Custom Knife Makers

TEXT BY FRANK BROTHERS PHOTOGRAPHY BY R.K. GLADSTONE ARIZONA'S CUSTOM KNIFE MAKERS Honing a Keen Edge on an Ancient Art

Not fire. Not pottery. Not agriculture. Not the wheel. None of these clearly qualifies as humankind's early great invention. But scholars of "upright, deductive, toolusing bipeds" might agree regarding one revolutionary device: The knife. First, perhaps, a keen edge borrowed from nature. Then, flint or bone sharpened on purpose. Later, complexly knapped instruments specialized for skinning, scraping, smoothing, chopping, doctoring, killing. The spear was a knife stuck on a stick; the ax, a heavy knife hafted to a handle; the arrow, a small knife launched for delivery at distance.

In time, such powerful devices acquired an artistry all their own. Fluted spearpoints, found imbedded in the skulls of mammoths extinct in Southern Arizona for 10,000 years, are nothing less than exquisite lithic sculptures requiring scores of steps to manufacture. In the depths of Grand Canyon, archeologists unearthed symmetrical knives perfect for dissecting cactus. And elsewhere: spokeshaves, drills, atlatl darts...neatly made...embellished.

The modern custom knife maker, then, deals in a tradition as old as civilization, at least. That most elemental fact venerates the creation of able, beautiful blades. That, and the continuation of universal, daily utility-whether users think of knives as letter openers, or double them as scissors.

"Until comparatively recent times," says Steve Hoel, president of the Arizona Knifemakers, "knives were produced by (LEFT) Amber-handled period piece by D. (Butch) Beaver displayed on an Arizona flag.

(ABOVE) Personalized engraved folding knife by Steve Hoel, engraving by Steve Lindsay.

One person, one at a time, for one person. The Industrial Age changed that for a while." But only briefly were the ideals of Damascus smiths, Viking sailors, King Arthur's Knights, Samurai swordsmen, and Jim Bowie followers lost in that newest of the arts called mass production.

Even into the industrial twentieth cen-tury, the yen for a custom knife endured. A few die-hard knife fanciers, in need of a differing design or fitted feel, were willing to wait half a year for hermit-like William Scagle to craft a graceful custom knife at his forge at Fruitport, Michigan.

World War II changed more than geog-raphy. Americans by the millions were uprooted and fetched off to strange and dangerous places. As Harold L. Peterson commented in his book American Knives: A soldier in the field is a man on his own. Behind the lines there are dozens of noncombatants to take care of his needs. As he nears the fighting area these helpers gradually melt away until in the final phase there are only other fighting men. Now the soldier prepares his own food, constructs his own shelter, makes emergency repairs to his own equipment, and defends his own life. In all these activities he gratefully accepts the services of a good knife.

"I got my start by copying Scagle's knife," freely confesses W. D. (Bo) Randall, Jr. of Orlando, Florida. Now a living legend in his own right, Randall was ready with handsome, dependable sheath knives for troops embarking for overseas. Return-ing veterans retained their loyalty to lifesaving custom knives. Bob Loveless and Henry Frank kept the faith until the late 1960s when (as Steve Hoel says) “interest in custom knives took off like a runaway rocket.” By the mid-1970s American factories were still turning out a million mass production knives a year (10,000 of one model in one week), but the nation's custom knife makers contributed 15,000 knives. They went to buyers who appreciated new steels unsuitable for factory fabrication, who demanded clean lines, who recognized a perfectly shaped handle of horn, shell, and stone.

KEEN EDGE

Steve Hoel again: “We were a bit late in starting in Arizona, although Dan Dennehy, formerly of Yuma, was one of the eleven original founders of the national Knifemaker's Guild in Tulsa in 1970. And the now-famous D'Alton Holder, new Guild president and a former Phoenician, was an organizer of the Arizona Knifemakers a few years ago.” Today, the national guild counts 200 knife makers and 600 associates; the Arizona association about twenty knife makers. Typically independent and uncitified, many state knife makers do not belong to any group, but most of the better Arizona bladesmiths join for the camaraderie, markets, and trade secrets. “Good friends and sorry competitors,” says Hoel, adding: “We've caught up fast. Not three people in the world make a better knife than Larry Hendricks of Mesa, Arizona. He has an ironclad patent on his kangaroo knife that comes in a dozen models each with a slender little caping (skinning) knife tucked away in the handle of the big knife. Not six knife makers in this country make a better folding knife than our Jack Busfield.” That would be John H. Busfield, also of Mesa. By trade a utility company technician, Busfield puts in the best part of a “second shift” in his home workshop. Production: about one locking folder or fixed blade knife per week. Depending on handle material, file work, or scrimshaw art, Busfield's knives are priced from $125 to $200. He is perfecting a new design with bolster/liner machined from a single piece of stainless steel to sell at a base price of $300.

In league with their national fellows, Arizona's custom knife makers employ the most modern of metals, and most evocative of handle materials.

Of steels: no one kind is faultless; if hard, a steel may not be tough; if rust resistant, it might be difficult to sharpen. Among the more popular of today's custom steels are 440-C, stainless and glossy; 154-CM, resilient and durable; and D-2, hard, sharp, and prone to rust. Many custom knife makers send their blades to Paul Bos of California for final heat treatment.

Of handle materials: name it, you can have it. Micarta, a synthetic resin called “the steel of plastics” is used most, but custom handles now come in familiar stag, bone, shell such as abalone and mother-of-pearl, polished stones like jade and turquoise, ivory (except from protected, endangered species), and myriad woods. Ironwood, mesquite, walnut, and oak are preferred Arizona natives, but, often as not, Arizona knife makers get carried off with cocobola, ebony, osage orange, rosewood, and zebrawood. Space Age adhesives simplify a challenge as old as knife making-how to keep the handle attached to the blade.

Of individual Arizona knife makers: Charlie Weiss of Phoenix is known for his large contemporary and classic dress knives. A retired deputy sheriff, Elwin Helzer draws patterns directly on blank steel and crafts one-of-a-kind sheath knives at his shop at Oracle. Jerry Poletis of Scottsdale takes pride in his working knives, practical and durable yet correct as a racing sloop. As do many custom knife makers, Milford J. Oliver of Phoenix guarantees his gemlike sheath blades “to the original buyer for as long as I am able to make knives.” V. E. (Gene) Harrison of Camp Verde is turning from small user knives—“My design or yours”—to fancy display items decorated with twenty-six varieties of wood.

Bill Mase, retired dental surgeon of Tucson, brings off eighty or ninety hunting knives and Bowies a year; his pieces are characterized by fancy file work and Kangaroo folding knife (LEFT) by Larry Hendricks. The “baby” at right slides into a hidden “pouch” in the handle. (RIGHT) Butch Beaver: “A custom knife is a treasure as well as a useful implement and investment. Almost every knife I make is one of a kind.” His favorite: the Bowie.

Wildlife portraits in scrimshaw. Another Tucsonan, T. C. McLane, prefers primitive techniques; he makes steels from magnetite and meteorite by heating in homemade fir charcoal and forging in a multilayered Japanese method.

"Part magic, part myth, part mystery-your own knife from outer space," says T.C.

Richard Racy of Peoria grinds belt knives whose foot-long blades might have saved the Alamo. Don Weiler's leather-

KEEN EDGE

Richard Racy of Peoria grinds belt knives whose foot-long blades might have saved the Alamo. Don Weiler's leather-handled skinners have hunters beating a path to his Yuma door. Handicapped in a work accident, Butch Beaver of New River makes everything from swords with elephant ear handles to gentlemen's knifeand-fork sets with amber handles. Dan Daggett of Flagstaff, fugitive from an Ohio banjo factory, works full-time at inlaying his slender working sheath knives in silver Indian decor. Bill Cheatham, eighteen years a Phoenix policeman, may be Arizona's best known knife maker; his patch knives for muzzle-loading riflemen, his boot and survival blades with fine file work, his imaginative sheath knives handled in manzanita root burl, are pictured in all the trade journals. Other Arizona makers of note include Gerald Click, Elmer Sims, Merle Poteet, Jon Paul Root, Terry Hudgens, and Brian Lamb. And President Steve Hoel. No false political front, Hoel feeds a family from his tiny shop in the crossroads village of Strawberry under Arizona's Tonto Rim. And President Steve Hoel. No false political front, Hoel feeds a family from his tiny shop in the crossroads village of Strawberry under Arizona's Tonto Rim. text continued on page 47

W hat makes a custom claspknife?

Here are ten key things to look for:

Interior is lined and finished.

Symmetry is perfect.

Blade bevels are smoothly ground.

Tool marks or grinding lines are nonexistent.

All joints are tight.

No excess epoxy, glue, or solder is visible at the joints.

"...Each step of production (in the creation of a custom knife) is a mode dedicated to itself and to the next step, with devotion born of precision. Without precision, no amount of artful decoration, however elaborate, will establish the knife as being art...."

Knife (BELOW) by Bill Maze, scrimshaw by Lois McLaine. (INSET) A folding knife by Steve Hoel, scrimshaw by Gigi. "... Today is the golden age of American cutlery-and collectors have taken notice. Each custom knife is unique; like snowflakes, no two are the same.... Many custom makers prefer to make their handles of traditional or exotic materials.... And a good scrimshaw scene can increase the value by several hundred dollars...." -William Williamson In certain boggy meadows of the high country in July, seemingly overnight wild iris daub a ferny world with splashes of regal purple. Chuck Place photo (BACK COVER) Majestic Mount Humphrey, seen from O'Leary Peak near Flagstaff. The historic road across Arizona, built by Lieutenant Edward F. Beale in 1857, ran to the south of these towering mountains. (See "Beale's Historic Road," page two.) Jerry Sieve photo