When I was a kid, there was a ubiquitous knife that was a visual reminder of a good time. That good time was sitting in the shade of a oak tree on the shore of a river or lake, with a line in the water hoping to catch dinner. That knife was our ‘fishin’ knife. It was most times a yella handle single blade slip joint with one long clip point blade. On the deluxe models there may be a second blade that was a scaling blade with a hook disgorge tool on the end of it. On the real deluxe ones a very small hone was set in the handle for the sharpening of a fishhook.
The ever popular toothpick.
The toothpick is a southern knife, with roots deep down in old Mississippi and Alabama. It spread through the Deep South and for a good reason; it was a very versatile knife. It made a great fishin knife, a pretty good small game knife, not a bad deer field dressing tool, and a pretty good work knife. The moderate to large single blade slip joint makes a pretty good versatile knife. Kind of a jack of all trades in a pinch. Most of my childhood friends had a yella handle fishin knife at one time or another. Didn’t really matter what kind knife we carried for our regular knife, there was a fish knife around for lazy afternoons by the water. Most I recall were made by Camillus or Colonial, with some Imperial thrown in. Every sporting goods and country store had a few in stock. They came in mostly yella, but some others were around. One young lady from my youth had a “switch blade” toothpick with a blood red celluloid handle. Lizzy Rankin was a little rough around the edges, and you didn’t want to be on her bad side if she had that knife on her, and she always had that knife on her.
Therein we get to the other side of the coin of the friendly old fishin knife. The other darker side of the knife. Here was the old country tavern, and barn dance dispute knife. Long before the advent of the modern tactical age, and even before the rise of the Buck 110 as the popular knife for all seasons, there was the toothpick. A long, pointy, easy to carry knife that a certain tavern crown carried. In the old days, which depresses me greatly that I can actually remember that far back, many a would be tavern tough guy packed a toothpick in his pocket in case of serious social encounters of the ugly kind.
There was this down a the heels place just down the road a piece from granddads place on the Maryland eastern shore. Tinkers. Plywood and tar paper construction, with some ragged cabins out back that it was whispered that the bar’s ‘girls’ would take a man out to for special hospitality. It was an old fashioned dump of a place with cheap beer, loose women, and fights. It wasn’t at all usual to see a sheriffs car go by, the red gumball machine on the roof going around, and running at a good speed down the road to Tinkers. Most times it was just a fight, but sometimes it was a knifing. Sometimes a bad loser at the pool table, sometimes a fight over one of the bar girls. Sometimes a fight for no real reason other than stupidity enhanced by a lot of alcohol.
One evening, myself and few of the kids who lived around my grandsons place were out catching fireflies in the dusk when a deputy roared by at high speed. Then another. They were headed down the road towards Tinkers, so we jumped on our bikes and headed that way. A bit of excitement on a summer evening. We peddled hard and got those balloon tired Schwinn’s up to a good speed and got to Tinkers in a few minutes. The dirt parking lot had a few of the sheriff’s department cars and as we watched an ambulance rushed up and the medics rushing in. Lots of onlookers gathered around and we kids could catch bits of conversation.
“Yeah, ol Jeff always was a hot head.” Said one man.
“Well, he got Jimmy real good. Right in the bread basket it looked to me.” Said another.
It wasn’t that long before the white jacketed medics carried a stretcher out with a white draped form on it. The sheet went all the way up, covering the victims face. Even us kids knew what that meant. This was followed by two deputies taking out a handcuffed man between them and shoving him into a car. This in turn was followed by a deputy holding a blood smeared knife gingerly between his thumb and forefinger like it was something distasteful. And I guess it was in a way, it was a murder weapon that had just killed a man. The profile was unmistakable to us kids watching, because we all had one around. A yella handle fishing knife. The humble toothpick.
It’s a sobering thought that the humble toothpick was also a sinister weapon in a by gone time. In this day and age, the modern knife makers have done a good job convincing everyone that you need a massive built lock blade with a strong enough lock that will support a Brinks armored car or else the blade will fold over and cut your finger off. Not too long ago on this very forum one of our esteemed porch members admitted to almost committing sepeku with his Case pocket on his wedding day. One misstep and that slim little blade with no lock went into the bolster in his belly. A very close call from a humble little knife.
The origins of the toothpick go way back, but I think it goes way beyond the American Deep South. The Jackknife theory of evolution of the toothpick goes all the way to France and the 1700’s. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that the toothpick is a southern decedent of the lagoiule. That Lagoiule’s of the time were carried by French Hugonauts when they went to the Maritime provinces of Canada, and then got carried to Louisiana when they all got displaced and exiled. From Louisiana is a short jump over to Mississippi and the American south.
Anyways, the old fishing knife has the alter ego of the tavern fight crowd. A split personality pocket knife.
The ever popular toothpick.
The toothpick is a southern knife, with roots deep down in old Mississippi and Alabama. It spread through the Deep South and for a good reason; it was a very versatile knife. It made a great fishin knife, a pretty good small game knife, not a bad deer field dressing tool, and a pretty good work knife. The moderate to large single blade slip joint makes a pretty good versatile knife. Kind of a jack of all trades in a pinch. Most of my childhood friends had a yella handle fishin knife at one time or another. Didn’t really matter what kind knife we carried for our regular knife, there was a fish knife around for lazy afternoons by the water. Most I recall were made by Camillus or Colonial, with some Imperial thrown in. Every sporting goods and country store had a few in stock. They came in mostly yella, but some others were around. One young lady from my youth had a “switch blade” toothpick with a blood red celluloid handle. Lizzy Rankin was a little rough around the edges, and you didn’t want to be on her bad side if she had that knife on her, and she always had that knife on her.
Therein we get to the other side of the coin of the friendly old fishin knife. The other darker side of the knife. Here was the old country tavern, and barn dance dispute knife. Long before the advent of the modern tactical age, and even before the rise of the Buck 110 as the popular knife for all seasons, there was the toothpick. A long, pointy, easy to carry knife that a certain tavern crown carried. In the old days, which depresses me greatly that I can actually remember that far back, many a would be tavern tough guy packed a toothpick in his pocket in case of serious social encounters of the ugly kind.
There was this down a the heels place just down the road a piece from granddads place on the Maryland eastern shore. Tinkers. Plywood and tar paper construction, with some ragged cabins out back that it was whispered that the bar’s ‘girls’ would take a man out to for special hospitality. It was an old fashioned dump of a place with cheap beer, loose women, and fights. It wasn’t at all usual to see a sheriffs car go by, the red gumball machine on the roof going around, and running at a good speed down the road to Tinkers. Most times it was just a fight, but sometimes it was a knifing. Sometimes a bad loser at the pool table, sometimes a fight over one of the bar girls. Sometimes a fight for no real reason other than stupidity enhanced by a lot of alcohol.
One evening, myself and few of the kids who lived around my grandsons place were out catching fireflies in the dusk when a deputy roared by at high speed. Then another. They were headed down the road towards Tinkers, so we jumped on our bikes and headed that way. A bit of excitement on a summer evening. We peddled hard and got those balloon tired Schwinn’s up to a good speed and got to Tinkers in a few minutes. The dirt parking lot had a few of the sheriff’s department cars and as we watched an ambulance rushed up and the medics rushing in. Lots of onlookers gathered around and we kids could catch bits of conversation.
“Yeah, ol Jeff always was a hot head.” Said one man.
“Well, he got Jimmy real good. Right in the bread basket it looked to me.” Said another.
It wasn’t that long before the white jacketed medics carried a stretcher out with a white draped form on it. The sheet went all the way up, covering the victims face. Even us kids knew what that meant. This was followed by two deputies taking out a handcuffed man between them and shoving him into a car. This in turn was followed by a deputy holding a blood smeared knife gingerly between his thumb and forefinger like it was something distasteful. And I guess it was in a way, it was a murder weapon that had just killed a man. The profile was unmistakable to us kids watching, because we all had one around. A yella handle fishing knife. The humble toothpick.
It’s a sobering thought that the humble toothpick was also a sinister weapon in a by gone time. In this day and age, the modern knife makers have done a good job convincing everyone that you need a massive built lock blade with a strong enough lock that will support a Brinks armored car or else the blade will fold over and cut your finger off. Not too long ago on this very forum one of our esteemed porch members admitted to almost committing sepeku with his Case pocket on his wedding day. One misstep and that slim little blade with no lock went into the bolster in his belly. A very close call from a humble little knife.
The origins of the toothpick go way back, but I think it goes way beyond the American Deep South. The Jackknife theory of evolution of the toothpick goes all the way to France and the 1700’s. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that the toothpick is a southern decedent of the lagoiule. That Lagoiule’s of the time were carried by French Hugonauts when they went to the Maritime provinces of Canada, and then got carried to Louisiana when they all got displaced and exiled. From Louisiana is a short jump over to Mississippi and the American south.
Anyways, the old fishing knife has the alter ego of the tavern fight crowd. A split personality pocket knife.
