Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Cold, Hard Steel

I'm a bit of a fetishist when it comes to blades. Not in the kinky sense, per se, but as an aficionado. The sweeping lines of a properly shaped knife, honed to a razor's edge is a thing of exceptional beauty. There are few things as complicated or as simple.

Though they are ubiquitous, ranging from utility pieces carried in pockets to finely-tuned medical tools, very few cutting instruments are ever really remarkable. Sometimes though, the story they bring with them is enough to elevate them just a few steps higher.

In 1818, two brothers, William and Samuel Butcher, became partners in their father's cutlery business. Previously operated under the name of Robert Wade, the company came to be known as Wade & Butcher. The company excelled in it's hometown of Sheffield, England and, through its success, led the Butcher brothers to expand their business into the Americas.

Following the death of Robert Wade c.1825, the company all but folded. The brothers, however, renewed their business and grew steadily throughout the 19th century. They became the premier cutlery makers of England. So much so that any bladed product, particularly razors, that originated in Sheffield simply became known as Wade & Butchers.

The company continued strong under successive ownership into the 20th century. Their name has become synonymous with excellence in cutting tools, so long as you're willing to turn back the clock a few years.

One of their most prolific and hailed products was the straight razor. Curiously, the Butchers rarely advertised their blades. Historians note that they neither took out space in trade magazines, nor in periodicals where advertisement is common, such as newspapers. The razors were peddled by a traveling sales staff, but aside from that, they sold themselves on reputation alone.

Even to this day, they enjoy a strong following by a fringe group of men, like me, who appreciate the art of a good straight-razor shave. In fact, certain styles of Wade & Butcher straight razors can easily fetch asking prices above $400 if in good condition.

About a two years ago, I got my hands on a lesser known, but still compelling, Wade & Butcher blade. It is literally just a blade as the scales have been lost to time. Be that as it may, the "Special" is my most promising, as well as oldest, vintage possession.

The manufacturer's trademark (see inset) identifies that this blade was made c.1890. It also seems to be a bit of a departure from most of the staple Wade & Butcher designs. The Butchers were known for the much coveted wedge blade shape (though varying degrees of hollow ground were common in their designs). These tend to be rare and command the highest prices. They were also know for the "barber notch", a semi-circular feature at the end of the blade. What its function was, I don't know. My Special has neither of these features. Though notably, the blade has the very uncommon double-hollow, or bellied, grind profile.

Hollow grinding was the method of using a circular wheel to cut a concave profile into the side of the blade perpendicular to the edge and spine. This allowed the blade to be honed to the keenest of edges. The grinding produced a single radius on either side of the blade which transitioned into a flat section that led down to the edge. It was generally classified somewhere between wedge (no radius) and extra hollow, with fractional stages in between. A double-hollow though is ground with the aforementioned radius, and then ground a second time with the same radius eccentric to the first. This produces an uncommonly thin blade in the middle, which then flares out to a thicker 'belly' before tapering back down to a fine point.

The thin 'waist' of my Special is only .005" thick. For your reference, a sheet of paper is .004" thick .

It also does not appear to have had its square point rounded, as was common in the era of straight razors. This was typically done to avoid the sharp point which was responsible for many cuts during finely detailed shaving. Many men found that rounding the tip made the blade safer to use while still providing an adequate shave. This seems to be something of a work-a-day solution to the quick, if not precise, shave.

Altogether, the blade was unremarkable for its time. It would perhaps have cost a few dollars to buy one, which may not seem like a lot by our standards. In 1890, however, you'd be making a $53 investment and had hundreds of manufacturers to choose from.

Sound absurd?

Well I have a razor that is 120 years old, is only partially restored, and is still sharp enough to cut the hair off the back of my hand. With a proper honing and care, it will likely last another hundred years. It will easily make it to the end of my days at least. Now I dare you to do that with anything you can pick up in the grocery store today.

The Mach 5 blades that are currently the best on the market will cost you $20 for a 4-pack, and each blade will last for about 8-10 shaves for a beard like mine. Were I the clean cut type, I'd be going through slightly more than a blade a month. That's roughly $60 a year.

I, on the other hand, can use a blade that I laid out a mere $40 for on eBay. In restored condition, it will sell for almost $200. Either way, it will last a lifetime and I will look like a complete badass every time I shave.

Cold, hard steel. Ain't that sexy....?

Friday, January 22, 2016

What Was, Was...

As I get older, I find it a little harder to define myself. Not because I don't know who I am, but because in the context of the modern era, I don't feel like I fit in to a category. Were I a few standard deviations smarter, one might call me a 'Renaissance Man'. Alas, I'm just a simple man who enjoys simple things.

That's not to say that I don't like gadgets and cool things, but now is fleeting. What is won't be for much longer, and the world is changing faster with each passing day. I'm born of a generation that saw the transition from rotary telephones to cell phones; snail mail to email; the wide wide world to the world wide web.

The constant compaction and consolidation of our lives, functions, and capacities makes things simpler so long as the devices that run them work. But it leaves guys like me longing for simplicity.

In truth, what I want is greater integrity rather than simplicity; the former often being a function of the latter. The world became disposable sometime back in the 1950's. Consumer products became flimsier, less durable. The Jet Age, and eventual Space Age, romanticized modernity for the American public. Within the scope of that adventure, products were meant to be efficient, cheap, and replaceable.

We've reaped an interesting set of morals and values as a result. Back in the good ol' days when something broke, you fixed it. These days, get a new one...

Car breaks down?
0 money down, 0% for six months, and we'll make the first payment for you...

Don't like your house anymore? 
Fabulous gated communities from the low 500's...

Marriage a living hell?
Uncontested divorce for $200...

For the right price, anything can be replaced. In fact, the cheaper the unit price that someone can offer the consumer, the more they can sell of it. Durability be damned. The smartest products ever invented are ones that you buy with the intention of throwing it away. Trash bags, toilet paper, razor blades, diapers all come with the express guarantee that you will replace this soon.

Have you ever considered why so many artifacts from the American frontier days are so easy to find? I imagine that it's because they were built to last. As likely an explanation is that their inventors lacked the tight-tolerance manufacturing processes that we have today and had to rely on brute strength to make things work. To that end, what they lacked in precision, they supplanted with staying power.

Those are the kinds of things that appeal to guys like me.

We used to do things big and bold because we had to. With the comparative sledge hammer of sheer will, we learned to make things beautiful and elegant while still being durable. If you know where to look, you can find all manner of antique and vintage accoutrement that has withstood time and abuse of generations who have gradually been overtaken by disposable kitch.

Well, maybe it's time to turn obsolescence on its ear. Old does not equate to useless. In fact, one can probably count on vintage gear being more valuable and capable than much of what can be found in them modern era.

I hope to explore some of those things. Whereas I feel old in my soul, I often happen across something that has a rich history that has been stained by neglect and yet still feels alive and vibrant.

Maybe I'll be able to help you feel that spark of life as I do.