THE KNIFE BUSINESS - A.M.Baer

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Among the treasures to survive the collapse and dispersal of the Baer cutlery empire were a variety of hitherto unpublished documents. Some of those documents contain information about employees and business associates still living, and certain financial transactions and contracts which are, and should for a time remain confidential. I feel a very real responsibility in carefully choosing what may and may not be made public and in which venue.

One item in particular contains a wealth of information and a unique inside look at the experiences of Albert Baer himself from his own viewpoint. Circa 1988, Mr. Baer dictated his memoirs to Mr. John Reddy of The Reader's Digest. Albert added a note that the memoirs had not been published upon the advice of trusted friends, Hobart Lewis and DeWitt Wallace who "said it would only cause a tremendous amount of pressure for me as a fund raiser for all sorts of operations." This may have been the reason given by the friends for their advice to Albert, but I suspect that it was more because of his, at times, frankness of his opinions of peers.

Nonetheless, the memoir is a goldmine of information on the cutlery industry and the wheeling and dealings behind the scene by the major players. I thought that perhaps quoting some passages here would be of interest to some of you.

Michael
 
The dominant factor in the cutlery industry in the 20s was the Remington Arms Company. Remington, before the days of their acquisition by DuPont, made guns and ammunition. After the First World War, they frantically sought product lines to use the excess facilities created during the War. Thanks to a man of German descent, Tillmans, Remington entered the pocket knife business.

Tillmans was imported from Solingen, Germany, by Adolph Kastor to run a factory at Camillus, New York. He, in turn, brought over workmen from Solingen and soon Camillus was like Yorkville in New York - a German speaking community. You can imagine the shock and surprise of the Sherwood and Bingham families, to see their original English speaking force dominated by the Germans. Tillmans started a man's chorus, known in German as a Mennicore. They traveled around New York State and sang German songs. One of their stops was Utica, New York, home of Utica Brewery which was owned by the Francis X. Matt family who came from solid German stock. Old man Matt liked the singing so much, he convinced Tillmans to stay in Utica with the promise he would build him a cutlery factory, which he did. This was the background and origin of Utica Cutlery. Tillmans soon tired of Utica and when he heard from a former Utica salesman, A. H. Willy, that Remington Arms Company wanted to build a cutlery factory, he applied for the job and Remington was soon in the knife business.

I might add that at one time Tillmans did a similar thing for the American branch of the German company, H. Boker & Co. So in terms of 1974, Mr. Tillmans was responsible for three of the now seven pocket knife manufacturers.

Remington, Winchester, Landers, Frary & Clark (Universal) dominated the American pocket knife business. Any wholesaler who didn't handle one of these three, plus a Henckel and Wostenholm, just wasn't in the business. Most others in the business lived off their scraps. This was the time when I hit the road with the Kastor's import line plus the Camillus line.

Let's go back before my advent on the road in 1923, to a little more history. The oldest factory in America was Russell's Green River Works, makers of the famous Russell Barlow, which sold for .05. Matching Russell, there was a Wostenholm Barlow that sold for .05 too.

The second oldest was Holly Manufacturing in Lakeville, Connecticut. Then, down the Pike came Dwight Devine in Ellenville, and the New York Knife Company in Walden. Walden and Ellenville, at one time, were the centers of pocket knife manufacture in America. Col. Dwight Devine originally made brass tips for cow horns (they put brass tips on the horns of cows to that they wouldn't gore one another) and a few Sheffield patentees were brought over to make knives. Blades couldn't be properly heat treated unless the water came from Sheffield for the knife industry.

Underneath the drop hammers that forged the blades, hardened horse manure was placed because that gave just the right bounce to the drops, and believe it or not, for years horse manure was hardened in cutlery factories for that purpose. Knives were ground on dry stone wheels, and only the Lord knows haw many knife grinders died of silica poisoning.

Hands were hired not by the factory, but by the foreman of each department, who ruled with an iron hand. And the skills necessary to become a cutler, a hafter, a sharpener or any of the other trades, took years to learn with very little reward. When times were bad, wages were cut and the very large users like Shapleigh connived and cut the selling prices by offering large contracts at law prices when the factories needed work, and the wage earner received less. It's hard to believe, but I recall Louis Schrade saying in an open meeting in 1933 that he would go broke if he had to pay women .20 an hour, and men .25 an hour in wages.

Dwight Devine was known for making beautiful pen knives. New York Knife Company was better known for making 3-blade premium stock and cattle knives. In 1911, both received the franchise to make and sell the "Official" Boy Scout Knife, which was a very lucrative business because everyone, no matter what lines they handled, had to buy Boy Scout Knives. Of course, the great Remington got a franchise too, much to the disgust of the Devine’s. But, without the Official Boy Scout Knife, I could not have survived when I purchased Ulster, for the Government specification of a knife that was used on all Life rafts was the "Official" Boy Scout Knife and Ulster still had the franchise when I bought the company.

Remington Arms Company had all its contacts in the hardware and sporting goods trade which dominated the distribution of cutlery. If you didn't sell the leading hardware jobbers, there was no one to buy your wares. If you sold Hibbard in Chicago, you couldn't sell Sears because Hibbard sold Sears. This was true in Minneapolis where the leading mail order company was Savage Arms, or in other cities where large retailers started to take some of the business from the jobbers.

The hardware jobbers that controlled the industry, grew with the railroads and they actually established retail stores wherever there was a railroad stop, by extending credit and teaching someone in the local community how to run a hardware store. Thus they had their own built-in distribution and customers, thanks to their salesman who chose the location and filled the "want book" (into which the store owner entered the items that were out of stock) at his discretion, rather than asking the hardware store owner what he wanted.

The jobbers were so greedy that they "bought" themselves out of business. They never let manufacturers make money. Therefore, when Sears, Woolworth, Kresge, and Montgomery Ward allowed the manufacturer to make a profit, in fact insisted that they make a profit, manufacturers circumvented the jobber and soon they no longer had the majority of the business.

Remington did what was called missionary work i.e. go to the stores with the jobber, or alone, and sell the store and fill the order through the wholesaler. Cutlery was an off-season product of ammunition and guns. They printed a monthly magazine called The Lion's Share (meaning the I ion's share of the profits). They gave sales meetings for jobbers and salesmen. Had beautiful displays and spent more money trying to promote the sale of knives than the profits would allow. Tillmans, the factory manager, made knives "like the old days" instead of modernizing production methods. It was this lack of modernization and attitude of all cutlery makers that allowed Mike and Felix Mirando to get into business.

All factories sold what was known as "stabbers." They were 2-blade jack knives with bolsters at one end only, bare heads, that all sold at a loss. In the 1920s they were sold $1.50 to $1.65 a dozen, whereas the knives with the cap and bolster sold at $3.00 and up. Imperial started their business by making stabbers at $1.50 and it wasn't long before the owners of Remington, Winchester, and Landers gave up the ghost and sold out their business.

The beautiful Remington catalog pages, the promotional efforts including missionary work, the pressures (no cutlery - no guns), made it more than a little difficult to peddle my wares in Texas and Oklahoma, in New Mexico and Utah, in Walla Walla, Washington, and Los Angeles where the names of Kastor or Camillus Cutlery was completely unknown. This challenge taught me how to sell and I learned how to create some plus, in order to stay on the road and complete a trip (make it pay). Since then I have lived by the motto - make every trip pay for itself. I was brought up to do it by circumstances.

Among the dominant hardware jobbers in the USA were H. S. & Bartlett - their trademark "OVB" - "Our Very Best is the very best" and referred to by their competitors "Our Victims Bite" - Marshall Wells, branches in Duluth, Portland Oregon, and many cities including Canada, created Zenith Brand - and Simmons Hardware Company, with the famous Keen Kutter brand. Keen Kutter was owned by the Simmons family, and through a promoter who later ruined the Fox Film Company, opened a chain of Winchester Simmons Hardware and Sporting Goods stores. The planning for this effort was done by a group of college boys with no business experience. Wallace Simmons, a Harvard man, believed that Harvard could do no wrong.

They sold sporting goods including socks and gloves and large wrenches, and
of course cutlery. When they stocked their nearly 1000 stores, they sent a dozen of each size sock as well as wrenches, as well as other products, to their stores. Of course, after two days, all the popular sizes were out of stock but the store couldn't order because they had so many of the unpopular sizes left. In the case of wrenches, great big 12" wrenches would sell at the rate of perhaps one per year, and 1000 stores had a 12 year stock. Not even the bankers could bail out Wallace Simmons and this was the end of the famous Winchester Simmons Keen Kutter.

Keen Kutter was later sold to Shapleigh Hardware in St. Louis, and after the Second World War, I made the Keen Kutter brand in Camillus. Imperial was one of the first companies to manufacture pocket knives without forging the blades.

I was told one afternoon that two German boys were going to arrive, and my job was to put them on the sleeper on Car 96 to Auburn, New York. This was the train that left nightly and would stop at Camillus about 6:00 o'clock in the morning. It made all intermediate stops - Albany, Utica, Rome, Syracuse and then chug-chug from Syracuse to Camillus and take some workmen there for the morning shift.

Mr. Hauptman and Mr. Volkner could speak not a word of English and my German was about as bad as their English . But I brought them to 19th Street for dinner. I walked them up the Veisa Veck (White Way to you) and my explanation to the porter about putting them off at Camillus was clear and distinct. Volkner and Hauptman really needed an education of how to undress, how to go to the toilet and what to do in an American sleeping car. So in sign language I had them primed and left them at 11:00 o'clock. Hauptman and Volkner never got over the treatment they received. It was a great lesson to me not only in communication but what a little kindness meant.
 
After hanging around the law offices of Stein and Salant who "masterminded" my conversations with Sylvan Gotschal, of Weil Gotschal & Manges for weeks and weeks, I decided it was time to get a job. Stein and Salant figured that they could mastermind Sylvan of W.G. M. and he made monkeys of them. Hot letters and phone calls were interchanged but it was much to do about nothing .

We waited and waited, and waited some more until my patience ran out. 85th Street was turned into a "preparation for a law suit" office, rather than a home, and Elise Gaines plus another secretary, Helene and I, began to pour over the papers of my 18 years with the Kastors. Letters, notes about Alfred's sickness, all the stuff the lawyers had me get up when in October Stein and Salant, recommended by Joseph E. Gilbert, had me "pack up all my cares and woes”, papers, memorabilia, furniture (that Helene had given me) and moved out of the office with a farewell note “Good bye and good luck.” I climbed into a taxi, my heart in my mouth and I drove around and around Central Park and had a good old-fashioned cry. Eighteen years could not be erased by moving furniture.

I made a list of companies that I wanted to see. I wasn't sure that I could buy a company, certainly not if I could have gotten a good job. But, having been so long lion my own" (when Alfred was sick I was on my own and ran the show) I couldn't visualize knuckling down to a boss. The list consisted of competitors. Schrade, Dwight Devine, Ekco and Utica. I visited all on the list and each told me they were shocked, for they felt that I was Kastor and Camillus. George Graff, the Wool-worth buyer, wrote a letter to the Board that Camillus was a ship without a rudder. That didn't sit well with Alfred Kastor, for F. W. Woolworth was their #2 client.

At Utica, I began an active conversation with Walter Matt, son of F. X. Matt of Utica Brewery. He wanted me badly and gave me all their "figures. II It looked surely as though I would make a deal and take over Utica. But one day, after some stalling, I learned that Alfred had reached Walter Matt, threatening him that if he made a deal with me, they would leave no stone unturned to "break" Utica and it was a most unfriendly act on Mattis part to deal with me.

This was not the case with C. C. Devine, whom I reached via Ellenville and Frieda Van Keuren, in his room at the Commodore Hotel in New York, where he was attending a meeting of the Cutlery Association. Did I say room? It was a closet with a bed. I sat on the chair while C. D. Devine sat on the bed and with an unlit cigar which he chewed and spat from one corner of his mouth, he explained that he and his family were going to cl05e the business. I asked how much he wanted to sell, and he answered they hadn't thought of selling it; that they didn't want their name used. I told him we would change the name. They could retain their name, Dwight Devine. I would operate under the name, Ulster Knife Company.

Nothing that C.D. ever said or asked could be answered in words of one syllable. Everything had to be thought about and discussed with his family, etc. etc. Dwight Devine & Son was owned by C. D., John Devine his brother, Alice his sister (a medical doctor) and Jennie Young a married sister.

I made an appointment to drive my family to Ellenville, New York, on the 13th of December 1940, and in the words of Betsy and Margie, the factory "Looked like a cellar." As we left, having been entertained by Mrs. Devine (her mother was the first white child born in the State of New York), I knew without a doubt that this was what I wanted to do. But there was one question –where was I to get the money?

Before New Year's I had an agreement with the Devine’s to buy the business. By the 16th of the month, I had Walter Scott in my office to tell him that I had not signed the final papers, but that I wanted “Hibbard's” business (he was the buyer). On the 17th of January, I signed with the Devine’s. They turned over the management of the business, gave me an option to buy them out over a period of years, at a substantial increase in the price they ever had expected to get for the business.

The Devine family took this matter seriously and were kind enough to stay on the Board, consisting of C.D. Devine, Chairman, me as President and Treasurer, Harry Aaron as Vice President, and Henry Boer as Secretary. The complete Board added John Devine, Helene Baer, and with 39 typewritten pages of legal gobbledegook, we started in business. It wasn't long before Frank Kethcart was up at the factory and was one of our first customers in addition to Hibbard, Spencer Bartlett, Sears Roebuck and C. M. McClung. Dwight Devine was an old skinflint from way back, but absolutely honest. However, his pound of flesh was not easy to come by.

I met Harry Aaron through Alfred Kastor. I had loaned him some money to make the first electric shaver, which worked like a lawn mower (but it worked). After trying to fool around himself, Harry met a chap who was a real promoter and soon used the name "Packard" so that he could be sued by the Packard Motor Company and get the free publicity. Packard Shavers couldn't be delivered, so they sold empty boxes with a promise of delivery. How Harry ever stayed out of jail, only the Lord knows. Goodyear blimps were flying around, advertising the Shaver and it was the only one on the market at that time.

It wasn't long after we bought the Devine factory that the Remington Arms Company decided to concentrate on defense work and go out of the knife business. Soon I was on my way to negotiate with Remington. I had a good letter of introduction from John Roscob, former Chairman of DuPont, the owner of Remington, but that didn't do much good in the negotiations. The final upshot was that the Pal Blade Company, through Joe Mailman, formerly of Utica Knife & Razor Company, bought the plant and he bought a lemon. I still have the papers of the offer that I made.

While visiting Remington, another competitor decided to sell out his business
Landers, Frary & Clark, and I bought, for steel was in short supply as were all metals since the defense program was now in full swing. All of the steel and metals that Landers had on hand, I bought for .02 a pound across the board. This, believe me, was a lifesaver for it gave us material at a crucial time.

After we removed the lace curtains and the photographs of President McKinley, and gave the factory a cleaning and painting, Harry Aaron hired Bert and Elvira Hess to come and work. No two more ingenious individuals could be found than Harry and Bert. They literally tied presses together with bailing wire to blank blades, and the operations to make cutlery in this factory were unbelievable. They had 25 people working when we started. Each of the 25 had their own opinion how to make knives. It wasn't long before we had 300 employees, and a union problem on our hands, and nothing to ship for we had to build up work in process like filling an empty hose with water. I thought the water would never come out the other end.

One lifesaver among others, was the fact that Ulster in 1912 had the license to make the Boy Scout knives with the Boy Scout Emblem on the handle. This we capitalized on because we put into the government specifications the requirements of an Official Boy Scout Knife. This gave us the right to get a priority and the right to continue to produce. I will never forget the first contract that we tried to get. To get the contract we had to have a Rockwell Testing machine and to buy the Rockwell Tester, we had to have a priority. To get a priority, we had to have a government order so we were out in left field without a paddle. As I have written elsewhere, I went to Washington, saw a friend, Colonel Irwin, and told him to give me an order number, not an order, and used this number to get the Rockwell machine. Now we were off to the races and ready to make some government merchandise.

The first goods, naturally, were the Official Boy Scout knives. We made some also for W. R. Case and I made a paring knife with a wood handle to keep the grinding machines busy for John Pickering of Kresge. I met Felix Mirando, who was calling on Pickering, and he said to me "Don’t try to compete with us in price or you "go broke." He was right and he gave me an honest suggestion, "Get some quality business, Albert. That’s all you are capable of making.”

We were merrily on our way when Pearl Harbor reared its face. I thought this was the end of civilian trade for the knife makers. But, again, I went down to Washington and I wrote the rules through the War Production Board, of the only type knives that could be made. They were made to exact specifications of the Ulster factory. This meant that every other plant had to remake all their dies and tools to conform or and practically put Imperial and Colonial out of business. But Camillus was smart. Utica went into the bayonet business, Case into the machete business, and Felix and the factory slumped from over 1200 people to less than 150.

I was now down in Washington, spending 3 days to 4 days a week in the OQMG (Office of the Quarter Master General) in the Cold Climate Division in Research & Development. This was my pipeline to learn what was going on, where it was happening, and a chance to do some business at the same time.
 
Codger,
This is a great find and you should be congratulated for sharing it. Not only did I save it for my reference I also printed a hard copy as a back-up to the back-up. Thanks again.
 
All sorts of nifty trivia comes to light in these passages. We still have to be mindful that this is all recollections of Albert many, many years after the events. But did you ever wonder just whose idea it was to combine the several knife companies into Imperial Knife Associated Companies, who suggested they buy Schrade, how they came to acquire the Jackmaster construction patent? Here is who Albert chose to give the credit to. The man who is seldom mentioned in any history of Imperial.

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DOMENIC FAZZANO

Domenic Fazzano was short in height, but tall in stature. He came to the United States before Mike or Felix and had known them in the little town of Frosolone, Italy, for his family made scissors whereas the Mirandos made pocket knives.

In the United States, he opened a bicycle store and from selling bicycle tires, he soon was a factor in New Haven selling automobile tires. It was no surprise to Domenic when Mike and Felix landed at his home for breakfast and bed, and told him they were leaving Winsted and stopped at New Haven on their way to Providence. They had saved $150 and wanted to go into business for themselves.

Domenic made a simple remark, “If you ever need a partner, just call me because I’ll be happy to invest money in you.” This was no idle jest, for one day the phone rang and Mike wanted to know whether Domenic's promise still held good. Domenic said, "Sure. How much stuff have you?" Mike and Felix looked at each other and said $100,000. Without a second thought, Domenic answered “A check for $33,000 for my one third interest is on the way.”

When Domenic came to Providence months later to see what he bought, he told Mike and Felix they had much more than $100,000, and took them down to the bank and arranged for a loan for the Imperial Knife Company. Anything new and any proposition that looked as though it could make an honest dollar was interesting to Domenic, including the miniature golf courses which were so popular in the United States.

The two women in his family, Minnie, his daughter, and Maggie, his wife, were always ready with a smile and warm greeting, or a highball together with some pasta for any friend, at any time day or night. Domenic never took a drink. His "stomach just couldn't take it” and Domenic when he got angry would shout, “Just a minute. Just a minute.” A small man, I said earlier, but with big ideas. It was Domenic who, when we rode to the “E" ceremony in Ellenville said “Why don't we buy Schrade?” and we did. And it was Domenic who attended all the cutlery meetings and whom I met long before I knew Felix.

When Alfred Kastor was sick, it was Domenic who called me and said competition was one thing but friendship and understanding was another, and felt sorry for Alfred. He had pride in the accomplishments of his sons more than a normal father. How he would show the year end marks to all at the cutlery meetings, and bragged about their accomplishments. Charlie Silcoz was the head of the Cutlery Manufacturers Association, and Domenic befriended him to the day he died, including special trips to
Rochester, New York, just to cheer him up even 10 years after he retired from the Chairmanship.

Domenic wore his old hat at different angles, sometimes front to back, other times front to side. He crushed it down on his head and you would think it would go over his face and hit the cigar that he usually chewed on hanging from one corner of his mouth. Whenever Felix had a cigar that he didn't want, he gave it to Domenic. I doubt if Domenic ever bought a cigar for himself. There was little need for there were many others doing what Felix did. Not because he was cheap, for he wasn't, he was a most generous man, but because he got so many presents of unwanted cigars.

Domenic traveled on the road himself to the large buyer of cutlery in St. Louis, Shapleigh. Mr. Matthews, the buyer, had to get an OK from the President, Mr. Yantes, on any order over a few thousand dollars. How Domenic loved to outsmart Yantes, which he did, and which is a book in itself.

The entire cutlery industry thought Imperial was selling goods so cheaply they would go broke, and soon that was Imperial's best advertisement. Shapleigh started buying, buying, buying on the advice of Domenic's competitors until they nearly choked with their inventory, and Domenic could get no order. At that point, Domenic met A. H. Whilly, a Remington salesman (nicknamed Whilly in the Pickle Boat) whose secretary was Emil H. Talmon. Domenic hired him at a straight 5% commission on all on all sales. Soon Whilly brought along Talmon. When Whilly died, Limey (Emil spelled backward) took over and hired other commission men.

At year end, when the salesmen converged on Providence to pick up their commission checks, for Imperial was hard put for cash and slow pay, Domenic would sell them oil paintings for a part of their commission. He often secured the oil paintings by purchasing entire furnishings of some of the very affluent homes in Newport, Rhode Island, which were auctioned due to the high cost of upkeep. He and his son, Joseph, would attend the auctions or made a bid before hand, acquiring the entire contents of the house -furniture, silver, dishes and art. He would sell the paintings, silver or crockery that he didn't want and Joe would keep what he wanted, thus acquiring an important collection of impressionists as well as some of the old masters. Some paintings Domenic kept to sell to the salesmen. Although at the time the salesmen were doing Domenic a favor, resenting his pressure and were "cooperating with the boss", it wasn't long before they had also made a splendid investment, often many times their purchase price.

When Imperial made the first midget, they sent a sample dozen and billed all of their customers. Soon orders began to flow in, much to the shock of the sales force who never even showed the samples because they were convinced it was too much of a novelty. How Domenic would ride them about their lack of enthusiasm.

Business was tough in the 19305. It was hard to keep a factory going and Domenic recognized that the only item he could sell was a two-blade bolster pocket knife at $1 .50 a dozen. Imperial's cost was over $2.00. One day, on his return from a selling trip, Felix showed him a sample of a Jackmaster, a new wrapped construction. Here was a two-blade knife Hat could be made profitably. It looked like a solid bolstered knife and could be sold for $1.50 a dozen with a profit. It was not until all the money that they could beg, borrow or find was put in to tooling, they discovered that the Germans (Lohr and Stoell) held a patent on this type of construction and here came the ingenuity of Felix and Domenic. With no money, Domenic took off for Europe to buy the patent, which they secured for not too large a payment, and then returned to America relieved and ready to invest huge sums of money to turn out what proved to be a revolution in the U.S. pocket knife industry.

I heard about the invention from our German factory before Imperial brought it out. I knew that this was a worthless patent because there had been a prior patent taken out by an advertising company, Parisian Novelty, many years before the Germans had secured their GmbH. The basic principle was also used on celluloid buttons. Although I knew it, I met Domenic at the Guardi Hotel in New Haven, half way between New York City and Providence, and made a deal that we wouldn't copy their Jackmasters, providing we cooperated in other directions. We lived up to the bargain. This was the beginning of business with Domenic and Felix.

The advent of Jackmasters enabled Imperial to highly mechanize. By the time the War broke out, they were the leaders in the industry in both quantity and dollar volume. The meeting at the Guardi Hotel never would have been held if Alfred were active, for by then he was sick. This was my first "bold” step.

Helene and I took Domenic to the theater to see "Arsenic and Old Lace". He loved it and Helene. We visited him in his summer home in Westbrook, where he exchanged pocket knives during wartime for scarce food and liquor. One present we brought him was a quart can of imported olive oil which we were fortunate to get from a friendly Italian grocer. Domenic thanked for this as much as if we had brought him the Holy Grail. Months later, I discovered he had 100 gallons of Italian olive oil in the house.

It was Domenic who said that we should join forces, and it was Domenic who always had an anecdote to tell at a sales meeting when he sat at the corner and talked with Harry Hazelton, Sr. I remember when I came to the hospital in Providence to say goodby, his color was like wax and he expressed his affection when he took and squeezed my hand, smiled and said “Albert, you have always been very kind.” He died the next day.
 
This one gives us some insight to the Imperial Mexico operation, the beginnings of injection molding in the U.S. and other interesting trivia.

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JOE FAZZANO


I got to know Joe Fazzano when we took a trip to Mexico to decide whether or not we would build a factory there. Joe bunked with me. This was the beginning of our friendship.

He is six years younger than I and I felt Joe would be a natural to replace me. We made many trips to call on the trade, visiting George White of Belknap, with Joe carrying the banner of Imperial. I, in the dual role of Imperial and Ulster.

To spread our distribution, I created a display with Imperial pocket knives. For every six dozen, the dealer received a free display. We showed the case to George and his superior, Russell Procter, then met with their sales managers. Belknap was enthusiastic about buying the deal. It was a seller's market. Whatever one was willing to sell, customers were eager to buy. Belknap wanted 5,000 cases.

In his wisdom, Joe cut it down to 2,500. Six months later, we were calling on Belknap. They hadn't sold one of the "cases". We offered to send them display cards and boxes so they could repackage the goods, put them in their regular line to clean up the stock. In exchange, we allowed Belknap to return the empty cases to the factory.

During the visit, we had a new gimmick to sell to Belknap. George White complained that he couldn't buy the new gimmick because of his heavy stock. Harry Hazelton snapped, "Buy the new item, you dope. You have "mentally" sold the display cases.” I thought Joe would faint, but White followed Hazelton's advice and we got an order.

Joe was always "banker". He carried the cash, paid the bills, did the tipping,
and we enjoyed making him banker. We sent Joe on a trip with Peter Lekisch in 1947 to see what was happening with the cutlery industry in Europe. We got nothing from the trip of any value, except Joe's disapproval of Peter. But, Joe bought beautiful paintings and a Utrillo for $2,000 that is worth $200,000 today. That is Joe! Had Joe gone into the art business, he would be a leading art dealer. He is now a major collector of fine art, most of which he acquired at bargain prices. He and his father purchased contents of entire rooms at auction sales in Newport, Rhode Island, the home of extremely wealthy. Often one Renoir in a dining room would be bought with all the furniture, silverware, and chinaware, for less than the cost of the frame of the painting.

Joe collected every etching by John Taylor Arms, who wrote him personal notes and was pleased he had his entire collection. Guardis, Reubens, Rembrandt's drawings. You name it, Joe has them. Vacuum cleaner and brooms were kept in the hall, but the paintings were in closets.

Joe goes to Church every morning, but he never inflicts his religion. He loved his sister, Minnie, dearly. She was thrilled when he took her to Europe to attend a cardiology conference. We often joked when we made our trips and wore the same colored suits, either by selection or by accident. We went to see customers as either “Dr. Blue Suits” or “Dr. Brown Suits.” That is the way we announced ourselves to the switchboard operator.

Joe loved Helene dearly. They were kindred spirits and in his own quiet way, he has never gotten over her death, nor the death of Minnie. He never had a degree from a university, but he has more intelligence in one hand than most college graduates have in their entire body.

His father often regretted a mistake that I made, when I made him sales manager of the company. (It wasn't long before we ran out of orders.) It wasn't Joe's fault. It just wasn't his disposition to be a sales manager, but everyone he called on loved him.

Joe probably knows more about Imperial customers than anyone else. He walks through the factory every day, but he has never made a comment to anyone, or a change, or a suggestion. He just looks and I don’t know whether he feels that his presence is important, which it is, or what he thinks about.

Joe is kind to everyone. He always was, and he always will be. It isn’t often that he gets annoyed or angry. His sister, Minnie, whom he adored, took care of his house and was more a servant than a sister. She would fix the most delicious scotch and sodas imaginable, and certainly spoiled me. I never knew why I liked her drinks so much until I discovered she was giving me doubles! Minnie was quiet, a good cook, very observant. Like Joe, she was sensitive. When her mother died, she took over until she too passed away.

Because of Joe, I made a promise to Felix that I would help them have outside funds over their ownership of Imperial. I did this on a train going to Washington. Joe has never forgotten that I lived up to my promise.
 
From a working miniature 1/2" knife to a working 24' knife...by the way, N.R.A. was the National Recovery Act, not the National Rifle Association.


MICHAEL MIRANDO

Felix's brother, Mike, was the first to come to the United States of the Mirando family. As the older brother, the family scrounged enough passage money ($24.00) to let him go to the New World where one come save a few dollars and not just exist, no matter how hard one worked in Italy. It was not long before the $2.00 each month that Mike sent home began to accumulate.

Mike and Felix's father, Cosmo, sold the knives the family made and kept just enough to buy the pasta and vino and a little goat's milk cheese. Mike didn't like America for he couldn't get a job in a knife shop, and worked in a textile mill. So he pulled up stakes, and went home to Italy. It wasn't long before he was back in America, this time with a job in Winsted, Connecticut, in the factory of the Empire Knife Company. He liked America better now, for he was at home" in a knife shop.

Mike would fondle a pocket knife as though it were a woman. In fact, he liked to say, "A knife in my hand is like a piece of jewelry in the hands of a girl.” He was an expert in making knives by hand, himself, and he could make them in all combinations, shapes, forms and sizes -even down to tiny miniature ones.

Mike was a natural born mechanic, but not an engineer (he was smart enough to hire mechanical engineers for his business) and though he would fight with them day and night and told his brother, Felix, how terrible they were, he knew he needed them and he tolerated them, particularly with a hard boiled, hard headed Dutchman named Vossler.

It was Vossler who probably saw one of Gerling's Jackmaster-type knives and made up the model that was the first big money-maker for Imperial. It was Vossler, who convinced Mike that they should mechanize and buy tooling and German presses. Ant it was Vossler who nearly drove Mike crazy. He took it for the sake of the cause. Every day Mike would inspect a board of 36 pocket knives to see how the production was running, and most days he would go running out into the factory, toss the board on the floor - knives and all - and berate everyone for the quality that was being produced.

Mike made me a duplicate of the stainless 3-7/8" Army Knife that was my first contact with Imperial, a 4-blade Scout-type knife, only this duplicate was less than 1/2" long and it worked perfectly. The blades and springs were hardened and you could actually cut and use the knife. I still wear it on my watch chain, and have for over 30 years.

Mike had a routine that only Felix could explain. At 6:49, not 6:45 or 6:50 in the morning, his car would drive up in his driveway. Ten minutes later it would appear at the factory on Imperial Place. The elevator had to be down stairs waiting for Mike. Up he would go to his office until Noon. Back into the waiting elevator to his car, on to his "Shinty" (a place in the country), a few miles from Providence where he would sit and meditate, admire his live pheasants in cages, cook a little pasta, then entertain his friends with a "Roman Feast."

Our sales meetings were held in the Shinty, the food catered from the outside, starting with mounds of lobsters, moving to chicken, ravioli, spaghetti, steaks, salad, globs of all the fanciest desserts imaginable, and ending with everyone feeling terribly drunk and sentimental, and lovey-dovey, and ready to go back to their territory to do their "a/l" for Uncle Mike, Felix, Domenic and the Baers.

Mike gave Felix a cigar on his birthday every year that they were in the United States. When he reached 70, he got 70 cigars. Mike designed a float for the parade inaugurating the N.R.A. The float was a 24' long pocket knife with blades, springs and all, pulled on a series of wagons by half the employees at the factory. Mike couldn't see (so he said) but he could still make a tiny pocket knife. (He could see as well as anyone.) He couldn't hear, but just make a quiet remark against Imperial and see what could happen! He couldn't eat, but all you had to do was come to the house and see what was left over after he started a meal! He couldn't sleep, but you had to shake him to wake him up! Whatever he couldn't do, he did with a vengeance and he did it beautifully.

My last time with Mike was when we attended the funeral of Irene, Felix's wife, and he saw me. He ran out into the street, hugged me and kissed me so often that I was embarrassed. But Mike wasn't, for he expressed his appreciation for the beautiful association that I had with Michael A. Mirando, in front of everyone.
 
Nice info Codger :thumbup:
(Did you type all that your self!!!??)

I need to get me a "stabber"!!!!

I think selling "below cost" is now illegal

Predatory pricing (also known as destroyer pricing) is the practice of a firm selling a product at very low price with the intent of driving competitors out of the market, or create a barrier to entry into the market for potential new competitors. If the other firms cannot sustain equal or lower prices without losing money, they go out of business. The predatory pricer then has fewer competitors or even a monopoly, allowing it to raise prices above what the market would otherwise bear.

In many countries, including the United States, predatory pricing is considered anti-competitive and is illegal under antitrust laws. However, it is usually difficult to prove that a drop in prices is due to predatory pricing rather than normal competition, and predatory pricing claims are difficult to prove due to high legal hurdles designed to protect legitimate price competition.
 
Look up the anti-trust law suspension under the provisions of the NRA.

And no, while I vetted Mr. John Reddy's text before posting, it was transcribed by a computer word recognition program. You will note occasional errors like "Boer" instead of Baer, quote marks appearing as "LL", etc. And no, I am not computer literate enough to own and operate such a program. I'll let you guess who is!

Michael
 
Now, most of us are under the impression that A. M. Baer was a mover and shaker in the cutlery industry, but he was much, much more. He traveled in the upper levels of society where national decisions, politics, and foriegn policy were set. We'll look at this aspect in the next two sections.


*******************************************************
ARDEN HOUSE

President Dwight Eisenhower of Columbia University got his job there because Thomas Watson, Sr., as Chairman of the Board of Trustees, felt that the Eisenhower name would enable Columbia to raise large sums of money.

Thomas Watson, Sr. was a very interesting character. His wife, Mathilda, liked to tell the story of his beginnings with IBM. Tom came home to see Mathilda one night and sand, "Mother, I think I am going to leave National Cash Register because Mr. Patterson travels to Europe too often and leaves me with the responsibility of running the business, but I don't get the benefits nor the credit." So he and Mathilda decided to look for new employment. Among the visits, was one to IBM, a small company in New York where Tom saw a piano keyboard being used to collate cards for the U.S. Census.

"Mother" he said, "I think this has application to other fields. Let's talk to the Board of Directors" and talk they did. He explained that he was a simple man and that he would work without pay, but just wanted an option to buy 50% of the company, providing he quadrupled the earnings. The Directors accepted his proposition and in a few years he bought out, at a substantial profit, most of the other stockholders and the Watson family practically owned all of IBM.

They had no union. The employees had to wear white collared shirts and black ties, and on everyone's desk was a sign marked "Think". The business prospered enormously, both nationally and internationally and Watson invented the slogan "World Peace through World Trade."

Watson liked me and I liked him. He flattered me by saying that we had a similar outlook and a similar business career. As Chairman of the Board of Trustees, he was criticized for many things including naming Eisenhower as President. Not only by other Trustees but by the academic world as well .

Helene felt deeply obligated to Columbia and the School of General Studies. She decided to make an anonymous gift to the School . It was the first gift, or funds, the College received after Eisenhower was made President. As a result, the School wanted to give the donation major publicity. We insisted on anonymity but received a pleasant handwritten note from Eisenhower and a visit from a member of the fund raising department, Mr. Ossian (Bob) McKenzie.

Bob suggested that the gift be split so that we would have a larger tax advantage, and we followed his suggestion. It wasn't long before I struck up a friendship with McKenzie and soon he told me of a plan by Eisenhower to create an American Assembly. The concept was that 64 people would be invited to a 3-day conference at Arden House, the former home of the Harrimans, and that one subject would be discussed. From these discussions, conclusions could be reached because of the cross-section of opinions. Perhaps because of my friendship with McKenzie and certainly because of Helene's gift, I was one of the 64 participants in the First American Assembly.

Ambassador Lew Douglas set the tone of the meeting the first evening. The participants were some of the most distinguished names on the American scene. My banjo punctuated the fun and games and actually was the hit of the Assembly on May 23, 1951. Night after night I strummed, and some of the more important people of America hummed along.

Bob Kleborg of King Ranch sang loud and furious when we played Mexican songs. David Lilienthal, the first TVA man, was a grand baritone. The list of participants included the Chairman of General Mills, the President of the Minnesota Star, the head of the Wacs, Ovita Hobby, the President of Continental Oil, the President of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers, President of the National Farm Union, the head of West Point, the Editor of Mademoiselle, Ralph Bunche, President of Phillips Petroleum, J. Kenneth Galbraith, Peter Grace, Paul Hoffman, President of Armco Steel, President of Carnegie Endowment, Roy Larsen, President of Time, Inc., Fred Lazarus, President of Federated Department Stores, Henry Luce, Ann O'Hare McCormick, President of E. F. McDonald, Bob McLean, Publisher of the Philadelphia Bulletin, Eugene Meyer of the Washington Post.


Felix Morley, Malcolm Moore, the Assistant Secretary of State, Eugene Pulliam of the Indianapolis Star, Mrs. Ogden Keid, Scotty Wreston, Emil Reeve of the C.I.O., John D. Rockefeller III, David Sarnoff, Joe Spang, President of Gillette, Arthur Sulzberger, President of the New York Times, Bob Whitney of Morgan - just to mention a few.


Senator Douglas and Senator Taft put on quite a show in their arguments and Averill Harriman and Lew Douglas were keynoters. I guess I will never be with as distinguished a group again. I doubt if one could be assembled.


We debated and discussed in 4 panels for 3 days, and ended our meeting with a banjo sang to the tune of "I've been working on the railroad" but with the words "We've been working on Assembly all the Live long day. We've been working on Assembly and we don't know what to say. For although we were expected to come out with some summary, we pushed all the buttons and nothing came out."


For some reason, perhaps the banjo, I was invited to the Second Assembly, again held with at Arden House. This time the subject was inflation and/not quite as distinguished a group. Dick Treadway of Treadway Inns ran the food and drink section and because Arden House was close to Ellenville, Jerry Hourin changed the character of the meeting from a dry, staid affair to a wet one, including supplying Bob Kleburg of King Ranch with his favorite drink - pink champagne.


I was introduced to such innovations as rapporteurs, not reporters, who summarized the sense of the meeting and presented their summary to the participants each morning at breakfast time . I learned to know intimately most of the participants and retained their friendship, most of them until they died. And some of them until today. I had many hot arguments and enjoyed the ferensic.


Arden House was the spawning ground for the nomination and subsequent election of Eisenhower, and also in 1951 came to the conclusion that the economy of the country could be governed with money manipulation, which as of this date, April 1975, we are still experiencing. Arden House decided the future of Western Germany and 24 years ago discussed the energy crisis, the sheikdoms of Kwait and their importance to the USA.


And, Arden House was the turning point in my life for I realized for the first time that the bigger the man, the more humble he is and the sham of titles is quickly dispelled after a few drinks.

It was because of Arden House that I was propositioned to become Chairman of the Council of the School of General Studies. General Studies was looked down upon by the rest of the University and here was my chance to rally to its support important people whom I had met and talked with at Arden House, and I made good use of the opportunity. When I asked Tom Watson, Sr. to join, he suggested that a younger man, namely his son, Arthur, could do me more good. He summoned Arthur and told him to accept my nomination.

I walked back to the office, up 57th Street, and my head was in the clouds for I knew with Dick Watson as a key, there was no stopping the growth of the Council . Helene was terribly proud of my activities at Arden House. She could never understand why I was so relaxed with the big names and I couldn't understand either.
 
Great stuff as always, Mike.!

Thanks for sharing.

Glenn
 
Michael,
I'm still waiting for the release of your book,as I want an autographed first edition,first printing.
Is it still in work or is at the publisher ?
Ron
 
Still very much in the works and under constant revision. It will be some time before a full rough draft is done.
 
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