Barlow Pocket Knives

My father's (now mine) Queen Steel Barlow Single Blade knife.

An Iconic “American” Folding Knife

       A Barlow pocket knife was a treasure to our fathers and grandfathers.  It was designed to be a hard-working, yet affordable, tool for everyday use at home, at work and on the farm.  I know I treasure mine, which was a gift to my father from my grandfather.  My father later gave it to me, and while it may be a humble working man’s knife, it holds a place of honor in my collection.  That knife has cleaned more fish and skinned more squirrels, rabbits and other small game than I can ever hope to in my lifetime.  In many ways the Barlow pocket knife is the Colt Single Action Army of pocket knives.  Designed as a working tool that had to be reliable every single time you used it, it became the signature pocket knife of Americans from the Eastern Seaboard to the Wild West of California.  Because of its iconic presence and its simple reliability, it has been copied over and over.  It has been knocked off in Japan, China and Pakistan, in recent years.  Some of those copies are even pretty nice, although I would be hard pressed to carry a Barlow imported from anywhere but the British Isles or Germany, and I would choose an American knife first if I could. 

       “Barlow”, in this instance refers to both a style of knife and an American company, the Barlow Company, which imported pocket knives, money clips, key fobs, etc., and put logos on them for advertising purposes.  It is correct to use the term, “Barlow” when referring to either of these, but in this instance, I am discussing Barlow style folding pocket knives.  Barlow knives may have one or two blades, a large, distinctive metal bolster, and a tear-drop shaped handle.  Barlow style knives are “bare headed”, meaning they have no cap at the end of the handle, the scales form the rounded end.  The large bolster often bears the Barlow name stamped into it.

       The actual history of the Barlow knife is difficult to trace, but research reveals that the first Barlow knives were probably manufactured in Sheffield, England, around 1670.  They were exported to the colonies.  Soon thereafter, cutlers in the American colonies began producing the Barlow style knife.  It soon became a very common knife and was normally perceived as an American knife.  George Washington is known to have owned a Barlow knife.  Mark Twain referenced Barlow knives in his writings.  At least two Bluegrass songs have been written about Barlow knives.  Barlow knives have long been traditional gifts for men and boys in America.  That is how I came about owning my Barlow knife. 

       My father was given this Barlow knife by his father in 1956.  He had joined the US Air Force at the age of 18 in 1955 and graduated from Basic Training in 1956.  His father had been given a Barlow knife by my great-grandfather when my grandfather was 13 years old, around 1911.  My great-grandfather also owned a Barlow knife.  Not a surprising coincidence at all considering the ubiquitous nature of Barlow knives in America through the years.  Essentially, if you were an American with a penis, you either had or wanted a Barlow knife and a good woman, almost necessarily in that order.  Of course, Barlow knives were, and still are, easier to acquire and keep than a good woman. 

       My father’s knife, which I now own, was manufactured by the Queen Steel Cutlery Company and it is a single blade knife.  A Queen Barlow are a very unique design in the Barlow knife world because it uses a solid chassis and a hidden or internal spring.  Most Barlow knives, indeed, most traditional pocket knives, use pins to hold the springs, liners, blades and grip scales together.  This Queen Barlow does not.  The solid steel chassis includes the bolster and the housing for the spring and blade.  The pins for the grip scales are attached to the chassis and do not go all the way through the knife.  The spring simply drops into the chassis through the blade slot and falls into two locking notches, one at the front and one at the rear.  There is one pin in the bolster to hold the blade in.  Once the blade is pinned in it holds the spring in place.  No more pins are required.  Queen even made these knives with aluminum chassis to reduce their weight.  No doubt there are Barlow “purists” rolling their eyes at the very thought of solid chassis Barlow knives, but I see these Queen Barlows as American ingenuity at its finest, simplifying a proven working tool and making it even more affordable for the average man. 

       Queen Cutlery, also known as Queen Steel in the pocket knife aficionado world (yes, there is such a group, and I have been assimilated), is just one of many, many companies that made or make Barlow knives.  The internet, flea markets, gun shows, antique stores and even Walmart, are places to go to get a Barlow knife.  They run the gamut from inexpensive Barlow company advertising knives that display Remington, Winchester, Daisy Red Rider, the Masons, RC Cola and Moon Pie on their plastic scales, to relatively expensive knives in the couple hundred dollar range, made exquisitely with fossilized Mammoth bone grip scales (no kidding!), exotic wood, stag, abalone shell, scrimshawed bone, anything you can imagine.  Well known knife companies produce these knives to this day.  Name an American knife company that makes pocket knives and I will bet you they make Barlows.  Queen Cutlery has been making them in the same factory since 1902.  For all you mathematics majors (not) out there, that is one hundred and thirteen years. 

       My knife has seen better days.  Its steel chassis has myriad tiny dings and scratches in it from riding in my dad’s pocket, along with car keys, loose change, a zippo lighter, and God knows what else.  The Delrin (synthetic polymer) scales are slightly cracked on one side by the rear scale pin, and broken on the other side, and a chip is missing, since my dad decided to use his knife for a small hammer at some point.  Good job, Airman.  Do push-ups.  The blade has a nice patina, as we aficionados say, which means that all the lake water, fish and squirrel blood over the years have left the carbon steel blade darkened a little, a little more in some places.  The blade has a few nicks in it from cutting wires and beheading a snake on a gravel road.  It still holds an amazing edge.  I keep it sharp out of respect for the knife.  As long as I own it, it will always be a useful tool. 

My dad's Queen Steel Barlow, sharpened many times, stained by years of honest use and chipped from being used as a hammer.

       I would love to tell you stories about how that knife came over from England on the Mayflower with my great-great-great X10 grandpappy, Jedidiah Obiwan Smith, how he used it to carve his name in Plymouth Rock, how generations of my family used it, to kill Pocahontas’ Powhatan lover, defeat the British with it at Yorktown, skin a bear in the Wilds of Kentucky, how it drove the last railroad spike, how it discovered gold in them thar hills…  but if that were true it would be in the Smithsonian Museum of American history, and you would have to pay homage to it on your way to see Lincoln’s top hat.    

       The truth is that knife traveled around the world in the pocket of a US Airman.  It went to electronic warfare school in San Antonio and God only knows what it did in Olde Mexico.  It saw duty on the forested hillside of a US Radio listening post in West Germany during the cold war, it traveled through Holland, where my dad met my mom, it lived in Japan for three years and it flew over Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and North Vietnam in an EB66.  The knife I carried in Iraq is far less elegant than dad’s Barlow and none the less worse for wear.  My dad carried that knife through my childhood, in Japan, Florida, Nebraska, Germany (again), and Saudi Arabia, cleaning fish and squirrels along the way.  This old knife is a tangible fragment of my childhood and it always reminds me to call my father. 

       Now, when I got this knife from my dad all he really could tell me was it was a “real Barlow knife.”  At that time, I didn’t even know what that meant.  After a little research, it started to become clear.  This may come as a shock to some of you, but the internet is just full of people who know everything!  Of course they don’t all agree on what they think they know.  At this point, I firmly believe there is no such animal as a “real Barlow knife” any more than there is such a thing as a “real American”.  There are so many knives out there, and so much of what one person likes or dislikes is subjective.  I eventually had to start doing real investigative work.  Most Barlow knives have a convenient “BARLOW” stamped into the bolster.  That helps.  Many other have commemorative stampings or company name stampings like CAMILLUS.  All of that helps identify the manufacturer and time period.  Mine doesn’t have any of that.  Most blades have some markings that identify the country of origin or type of steel.  Mine doesn’t.  The only markings I could see were a seven digit number and some very, very worn letters that I could not make out.  So I started with an internet search of the seven numbers.  Phone numbers have seven digits, but doesn’t seem logical.  I learned that in numerology, the number 7 represents virginity…  OK getting off track here.  Well, it turns out US Patent numbers are seven digits.  OK, now we’re on to something.  Maybe.  I also searched for photos of Barlow knives with saw-cut grip scales.  That led me to a picture, among hundreds, that looked very similar to my knife.  Then the distinct style of chassis became evident on that knife and on mine.  That was different.  In the law enforcement world, we called that a “clue.”  That knife was made by Queen Steel.  Another lead.  Other Queen Steel knives had etchings on the blades.  Mine doesn’t, at least, not anymore.  Damn squirrel blood!  Then I see a Queen Steel knife that has legible markings on the blade.  That picture leads me to believe the unreadable markings on mine probably say, “PAT. NO.”, right above the legible seven digit number.  OK, now I know I have a patent number.  Either that or this knife was given to a guy named PAT by a woman who refused him, but still wanted him to have a knife.  Well, that’s not a wise thing to do.  I try the sensible lead; over to the US Patent Office web site I went, where you can search patent numbers.  I find a patent for a knife by a man named Eric C. Ericson, from Titusville, PA.  Another hit.  Queen Cutlery is located in Titusville, PA.  The patent drawings, however, do not look exactly like my knife.  They seem much larger and longer.  I am confused again.  The internal spring was the same.  The patent was applied for on August 21, 1953, and approved on December 27, 1955, which we know is suspect because NO federal employee actually does work between Christmas and New Year’s.  He must have approved it and post-dated it so it would appear that he was working two days after Christmas… but I digress.  On this patent is a reference to another US Patent, so I search that one.  It is from 1914 and belongs to a man named Isaac E. Hotchkiss.  This patent seems to be the genesis for the solid chassis that Queen perfected.  It has the internal spring, more closely resembles the shape of my knife and the clip point blade, but it is still not 100% correct.  Being a gunsmith by trade, reading the patent documents was actually fascinating.  But, I’m still not there.  So, based upon all available evidence, I determined this knife was manufactured no earlier than December 27, 1955, and probably in 1956, by the Queen Cutlery Company.  Knives with that patent number on them could not have occurred before that dated.  It turns out, Queen Cutlery used that patent number on all of its internal spring knives.  Mine was obviously among them.  The similarity of documented Queen Steel knives to mine, combined with the patent, seems incontrovertible. What I have not yet determined is what model number this knife is.  I believe, based upon other documented knives that are close (but no cigar) to mine, it could be a model number 60.  I found such a knife on line.  It is described as “Mint”, has a clear etching on the blade, and could be my dad’s knife as it was nearly 60 years ago.  I might just buy it for shits and giggles… Um, I mean, for its research value. 

       “Why go through all this?” you ask.  “Can’t you just enjoy your dad’s knife?”  Yes, I can.  But my curiosity is peeked, you see.  My family “history”, or legend, to be more appropriate, places this knife much, much closer to the Smithsonian version of events, and I just cannot perpetuate the legend in good conscience.  Not only that, I am a former cop, and mysteries intrigue me. 

       Here is the bottom line.  Barlow knives are a proven, hardworking, affordable, American knife.  If you are an American and you have a penis, you should have a Barlow knife, regardless of whether you have a good woman.  Just don’t get one from Pakistan.  A knife either.  

42nd TEWS at Takhli, Thailand, 1970.  My dad is standing on the
EB-66 Electronic Warfare Aircraft, back row, behind the pilots window,
at Parade Rest.

       For more information about the history of Barlow-knives in America, check out the Barlow Knives website at http://barlow-knives.com/.  I used this website as a source for information in this article.