I really believe my old Uncle Paul was a closest knife knut. Such things were viewed as a little weird back then in the 50's. Not knives of course, every man who had pants on had a pocket knfe of some sort. A pocket knife, with stress one the 'A' part of it. Most men of that era were like dad, they had 'A' pocket knife, so they didn't need another. That would have been looked on as a foolish expedature.
Exept for Uncle Paul.
He loved the little two blade small jack/pen kind of knife. Some had bails for going on a keychain, some not. Most seemed to have some sort of plastic/celluloid cracked ice or fake pearl handles. Uncle Paul had one in each pants pocket, one in his button flap shirt pocket, even a "spare" in his tobacco pouch with a small piece of brown india stone. I think Uncle Paul had more little jack/pen knives stashed on him that Yancy Derringer had Derringers. For all I know, he very may well have had one stuck in his old bucket hat, I don't know for sure.
But what I do know is that I loved to see the careful, prescise way he would use them. Like eating corn on the cob.
At some time in his early life, Uncle Paul had been in a serious car crash, and had his front teeth knocked out by the steering wheel. He had the old style dentures, so he looked okay when he smiled, but they left something to be desired in the bite department. Like eating corn on the cob at summer cookouts. Unfortunatly, corn on the cob is part of a Maryland summer cookout. Wrapped up in either tin foil or with the leaves still on, it goes with the hot dogs and hamburgers. Watching Uncle Paul deal with it was a leasson in knife use.
First, he'd fish around in a pocket for one of his little two blade pocket knives, most often with some kind of advertising for a tool or Bering company. Since Uncle Paul was lead man in the machine shop up at the Curtis-Wright engine plant in Patterson New Jersey, he seemed to have a lot of tool advertsing knives. Once had had a knife in hand, he'd feel the edge very carefully, making sure it was sharp enough for the task at hand. Of course all his knives were razor sharp, but I guess he liked to make sure.
A 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 inch blade is not much blade for food use, but the corn was cylindrical in shape so the blade would do two rows of the corn at a time. Uncle Paul would stand the corn up on one end, and starting at the top, cut down along the length of the cob with great care. He'd repeat this as many times as needed untill the entire cob was cleaned of every kernal of corn. Uncle Paul would do it so well, that it looked as if the cob had been machined, with flat facets where each two rows of corn had been. Each facet was just the exact width and depth as the others.
Of course then Uncle Paul could pick up his flatwear and enjoy eating the corn piled on his plate. A little salt and pepper, and he was happy. Only then he'd take a napkin and with even greater care, dip it in a glass of water and clean his knife. Great care was taken with this task. He'd sometimes pluck a paper match out of a book, and use the torn end of the match to swab the inside of the knife.
But that wasn't the end.
After eating his fill, he'd wander down amoung the trees, and pick the perfect twig. He didn't like pine, but liked the hardwoods. Maple, or even oak. He liked to make a toothpick. He carve, whittle, shave, and scape, till he was satisfied he had shaped the toothpick to optimum pointyness. It was evident that his little knife was sharp, by the super thin slivers of wood that he carefully whittled off the twig. Even hard oak. The little slivers would curl into themselves from the razor sharp little blade.
Or course, after the meal, dad and Uncle paul would smoke their pipes, which called for more knife use. There was a pipe smoking ritual that I never understood. Both dad and Uncle Paul would peer down into the pipe before loading, as if looking for the meaning of life. It was done with great serious looking, and sometimes one or both would take the small blade of thier pocket knife and scrape a little on the cake inside the bowl of the pipe. Only then could the pipe be smoked.
Fishing was the same way. One time we all went out on a head boat on the Chesapeake Bay. Uncle Paul got a really beautiful Rockfish in. The mate, seeing Uncle Paul with no fishing knife, offered him his fillet knife, but Uncle Paul declined. He took out his TRW tap and die advertising pocket knife with the fake pearl scales, and slit the belly open and gutted the big striper right there at the cleaning well. Uncle Paul told the mate we planed on baking the fish, so we didn't need to fillet it. The mate just gaped in amazment at the little 1 3/4 inch dark grey blade that sliced open a big fish belly like it was a zipper bag. Then dad hooked a large blue, and did the same thing with his peanut. Wiped the knife off on a pant leg, and tossed the fish on the ice in the cooler.
We had a great baked fish dinner that night, and I wachted dad and Uncle Paul sit back in their chairs afterward and strop those little pocket knives.
It was a different era back then. Men just used what was in thier pockets everyday. They didn't think much about it, they just did it.
Exept for Uncle Paul.
He loved the little two blade small jack/pen kind of knife. Some had bails for going on a keychain, some not. Most seemed to have some sort of plastic/celluloid cracked ice or fake pearl handles. Uncle Paul had one in each pants pocket, one in his button flap shirt pocket, even a "spare" in his tobacco pouch with a small piece of brown india stone. I think Uncle Paul had more little jack/pen knives stashed on him that Yancy Derringer had Derringers. For all I know, he very may well have had one stuck in his old bucket hat, I don't know for sure.
But what I do know is that I loved to see the careful, prescise way he would use them. Like eating corn on the cob.
At some time in his early life, Uncle Paul had been in a serious car crash, and had his front teeth knocked out by the steering wheel. He had the old style dentures, so he looked okay when he smiled, but they left something to be desired in the bite department. Like eating corn on the cob at summer cookouts. Unfortunatly, corn on the cob is part of a Maryland summer cookout. Wrapped up in either tin foil or with the leaves still on, it goes with the hot dogs and hamburgers. Watching Uncle Paul deal with it was a leasson in knife use.
First, he'd fish around in a pocket for one of his little two blade pocket knives, most often with some kind of advertising for a tool or Bering company. Since Uncle Paul was lead man in the machine shop up at the Curtis-Wright engine plant in Patterson New Jersey, he seemed to have a lot of tool advertsing knives. Once had had a knife in hand, he'd feel the edge very carefully, making sure it was sharp enough for the task at hand. Of course all his knives were razor sharp, but I guess he liked to make sure.
A 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 inch blade is not much blade for food use, but the corn was cylindrical in shape so the blade would do two rows of the corn at a time. Uncle Paul would stand the corn up on one end, and starting at the top, cut down along the length of the cob with great care. He'd repeat this as many times as needed untill the entire cob was cleaned of every kernal of corn. Uncle Paul would do it so well, that it looked as if the cob had been machined, with flat facets where each two rows of corn had been. Each facet was just the exact width and depth as the others.
Of course then Uncle Paul could pick up his flatwear and enjoy eating the corn piled on his plate. A little salt and pepper, and he was happy. Only then he'd take a napkin and with even greater care, dip it in a glass of water and clean his knife. Great care was taken with this task. He'd sometimes pluck a paper match out of a book, and use the torn end of the match to swab the inside of the knife.
But that wasn't the end.
After eating his fill, he'd wander down amoung the trees, and pick the perfect twig. He didn't like pine, but liked the hardwoods. Maple, or even oak. He liked to make a toothpick. He carve, whittle, shave, and scape, till he was satisfied he had shaped the toothpick to optimum pointyness. It was evident that his little knife was sharp, by the super thin slivers of wood that he carefully whittled off the twig. Even hard oak. The little slivers would curl into themselves from the razor sharp little blade.
Or course, after the meal, dad and Uncle paul would smoke their pipes, which called for more knife use. There was a pipe smoking ritual that I never understood. Both dad and Uncle Paul would peer down into the pipe before loading, as if looking for the meaning of life. It was done with great serious looking, and sometimes one or both would take the small blade of thier pocket knife and scrape a little on the cake inside the bowl of the pipe. Only then could the pipe be smoked.
Fishing was the same way. One time we all went out on a head boat on the Chesapeake Bay. Uncle Paul got a really beautiful Rockfish in. The mate, seeing Uncle Paul with no fishing knife, offered him his fillet knife, but Uncle Paul declined. He took out his TRW tap and die advertising pocket knife with the fake pearl scales, and slit the belly open and gutted the big striper right there at the cleaning well. Uncle Paul told the mate we planed on baking the fish, so we didn't need to fillet it. The mate just gaped in amazment at the little 1 3/4 inch dark grey blade that sliced open a big fish belly like it was a zipper bag. Then dad hooked a large blue, and did the same thing with his peanut. Wiped the knife off on a pant leg, and tossed the fish on the ice in the cooler.
We had a great baked fish dinner that night, and I wachted dad and Uncle Paul sit back in their chairs afterward and strop those little pocket knives.
It was a different era back then. Men just used what was in thier pockets everyday. They didn't think much about it, they just did it.
