James Lafond - Logic of Steel: A Fighter’s View of Blade and Shank Encounters

To Hug, my enemy, for taking that neck cut on the forearm ...

To Ted, my father, for finding him on the side of the road, and finding me a lawyer ...

To Tony, my brother, for fronting me the money to cover the fine and the restitution.

Thanks, guys.

The book you are about to read was made possible by the cooperation of the following people: Banno, Rick Wayne, Iggy, Duncan, Raphael, Dan Funk, Link Sanchez, Laura, Tuck, Tattoo Rick, Ricky Mason, Haynes, Kenneth, Rich, Bryant, Suzy, Duke, Liz, Tony, Alain Burrese, Pepper, Rob, Faith, Brian, Spider, Sue, Mark Duszinski, Wally, Ted, Gary, Jason, Steve, Ben, Snookie, Boss John, Little Cindy, Brett, Ken, Roger, George, Dietz, Mike, Officer Lee, Robert, Joe Feely, Al the Pimp, Tom and Vicky, Ron Bone, Paul, Kirk, Dave the Cop, Dodge, Manny, Bernie, Puppet, Rob Mills, Crazy Steve Newman, Jahn, Ralph, Mouse, Jen, Mark, Ralph Dorien, Walt, Jimmy, Manny, Lester, Tommy, Judy, SmackDaddy Jay, Easy Al, Donald, Mac the Narc, Yebitz "the Ugly," Sandman, YoMan, MumbleJack, Bubba Crank, Carol, Quin, Herb, Satchel, Krazee Shank KillPower, Ray Shaw, Ted and Pat LaFond, Sheri, Spin, Roy, Abrim, Sleepy, Sifu Arturo Gabriel, and Chuck Goetz, my training partner. With special thanks to Steve Newman, for being a stand-up guy and coming through in a pinch.

I have incorporated the following published accounts into this study:

Chris Pfouts' interviews of Pepsi, Steve Pendleton, Critter (my favorite), K.C., James Mahaffey, and Mike, as well as Chris' own encounter with the thumb-sucking knifer, all from his book True Tales ofAmerican Violence, also from Paladin Press.

Thirty-two incidents reported in the pages of the Baltimore Sun or broadcast by WBAL Radio and WJZ Television.

The other 217 encounters are courtesy of the people named above and the author.

Age 6: Grandma gave me a Popsicle. After eating the treat, I took the stick outside and sharpened it on the sidewalk. I thought it was a fine blade. Grandma took it away.

Age 14: Dad brought home a pair of 5 1/2-inch sheath knives for my brother and me. They came with leather-like sheaths that slid onto your belt, with plastic antler-style handles. My brother and I felt like full-grown men, until Mother took the knives away.

Age 16: I found a steel fence post and took it, along with a sledge, hacksaw, and file, to a coal pile in the woods, where I forged a crude bastard sword. It was a powerful blade, slicing 16 inches of sheet metal with a single stroke. The police eventually took it away.

Age 24: A biker gave me a 7 1/2-inch Othello lock blade. It was a fine blade. His old lady had insisted that he give it away.

Age 27: A local dope dealer paid four junkies to shank me. They got the wrong guy. He fought them, took more cuts than Caesar, and walked away.

Age 32: A punk tried to draw his blade on me. I trapped his hand at the hip and pressed three knuckles against his lips. The next day he gave me his butterfly knife as a peace offering, and I finally put the Othello away.

Age 36: There is still nothing quite like a blade, fine or not. Since boyhood, blade fighting has seemed a haunting riddle. But today I sense a brutal logic as old as our kind.

He was grabbed ... and then stabbed. The first stroke did not go deep. He seized the dagger as the others drew their blades, defending himself for a time, trying to avoid the desperate overhand strokes of his attackers. But it was no use. Twenty-three men-politicians or not-with steel in their hands and hate in their hearts would not be stopped with two naked hands. As he slowed and the blades began to dig deep, he went down. Mortally wounded, he drew his toga over his head. They would not see Gaius Julius Caesar take his last breath.

So ended the most powerful man of his time: a man who had risen farther above the masses than any taken down by the most personal means available to his enemies.

The small blade has been man's constant companion from the dawn of prehistory through the twilight of the twenty-first century. From the palmed flint blade of the mammoth hunter to the folding lock blade of the American deer hunter, the blade remains the most personal weapon in our now vast arsenal and continues to be widely used.

The premise of this book is simple: that man, the consummate tool-using predator, will use the blade practically and effectively, without training, and in a manner that will reflect his state of mind-or no mind. Only when he begins to philosophize outside the framework of the violent act will he adopt to frivolous conventions. Thus, the proper study of blade use begins with the study of violence and survival.

Bubbles grabbed his stomach and went down to his knees screaming, "You stabbed me!" and he was looking at his stomach. Oh, that was such a great day. I've never seen anything so hilarious.

-Link Sanchez

This book is part of a project dedicated to faithfully presenting the nature of personal violence: focusing on the immediate causes, actual physical dynamics, and ramifications of violent encounters. An important part of this presentation is a limited form of oral history that I call "action biography," which permits the reader to become acquainted with the attitudes, character, and perspective of those who participated in the true tales told in the following pages.

After reviewing this manuscript, I fear some readers may come away with the false impression that we live in the midst of a barely contained race war. Although much of the violence depicted is interracial, and many of the protagonists express racist views or use racial slurs in telling their tales, I have no evidence to suggest that racial mayhem is a dominant-or even significant-part of the American violence scene.

Most violence occurs between unarmed, untrained individuals of the same sex and race. However, extreme acts perpetrated by groups and armed aggressors are more likely than ordinary brawls to pit members of various races and ethnic groups against one another. When you fight with or against a blade or a group, you are, more often than not, leaving the world of brawling behind for the starker reality shared by the hunter and the hunted.