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Tributes
Tribute by Amanda Woolf (Pigpen)
Mr. Parker.... what can you say about this wonderful man that people don't already know? I loved him like a father and he treated me like a daughter. He always greeted me with a smile and left me with a laugh. He always made me feel better after talking with him. He will always be a part of my life and hold a special place in my heart. I smile now knowing he is in Heaven with my dad and talking ball.
Thank you Mr. Parker for everything!
Tribute by Shirley Brown
Even though I had known Mr. Parker for a short while, he was very much a gentleman and an honest man.
Tribute by Ed Henley
11-20-94
In a nut shell, I have known Jim Parker since 1981 and been a good friend and employee since 1993. Mr. P, as I call him, was buried this afternoon.
Mr. P. and I had traveled to Louisville, KY to the NKCA show about 6 1/2 weeks ago. Mr. P. stepped out of the Suburban with a sharp pain hitting his side. I knew it must have been bad when he put off going to dinner for about an hour so he could lay down. He loved the Fifth Quarter restaurant and could not wait to get there whenever we arrived in this particular city. Well, we put two and two together and decided his problem was his gal-bladder. The next morning when I woke up, I could tell Mr. P just was not himself. I asked him if he wanted to go home. He said yes. I knew he had to be feeling pretty lousy to leave a knife show the day it starts.
After a miss diagnosis at the hospital, he returned a few day later still in pain. It was then they discovered a problem with his liver. The problem was cancer, not gal-bladder. Not just any cancer, but a cancer that grew really fast and is pretty rare in the United States.
Buzz, his son and my best friend, tried everything that was humanly possible to help his dad and my friend. Buzz, through some wonderful God sent friends, was able to get his dad to Vanderbilt and seen by three different oncologist. Mr. P was too far gone though.
Through no fault of his own was this disease contracted. He walked several miles every week for as long as I can remember. He had a sweet tooth now, but for the most part, he tried his best to stick to a healthier eating habit. He cherished his family and did everything he could to be healthy.
I sat at his dining room table last Friday and
talked to him for over an hour. It was one of
the best times of my life. Even though we
talked business for most of the conversation,
it is one I will cherish forever. He held my
hand tightly and told me he loved me like a
son. It was such an honor to be thought of
that way by such a great man.
I
have traveled for over 10 years to knife shows
with him regularly. I tried to figure up the
days I have spent with him over the years;
about 1 year worth of weekends. So I loved Jim
Parker like I love my father.
I'm
sure gonna miss you Mr. P. You have loved me,
helped me, taught me and just been a wonderful
friend. You have taught me to have respect for
my friends and family. You have taught me a
business trade that I shall retire one day
with, the good Lord willing.
I
love you and I can't wait to see you again in
heaven dear friend.
Ed
Tribute by Stephanie & Jon Fleming
My
husband and I have known Jim Parker for so
long I cannot even remember when we first met.
Most likely on the phone. What a wonderful,
caring man he was. We always knew we could
count on him to give us an honest opinion on
anything we asked.
Knife
collecting has always been something my
husband and his father enjoyed. Finding our
first Pocket Knife Trader's Price Guide and
getting on Jim's mailing list for his Catalogs
(which we have kept) was the best thing that
could have happened to us. When we read that
Parker's specialized in Antique Case Knifes we
knew we had to meet him.
He
has taught us so much about the love of knife
collecting. We learned what to look for in
antique knives and what to collect. I so
enjoyed our talks over the years and it was
not just about knives. Jim always remembered
us and our family. He was always quick to ask
about our children as they grew up and our
business.
Even
though, we only met a few times in person, I
feel such a sadness that I won't be able to
call him up for a chat to tell him of some
great old knife we stumbled across.
Our
thoughts and prayers go out to Jim's family
and friends. We will miss you!
Tribute
by J Bruce Voyles
So
the call came that the oncologist at
Vanderbilt told my friend that there was
nothing he could do for the liver cancer. The
words about it included, “rare”,
“fast-growing” and the worst one of all,
“untreatable”.
So
here’s the story that I never thought I’d
write. The story of my remembrances of James
F. Parker.
But
first let me tell you what I know of his early
life. He was raised in a Tennessee backwater
near Reliance, Tennessee known as Greasy
Creek. His mother has passed earlier, his Dad
had battles with the bottle. He was very
bright, even then. I once met his 4th Grade
teacher, who was in her 80’s at the time. I
asked her if Jim was one of her brighter
students. In a cracked voice she told me that
in over 50 years of teaching she had one girl
that was brighter, “She’s a librarian,”
the teacher said, adding, “but Jim was the
brightest boy I ever taught.”
On
the night before Jim turned 18 he loaded his
car with his belongings, and getting up early
he left home for good. He moved to Cleveland,
Tennessee where he was an avid drag racer,
pool shooter, and where he obtained a job at
Sherwin-Williams Paint company. On the side he
traded guns. He met and married his wife
Billie, and rose quickly to a store manager
and then credit manager of Sherwin-William’s
Chattanooga-based offices. He had two
children, Buzz and Jamie, and now two
grandchildren.
He
was the first President of the National Knife
Collectors Association, and in that job
created knife collecting as we know it today.
His innovative ideas did it. When he didn’t
innovate he adapted other innovations,
improved them himself, and made them his own.
He pioneered club knives, limited edition
commemoratives, commemorative sets, and was on
the cutting edge of importing knives out of
Japan.
When
his younger brother started in the mail order
business he gave his brother discounts,
encouragements and advice that allowed his
brother and his brothers partner to grow what
is known today as Smoky Mountain Knife Works.
He
also brought Jim Frost into the knife
business, where they formed a partnership in
the early days. He started Parker-Edwards
Cutlery, a factory in Jacksonville, Alabama
that is known today as Bear & Son Knives
(formerly Bear MGC). That factory is owned by
a person who started in the cutlery business
by shipping packages in Jim’s back shop.
He
had an absolute talent for making money. And
like all great talents-- he made it look easy.
But he gave too. Not many people knew that he
was the church treasurer so he could put as
much money as he did into the church without
many people knowing about it. He bought a
piece of property for $50,000 at the corner of
I-75 and Shallowford Road in Chattanooga. When
he started the National Knife Museum he let
the NKCA have that land—for $50,000. He also
solicited four manufacturers to make a knife
at cost, and once the set of four knives were
sold the Museum was built and paid for with
money left over. That property was sold by the
NKCA recently for $1,000,000.00.
He
was the Tennessee Businessman of the Year one
year, owned a racing stable and training
facility, was on the Board of Hiwassee
college. Jim bought the failing Cutlery World
chain of stores, paid off the creditors, and
when Case came up for sale he bought it. He
was told that he could file Chapter 11 in the
Cutlery World chain to end some leases in
malls that were losing a lot of money—but
the ensuing events spiraled downward into a 70
million dollar bankruptcy. Not many people
could have withstood a hit like that. But he
survived. He invented the Case Classic
program. He put together two of the best
vintage knife shows in America, he bought and
revived the Bulldog Brand line, and he
continued buying and selling vintage and
collectible knives.
But
most of that are things that anyone who was in
the knife business at the time knows. That’s
the story of Jim and knives.
There’s
another story here though. It’s the story of
Jim and me.
When
I first bought a knife price guide Jim’s
name was listed as a place to buy antique
knives. I started buying from him through the
mail shortly out of high school. The first
knife show I ever attended I stood in absolute
awe as these men would walk up to him, extend
their hand, and repeat over and over, “I
thought you’d be older.” I saw him buying
and selling $500 knives by the handful. I was
buying $10.00 knives at the time.
I
was in college, camping out in my spare time
in a dusty chair at knife repairman Ben
Kelley’s shop in Tucker, Ga. He knew knives
and I wanted to know more about knives and I
was there pumping. We collaborated on a
magazine article or two, and one day he told
me that Jim Parker had been approached by a
publisher about doing a book on knives, and he
wanted someone to help him write it. Ben said
he had given him my name. So I drove to
Louisville, met Jim in his hotel room to talk
about the book, and hoping for a small
percentage of the royalties, and I was hoping
I could get my name on the book somewhere. I
was still in college and getting my name on
books was important to me. Parker started off
with a startling offer. “I think my name is
worth 25% to the project, so you can have 75%
of the royalties. You do the research, I’ll
do the prices.” I asked how the byline would
read, and he said “James F. Parker and J.
Bruce Voyles of course.” Of course.
We
agreed, and on my way out the door he added,
“I had them agree to guarantee payment of
sales of 30,000 copies”.
This
unemployed journalism student had just been
handed his dreams in a single package. When I
walked away from my newspaper job it was those
book royalties that allowed me to do it. That
was the first of what would be eight issues of
that book, and three other spin-off pocket
size books as well. Jim would later continue
with price guides on his own, as well as books
on Fightn’ Rooster Knives and Case Classics.
In
that newspaper job I was editing the NKCA
newsletter on a per-issue basis, and it was
growing. We decided to make it a
magazine—and did. On a trip to Jim’s,
buying knives, getting information for the
newsletter, he remarked, “You really need to
move to Chattanooga so you can spend less time
driving back and forth.”
“I’ve
thought about that,” I said, “and it would
take $-----.00 before I could move.” Suffice
to say that at that time that amount was what
I hoped to someday made to allow me to live my
dreamed-of lifestyle. (of course this was
one-year-out-of-college dreams).
“We
can pay that,” he said, “come down and
start looking for a house.” When I came down
Jim spent three days driving Debbie and I
around to look at good subdivisions, where the
best schools were located, etc.
We
were a long way from home, with a young baby,
and working all the time. Jim came in after we
moved in and we proudly showed him our new
home. He noticed there were no lamps on the
end tables in the bedroom. A few weeks later
he volunteered he and Billie to come baby-sit to give us a night out, since we didn’t have
help. When we met him at the door he also had
two very nice lamps. “A housewarming
gift,” he said. They sit on those
nightstands still.
Life
was good. I fully anticipated that I would
edit the knife magazine for the National Knife
Collectors for the rest of my life. It was
what I loved doing. Jim would remain President
and things would grow and prosper. Except for
one big thing—and that was the NKCA was a
membership-owned, membership-voting
organization. And as such there came a time
when there were growing pains, egos,
jealousies, and nothing more than
organizational politics. The specifics are not
important anymore—suffice to say that Jim
resigned as President. And since I was under
his wing then I should go too. A printer
friend told me in May of 1981 that I would be
fired at that Board meeting, and they had
already been soliciting for new editors.
So
three weeks before that day I got a call from
Art Levine of Lansky Sharpeners. American
Blade Magazine was for sale. I called the
owner, got the price and the details. And I
called Jim to go to lunch. “I want you to
buy half of American Blade Magazine,” I
said.
“OK,”
he said back.
“And
I want you to loan me enough to buy the other
half.” He stared at me a minute, and said,
“No. I’ve had enough partners. But I will
arrange it for you to own 40% of it.” I took
the deal.
“How
much money will I make as a salary?” I
asked.
“How
much do you want to make,” he shot back. I
named a figure, a good figure at the time. He
agreed. Two years later the company bought a
company car. A Mercedes. Another lifetime
dream had been achieved thanks to Jim.
In
1982 he mentioned at lunch on day, “I had
one Japanese manufacturer send me two coach
tickets to Japan to visit. The other
manufacturer sent me two first class
tickets.” I raised my eyebrows. “You want
to go to Japan?” It was my first time out of
the US.
While
there I sat in the factory show rooms and
witnessed him ordering over a million and a
half dollars worth of knives.
When
Jim built a new building, we designed our
offices which he built in the other end and
which we rented from him. With that proximity
we had lunch two or three times a week, and
more than once would walk down to his horse
track where we walked, talked knives, talked
about everything else too.
In
1985 Jim got busy with other projects: his
factory, with Cutlery World, and Case. He
offered to sell me his shares of the
publishing company—and carry the note.
When
the bad times came with his companies, we
moved to a new location, and he did too. Our
interaction was more difficult due to lack of
proximity. But when I started my auction
company Jim was there at every auction—and
usually was the biggest buyer. He welcomed my
auctions at his Pigeon Forge Shows as an added
attraction. I carried his latest auction
purchases to him at the recent Louisville
show, when he told me he was in pain and was
leaving early. In the coming days he was to
learn that the pain was coming from liver
cancer.
In
the first parts of this narrative I told you a
small part about who Jim was in knives, and
how he built the entire industry segment of
collecting—the second part told you about my
friendship and business relationships with
him.
The
third part is what we are losing because of
Jim’s health problems. We are losing the
number one innovator and promoter that the
knife business has seen in the past 80 years.
We are losing the co-founder of The Blade
Show, of the Cutlery Hall of Fame, and the
founder of the National Knife Museum. We are
losing the one person in a knife show, no
matter what show, that when you asked how the
show was would tell you, “It’s a good
show.” He not only sold knives but he bought
knives. He not only soaked up knife knowledge
but he passed it along as well. No one ever
asked him a question about a knife that he
didn’t try to answer. There are few people
that will take that time anymore—and even
fewer with the knowledge to answer just about
any question.
There
was more than once some of my fellow knife
dealers and myself would be sitting in a knife
show discussing how the latest trend was
fading—and how someone needed to come up
with something quick—and Jim would come up
with it.
He
is simply irreplaceable—and knives are
poorer for it.
I’m
sad for the knife business, I’m sad for his
family having their paternal leader suffering,
I’m sad for the Chattanooga community who is
losing a leader, and I’m sad for myself.
It’s selfish of me to say, I know, but
perhaps I’ll be selfish this time. I’ve
always valued the time I’ve been able to
spend with Jim Parker, and I’ve wanted to
spend more. And now I know there’s a time
coming when I can’t.
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