Green River Knife – The Knife of the Fur Trade Era – NOT!


“Up to the Green River” is a saying attributed to the mountainmen of the fur trade era. It has been recorded that this saying had nothing to do with the Green River near which several rendezvous were held and a landmark in many mountainman stories. Instead, it is said that it meant the very best of a product or skill and referred to the high-quality J. Russell & Co. Green River Works knife. Others said the saying came from plunging a knife into an opponent up to the part of the knife blade where the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works logo was etched. Either way, the sayings have been used to imply that the Green River knife was a major item that most mountainmen obtained, or wanted, when they went west to trap beavers.


When I became interested in all things mountainman one of the first things I read, and was told by “experts”, was that the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works knife was the knife all mountain men carried, period. In fact, many went on to tell me that it was also used by many longhunters in the late 1700’s. Armed with this information I set about ordering me a J. Russell & Co. Green River Works knife kit and put together a knife and sheath to go with my mountain man outfit. I was ready for re-enactment of the 1825 – 1840 fur trade era.


It wasn’t until I became a member of the American Mountainmen and attended my first rendezvous that a wooly-looking old man in buckskins took me to task about my knife. The knowledgeable old gentleman sat me down in front of a campfire and told me the error of my thinking on the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works knife. To me, it was a wake-up call on mountainman cutlery and set me on a journey of discovery.


J. Russell & Co. Green River Works


To understand the role the Russell Green River knife played, or didn’t play, during the mountainman era of 1825 – 1840, one must first know something about John Russell and his business history. Russell was born in Greenfield, Massachusetts in 1797 and was an apprentice to his father, a goldsmith. At the age of 21 Russell left New England and went to Georgia to try his hand at business. There, after a few years, he became wealthy in the cotton business and had a desire to return home to his birthplace. He wanted to explore his dream of creating “Made in the USA” metal tool products. Sheffield, England, had enjoyed a monopoly in the U.S. for many years importing metal tools, especially hunting knives.


In 1832 Russell built a steam operated factory to manufacture chisels and axe heads made from the best of English steel, the type normally reserved for tableware. He wanted quality products. By 1834 he felt he had the experience and machinery to begin making quality knives. The English had been flooding the U.S. market with hunting knives and Russell believed he could make a knife just as good as the English, make them faster using the latest industrial technology and compete in the growing cutlery business.


Knives in England were made in steps by a cottage industry on contract with exporting companies. One home shop would make the blanks, after inspection by the company, the blanks would go to another small shop where grinding would take place. After that the knives would go to another shop where the handles would be attached. Often, they were shipped without an edge. Russell wanted to do all those steps at one factory where he controlled the quality and make the knives much faster.
Russell was off to a good start making quality, but simple, butcher/hunting knives when in 1836 his factory burned to the ground. As he raised money to rebuild, he realized that the best power source to run a factory was waterpower, so the new knife factory was located on the Green River in Greenfield, Massachusetts. The new factory was christened the Green River Works and the knives produced in the facility were stamped “J. Russell & Co. Green River Works”, thus the birth of the Green River knife.


Using waterpower, the factory was able to utilize new manufacturing equipment such as trip hammers, stamping and trimming dies, multiple grindstones and emery wheels. It was quality mass production using the best English steel available. Russell offered English knife craftsmen higher wages and attracted talented knife makers to the new factory. By 1837 he was making high quality butcher/hunting knives and selling them at prices below the English knives.


Green River Knives Arrive in the Mountains


It is not known when the first J. Russell & Co. Green River Works hunting knives first arrived as a trade good at a Rocky Mountains rendezvous, but the best guess would be in 1838 or 1839. Many scholars of the fur trade era think that it might have been 1840 before the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works knives arrived in the Rocky Mountains. The last rendezvous was held in 1840. The heavily trapped beaver populations were low and the demand for beaver fur for making top hats had gone over to silk. The fur trade era was coming to an end and the Green River knife, a late arrival, had missed most of it.


However, the mountainmen didn’t just suddenly disappear. There was a booming new hide business, buffalo skins, and many mountain men became buffalo hunters. Others became wagon train scouts, gold miners, Army scouts, hunting guides and homesteaders. Their need for quality knives continued and the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works developed a curved skinning knife and a slightly larger hunting knife named Dadley, a name given to the design by the English craftsman working for J. Russell & Company, to sell in addition to the original hunting knife. All three were called Green River Knives.

 

 

 

 


It is interesting to note that the excellent reputation of the Green River Works knives and sales of the knives were so brisk that several of the English knife makers started stamping Green River on their knives and copying the Russell designs.


Matching Dates


It is easy to compare the dates of the J. Russell & Co. Green River Works history and the dates of the fur trade era and see why the Green River knife was not in use or sold at the rendezvous between 1826 and about1838. Green River knives weren’t even thought about during most of that time. However, from about 1840 until the late 1800’s the Green River knives made their mark on western expansion and were a favorite tool of mountainmen, Native Americans, buffalo hunters, settlers, explorers and adventurers in general. Many saw service during the War Between the States.


Prior to the Russell Green River knives, the longhunters, mountainmen and early explorers depended upon a wide variety of knife suppliers and knife designs. England and France supplied many of the early knives that were available commercially. The blade designs were mostly a butcher-type, with some being a dagger design. Some were small and some large. Many of the knives used prior to Russell & Co. were made by local blacksmiths from files and rasps. Overall the butcher blade design seemed to be the most popular blade during that period.


So as the old mountainman told me at the campfire many years ago, “its O.K. to have a Green River knife in your belt as it was a favorite knife in the mountains after it became available, but just don’t go telling everyone it was the favorite knife of mountainmen throughout the fur trade era. It wern’t round then”

New Book – A Tater Knob Almanac

At long last, my new book about life at Tater Knob is published!

For many years I have been writing my folksy tales about Tater Knob for a variety of popular publications, including, among others, Progressive Farmer, Rural Sportsman, Great Days Outdoors, GunHunter, and Mature Living. Now, I’ve collected 68 of these heart-warming short stories, most of them humorous, some quite poignant, in a new nostalgia-packed book.

So, go ahead. Buckle up. A Tater Knob Almanac will be taking you on an unforgettable wild ride full of rural-childhood adventures and misadventures from back in the 1940s and ’50s. Written for all ages and told through the eyes of three intrepid boys and one just-as-gutsy girl, these stories will introduce you to (or maybe reacquaint you with) plenty of colorful characters from in and around the remote Alabama mountain community where I actually grew up. Yes, it was a real place.

Since this new book is a collection of short stories, it’s presented in the form of an almanac. Whether you read through it from start to finish or just open it to specific months, one thing’s for certain: Each of the timeless tales inside its pages will keep you wanting to read lots more and, by the way, grinning from ear to ear. To get your copy go to –

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BHTMS8PF/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i15

 

 

Legendary Outdoor Writer Inducted into Georgia Hunting & Fishing Hall of Fame

(Rome, GA June 18, 2022) Tonight Legendary outdoor writer J. Wayne Fears was inducted into the Georgia Hunting & Fishing Hall of Fame. The hall of fame is sponsored by the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association and is housed at the Charlie Elliott Wildlife Center which combines a state wildlife management area, public fishing area and regional wildlife education and conference center on 6,400 acres southeast of Atlanta.

While Fears is known for writing about adventures worldwide, he spent his first 10 years out of college working as a wildlife professional and freelance writer in the state of Georgia. He received his Master’s Degree from the University of Georgia, was a founding member of the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association in 1969 and served as its president the following year.

Hall of famer and national fishing writer Jimmy Jacobs made the induction presentation for Fears induction, held at a banquet in Rome, Georgia. In the induction Jacobs stated, “There are three categories in which a nominee must excel in at least one to be considered for induction, Fears more than qualified in all three.”

Past Georgia Hunting & Fishing Hall of Fame honorees include President Jimmy Carter and renowned Outdoor Life magazine field editor Charlie Elliott, who was a mentor to Fears when he started his outdoor writing career.

Fears has had published 34 books and over 6000 magazine articles on outdoor subjects. For more information on his long career in the outdoors go to – ruralsportsman.com/about-jwayne/

For more information on the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association go to – gaoutdoorwriters.com

J. Wayne Fears accepts Georgia Hunting & Fishing Hall of Fame induction from Jimmy Jacobs

Happy Father’s Day

HAPPY FATHER”S DAY WEEKEND!

Back in the early 1990’s when my father was in his 90’s I wrote him this thank you letter on Father’s Day to express how much I appreciated all he had done for me and to express my gratitude for passing down his outdoor heritage to me. If your dad is still with you I hope you will do the same. Wait too long and you will regret that you didn’t take the time to do it.


Dear Dad,

Happy Father’s Day!

On this special day reserved to honor fathers, I want to thank you, long overdue as it may be, for one of the most valuable gifts you have ever given me – a love of the outdoors. You dispensed it to me in small increments over many years, and I cherish every moment of its giving.

My earliest memories are of weekends when you would take time out for long strolls with me down the abandoned country road that led to the Clark River near our house. It was just you and me, and I felt important. Those long afternoon hikes down “the old back road,” as we called it, were great adventures to me.

It was here that you taught me the names of trees and the ways of animals. On these walks, you instilled in me the value of all creatures, large and small, and that they all have a place in this world in which God has blessed us to manage. College degrees would prepare me for an outdoor career, but you gave me my first training in wildlife conservation.

My next big adventure was to accompany you on blackberry picking outings. We studied birds’ nests as we picked the bounty of the land, and when I would whine for help as thorn-covered blackberry canes clung to my clothing and skin, you patiently set me free with your big, muscular hands that briers didn’t seem to bother. How I wanted to grow up to be just like you.

If fond memories have value, then I am rich. You discovered that your skinny, towheaded kid loved fishing so during warm weather; you would take me to our favorite outdoor spot, the small eddy of water below the long-forgotten dam that once had been the site of a gristmill.

The adventure started before we left home, as we always dug worms at the ‘sweet spot’ out in your garden. We packed the car the night before with our simple fishing tackle, a cast iron skillet, a hatchet, beans, and some cornmeal. I could hardly sleep the night before one of our trips. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see porcupine-quill float darting under the surface. I wondered if morning would ever come.

I have always been thankful that you didn’t start out my brother and me fishing with bass boats and fancy rods and reels. These modern trappings are far too complicated for small children, and I don’t think we would have ever enjoyed fishing as much as we did with our cane poles, hook, sinker, and float.

On these trips, you pretended to fish, but I now know you really spent the day teaching me to bait my hook, untangling my line from snarls that only a little boy can devise, and taking my ‘trophies’ off the hook.

Our shore lunch was always special. You taught me how to build a fire and the importance of eating the fish we caught. There seemed to be magic in your old black skillet, and I have never eaten better tasting fish than those you cooked. Camp beans and hoecake completed our menu, washed down with an RC or Double-Cola.

We usually sat around our campfire for a while after we ate, and you talked about things that
were important to me. We solved many of my problems during those chats, and I got a lot off my little chest spending that time with you.

Perhaps today, if more fathers were like you, children wouldn’t turn to distractions such as drugs. Thanks, Dad, for being there when your little boy needed you.

About the same time, you took the time to introduce me to shooting safety with my first BB gun.
I remember you teaching me to treat it with the same respect given to firearms. Your talks about the responsibility of gun ownership molded my behavior and have stayed with me ever since.

I remember our first early morning squirrel hunts clearly. During the first years, I only followed you, dreaming of the day when I would have my very own .22 rifle. With visions of mountain men in my head, I would stumble along, tripping over vines and stepping on sticks that would crack like a firecracker. I must have sounded like a truck coming through the woods. What patience you exercised! I am sure I messed up many hunts for you, but you smiled your way through my learning years.

When you introduced me to one of your friends as your “hunting buddy,” a rush of pride would flow through me. It gave me a much-needed feeling of self-confidence.

Your wisdom showed when I got my first ‘real’ rifle. You could have gotten me a fast-shooting autoloader with a riflescope, but you didn’t. It was an old Remington Model 33 single shot with open sights. With this rifle, you taught me that marksmanship was far more important than firepower. Besides, cartridges cost money, and we did not have a lot of that.

I remember so well the lessons you taught me about the respect we owed the game we were hunting and that the first shot should always be all that was necessary. At the same time, you taught me the importance of finding the game we shot so that we could eat it. I remember squirrel hunts where the morning was spent looking for one fallen squirrel. Good sportsmanship was something you showed me by example.

There are so many special times I need to thank you for, such as the summer nights when you would sit out in the backyard with me under that old hedge apple tree, rather than watch TV, and talk about hunting. It was here that I first leaned about game management and the role hunting played in keeping game populations healthy. In your gentle way, you instructed me in the importance of obeying game laws and taking care of the natural resources with which God blessed us.

I wonder how many fathers and sons or daughters will sit under a tree in their backyard tonight and talk about the outdoors. I am glad we didn’t miss out on those talks.

As I was growing up, I used to wonder if it was necessary to be as nice as you were to the landowners on whose land we hunted, fished or camped. I remember you always made sure we had permission to be there, even if we had been allowed before. You were so conscious of where we left the car so we wouldn’t block a road or park on a newly planted crop. We always closed the gates and were careful not to damage fences when crossing them. To drop a candy wrapper on the ground was almost a sin in your eyes. Now that I am a landowner, I appreciate what you taught me about outdoor ethics.

I owe you thanks for many more things. The best way I can say it, other than with this letter, is to pass along these same values to your grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Dad, I consider it a blessing to have had you as my father, and every time I see a fish break the surface of a mirrored lake or hear a spring gobbler or see doves flying against a sky bathed in the gold of a sitting sun, I think of you and say a silent “thank you, Dad.”

Love from a grateful son,

Wayne