Beyond the Article
This column originally appeared in the February 2010 issue. Click here to see what else is inside.

The world of knives lost a champion when Blade Magazine Cutlery Hall-Of-Famer© Frank Centofante passed away recently. Words can barely skim the surface of the impact he had on his family, friends and the knife industry.

Of course, it is a given that he made great folders.

“You might say Frank was a knifemaker’s knifemaker,” custom knife purveyor Dave Harvey began. “His work was admired and imitated by his peers. Specializing in making folding knives gave Frank an expert knowledge in the proper design and production of them, and his knives were world class in every aspect.”

Frank’s most lasting legacy will be his leadership as president of the Knifemakers’ Guild in the late 1980s and through the mid ’90s—what many call the Guild’s golden era—and the scores of people he influenced along the way. One is his good friend and fellow past Guild board member, Bob Terzuola.

“In spite of his constantly mispronouncing my name as ‘Ter-zee-ola’—no doubt just to rankle me—I felt a deep, abiding love for Frank, who liked to give the impression that he needed shepherding and protection. He did not,” the man known to many custom knife fans as “Bob T” stressed. “Frank had a strong sense of purpose and a strong will, which served him well through stormy times.

“His feigned helplessness endeared him to all, but he was a capable and effective leader. Much of this probably came from his training and work as a firefighter and paramedic in Tampa. Some also came from his true love of people. To Frank, all deserved his respect and attention until they proved otherwise. He was slow to judge others and quick to forgive, traits which we all can learn from.”


“A few years after we met, I asked him the meaning of his Italian last name, and he said it meant 100 fountains or many fountains, so I would greet him at times as Mr. 100 Fountains and his wife, Sue, as Mrs. 100 Fountains,” recalled a fellow Cutlery Hall-Of-Famer and past Guild board member, Ron Lake. “He had a sense of humor like no one else. You had to know him pretty well to know if he was putting you on or telling the truth. He could tell a big tale, look you straight in the face and not crack a smile.

“He was never arrogant or ever a bragger. I take that bragging part back. He did brag, but only about his kids and wife. When Frank became a board member of the Guild and then president, his son, Tony, was his right hand for many years. Sue didn’t play just a supporting role, she was 50 percent of the business and a real partner.”

The infighting among Guild members is legendary. It was Frank’s talent for negotiation that bridged the disagreement gap. “He had the communication skills to make everybody in the Guild feel important and needed,” custom knife purveyor Dan Delavan said. “I can’t think of another Guild president who did that.”

I did not know Frank anywhere near as well as those herein or many others, but I treasured the all-too-few times I talked with him on the phone or at shows, his almost non-stop banter and jokes, Sue smiling/laughing at his side, the lavish Guild Shows under Frank’s watch at the Orlando Marriott, including the silver anniversary show, and more. The fact he sometimes called me “Stevie Shackleforth”—mispronouncing my surname as he also did Bob T’s—is a badge of honor I cherish.

People such as Frank are rare. If you know of any half as unforgettable, make it a point to spend more time with and around them. To paraphrase a saying of an old friend, life’s too short not to savor the good guys.

Editor’s note: I apologize to many other of Frank’s friends who contributed to this story but, due to space limitations, I was unable to include their quotes.