The Official Jackknife Q&A thread!!!

Voltron said:
They attained their "soul" by being used. The soul of an object such as a sword, knife, or tool, is something that is passed on by the user, not the maker. A part of the owner is said to be left behind in said object,
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I will agree that the soul is grown/increased and in some ways created by the user, but have to disagree to a point, there is some soul there to start; Not particularly on the average factory made knives, but on folders that have any amount of hand fitting and assembly, or are all hand made, a lot of the person fitting it goes into them, blood sweat and tears, much the same as from the user... its over a much shorter time span than from the user, but it is there none the less.

Anyway, thats the view i have after making and fitting a lot of them, mine all acquired 'character' and 'soul' before completed, long before they got to the users.

G.
:)(respectfully disagreeing, just want give another view)
 
How many steps by how many different people go into making a slippie?
And the care and pride they put into the knife

That is certainly soul...
 
On to serious stuff, whatever happened to Lizzy Rankins, & does she have any available sisters (or daughters)?:D
 
jpvjr said:
On to serious stuff, whatever happened to Lizzy Rankins, & does she have any available sisters (or daughters)?:D
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Lizzy never made it to her 40th birthday.

I spent several years trying to track her down, even to spending my leave while home from the army, trying to find her. She'd left for Baltimore, and I heard she'd been working in a strip joint. I must have had a beer in every joint on Baltimore's infamous 'Block". Got close once, but she moved on, leaving me a letter. I lost her trail in New york city.

One night, she was for some reason coming home to the eastern shore in the wee hours of the night, when she left the road at what the state police said was 70 to 80 miles per hour, and hit a tree. The police say her blood alchool level was high enough that she could hardly have walked. It was a closed casket funeral.

I had moved on with my life, after meeting a girl on a pistol range in San Antonio Texas, in 1970. It was the girl with the long brown hair I noticed first, then the Smith and Wesson .22 revolver she was shooting with such accuracy.

Next year Karen and I will celibrate our 40th aniversary. Karen has been my wife, best friend, lover, and sometimes co-conspiritor. We've raise three children together, and now have grandchildren from teenages to toddlers. I love my wife more than any other human being alive.

But sometimes in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep, like a lot of old people, I think of Lizzy. It makes me feel a bit disloyal to my wife, but sometimes I think of a tall slim girl with long tawney brown hair and vivid green eyes, and I wonder what if?
 
Jackknife I think you got the best part of the deal with Karen, just to be able to say “my wife, best friend, lover, and sometimes co-conspiritor. We've raise three children together, and now have grandchildren from teenages to toddlers. I love my wife more than any other human being alive.” Is worth more than any amount of money. I have made it to near 50 and still trying.
 
Hey JK, did your wife ever give you a knife? I know you carried your dad's Peanut, your grandpa's Stockman, and Andy Warden's Buck Cadet. However, did your wife ever give you that most sentimental of all gifts? I know she accidentally introduced you to the Vic Classic, but did she ever actually give you a knife as a present?
 
Voltron said:
Hey JK, did your wife ever give you a knife? I know you carried your dad's Peanut, your grandpa's Stockman, and Andy Warden's Buck Cadet. However, did your wife ever give you that most sentimental of all gifts? I know she accidentally introduced you to the Vic Classic, but did she ever actually give you a knife as a present?
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No.

Very early on in our dating relationship, Karen became aware of how much of a knife knut I was. After we'd been going out for a bit, we took a weekend trip out to the Big Bend National Forest in West Texas. Karen was an outdoors girl, and we were going to do some camping and hiking. On the first morning we hiked up a trail in the mountains and I had a Randall number 5 on my belt, with a sambar stag handle. Karen looked at it and commented what a pretty knife it was. Flattered that my new girl friend thought a knife was 'pretty' was encouraging so I took it out and handed it to her. She examined it, remarked it was a little heavier that she thought it would be, and asked how much a knife like that cost. I told her and she kind of stared at me, and asked if any knife was really worth a weeks pay. We had an interesting conversation.

She said many years later that it was then she realized how into knives I was, and for her to pick out a knife for someone like that was too daunting a task. Then of course some years after we were married, she saw me sell off my custom knife collection when I just got a bit burned out on them. Sold all the Randall's, George Stone's, Harry Morseth's, some others. She didn't complain about us using the money to take the kids on a round the country camping trip to see American history, like the Little Big Horn, Yellowstone, Bent's Fort, The Alamo, and Dodge City. Son John still remembers being kissed by "Miss Kitty" at the Long Branch saloon.

But Karen was shocked that I'd been watching her with her little classic, and that I put one on my keyring to try out. She's seen me change so much over the years, that she's intimidated trying to figure out where I'm going.

No, Karen has never bought me a knife.

But she has in our years together become a semi-knife knut herself. In her purse is a nice little lockblade Buck she likes because she can open it without endagnering a nail, and in her woods walking daypack, is a nice little mora thats very sharp. And of course there's the ever present classic on her keyring.
 
Which patterns have you been carrying lately, Jackknife?

I seem to remember something about small fixed blades?
 
I enjoy your stories from the Eastern Shore, and the geography you describe. What years were the stories from, was the 301/50 Highway built across the bay yet? And how much has way of life changed over on that side of Maryland compared to when you were a boy? Thanks for your stories and answers.
 
kozak6 said:
Which patterns have you been carrying lately, Jackknife?

I seem to remember something about small fixed blades?
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With the problems from two surgeries and ostioarthritis, my choice of pocket knives has been narrow.

Ridiculously, my Vic classic is still on my keyring and used a great deal. Due to the setup of the springs in a lobster pattern, it's very very easy to open with a light pull pressure.

I have a beautiful lockblade Henckels sodbuster with wood handles that look like some type of rose wood. I gave it a rubdown with linseed oil when I got from fellow forumite Kamagong, and it's a good lking knife. Thin carbon steel blade gets wicked sharp and stays that way for a good while. Due to the lockblade design, it's very easy to pull open, and the sodbuster design is classic. Carbon steel and wood help.

A good friend down the road loaned me a Buck squire, and I've been carrying it, but I think it's going back home soon. For some reason, I just haven't bonded with the knife.

I've been using the heck out of my pocket fixed blades. My mike Miller knife may be in the runnning for what I may use form now on. It's shaped kind of like a mini chef's knife, and I like it a great deal. The 2 1/8 inch blade is good enough for most of what I do. It's wide, with a very good cross section for slicing, and made from 01 that holds a very very good edge. The grey giraffe bone handles are 2 1/2 inches long, a bit boxy which is a good thing, and has subtle finger indents that also make for a good grip. There's mosiac pin work on the handle, and it gets positive attention even from the ladies. They think its just beautiful. Mike does very good work, and I can recomend him without any reservation. If I had the knife re-made, I'm maybe add a half inch to the handle.

I also use a Buck Hartsook of all things. I have this friend Jimmy, who gave it to me. I've been driving Jimmy to his doctors appointments so his wife does not have to miss much work, and I also take him to his chemo therapy appointments. He gave this to me over my protests, and I took it so's not to hurt his feelings. I thought it was a joke of a knife. The joke was on me.

I've carried it a couple of different ways, and it is a very fast to use uber convienient knife to get out and put back. If Buck had put a bit longer handle on it, that would have been nice. But for use as a sort of unfolding pen knife, it's okay. Like the Miller knife, there's nothing to open. Just pull out, use, and put back in sheath.

There you have it. That's what I'm carrying these days.
 
thawk said:
I enjoy your stories from the Eastern Shore, and the geography you describe. What years were the stories from, was the 301/50 Highway built across the bay yet? And how much has way of life changed over on that side of Maryland compared to when you were a boy? Thanks for your stories and answers.
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The Damm Bridge, as it was often called, was opened in 1952. Before that, if you wanted to get to the easter shore, you had to ride a ferry boat over. The eastern shore was isolated and stuck in a past time, which was not a bad thing. The people over there liked it, and I very often heard the new bridge called 'that dammed bridge' in much the way dammed yankees are heard way down south. Most of my stories from my boyhood are from the period where the bridge has not yet been built, to just after.

It took a while, but the bridge was the death of the old eastern shore. There's a lot of poeple who were convinced that the whole end goal of the bridge was so real estate people could get in there easy to buy cheap land for making upscale vacation comunities, which is just what happened. In 12 to 15 years a whole way of life vanished. Now, you wouldn't recognize the place. I like to make the analogy that it was like the when the railroad spread across the west. It killed the nature of the place. Where the Jenkins store was, is now an upscale seafood resuraunt. Where there were working water men with wooden work boats, there are now million dollar vacation homes and gleaming white fiberglass pleasure boats. All the people who made the place interesting are all gone now.

Sad.
 
jackknife said:
The Damm Bridge, as it was often called, was opened in 1952. Before that, if you wanted to get to the easter shore, you had to ride a ferry boat over. The eastern shore was isolated and stuck in a past time, which was not a bad thing. The people over there liked it, and I very often heard the new bridge called 'that dammed bridge' in much the way dammed yankees are heard way down south. Most of my stories from my boyhood are from the period where the bridge has not yet been built, to just after.

It took a while, but the bridge was the death of the old eastern shore. There's a lot of poeple who were convinced that the whole end goal of the bridge was so real estate people could get in there easy to buy cheap land for making upscale vacation comunities, which is just what happened. In 12 to 15 years a whole way of life vanished. Now, you wouldn't recognize the place. I like to make the analogy that it was like the when the railroad spread across the west. It killed the nature of the place. Where the Jenkins store was, is now an upscale seafood resuraunt. Where there were working water men with wooden work boats, there are now million dollar vacation homes and gleaming white fiberglass pleasure boats. All the people who made the place interesting are all gone now.

Sad.
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Thanks, and when I looked at the map, that highway stuck out like a sore thumb. (The Interstate Highway system did it too) The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is one place that I know of that has managed to hold off too much progress, although I'm sure some natives would disagree. I'm one of those "kids" who is always on the lookout for "the way things used to be" places in America. Even if just a little taste. Your stories are often a big serving on a platter. :)
 
jackknife said:
Lizzy never made it to her 40th birthday.

I spent several years trying to track her down, even to spending my leave while home from the army, trying to find her. She'd left for Baltimore, and I heard she'd been working in a strip joint. I must have had a beer in every joint on Baltimore's infamous 'Block". Got close once, but she moved on, leaving me a letter. I lost her trail in New york city.

One night, she was for some reason coming home to the eastern shore in the wee hours of the night, when she left the road at what the state police said was 70 to 80 miles per hour, and hit a tree. The police say her blood alchool level was high enough that she could hardly have walked. It was a closed casket funeral.

I had moved on with my life, after meeting a girl on a pistol range in San Antonio Texas, in 1970. It was the girl with the long brown hair I noticed first, then the Smith and Wesson .22 revolver she was shooting with such accuracy.

Next year Karen and I will celibrate our 40th aniversary. Karen has been my wife, best friend, lover, and sometimes co-conspiritor. We've raise three children together, and now have grandchildren from teenages to toddlers. I love my wife more than any other human being alive.

But sometimes in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep, like a lot of old people, I think of Lizzy. It makes me feel a bit disloyal to my wife, but sometimes I think of a tall slim girl with long tawney brown hair and vivid green eyes, and I wonder what if?
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Too bad about Lizzy, but you made out in the end from the sound of it. Cograts on your anniversay.
I once asked a college girl out in the 7th grade, she sort of smiled her sister (who was in the 5th grade) got mad I didn't ask her out and broke my nose.
 
jpvjr said:
Too bad about Lizzy, but you made out in the end from the sound of it. Cograts on your anniversay.
I once asked a college girl out in the 7th grade, she sort of smiled her sister (who was in the 5th grade) got mad I didn't ask her out and broke my nose.
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I don't know why I admitted that, but oh well. :o
 
Absintheur said:
I will also say that Mr Van always took this quote to heart...I don't know if he had ever heard it but he certainly seemed to follow it...

"The Scoutmaster teaches boys to play the game by doing so himself."
--Sir Robert Baden-Powell

That is one of the things I liked about your Scout stories...someone who led from the front.
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I don't mean to hijack anything, but this whole thread has brought back so many memories. In 1959, our little Troop 29 stood at attention in the Conoco gas station parking lot in full uniform while Lady Baden Powell addressed the group. Kermit (Second Class) fell over backwards from heatstroke in the 100° heat. I was looking at a little Camillus greenbone scout knife tonight and thinking about that before I started reading this thread. That was a long time ago. Some of my knives have soul and some don't, and some are acquiring it as I speak. I recently received a Case red bone '65 to '69 6231 1/2 jack knife which made my jaw drop when I got it. It is brand new and worth a fair amount, but it has SOUL, and I am going to sharpen it and carry it. I don't care what it is worth; I am going to use it and wear it out. It will be a companion to my old plastic handled Schrade 881 stockman and some others who are old friends. This is a great thread. Thanks!
 
Lol...I just got a 6216 1/2 Case4 from the same era...just like yours, mine is just about mint and yes it is going to get some soul...before I leave this mortal coil I hope it starts singing "Long Tall Sally"...
 
Surely you don't mean the one that was "built fer speed (got everythin' that Uncle John need?"
 
Carl,

What shifts can you see that makes you sigh with relief, that you can let go and don't have to do that any more?
 
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