Thanks, John.

Here's John's story. A good one:

BINGEN: 1955 MODEL 3-7"

"Randall Made" #3 "FOR THE GOOD TIMES"

I remember the first time I laid eyes on that old #3 back in 1955, it was at a large department store in Seattle, Wa. Sitting next to it was a #4 but somehow, like special hunting dogs, that #3 was "IT".

This was in early October of that year and having read "the article" in True Magazine I knew what a Randall Made knife was. But, much grief, sleepless nights etc., couldn't solve the one big problem of owning this fine blade. Twenty big ones, in hard American cash, a big sum back then especially for a 16 yr. Old, even with my paper route.

So, I did the only thing I could, knowing full well the Randall wouldn't last long, I tap danced, sang songs and made a fool of myself for my High School girl friend. Darned if she didn't come through with the balance I required, $2.50.

I was on the bus back down to that store faster than I can move today or, even think about moving, for that matter. The Randall was mine and it was, and remains to this day, a honey. Standard leather handle, superb grind lines and a 7" blade. The sheath is a Heiser.

What more could a young man ask - nothing. I recall walking through the ferns of Washington State, deer hunting with my friend, when he stepped, literally, on a 6 point Buck. That was the first time the old #3 was put to the use it was designed for. (My cohort had forgotten his knife)

The number of Blue Grouse that old Blade carved up in Wa. State is probably astronomical. What a fine eating bird, and great days spent in the field.

Up in the wilds of Alaska, while working for the railroad, one of the men on the crew asked if I'd like to shoot a bear. Are you kidding, what young man wouldn't? I had just turned 19. So I sat down in the doorway of our crew car, we were off on a siding between Moose Pass and Portage, took careful aim and squeezed the trigger on my venerable 30-40 Krag. The bear let out a loud bellow and proceeded to head straight up the mountain through some of the thickest Alders in God's creation, I kid you not about that.

We were young and not to bright, so we followed it up instead of waiting as would have been the prudent thing to do. You guessed it, he came down on us so fast, even to this day I can't believe it. End result, bear down, Randall doing her job, and a wiser "Bear Hunter". No, I never shot another and have no desire to. I did purchase a .375 H&H Magnum.

For some unexplained reason I ended up in Uncle Sam's Navy. While home in Anchorage, on Boot Camp leave, my brother and I went Caribou hunting. Found ourselves up at Sheep Mountain with Sgt. Hendricks, U.S. Army, mucking about in his Tundra Buggy.

A total of six Caribou were brought down for the winter cache, one of which I still have a picture of, huge rack. As an aside, we managed to break the springs in Dad's old Ford Wagon on the way back home; the meat must have weighed a ton. Old #3 worked real good.



I could go on with many more yearns about this old Lady of a knife but space and allotted computer time won't allow.

However, she has been used to carve the Thanksgiving turkey in our household for the past 40 plus years. I have four kids that will attest to the fact that indeed, she's a fine carving knife. The old leather handle has absorbed the smoke from many a campfire and listened to the tall tales of some fine woodsmen. She has accompanied me from the mountains of Alaska, California, Washington State, through the swamps of Florida and Virginia. The Blade never let me down.

Presently She reposes, in semi-retirement, in a little display case with some more modern Randalls. I now take to the woods with a Bowles Special, which my friend Rick had made up for me.

This year, that old High School class is having it's 40th Reunion. If by chance I run across that girl friend of years gone by, well, guess I'll pay her back the $2.50 I still owe her, and the tome on this old #3 will have come full circle.

Once a hunting season I carry the old blade into the field, usually on the closing day, "FOR THE GOOD TIMES". //// John Bingen of Virginia