read it more than once. You missed your calling!
 
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