You said a mouthful, Brother!
I think we've seen this baby before ... didn't realize it was your first.
What a great piece of wood!
Aren't you glad you didn't buy any guns that day?
Thanks for posting, Peter!
Tony

.........of this New Year! I actually went to the auction looking for some C&R rifles and shotguns and lo and behold I ended up bidding on these old knives. Geezus....now what do I do?

WOW!
NINE Firsts!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EXCELLENT!
NOW WHAT DO YOU DO ? ... start working on your next nine!
Thanks for posting Dave!

I've noticed a reoccurring theme. Over the years we may have been around Randall knives, heard of them or even read about them but we didn't catch the bug until someone we respected told us about them.
This has been seen by most so let me apologize but after all, you only have one "first time".

REDBURN

Randall Made knives have a mystique, history and following that, in my experience, is unprecedented. Time after time I hear folks describe their emotions regarding Randall knives with a reverence that is usually reserved for a beautiful woman or a new born child. I experienced this for myself back in the 70s while visiting an old gun collector friend of mine. Then 60 years old, give or take, Billy Redburn was a tall slender man with a full head of white hair and a matching handlebar mustache. He was proud of the fact that he still wore the same size jeans that he had worn in high school. Like one of his idols in an old western, Billy always dressed the same. His 20X silverbelly Stetson was worn and dirty and sported a rattlesnake band. The remainder of his standard apparel was as you would expect, plaid shirt with yokes front and back, Wrangler jeans and handmade boots from a small shop in Texas. The boots were cowhide, not some exotic critter but they did have custom silver toe and heel caps. His hand tooled belt carried a silver tip, keepers and buckle. The waistband on his right side always, and I do mean ALWAYS, bulged with an ivory handled 1911 Colt .45 ACP. Any handgun that Billy would or could possibly ever carry was equipped with ivory grips like General Patton, another hero of his. In the watch pocket of his jeans rested his model 110 Buck folding hunter which, like his guns, had been fitted with ivory scales by knifemaker P.J. Tomes. Billy was an old school collector. He only added to his collection, he never sold. He still had the first gun he'd ever bought, a martially marked Calvary model single action army Colt that he had pulled from a pickle barrel full of surplus handguns and for which he paid five dollars. He also still had his first "real" knife. In his kitchen, next to his sink was an oversized wood cutting board. Above this, firmly stuck to a magnet that had been secured between the cabinets was a six inch belt knife with a stag handle. As my hand was uncontrollably drawn to the seemingly misplaced tool I asked Billy "what the hell kind of kitchen knife is this"? That's a Randall knife, he replied, in a tone of respect that, prior to this, I had only heard him use while oiling his 1911 A1 SINGER government model .45. I pried the carbon blade from the magnet and as the right handed stag found it's proper seat in my hand I instantly noticed the heft and balance of the knife. I wanted to cut something.... It was magical! My eye was drawn down the blade from point to hilt. There was no hint of rust though it was stained in spots from years of cutting everything from fresh juice oranges for breakfast to Sunday's dinner ham. Billy believed in using his tools. Then, as I turned the knife back and fourth with my hand, never changing my grip on the old yellowed pinned stag, I noticed the name in two lines, bracketed by scimitars, deeply stamped on the left side of the blade. Randall Made Orlando Florida I said out loud. Without realizing it, I heard my own voice adopt that same respectful tone. "You like that" Redburn said? Yeah, I answered quietly, my voice still in respect mode ... now that's a knife. Come with me he said, I'll show ya something. Billy was a retired Navy man. He had been an armorer aboard the U.S.S. Hornet and spoke with great pride about how in the predawn hours of April 18, 1942, he had loaded the bombs on Jimmy Doolittle's B-25. He still kept most of his possessions, with his gun collection being the most notable exception, in sea bags which he called his Amelia Earheart luggage. It was as if he half expected to be called back to his ship at any moment. Laced up and locked, he kept everything locked with tiny pad locks, they lay about the spare bedroom which, before her death, was his wife's sewing room. I followed him into the room and watched as he walked straight to one of the olive drab bags resting next to a well worn recliner. As he sat he pulled a tiny key from his pocket and lifting up the sea bag he inserted the key and opened the lock. I couldn't help but wonder if that one key fit all those little locks or if this key was special, residing in his jeans pocket with other required items such as his pocket knife, truck keys and plastic, clamshell change purse. I soon had my answer as the lock dropped and the bag opened to reveal it's treasures. One by one Redburn pulled Randall knives from their canvas hideout. Each still in it's sheath, he tossed them unceremoniously on the floor. The knives piled up on the brown shag carpet until the sea bag lay flat and empty next to what I guessed to be around thirty Randalls of varying models, handle configurations and blade lengths. Redburn glanced my way. "One knife won't do it all, you need a bunch of'em" he said as a wry grin began to grow under his white, handlebar mustache. Like I said earlier, Redburn liked to use his tools. Several of the knives were handled in ivory, several more carried stag, a few in leather and poking noticeably out of the pile was a massive Bowie with a beautiful burl walnut, commando shaped handle. I grabbed the Bowie. Why is it that boys of any age love knives and the bigger the better? "That's a Raymond Thorp Bowie" he said, as if I should have known who Raymond Thorp was. We spent the remainder of the afternoon in that room. I would pick one from the pile and while cleaning the green stuff from the hilt that had accumulated from years of storing it in it's sheath, Redburn would educate me on that particular model. I was hooked. I had caught the bug from Redburn with which I would remain infected for the rest of my days. As I finished cleaning the last Randall, a model #1-8" with ivory and a compass in the butt, I asked the question. "So Billy, what's a knife like this gonna cost me"? As we began to put the carbon steel treasure back in it's GI safe, Redburn pulled a small yellow catalog from a side pocket of the sea bag and handed it to me. "Twenty-four dollars for the knife and six dollars more for the ivory handle?" At that price I had already ordered three models in my mind when I noticed Redburn's mustache start to twitch again. "Yup, he said, that ain't a lot of money now but it was a bunch back in 1950 when that catalog was printed"!
Billy Redburn, my friend of thirty years, passed away peacefully yesterday at the age of 86. He was a hero of the greatest generation. He led a full life and he will be missed. Good ride cowboy.

Yep, seen this before , Rick.
And I enjoyed reading as much as the first time.
Thanks for posting!
Ya got any photos of your firsts??
Thanks again,
Tony

I remember that Rick. It was a great story when I first read and it is still a great story.

Rick, that was the first time I've read that and I appreciate you sharing it.

My first Randall is on order, and my second and third and fourth and... I've almost lost count. I was at the shop this morning and just had to put an order in: #12-9 with 14 grind, ironwood, border patrol, brass forward curved hilt, brass and black spacers, brass radiused butt cap. I want one (at least) big bowie in my collection, and I'm partial to stainless, so that was the one.

I was familiar with Randall Made Knives back in junior high and high school when I considered myself a knife nut. Of course, back then I had no money and a Randall was not in the cards. They fell off my radar as I went through the predictable stages of college, career, marriage, kids, etc.

As for the person who got me interested? That would be Jason Randall. With one visit this past spring from Jason to a local fly fishing club here on the Space Coast, I was hooked. He gave us a backstage video tour of the shop, and spent quite a bit of time sharing the history of Randall Made Knives and answering questions. His passion for the shop that his grandfather built and for the knives they produce was evident.

I started reading everything I could find on Randall Made Knives, including this site. I grabbed Gaddis's book and read it cover to cover and started daydreaming of the various models I'd like to start with. Capt Chris has been very helpful, and I'm looking forward to seeing the ones I've ordered with him, in addition to my couple of shop orders, come to fruition.

So, that is the short story of one recently afflicted with the Randall addiction. I'll be adding pictures to the knife of the week threads as they arrive. Till then, I'll continue to drool over all of yours.

Chad,
Great story! Can't wait to see the photos!
Thanks,
Tony

I was watching some Clint Eastwood movies (namely Dirty Harry) this weekend and I thought I would resurrect this thread...I bet there are some more great stories to share!!

Thanks for doing this DW!!