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The Sunfish (Elephant's Toenail, English Rope Knife, Pocket Axe, etc.) is one of the most unusual of the two-bladed, two-ended slip-joint folding knife patterns. Most Sunfish knives are equal end jacks though Bernard Levine, in the fourth edition of his Guide to Knives, notes that other patterns were used, as well. The common denominators of these knives are that they are large, 3 7/8-inches closed to about 4 1/2 inch closed, and wide for their length. Being two-ended, these knives are also relatively thin for their size, making them relatively "pocketable", considering the fact that they are such large knives. These knives also generally feature strong springs.
The derivations and primary uses of this pattern seem to be somewhat mysterious. Levine contends that the Sunfish is a mid-to-late nineteenth century and early twentieth century pattern that was primarily used in the Northern Midwest and was most popular with immigrant framing carpenters and electrical workers. Other sources claim that the pattern was used as a rope knife, at least in the South and Southern Midwest, and was also used, in the Midwest and West, by surveyors to cut wooden stakes. In addition there are at least a few Sunfish in Western museums. Of the two that I know of, one is said to have been used by Kit Carson and the other seems to have been confiscated from a stage coach robber. Why these latter knives were selected by their original owners is unknown to me.
Sunfish are popular with collectors, in part, I suspect because of their impressive size. In an article about his favorite slip-joint patterns in a past Knives annual, Levine quotes Crocodile Dundee's line of "There's a knife!" In addition there are not a lot of them around, old or new, and that kind of thing can run prices up on high-quality specimens.
Information becomes really limited when the usefulness of the Sunfish is considered. As I noted above, there is little consensus about what the pattern was even used for, in the old days, and descriptions of how well these big slip-joints did the jobs that they were asked to do is sparse, indeed.
In my small way, I have made some attempts to recreate what the original usefulness of the Sunfish must have been within the limitations of the fact that there are obvious limitations on the usefulness of trying to duplicate tough ninteenth and early twentieth century use conditions in the relatively "soft" early twenty- first century. I have tentatively found the following, however:
First, I believe that I have found yet another reason why the old timers wore suspenders. The "big" (4 1/4-inches closed, plus) Sunfish are real "pocket weights" that are only slightly less heavy when celluloid handle scales are substituted for bone of mother of pearl. My favorite size, 4-inches closed, is rather less of a load. I suspect that the 4 1/8-inch size rather splits the difference.
Second, their weights aside, all but the very largest Sunfish are relatively "pocketable" due to their relatively thin cross section.
For such a large knife this pattern makes a very modest
pocket "signature".
Third, I was surprised to find just how good these big knives feel in the hand when they are used. They fill the hand nicely but are not overly cumbersome unless the knife is very large. This, obviously, is an individual determination, however. I wear a man's "large" glove and I find that a 4-inch closed Sunfish fits my hand perfectly and a 4 1/4-inch Sunfish is large but useful for such heavy work as I have found for it. Larger hands than mine might find even the huge 4 1/2-inch, plus, examples to be comfortable and useful, as did a fair number of the old-timers'.
Fourth, being heavily sprung, one would expect that these knives might require a certain amount of persuasion to open, especially when they are new, and this is reflected in my experience. On the other hand, they would seem to be less prone to close on one's fingers during heavy work than less heavily sprung patterns might be.
Finally, the blades that occur on Sunfish are worthy of note. The master blades on these knives are nearly always large, wide, spear points, though a few, notably modern day Bulldogs, have been made with large clip point blades. I, personally, have no first hand experience with clip master blades in this pattern. I have, however. found some minor, though interesting variations in the spear master blades. Most seem to be of more of less "standard" configuration, with a fair amount of "belly". Some, in fact, like my Winchester 4-incher, have so much "belly" to their blades that the blades are configured very much like skinning knives, with almost no useable point, at all. Others, like my John Primble 4 1/4-inchers have a edge configuration that is almost "tanto-like", with a long straight section ending with a sharp, staight, upturn to the point. I have no idea why this last configuration was developed (a "spey application", perhaps?). In all cases, the Sunfish's master blades give indication that skinning may have been one of the anticipated uses of these knives.
The "pen" blade on the Sunfish is interesting, too. It is not only big, at least as large as the master blades of many lesser knives, but it is also often sharply pointed, almost in anticipation that these blades might be used for reaming.
It is almost too bad that the Sunfish is now seen by many knife enthusiasts as a collector's curiousity. This reaction is, however, understandable. Their size, configuration, and ponderous grace set them apart from nearly all other slip-joint folding knife patterns. If a Sunfish was well made, and is currently in good condition, it has an eye- and hand appeal that is truly its own. However, like so many other kinds of knives, to just look at and lightly handle these friendly giants might not do them complete justice. These big knives were made for jobs and men that many of us can only imagine, today. Perhaps it may be time to do more with these knives that to simply "collect" them and, instead, to drop all but some of the most rare and valuable antiques into pants pockets, once again, and actually use them to cut some of the kinds of things that we now think that they were designed to cut. Who knows? We might even learn something. It might even be fun.
(As an aside, I strongly recommend that anyone who does not already have a copy of Levine's book, fourth edition, obtain one as soon as possible. It is now out of print and the Krause-modified fifth edition is not nearly as useful. I understand that Levine still has a few copies that he is willing to sell, autographed, at about the old list price. A.G. Russell also seems to have a few copies, unautographed, but A.G. is now charging a premium for his books.)
The derivations and primary uses of this pattern seem to be somewhat mysterious. Levine contends that the Sunfish is a mid-to-late nineteenth century and early twentieth century pattern that was primarily used in the Northern Midwest and was most popular with immigrant framing carpenters and electrical workers. Other sources claim that the pattern was used as a rope knife, at least in the South and Southern Midwest, and was also used, in the Midwest and West, by surveyors to cut wooden stakes. In addition there are at least a few Sunfish in Western museums. Of the two that I know of, one is said to have been used by Kit Carson and the other seems to have been confiscated from a stage coach robber. Why these latter knives were selected by their original owners is unknown to me.
Sunfish are popular with collectors, in part, I suspect because of their impressive size. In an article about his favorite slip-joint patterns in a past Knives annual, Levine quotes Crocodile Dundee's line of "There's a knife!" In addition there are not a lot of them around, old or new, and that kind of thing can run prices up on high-quality specimens.
Information becomes really limited when the usefulness of the Sunfish is considered. As I noted above, there is little consensus about what the pattern was even used for, in the old days, and descriptions of how well these big slip-joints did the jobs that they were asked to do is sparse, indeed.
In my small way, I have made some attempts to recreate what the original usefulness of the Sunfish must have been within the limitations of the fact that there are obvious limitations on the usefulness of trying to duplicate tough ninteenth and early twentieth century use conditions in the relatively "soft" early twenty- first century. I have tentatively found the following, however:
First, I believe that I have found yet another reason why the old timers wore suspenders. The "big" (4 1/4-inches closed, plus) Sunfish are real "pocket weights" that are only slightly less heavy when celluloid handle scales are substituted for bone of mother of pearl. My favorite size, 4-inches closed, is rather less of a load. I suspect that the 4 1/8-inch size rather splits the difference.
Second, their weights aside, all but the very largest Sunfish are relatively "pocketable" due to their relatively thin cross section.
For such a large knife this pattern makes a very modest
pocket "signature".
Third, I was surprised to find just how good these big knives feel in the hand when they are used. They fill the hand nicely but are not overly cumbersome unless the knife is very large. This, obviously, is an individual determination, however. I wear a man's "large" glove and I find that a 4-inch closed Sunfish fits my hand perfectly and a 4 1/4-inch Sunfish is large but useful for such heavy work as I have found for it. Larger hands than mine might find even the huge 4 1/2-inch, plus, examples to be comfortable and useful, as did a fair number of the old-timers'.
Fourth, being heavily sprung, one would expect that these knives might require a certain amount of persuasion to open, especially when they are new, and this is reflected in my experience. On the other hand, they would seem to be less prone to close on one's fingers during heavy work than less heavily sprung patterns might be.
Finally, the blades that occur on Sunfish are worthy of note. The master blades on these knives are nearly always large, wide, spear points, though a few, notably modern day Bulldogs, have been made with large clip point blades. I, personally, have no first hand experience with clip master blades in this pattern. I have, however. found some minor, though interesting variations in the spear master blades. Most seem to be of more of less "standard" configuration, with a fair amount of "belly". Some, in fact, like my Winchester 4-incher, have so much "belly" to their blades that the blades are configured very much like skinning knives, with almost no useable point, at all. Others, like my John Primble 4 1/4-inchers have a edge configuration that is almost "tanto-like", with a long straight section ending with a sharp, staight, upturn to the point. I have no idea why this last configuration was developed (a "spey application", perhaps?). In all cases, the Sunfish's master blades give indication that skinning may have been one of the anticipated uses of these knives.
The "pen" blade on the Sunfish is interesting, too. It is not only big, at least as large as the master blades of many lesser knives, but it is also often sharply pointed, almost in anticipation that these blades might be used for reaming.
It is almost too bad that the Sunfish is now seen by many knife enthusiasts as a collector's curiousity. This reaction is, however, understandable. Their size, configuration, and ponderous grace set them apart from nearly all other slip-joint folding knife patterns. If a Sunfish was well made, and is currently in good condition, it has an eye- and hand appeal that is truly its own. However, like so many other kinds of knives, to just look at and lightly handle these friendly giants might not do them complete justice. These big knives were made for jobs and men that many of us can only imagine, today. Perhaps it may be time to do more with these knives that to simply "collect" them and, instead, to drop all but some of the most rare and valuable antiques into pants pockets, once again, and actually use them to cut some of the kinds of things that we now think that they were designed to cut. Who knows? We might even learn something. It might even be fun.
(As an aside, I strongly recommend that anyone who does not already have a copy of Levine's book, fourth edition, obtain one as soon as possible. It is now out of print and the Krause-modified fifth edition is not nearly as useful. I understand that Levine still has a few copies that he is willing to sell, autographed, at about the old list price. A.G. Russell also seems to have a few copies, unautographed, but A.G. is now charging a premium for his books.)