Why do you carry a Traditional?

Growing up all there were was traditionals. My dad was whiel not really a knife guy, always had a knife on him and used it til it broke then bought whatever the local hardware store had on sale. He gave me my first knife in 1962 when I was 8. I was a Case medium stockman with a busted spey blade that I carried every day until I was able to actually buy one of my own when I was in high school. I had a Camillus (?) Boy Scout knife, but at the time didn't think much of it. I've gone full circle, I got into the Tactical folders in the 80-90 with Spyderco, Benchmade & Kershaw but now those sit in the draw (most given away) and i've been a loyal traditional fan for the last 15 years of so.
 
paulhilborn said:
I actually have the good fortune of using knives in my trade...and like tools there are different ones for different jobs.

But hands down I find a nice Traditional is a true cutter...great for trim work and the like. My LOVE of traditionals dates back to my youth, they are what I was raised on. My Grandmother was thee single biggest influence in my passion for knives.

I never knew either of my Grandfathers...only told stories...my Grandfather Norman managed two grain Elevators, one in Kathryn, ND (which my Mother is named after) and Eastedge, ND. Although my Grandfather Norman passed of Cancer when my Mom was seventeen I was told wonderful stories of the Man he was:thumbup:

My Grandmother Gladys had a roll top desk of several knives of my Grandfathers...the Elevators passed them out as complimentary gifts to the local Farmers. She would tell me "Paul, you can use one when play down by the river today" In essence I was a modern day Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer:thumbup:

My Grandmother Gladys was our Matriarch and pure class, always beautifully dressed yet Country Strong...she told my that my Grandfather Norman was the love of her life and she never re-married. She moved from the country to the city and raised my Mom and two Uncles. The day of her funeral we all spoke of the fond memories of her and the knives in the old roll top desk was the story I recalled:thumbup:

So, basicly, traditionals are what I know best...I know it sounds silly to most...but they take on a bit of a soul like feel to me. Aged wood/bone covers that act as a talisman/worry stone and steel that speaks to you in the patina it earns:thumbup:
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Excellent excellent story. Just what I like to read about.
Thank you Paul
 
hunterjrg said:
Excellent excellent story. Just what I like to read about.
Thank you Paul
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Thanks Jon, and thanks for the thread, it's interesting to know why so many of use and choose a traditional of the thousand of other choices out there:thumbup:
 
Like many others here, I grew up using traditional patterns, because modern ones had yet to be developed. I didn't mark the calendar when I first started carrying a pocket knife, but I was between 6 and 8, which puts it about 55 years ago.

When modern one-handers became available I carried them for a number of years.

I mostly switched back to traditional patterns because I find the blade shapes more useful. I carry a pocket knife as a tool. Always have. Most modern one-handers have wide blades. Having a narrower blade means I can use it in tight quarters. Having multiple blades means I can use a blade whose shape is optimized for the type of cut I need to make.


And please. No more disparaging remarks about people who do not carry pocket knives. It isn't friendly.
 
I just like the way the traditionals look and feel. The beautiful jigged bone and stag handles matched up with nickel silver bolsters, brass liners, and polished steel blades just exemplify quality and craftsmanship. The aesthetics appeal to me. I have limited need for modern folders except when I am doing home fix-up projects around the house. That's when the one-handed operation and ability to clip them to a pocket come in handy.

For general daily life, any small bladed tool covers my needs so it might as well be something I like the looks of.

Oh - the "which is my favorite" question is pretty hard to answer. I always carry a Victorinox Alox Cadet with me because it is just so overall useful, along with a Leatherman Squirt P4 multitool. Between those two all of my "small tool" needs are covered. So I guess maybe the Vic Cadet since I have never not carried it since I got it about a year and a half ago. I know it doesn't fit the "beautiful jigged bone" description I mentioned above, but the Alox SAKs have their own functional beauty.

I still also carry some truly traditional knife in conjunction with the SAK and LM, even though it may be superfluous. My favorite is typically whatever I am carrying any particular day, which means I have a lot of favorites.
 
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Just part of bein dressed for the last 53 years. I never even thought about "why". If I've got my pant's on, I've got a knife. And where and how I grew up and where and how I lived they weren't called Traditional, there were knives, and then there was junk. And I now realize that some modern knives aren't junk. But that was, and pretty much still is, the feelings in these parts. Not too far from here, the Internal Combustion Engine is still thought of as "modern". ;)
 
I carry traditional knives because they just seem to "fit" me. They make me feel good when I use them, or just admire their uniqueness and character. They seem to have more, personality, for lack of a better word.
 
I really like traditional, but I'm certainly not packing a huge collection of them. Like many I appreciate the nostalgia as they remind me of grandpa and dad. I do carry a Case Mini Trapper in my pocket daily (as a secondary blade to whatever larger Spyderco, BM, MT folder I may be carrying). Interestingly enough I find I use the little traditional more often for opening letters, boxes, stripping wire, cutting zip ties etc. The little traditional just makes a good utility knife. I need to stay out of this forum though...there are several of those Northwoods that are calling to me! :)
 
Carried a slip joint since I was eight years old,my grandpa bought me it.They just feel right,also fits in with U.K.carry laws.
 
chickenfried said:
Similar to the way when I'm carrying my stabmaster 2000 I channel my inner richard marcinko. When I carry my slipjoint I'm channeling my inner Matlock. :p

But really because they're nice looking and less scary to the wusses. Part of me hates that I take into consideration #2.
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Better slicers, easy back pocket carry and more. But the greater acceptance by the masses is a biggie. I love that I feel that way though. I feel like an "ambassador" or "consciousness raiser" for knives.
 
Right from age about eight i had some sort of pocket knife, then as i got older i got a SAK that rode on my belt for years until i bought a Buck 110 that i thought fitted better with my Triumph Bonneville riding image, after a while i saw an advertisement for a Buck Crosslock and sent away for one but was not to impressed with it, some years later a guy at the Harley Davidson agency turned me onto Spyderco knives and i gradually became a collector, veering off into some of those over engineered high priced knives that are so popular and of course mostly illegal to carry in public where i live. Anyhow life happened and i sold most of my knives until i saw a video about Case knives and the collecting bug struck again and that was ok until i saw my first GEC and then most of my Case knives had to go to feed my new addiction. GEC knives are so well made and i get so much pleasure just from looking at them and that 1095 blade steel is the dogs danglers. Of course you have to be quick to get the knife you want as GEC tend to do limited runs and if you live overseas from the USA it can be on the expensive side with import tax although sometimes one will get through unmolested which is nice.
So in answer to the question "Why do i carry a Traditional", i have to say they give me so much pleasure both to look at and to use, recently i have mostly been carrying a #66 Calf Roper" in purple sage and this feeds into my boyhood love of the Wild West both on film and in books, every time i take it out and chose which of its three blades to open for the task at hand i am that small boy imagining himself in Texas with his heroes. And if that makes me a silly old man i dont care. Long live traditional knives and the artisans that build them.
OMR...
 
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Because nothing can replace my SAK Tinker. But I also carry a Kershaw Drone (plain blade) as a OHO is very handy when you're using a cane.
Rich
 
Because I grew up in an era when all men and most women had a pocket knife on them. It was considered a way of life to have some kind of small cutting tool on you. If a man had his pants on, he had a knife on him. And in those days, it was always some sort of small serpentine jack with two blades. Sometimes a pen pattern. This was normal, and I grew up watching my dad, and other family members solve all sorts of problems with a pocket knife and whatever was around. Some waxed string for a leaking gasket, cutting some branches to get a car unstuck from the mud, cleaning a nice fresh caught fish for dinner.

Between dad, Mr. Van our scout master, Uncle Paul, granddad, I saw how they could manipulate the environment around them with a sharp blade for what they needed. It was some sort of unwritten law in those days that a man would always have a few certain items on him; a knife, some way to make fire, and a bandana or two. We kids had a book of matches or a match safe with strike anywhere barn burners in our pocket, even though we didn't smoke. Mr. Van was fanatical about us learning to do everything with just a pocket knife, and very rarely used our hatchets. He taught us to notch and grove and break off wood that was too thin to break by hand. How to make a shelter with a pocket knife. A pocket knife came to represent self reliance. The ability to get by using what was around us. When you were finally given a pocket knife of your own to carry, it was like a rite of passage, and vote of confidence by your elders, that you were ready to join them in being a grown up. And to take on the responsibility of what that meant.

Back then, there was no modern knives. the one hand knife revelation was far in the future at the point, and all pocket knives had handles of jigged bone, wood, some stag, pearl if it was a fancy one, or even plastic that was jigged to look like bone. You had to pull open the blade you wanted, and it was never a problem. The old companies back then took some pains to make the knife look good. Fit and finish was important then as now, and the scales blended smoothly with the nickel silver bolsters. They had a great warm feel to them, and after a spell of carry they developed a character to them that was their own. Your knife was unique.

I remember when the modern knives came out. I just could never warm up to them. I guess I'm a product of my era. But then I still like my rifles and shotguns tone blued, with nice walnut stocks on them.
 
This little remembrance I wrote in 2011, and which is posted somewhere on this site, is one of the reasons I carry a traditional knife. I've got a head full of other similar memories and there was always a pocket knife nearby. These memories of the woods and fields, hunting and fishing with my dad, my brother and my cousins are always with me and the knife in my pocket is a reminder of those times.

Oh there is a lot of utility in having a knife with me everyday. I'd feel undressed and unequipped without one.

I could accomplish all I need to with some modern one hander, but it wouldn't conjure up any memories for me.

Betty Green Creek (1966)

My dad, younger brother and I spent many a weekend roaming the Adirondacks (this was back in the 60s, I'm no spring chicken). One particular trip we hiked up into the Moose River area with our compass and topographic maps. We were looking for a small lake on the map to throw a lure into.

Well this was quite some country we found ourselves passing through. After hours of hiking along the Betty Green Creek, which started out as a hike up a tumbling brook and ended with us fording a beaver meadow, with water up to our chests, we found the outlet of this little lake. This was quite a hike as my left arm was in a cast and my little brother was on my dad's shoulders, my brother was still little then, the water would have been up to his chin.

Another hour of climbing our way up through alder thickets and we were there! Not a soul anywhere to be seen. We got our fishing tackle out of the old willow pack basket my dad carried and in a short while had enough fish (small mouth bass if I remember right) for lunch. We foraged the lake shore for dead wood and using our small axe, sheath and pocket knives we soon had kindling and a enough wood to make a small cook fire. The fish were handily cleaned by my dad with his old slip joint and using the pan from a mess kit and some oil that were packed in that basket we soon had a nice pan of fish cooking. Man did that taste good!

After our meal we put out the fire, cleaned up and figured we'd better head back down to the brook. It was mid afternoon and we had some threatening clouds moving in. Well those clouds moved real quick. We were still on the lake shore when the heavens opened up the rain came down. I can't recall ever seeing it rain any harder then it did up on that lake. We even had some small hail for a few minutes. Thankfully the storm passed quickly. My dad and brother were soaked to the skin. I was wearing the one poncho we had to protect my cast. We set out on our return trip.

We were running late, as often happened when we were in the woods. By the time we were hiking down that Betty Green Creek, past the beaver meadow, twilight was fast approaching. We were still a few miles from where we'd parked the old Ford station wagon.

Dad figured we had better find a place to spend the night as hiking that creek in the dark would not be the smartest thing to do. As we looked around for a likely camp site, we found an old shack in the woods. It was in some disrepair, no lock on the door and no furniture. It looked like no one had been in it for years. There was an old calendar hanging on one wall with a picture of some old time boxer with his waxed mustache and hair parted in the middle. I don't recall the year on that calendar. There was however and old cook stove in the corner. After making sure it would be safe to build a fire in it we were again foraging for firewood. Our knives and that little axe, more like a hatchet, came in handy again. It was a little harder finding dry wood so we had to make some fuzz sticks (we didn't have a name for them back then).

We got a nice fire going. The cabin was warming up and we were drying off. Dad had one can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew in that pack basket, but no can opener! I saved the day, or at least the dinner, by pulling my trusty Boy Scout knife out of my pocket and handily opening that can with it's can opener.

That was the best Dinty Moore Beef Stew I ever tasted. Too bad we only had one can for the three of us!

I'll close this out by saying; we spent an uneventful night, sleeping on the ground and were on our way early the next morning.

That was one memorable trip. My dad is gone now but the fond memories I have of our wilderness experiences are some of my most treasured memories. I'm reminded of this trip every time I see a can of Beef Stew. In all the years since that trip, no beef stew ever tasted anywhere near as good.
 
Great story Gary and it is amazing how good some things taste when one is truly hungry. Thumbs up for the Scout knife. :thumbup::)
 
jackknife said:
Because I grew up in an era when all men and most women had a pocket knife on them. It was considered a way of life to have some kind of small cutting tool on you. If a man had his pants on, he had a knife on him. And in those days, it was always some sort of small serpentine jack with two blades. Sometimes a pen pattern. This was normal, and I grew up watching my dad, and other family members solve all sorts of problems with a pocket knife and whatever was around. Some waxed string for a leaking gasket, cutting some branches to get a car unstuck from the mud, cleaning a nice fresh caught fish for dinner.

Between dad, Mr. Van our scout master, Uncle Paul, granddad, I saw how they could manipulate the environment around them with a sharp blade for what they needed. It was some sort of unwritten law in those days that a man would always have a few certain items on him; a knife, some way to make fire, and a bandana or two. We kids had a book of matches or a match safe with strike anywhere barn burners in our pocket, even though we didn't smoke. Mr. Van was fanatical about us learning to do everything with just a pocket knife, and very rarely used our hatchets. He taught us to notch and grove and break off wood that was too thin to break by hand. How to make a shelter with a pocket knife. A pocket knife came to represent self reliance. The ability to get by using what was around us. When you were finally given a pocket knife of your own to carry, it was like a rite of passage, and vote of confidence by your elders, that you were ready to join them in being a grown up. And to take on the responsibility of what that meant.

Back then, there was no modern knives. the one hand knife revelation was far in the future at the point, and all pocket knives had handles of jigged bone, wood, some stag, pearl if it was a fancy one, or even plastic that was jigged to look like bone. You had to pull open the blade you wanted, and it was never a problem. The old companies back then took some pains to make the knife look good. Fit and finish was important then as now, and the scales blended smoothly with the nickel silver bolsters. They had a great warm feel to them, and after a spell of carry they developed a character to them that was their own. Your knife was unique.

I remember when the modern knives came out. I just could never warm up to them. I guess I'm a product of my era. But then I still like my rifles and shotguns tone blued, with nice walnut stocks on them.
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I feel like you have hacked into my brain. I couldn't have answered better myself. When asked if he had a knife, my dad's standard answer was "I've got my pants on, don't I?", quickly followed by "Why, where's your knife?".

Times sure have changed.
 
I carry a traditional because my dad carried one all of his life. If it was good enough for him, it's certainly good enough for me. I carry his stockman in my pocket everyday.
 
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