A Knife From The Hood



At first, I thought the above knife was a German style paring knife, but now I’m not so sure. German knives are almost always somewhat flexiable, and this one is very rigid.   Notice the small recess on the handle, near the blade, perhaps worn by fingers gripping the handle over the decades.  Even a light surface cleaning could destroy not only important use evidence, but the overall beauty of the knife.  As I have said before, the over-cleaning and “restoration” of  hand tools is perhaps the most significant ongoing loss of cultural property  that commonly occurs.   The blade is full tang and has a gradual taper in thickness towards the cutting edge. Judging from the scratch patterns in the top picture, the owner must have had a stressful encounter with his grinding wheel!  But I find these marks interesting evidence of the history of the tool, as well as a visually refreshing antidote to the ubiquitous monotony of the highly regulated machine grind marks found on new tools.  The handle is an unidentified light colored wood that has been stained and is still firmly attached to the tang. The edges of the handle is still quite sharp, and the various ways I have tried to hold it all are somewhat uncomfortable.

Matt Murphy  found some information about Fred J. Birck:  “From 1903-04 he worked at 93 Essex St. In 1905-06, Fred. J. Birck is listed as being a part of Birck & Zamminer Cutlery, which is located at 154 Essex St.  In 1908-1912, Birck is listed at two seperate addresses, 132 Essex St. and 17 Cooper Sq. East. In 1912-1913, the primary address is changed to 17 Cooper Sq. E.  In 1913-1914, the partnership must have been dissolved, because only Birck is listed, and the only address is 17 Cooper Sq. E. until 1925.  Also, Mr. Birck made his home in Jersey City, New Jersey, as his address is often listed as 144 Hutton St. (Which still stands to this day.)”

So the knife is possibly from 1913-25.  Aside from the beautiful, insanely deep makers mark, I was attracted to the fact that another knife-maker worked in the East Village of NYC, only about 5 blocks from where my studio is now. There is even an old bar,  McSorley’s, established in 1854, still operating right around the corner from Birck’s 17 Cooper Sq. address. Perhaps Birck had a drink there.  I’ll raise a glass to him next time I’m there.


Don Rash posted a similar looking knife on his blog, unfortunately no makers mark.  I looked through Salaman’s Dictionary of Leather-working Tools c. 1700-1950 and couldn’t find any similar knives, and Salaman covers some pretty obscure leather-working trades ( ie. gut string maker, hydraulic pump-leather maker) but tends contain more English rather than American references.


Below is the German knife from Zaehnsdorf’s The Art of Bookbinding, 6th Ed. 1903. It almost looks like the knife is shaded more heavily on the top edge, to make clear the blade tapers toward the other edge?


An Appreciation



The Union Square Greenmarket, NYC,  was strangely quiet on Saturday, especially in the Northwest corner.  A familiar voice was missing, along with tubs of peeled vegetables. Joe Ades, salesman of the Star Swiss vegetable peeler died on Sunday, Feb. 1 at the age of 75.  A unique, eccentric and charismatic human is gone.

At least once a week, I would often pause and watch him, usually in the company of a crowd.   He was an anachronism, a 19th C. peddler existing in the 21st C.   He never had a license to sell goods on the street, and only once did I see the police ask him to move along.  Perhaps they saw in him what I saw;  a professional barker, a fantastic salesman, a gifted street performer and a craftsman with exemplarily hand skills.

In less time than it took to explain the virtues of his peeler–he was the sole importer from Switzerland,  it could make potato chips, it could function as a mandoline, it made three sided french fries that absorbed less oil than four sided ones, it had blades made of surgical steel–he could cross section an entire carrot, holding both the carrott and peeler freehanded.  Try it sometime, it’s not easy.

The New York Times published an obituary on Feb. 2.  Strange that it was published in the N.Y./ Region section, and not with the other obituaries.  Quite possibly Joe was very rich and lived in a fancy apartment.  The article reports he stored his peelers in the maid’s room, frequented pricey Upper East-side restaurants and wore expensive suits. However, he loved hawking on the street, and I would see him out on the coldest days.  I had always thought he was homeless, or close to it. An enigmatic man he was.

One of the functions of a green market is to reintroduce the relationship between producer-food-consumer.

Joe Ades reintroduced the relationship between vendor-tool-user.  

Joe’s patter lives on in my head each time I use his peeler. 



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