A Story…
…a tradition passed down from father to son…
…The year was 1978, and I remember it well because that’s when the World Cup took place in our country with our strong soccer tradition.
At that time, I was only 8 years old, but I remember my grandmother telling me stories about our father on the remote countryside, far from the city, as he was the only child. “As a little boy, he was always up to mischief… building things with his hands. He crafted wooden bows, arrows, axes, and carved knives of all shapes. The countryside was far from the city, so he had no access to technology or tools of any kind, which made him resourceful with his hands.”
My grandma, with her blue eyes and white hair, would make me laugh. She was so beautiful, narrating stories that you tend to find in books. I loved listening to her tales; it felt like a novel. She would talk about her son, his pranks, and his childhood adventures. I remember her telling me how he climbed a corn silo, a mountain of corn grains during the harvest. He was around 12 or 15 years old. He would climb to the top and jump from there, which was very dangerous. That day, he did it again, even though he was forbidden from doing so. The foreman informed his father, Old Bolchini, who went to punish him. He had a treehouse made in a tall eucalyptus tree, which he had built a long time ago. It was his hiding place, and no one could access it because he had made it nearly impossible to climb. He was thin and fast; he nailed steps to the tree so he could reach his perfectly crafted wooden house.
Returning to ’78, I remember that my father set up a workshop in our backyard. He started making knives with the few tools he had. In those days, there was very little material to study, as there was no information like today. If he couldn’t find technical steel process books, he would seek advice from friends, such as a guy named “Negro Lang”, who had a large steelworks in Buenos Aires. He had a curiosity to improve the knives for the men in the countryside, a passion he had since his childhood. A friend asked him for a hunting knife as the regular ones were not getting the job done. He created a special model with a long blade and a solid guard for better grip. That’s how he created the 647, the first original model, which was a success. Word started spreading, and he began working on his rough “quebracho” wood table, a strong and rustic wood used in the area for heavy and rugged work, drawing and creating hunting knives for friends who enjoyed the sport, as well as fishing knives and knives for barbecues, as it is a traditional Argentine tradition to have a good “asado” (barbecue) on the weekends with family.
The success of his model began to show results, as acquaintances and friends started asking for their own models.
First Original Dogo models, 1978.
My brother Marcelo, my twin, was always by my side in the workshop, helping Dad. He was very meticulous with his work, and at that age, he only allowed us to make knife sheaths. The workshop was dangerous, with many machines that we couldn’t use. As we grew older, around 12 years old, Dad slowly taught us how to make handles and sharpen blades. We progressed beyond just working with leather.
I remember he started going to the fair in Córdoba, that’s where he met the creator of the Dogo breed. He told me that he approached him without saying anything and started a conversation. He asked about the knives, models, and why he had named them Original Dogo. My father said it’s because there’s nothing more Argentine than that.
The gentleman shook his hand and introduced himself, “I’m Mr. Martinez, creator of the Dogo Argentino breed. I think it’s excellent that you named them that way.” And that’s how they established a relationship.
Photo at the Córdoba exhibition.
Original Dogo.
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