The Great Transfer of Wealth

You hear a lot these days about the “great transfer of wealth.” Financial experts talk about trillions of dollars moving from Baby Boomers who built their assets over decades to their children.  We don’t hear a lot about the transfer of knowledge. We may hear about the loss of know, how no one knows how to work with their hands anymore or fix anything.  But who is working to preserve that knowledge and transfer it to a younger generation. 

This week, I had the opportunity to participate in an overwhelming transfer of knowledge between blacksmiths and craftspeople.

On Thursday, my friend and longtime mentor, Peter Clark, came to my shop. Peter has taught me a tremendous amount over the years. For the most part, the transfer of knowledge has been one-directional — from his vast experience into my comparatively small brain.

But this time, I had the opportunity to give something back.

I took Peter to visit a tool and die maker friend of mine named Andrew. The three of us spent nearly two hours hanging out.  I mainly just listened and watched while Andrew and Peter discussed tooling for shaping, cutting, and pressing metal. At one point, Andrew said something insightful, and Peter looked over at me and said, “Well, that was worth the trip down here.”

In any craft, there is an overwhelming amount of knowledge that can only be gained through repetition — through doing, failing, adjusting, and doing again. But every once in a while, you meet someone who gives you that one small piece of information that moves you forward in a big way. Anyone who is serious about pushing their craft forward is always searching for that person who holds that next step.

After leaving Andrew’s shop, Peter and I visited a mutual friend, Lowell, who will be turning 84 at the end of this month. He’s been working in his shop longer than I’ve been alive.

Peter and Lowell have been friends for decades. I sat there listening to them talk:

“Remember when we were doing that project with so-and-so?”
“Remember when we went to that event?”
“Back when we were…”

As I listened, I realized that someday I’ll be the one saying, “I remember when I was at Lowell’s shop with Peter.”

There’s something powerful about recognizing a memory while it’s happening.

That evening we drove up to Fritz’s place for Oktoberfest. We arrived after dark, there was a fire glowing outside his house. After making the rounds, shaking hands and saying hello, I stepped back for a moment and took it all in.

Standing around that fire were some of the finest blacksmiths on the West Coast — and a few from the East Coast as well. The sheer concentration of talent in one place was staggering.

The next morning, I was standing outside Fritz’s house with a cup of tea when another mentor of mine, John Barron, came out, gave me a big hug, and asked about my business and my family — with genuine concern.

I started telling him about a railing project I was preparing to begin and asked for his thoughts on how best to measure and approach it. We ended up having breakfast together, and the entire conversation turned into a masterclass on how to tackle the job correctly. Before we parted, he offered to come to my shop if I ran into trouble.

Later that day, I ran into James Austin, one of the premier axe makers in the world. He travels internationally teaching historically accurate European axe making — to Europeans.

I showed him the wrought iron hammer I built with the induction forge. First thing he asked was “had I heat treated it yet?” I told him I was waiting to talk to him about how best to approach heat treating it. He gave me a full run down on how to heat treat it.  The he invited me down to his shop in Oakland to work on a project together and learn firsthand.

That evening I spoke with Jerry Kirkpatrick, whom I met last year. Jerry built car seats for Carroll Shelby — not Shelby cars, but Shelby the guy and developed the Diamondback mountain bike, one of the first bikes I ever owned.

I mentioned an idea about building some fun, lowrider-style bikes for Taco Tuesday rides. Jerry spent nearly an hour explaining front suspension geometry — the proper angle, tracking, and trail so the rear wheel follows correctly through a turn.

There was no ego. No condescension. Just a man who knows things and wants others to know them too.

He hosts a yearly sheet metal shaping workshop at his shop for one reason: to transfer the wealth of knowledge he’s accumulated over decades to anyone willing to learn.

At the end of the weekend, while loading up, I showed Erin Sims an anvil I own that had been poorly repaired before I got it. I thought he might find it entertaining.

He did.

Erin spent 20 minutes giving me an impromptu lesson on how to properly repair an anvil. He’s been repairing them for decades and has appeared on Forged in Fire multiple times. He’s one of the calmest, kindest people you’ll meet.

The repair was so bad he was actually impressed. He took photos and said he’d never seen one quite that rough.

But more importantly, he gave me the knowledge — and the confidence — to fix it correctly and turn it into a worthy anvil again.

Recently, I’ve been working with a very talented young knife maker, Jordan. We’ve taught classes together and spent time forging together in my shop. I convinced him to come to Oktoberfest for a day.

By the end of it, he was overwhelmed — in the best possible way. He sat with Erin Sims, someone he had watched on Forged in Fire as a kid, and listened as Erin played his handmade violin. Jordan is building his own guitar.

That kind of access — that kind of inspiration — can change the direction of a life.

At this stage in my life, gaining knowledge may be the single greatest investment I can make in my family’s future security.

Skills compound. Relationships compound. Wisdom compounds.

Money can be inherited.

Knowledge has to be earned — and then generously given.

This weekend, I stood in the middle of that exchange. Still learning from masters. Beginning to give back to the next generation.

The biggest problem I had was trying to retain all the information people were willing to share.

And if that’s my biggest problem, I’d say I’m wealthy indeed.Top of Form