The history of knives and other edged instruments is tied to the history of people in general. As humankind’s oldest tool, unraveling knife history can lead to even more surprising and enriching information to better understand the world.
Harvey McBurnette etched his name in high-dollar knife sales.
Harvey McBurnette of Piedmont, Alabama, landed in the July-August issue of the 1976 American Blade for somewhat patriotic reasons. Somewhat, because the lead of Harry K. McEvoy’s exposé on the maker was McBurnette’s celebrated Bicentennial Bowies. But there’s more to the matter than a simple commemoration of the nation’s birthday in steel.
McEvoy hooks readers by showing what the artistically talented knifemaker’s work commanded back when your dollar went a long way. In 1976, the exact sum was $4,500. As McEvoy wrote, “[O]ne of his fabulous, hand-crafted Bicentennial Bowie knives appraised at that substantial figure after he had sold the weapon to a collector for $1,300.”
The lead image of the profile on Harvey McBurnette shows him studying his original knife design and free handing it to the steel. The maker had a strong artistic streak and was known, in part, for the embellishments he etched onto his knives.
For context, that’s roughly $26,000 in today’s dollars. What likely made the run of 76 bowies desirable was McBurnette’s unique system of adorning the knives—etching. This system, seen on many of his knives, was a very conscious choice on the maker’s part, as the story reports, serving to differentiate his work from other custom craftsmen of the day.
“I wanted to do something unique, or at least different, with my knives,” McBurnette was quoted as saying in the article. “And since I was an artist I thought if I engraved or etched my blade, I would add a touch I felt was needed to make them stand out. I chose the art of etching because there were a few other knife makers who engraved their knives. Besides, even a master engraver cannot do what an etcher can do.”
McBurnette’s Bicentennial Bowies had quite a motif etched on either side of their D2 tool steel blades. On one side of the 16.25-inch knife is an image of the Liberty Bell, and on the other a battle scene depicting Bunker Hill. The images are the same on all 76 knives, and 75 of them had elephant ivory handles. The knife appraised for the then astronomical sum did differ; the No. 1 of the series was a prototype with a walrus ivory handle.
Three highly coveted firearms modified by the Cutlery Hall of Fame® legend—including his “de-fanged” Colt Commanders—head to Rock Island Auction.
Bob Loveless Colt “Old Smoothie” Lightweight Commander semi-automatic pistol with scrimshawed ivory grips, drop-point Loveless Knife and sheath. Rock Island Auction image
While the late Bob Loveless secured his legacy as a titan of the cutlery world, the BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall of Fame® member also brought his legendary eye for utility to the firearms world. His knives remain some of the most desirable, coveted custom creations on the planet, but a rare trio of his personal, customized handguns are now heading to the auction block at Rock Island Auction in the company’s June 27 American Sale (now live online). The selection highlights how the master craftsman applied his famous Bauhaus-inspired design ethos to custom gunsmithing.
Bob Loveless Colt “Old Smoothie” Combat Commander semi-automatic pistol with relief carved ivory grips. Rock Island Auction image
The lineup features two Colt Commander pistols that Loveless thoroughly “de-fanged,” a signature modification process where he systematically bobbed the hammers, radiused the frames and smoothed away every sharp edge that could gouge a shooter’s hand. The first is a c. 1980 Lightweight Commander, featuring his electro-penciled initials, custom Browning cuts on the slide, and smooth ivory grips scrimshawed with nude artistry. This rare piece is housed in a custom hardwood case alongside a matching 2004 Loveless drop-point hunting knife. It is joined by a scarcer steel-framed Combat Commander variant, a platform Loveless rarely altered because he felt the extra weight defeated the purpose of a carry gun, making this particular build exceptionally rare.
Bob Loveless Smith & Wesson Model 41 semi-automatic pistol with case and signed photographs. Rock Island Auction image
Rounding out the trio is an extensively reworked Smith & Wesson Model 41 target pistol, believed to be one of only 70 ever built by Loveless. This highly modified rimfire pistol features a shortened barrel with a custom vented rib, an exposed hammer conversion, a checked gold-washed backstrap with a lanyard loop, and his personal initials electro-penciled on the slide. Complete with signed photographs of Loveless, a custom leather holster and a glass-topped display case, the group offers collectors a rare look at how one of the greatest knifemakers of all time refined factory firearms into high art.
Read More On Bob Loveless:
Bob Loveless: The Icon’s Indelible Mark On The Knife Industry
The 12th president was and is a hot knife commodity.
Some examples from the article of “Old Zach” bowies that included the American general and president’s name, slogans or likeness. The lower bowies have his visage, the second from bottom a stamp motif on the ricasso of Taylor on horseback, the bottom a bust of the celebrated general.
Ever in tune with what’s popular at the moment, knifemakers have never been afraid to cash in on a hot trend. William R. Williamson documented one of the more peculiar vogues of the middle 19th century when Zachary Taylor and bowie knives were all the rage.
Fresh off his triumphs in the Mexican-American War, Taylor was the 1850’s version of a rock star—Americans just couldn’t get enough of him. And while not known to carry a bowie nor affiliate with the hero of the Alamo—Jim Bowie—the general and president’s likeness began to pop up on the most American of knives.
Funny thing is, as William’s points out in his article “Old Zach and the Bowie Knife,” from the March-April issue of The American Blade®, it wasn’t the Yanks cashing in. Instead, England Sheffield’s makers had the pulse of the USA and stamped Taylor’s visages on blades and bolsters.
Unfortunately, Old Rough and Ready’s short-lived presidency didn’t inspire the same outpouring of effigies. But modern collectors did and do find these unusual and patriotic blades desirable, as Williamson points out in his article.
John Dennehy’s replica of his father’s Dan D Alamo Bowie, was accepted by the site on the 190th Anniversary of the historic battle.
We should always remember the Alamo, but 2026 is a particularly good year to keep the battle top of mind. It’s the 190th anniversary of the defining fight for Texas independence, and a fitting backdrop to a father-son knifemaking tale.
When Dan Dennehy donated his custom Dan D Alamo Bowie to the Daughters of the Republic of Texas in 1968, little did he know that a reproduction of the very same knife would be presented almost 60 years later to representatives of Alamo Trust just a few months before the historic anniversary of the Battle of the Alamo.
Made by Dan’s son John, the presentation reproduction is based on the original donated by Dan to the DRT in 1968. Save the engraving on the accompanying brass plaque. John did the entire repro project, which included 5/16-inch O1 tool steel like the blade material on his father’s original Dan D Alamo Bowie, and an embellished oak presentation frame.
Engraved number 5 of 10 by Pearce Richardson, the brass plaque reads: “Commemorative Dan D Alamo Bowie” over “In Honor of Those who Lost their Lives defending the Alamo in March 1836 and to the late Daniel J. Dennehy, Knifemaker, whose Alamo Bowie has proudly been on display at the Alamo since 1968.”
“It’s an honor that we can say we have knives from a father and son in our collection,” Alamo Senior Researcher and Historian Kolby Lanham said. “We are grateful to both Dan and John, two generations of knifemakers who chose to create works of art honoring James Bowie and the Alamo.”
John’s project started soon after his father’s death in 2011.
“The Alamo let me take pictures of Dan’s original knife in the spring right after his death,” he said. “I used those pictures and his knife pattern to make the reproductions. I wanted to jazz up the handle a bit since they are special editions with ivory Micarta and imitation ivory Micarta, along with some brass spacers for bling.”
From his own retelling of the story, Dan was inspired to make the donation during a visit to the Alamo, when he realized the historic site then didn’t have a single bowie knife. The namesake of the blade—Jim Bowie—was among the heroic men who fought and lost their lives at the battle.
The original Dan D Alamo Bowie is displayed inside the lobby of the Alamo Exhibit at the Ralston Family Collections Center, according to Lanham. John’s knife resides in the Alamo’s artifact vault.
There are other storied knifemakers whose works are displayed at the iconic Texas site, including a reproduction of the Joe Musso bowie by BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall-of-Fame® member Gil Hibben.
A founding member of The Knifemakers’ Guild, Dan Dennehy was also a member of the Cutlery Hall of Fame and the International Knife Throwers Hall of Fame, and for many years conducted knife-and-tomahawk-throwing demonstrations at the BLADE Show. John makes knives and sheaths and has conducted seminars on how to make sheaths at both the BLADE Show and BLADE University.
New York-born, Dan was always a Westerner at heart, John pointed out, known as “Tex” in the Navy and wearing cowboy boots and a hat most of his adult life. He also loved and revered the history of the Alamo, finding it as sacred a location as native Texans.
“Having one of his knives on display [there] was one of his most cherished accomplishments,” John said.
Fowler had a lasting impact on handmade knives and knife writing.
The cutlery world recently lost one of its most steadfast creators and philosophers. Ed Fowler, a man who epitomized the spirit of the custom knife movement, passed away on January 17.
Ed’s journey in the industry began in 1962. Over the following six decades, he became a driving force in the evolution of functional cutlery. While he didn’t invent the use of 52100 ball-bearing steel, he was arguably its greatest champion, popularizing the material alongside his then-controversial methods of multiple quenching during heat treatment. For Ed, a knife wasn’t just a tool; it was an ongoing experiment in maximum performance.
To the readers of BLADE Magazine, Ed was a household name. For over a quarter century, he penned his monthly “Knife Talk” column, which consistently ranked at the top of reader surveys alongside BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall of Fame® member Wayne Goddard. His writings were eventually compiled into two essential volumes: Knife Talk I: The Art & Science of Knife Making and Knife Talk II: The High Performance Blade. Whether he was conducting demos at BLADE Show or teaching at BLADE University, Ed was always eager to share his findings with anyone who sought a deeper understanding of the craft.
A former ABS master smith, Ed eventually founded the High Endurance Performance Knife Association. This organization was a reflection of his own soul—dedicated to understanding the limits of steel and ensuring every knife reached its absolute potential.
Ed’s voice was unmistakable. In his writing, a knife was never an “it”—always a “she” or “her.” He spent his life in a relentless search for what he called “Excalibur,” his version of the perfect knife. He drew deep inspiration from the legends of the past, including Hall of Famers Bill Moran, William Scagel, Rudy Ruana, and the 19th-century bowies of Henry Huber.
He was perhaps most famous for his insistence on testing. Ed had no patience for makers or companies that didn’t put their blades to the trial, and he was never shy about saying so. This commitment to truth in steel earned him a fiercely loyal following. Many of his readers didn’t just follow his column; they traveled across the country to visit him at his Willow Bow Ranch in Riverton, Wyoming, to spend time in the shop with the man who helped define the modern high-performance blade.
Remembering Others The Knife Industry Has Lost:
Betty Dowell, Driving Force Behind Knifemaker Ted Dowell, Passes
B. R. Hughes, Pioneering Writer And Bladesmithing Teacher, Passes Away
After more than 40 years at the helm, “Mr. Blade” hangs it up.
It had to happen sometime and that time is now. After over 40 years of writing for and editing BLADE® Magazine, it’s time for me to hang it up as BLADE editor.
If you had told me when BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall-of-Fame® member Bruce Voyles hired me in 1985 that BLADE would be the focus of my work life for the following four decades, I might’ve said, “Yeah, and Donald Trump will be president one day, too.” However, working for BLADE has been a blessing to my family and me, and I am most thankful for the privilege of having done so.
Why retire now? Last July, it hit me; at 72 I need to spend more time with my beautiful wife Susan and others who I love before I start leaking oil. So, my boss, Caribou Group Media Publisher Jim Schlender, and the rest of the BLADE brain trust started planning for the future of the World’s No. 1 Knife Publication. The result: Elwood “Woody” Shelton, who has been doing a standout job as our online editor, will be my replacement as BLADE editor—and we think he will be a most accomplished one.
For the past several years Woody also has coordinated the BLADE Magazine Knife-of-the-Year® judging at the BLADE Show, as well as the factory knife judging at BLADE Show Texas and BLADE Show West. In the process and along with his online duties, he has become well-acquainted with the knife industry and those who drive it. Besides, he is captivated by knives like the rest of us.
As for me, I will continue as a consultant for BLADE and chairman of the Cutlery Hall of Fame, coordinating the nomination and selection process of new inductees and serving as emcee at the annual Hall of Fame induction ceremony during the BLADE Show, this year June 5-7 at the newly named Cobb Convention Center-Atlanta (formerly the Cobb Galleria Centre). As a result, I hope to see some of y’all there. I also hope to write on occasion for BLADE, as well as participate in other related projects.
What will I miss? Much more than I can cover here but the simple pleasure of opening each issue of BLADE I edited after it hits my mailbox will be one. Others will be all the great knives I have handled and written about and the thousands of fascinating folks I have met over the decades. Included among the latter are those knifemakers and their knives that I’ve helped shed light on by publicizing them in BLADE.
Among many knife VIPs the author has been privileged to know over the years include, from left, Ethan Becker of Becker Knife & Tool, BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall-of-Fame® member Steve Schwarzer and custom knifemaker Bill Herndon.
The highlights for me have been many. A few include visiting the Boker manufactory in Solingen, Germany, and seeing the wonders of nearby Cologne with Ziggy Felix, wife of Boker’s Ernst Felix, as my tour guide; exploring the Alamo with Cutlery Hall of Famers B. R. Hughes and Jim Batson; spending hours interviewing Cutlery Hall of Famer Bob Loveless in his Riverside shop; and my inductions into both the ABS and BLADE Magazine Cutlery Halls of Fame.
In addition to Batson, Hughes and Loveless, four other unforgettable Hall of Famers who molded the industry by the sheer power of their work ethic and personalities and who were my privilege to know include: A.G. Russell, who influenced the collecting community and custom and factory knife industries like no other; Bill Moran, the father of modern damascus and the ABS—some resumé, eh?; Wayne Goddard and his ability to explain details about knives, how to make them, steels and more so that even I could understand them; Frank Centofante guiding the Guild so successfully while simultaneously providing a constant stream of one-liners; the list goes on. Oh, and Ed Fowler, his sheep-horn handles, lifelong search for Excalibur, his dogs and pet rattlesnakes, etc. Need I say more?
I will miss them and many more, including having the lasting honor and satisfaction of helping in providing you with the world’s best knife magazine for so many years. See you down the road and, in the immortal words of the Reverend Captain Samuel Clayton (Ward Bond) in The Searchers, “Watch that knife!”
Robin Askew moves on, but her father remains there for her.
The constant, the heart and soul of BLADE Magazine Cutlery Hall-of-Fame® member Bob Loveless, was wrapped up in custom knives. There was little time for anything else and there were only rare occasions that he travelled. Bob and his wife, Yoshi, made a few trips to Japan or to Hawaii, on a rare occasion to Europe, but most often with some business purpose involved as well.
And over time, Robin Askew came to appreciate and understand the singular purpose, laser-like focus and personal intensity that drove her father. He was capable of kindness but often brutally frank. He was willing to entertain young knifemakers, share information and then criticize or dismiss flaws with stark, unvarnished perspective. With patience that was sometimes fleeting, he did not suffer fools gladly.
But then, his personality was a tapestry, like all of us, an amalgam of inherited traits and life experience. His mother and father had sent him to live on a farm with grandparents at a young age. According to Robin, he lived and worked with the hired hands, not as a grandchild. At just 15 years old, he joined the Merchant Marine when his mother told the white lie that he was of age.
In addition to the knife her dad made for her, Robin’s other favorite keepsake is a photo of him, a joyous grin radiating from his face, as a cluster of pigeons lands on his shoulders and arms during a visit to Rome many years ago. “It’s a beautiful picture,” Robin stated, “and I look at it every day.”
It wasn’t easy for Bob Loveless, right from the start. But he made something of his opportunities and his native talents, shared them in the way he knew how, paying the price along the way and leaving a body of work of insight into what is beauty and flow in a handmade knife, like no one else has. For the record, he never billed himself as the world’s best knifemaker. He wasn’t, and he freely acknowledged that others were much more deserving of applause for their skills. It was his eye, perspective and sense of beauty and design that thoroughly set him apart.
Four Careers
When Robin grew up, moved out and moved on, she carried the best and the most worrisome of life experiences with her. She made her own way and has come to understand and appreciate the journey.
“I’ve really had four careers,” she reflected. “I worked 11 years in the banking industry and 20 years as a correctional peace officer at Pelican Bay State Prison in Crescent City, California, with 12 years as a peace officer. Put that together with the work in Dad’s office and then when my husband, Jimmie Askew, and I had a restaurant in Crescent City, California.” When she worked in banking, Robin went to Crescent City on business for her employer. While there she met the most eligible bachelor in town. “It was a 400-mile, eight-hour drive to Crescent City, and I was supposed to be there for a month,” she said. “It became one of those wonderful love stories. Jimmie and I were meant to be together.”
Bob Loveless photographed Robin’s son Nico during a regular visit while they were “out and about.” Nico was 9. The resemblance to his grandfather is striking. (Bob Loveless image)
Jimmie was an award-winning chef, and with Robin’s business background the couple put together a fine restaurant that served a variety of entrees.
“I met Jimmie in 1984,” she recalled wistfully. “We got married the next year, and he passed away 12 years later. He made prime rib, barbecue pork spareribs and fresh seafood. He would go out in the morning on his boat and catch 300 to 400 pounds of rock cod. He would clean the fish and then serve it that night. It was the best seafood in all of Crescent City—wonderful. We also had meat from our mesquite grill, chicken parmesan, grilled Italian sausage, vegetarian dishes and the deep-fried seafood platter.”
Nico
The couple had one son, Nico, who is now 36. When Robin speaks of those days, a tinge of heartache touches her words. But also during that time, she rediscovered the love and care that her father had always had for the family.
Nico and Robin
“Dad came up from Riverside to visit us a month before Jimmie died,” Robin recalled. He had been in touch by telephone continually and made himself the father figure that a 7-year-old boy needed during a tragic time.
“After Jimmie died, Dad would come up regularly,” Robin related. “He took Nico fishing four or five times a year. Grandpa was there for Nico. He taught him how to shoot a gun and would charter a boat on the Chetco River in Oregon and they would fish together. He came up to see Nico play soccer, baseball and football, and he stepped in to take care of my son.”
When Bob wasn’t physically present, he was always in touch with Robin and Nico. He worried that Robin worked in the toughest place at Pelican Bay State Prison. It was called the “shoe,” and he once told Robin how he worried for her safety. Her response was from deep inside, a manifestation of something she learned when her father made the introduction to that Japanese gentleman years earlier: “I told my dad, ‘I show them [the inmates] respect, and they show me respect. It’s really the safest place in the prison to work.’ I told him there were two officers for every inmate and that I really had no qualms about it.”
Bob took this picture when he visited Robin and Nico not long after Jimmie Askew passed away. Nico was 10.
That soft spot in Bob’s heart came through time and again as he cared for his daughter and grandson. “He would call us and say, ‘What’s Nico doing?’ He wrote a check to pay for Nico’s braces. He was there for both of us. Being a widow raising a young boy, I could call him anytime and we would talk. I also started to do that with my mother because I wanted to reach out and make sure that my contact with my family was really strong. Dad was so far away, but I talked to him at least once a week. He became the type of dad that my son needed.”
Traits & Quirks
All the while, the legend of Bob Loveless continued to grow. Tales were told. Knives were made and sold. Stories were swapped, and the maker slowly but surely grasped his own impact on the world of knives. At the same time, his various interests, personality traits and, yes, his quirks made him more than just a knifemaking phenomenon. They made him a marvel, a celebrity and an icon.
Bob always carried a gun. “Even when I was a little girl,” Robin laughed, “I remember that he would hang his gun on the towel rack in the bathroom.” For some time, he enjoyed rabbit hunting in the desert with friends. But then another fork in the road pointed a different direction when it came to outdoor activities.
It was his eye, perspective and sense of beauty and design that set Bob Loveless apart. Few if any of his knives capture these traits better than his Big Bear fighter in sheep horn and gold engraving by Dan Wilkerson. (from the John Denton collection; Eric Eggly/PointSeven image)
Robin commented, “They took a lot of hunting trips, and one day Dad decided to stop shooting animals with a gun. He started shooting pictures with a camera. He loved photography, and I have no idea how all that started—but, gosh, I remember when I was a young kid he would take me and Allison on the weekends to camera stores. He would go in and talk for a couple of hours, and we were bored out of our minds. He would take pictures like you wouldn’t believe.”
Adding to Bob’s repertoire of activities, he was also an accomplished gunsmith. If these endeavors sound like a lot to pack into a lifetime, then there is no hesitation in labeling Loveless a true “Renaissance Man.”
Nonetheless, he had pursued his passions, probably without seeking the fame that came along with them. “I do know he never liked living in fancy houses,” Robin remarked. “But he had sports cars, and his favorite car depended on his age bracket. He would drive the back roads to the Chinese restaurant in Riverside and hit 100 miles per hour. At one time, he had three cars and two airplanes. He was a pilot with a lot of camera equipment. He probably got his pilot’s license before he moved to Riverside. I forget what year he got rid of his planes. He had crashed and it was no fault of his own. It happened when a bigger plane was landing and he got banged up. He had a limp after that.”
Keepsakes
Writes Robin: “My handsome son Nico as he is today, shaggy beard and all. As a mother, I think his eyes and smile show what a kind and good man he is. I know his grandpa would agree with me and like this picture very much.”
Today, Robin’s heart is warmed by her memories, her strong Christian faith, and the knowledge that her dad truly became a father. His life was a mosaic of love and loss, turmoil and moments of calm, fiery and icy emotion, but always with a heart for the good and for his family. She clings to at least a couple of special items that symbolize the tie that binds.
He made a banana skinner for her when she graduated from high school. “It has a stag handle with intricate engraving that he had done by a silversmith,” Robin said, “and I think the handle is at least 6 inches long with the blade about 7 inches. It is absolutely beautiful.”
A few years ago, Steve Johnson cleaned the knife up and put an edge on it. Dave Ellis took photographs of the one-of-a-kind piece, and John Denton, likely the foremost authority on Loveless knives in the world today, offered powerful words and urged her to treasure it always.
His various interests, personality traits and quirks made Bob Loveless more than just a knifemaking phenomenon—they made him a marvel, a celebrity and an icon.
The other keepsake is a photo of Bob, a joyous grin radiating from his face, as a cluster of pigeons lands on his shoulders and arms during a visit to Rome many years ago. It captures a sliver of his enjoyment of life, a glimpse into the heart and soul of just who he was. He was the gruff guy that gave generously to the local animal shelter, the edgy and matter-of-fact curmudgeon who handed substantial financial support to the UPS driver who had served faithfully in the area for years when Bob found out the guy had fallen on hard times. He was simply their quiet benefactor.
“It’s a beautiful picture and I look at it every day,” Robin offered. She ponders exactly where his genius came from and concludes that he inherited it from his mother. She admits that the spark of “genius” has not emerged from any other family member and concludes, “It was meant to be. That kind of genius is created before birth. My father was extremely gifted, and I always knew that.”
True enough, he was gifted, and in some ways that only a relative few others were even aware of.
Growing up Loveless and living within the sphere of influence her famous father created has been an adventure for Robin Askew, a thrill ride that began so many years ago, one that continues well after her dad’s departure from this Earth.
Read More On Bob Loveless:
Bob Loveless: The Icon’s Indelible Mark On The Knife Industry
