Making Your Mark
I’m going to tell you about a man you’ve probably never heard of and likely never would have – William (Bill) Scagel. Today, Bill Scagel is recognized as one of the defining American knifemakers of the 20th Century. From the early 1900’s to now almost 50 years after his death, the influence of his style and designs can clearly be seen running through the works of most custom makers and in many factory knives. Although he made thousands of knives over his lifetime that now command five figures (if they are for sale at all) he died a poor man. Not fully appreciated while living, I have a feeling it made little difference to his personal sense of accomplishment.
What distinguishes a Scagel knife? I can only tell you how I see them (you may appreciate other qualities). I’m drawn to their fluid sweeping lines, intrinsic to a forged blade. They possess tremendous cutting power from a convex blade geometry that, though difficult to craft and sharpen, cuts through material like a plow shears through soil. The handle typically sits high relative to the spine of the blade, so that the working edge lies below your fingers and the upswept point falls along the centerline of the grip. And those handles! Stacked multi-colored leather washers dissected by brass and nickel silver*, capped with a stag pommel in a beautiful and striking arrangement. Finally, his knives bear the mark of “W. Scagel – Handmade” and his trademark Kris symbol (a wavy-edged dagger) which he stamped into the blade when he was satisfied with his work.
What about him personally? Very little is known. He was born in 1875 and died in 1963. Sometime in the 1920’s he set up in the Michigan woods to start his trade full time. Stubborn and independent, early on he got into an argument with the local power company, and when they cut his electricity he built a windmill to power his shop and never looked back. In the late 1930’s, at the height of the Polio Epidemic that terrorized this country, doctors would trudge to his home with measurements taken from children stricken with the disease, and Bill would craft metal leg braces that fit them perfectly – refusing any payment. How many lives he made better by these selfless acts we are left to guess.
That’s the majority of information about him – there are not even any pictures. But I’ll tell you what: I feel I know the man. I think I understand him better than others who have articles, books and biographies written about them. When I look at his knives I can see who he was. A person, I believe, can be known through their work. And I think any work you do is worth putting a part of yourself into. Life is too brief to spend any of it indifferent or detached. I try, and want everyone I work with, to have pride of ownership and to put their personal stamp on their work and their area of responsibility, because ultimately that reflects who we are and what we have contributed.
What we do here may not be admired by future generations like a collectible knife is, but our work will stand for decades in neighborhoods providing silent protection to American homes and families. And what we do today can continue to solidify the foundation of a strong company that over time has supported young families just starting out, funded untold college educations, and provided a comfortable retirement for couples in their later years. That’s pretty good stuff too – worthy of our best efforts, and our marks.
*Dr. Jim Lucie, one of Scagel’s few personal friends and with him when he died, corrected me on this after I sent him a copy of this story. For the record, Bill used only pure silver.