Personal Stuff

So, where to start on this?

Probably, at the beginning would be the best place.

At age eight (1953) I was coming home from my school when I walked past a house not to far from me and saw an older man sitting and putting a “Turks-head” on his stair railing.

He was tall, thin and incredibly wrinkled with fingers that looked like gnarled roots, a full head of snowy hair and more tattoos than I even knew existed. At that time he was 80 or so, having run off to sea at age twelve as a cabin-boy on a merchant ship in 1885 and having been “under sail” from then ‘till WW I when he joined the Navy. How “romantic” is THAT for an eight-year old? He continued in the Navy as a Sailmaker and then a Boatswain’s Mate until he retired, then went back to sea in the Merchant Service again until just after WW II as a Mate.

Being a shy and retiring type, I immediately went up to him and started asking, “Whatch’a doin’ Mister? Can I see? Can ya’ show’s me how to DOOO that?”

For some reason, he took a liking to the short, fat boy and told me he’d be glad to show me, but I hadda get permission from my Mom, first. He walked me home (an entirely different time, that!) and had a cuppa with Mum and she said it was OK, so I started going to his place three days a week and got instructed in the basics of marlinspike seamanship and some fancy work.

The inside of his house was COVERED in knotting: compass rose doilies on the diningroom table, anti-macassars on all the furniture and arm doilies to match, the CURTAINS were all “MacNamara’s Lace” work, Knot-covered picture frames, globe knots on the doorknobs… it was a museum of fancy knotwork, and just as clean as a whistle.

I continued to go there for two years until he fell ill and “passed the bar” in ’55… a long life and a fairly full one.

After his death, I slowly forgot a great deal of the work but I always had a very great interest in the Sea and sailing, so I suppose it was natural that I’d enlist in the Navy as soon as I got my draft letter… fer sure I didn’t feature sleeping in a muddy foxhole, toting a great heavy rifle, eating nasty old K-rations and having people shoot at me when I could have three hots and a cot and perhaps see the world… The Navy was for ME!

I rapidly found (as did many) that the “romance” of the Sailor had somewhat diminished from Mr. Cross’ days under sail. It was a mostly boring “job” of painting, chipping, priming and (surprise!) painting again, with the occasional booming aboard of supplies to break the monotony.

I was assigned to a Destroyer Tender (fairly large ship) and, being the “new boy” was immediately put into the nets to chip, prime and paint the sides. Not a lot of fun: hot, messy, and nasty work. In between times of painting, I worked on learning to “be a sailor” and went “messcooking” (helping in the gallery for a month at a time), until one day, as I was coming up to get more paint, I saw the Senior Chief on my Division bustling down the deck to a “piping aboard” ceremony, wearing his “inspection” Boatswain’s Lanyard and his DClass “A” uniform.

“Mornin’ Chief! Nice lanyard you’ve got there!”

He stopped dead and looked at me… “Whadda’ ya’ know about lanyards, ya’ (censored) polliwog?”

“Well, you have (and I don’t remember now WHAT he had…) “this” braid” and “that” knot and a “such-and-so” a collector knot but I don’t recognize the breastplate weave…”

“Hold it! You know all this stuff? Can you make these up?”

“Ahhh, wellll, yah, gimme a few days with “The Encyclopedia*” and I can probably whip one up for you…”

“OK, Sailor (note the instant promotion from “polliwog?”)! You give that paint roller to the skull over there and report to the Boatswain’s Locker and wait for me.”

That was it. Never touched another paintbrush the whole time I was in the Navy. All I did was make up “prettys” for the Chiefs and the Officers. While in San Juan, I coxcombed the Admiral’s Gig and wound up being his “Cox’n” for a few months.

Then I got out and was so disgusted with the Navy, Vietnam and all that that I just put all the knotwork out of my mind, except for an occasional guitar strap.

Macrame was starting to fade as a fad (’72) and I just dropped into the world of employed persons who didn’t play with strings. Many occupations later I “got retired” in 2000 and while stooging about looking for something to do, I remembered knotwork, figured that there HAD to be some demand for it within the boating communities and started regaining my skills (and calluses!), and the rest is hysteria.

I can truly say I’ve been doing knotwork for over fifty years and one day I may even make a living at it (or at least cover my costs1): hope springs eternal in the stupid breast!

*The Encyclopedia of Knots and Fancy Ropework:

Raul Gramont and John Hensel Cornell Maritime Press 1944

( What happened to Mr. Cross’ collection of knotting? When he died, his son took every bit of string, line, knotwork and books and burned them all in the back yard. He told me that they reminded him of all the times that ‘Daddy wasn’t home” and that he’d promised his Mom that he’d do it. Broke my heart.)

SO: There’s a rough draft of how I learned how to do all this crap. I can expand on (and you can edit out) anything you’d like… let me know.

Vince