PALADIN: You wrote Sevillian Steel in 1999. What have you been up to since its publication?
JL: Well, aside from completing the translation of Manual del Baratero, I’ve continued to travel, train, and teach on an even wider scale. In addition to my annual visits to Andalusia, I now travel to Milan every spring to participate in a yearly historical fencing meet hosted by the Federazione Italiana di Scherma Antica e Storica, the Italian Federation of Ancient and Historical Fencing (
Scherma Tradizionale: Antica, Storica, Classica - FISAS - Federazione Italiana Scherma Antica e Storica).
Although in America we do not generally regard knife fighting as fencing, many other countries use terms that refer to it in that manner. In Italy, for example, knife fighting has been referred to as scherma di daga. In France it is known as escrime aux couteau, and in Argentina as esgrima criolla. Each of these terms (scherma, escrime, and esgrima) denotes the action of fencing. So in Milan I teach martial fencers to “fence” with knives. These are not reenactors or competitive sport fencers; they are swordsmen whose focus is preserving the practice of fencing as a combative art. I’ve found that fencers take to knife fighting very well. They have quick footwork, sharp reflexes, and a keen sense of timing. And I suspect that fencers appreciate the fact that knowledge of knife techniques is apt to be more than just a little practical in urban defense situations.
PALADIN: You also travel to France quite often, don’t you?
JL: Yes, I try to visit Marseilles and Nice regularly because the whole Cote d’Azur region has a rich history of such martial arts as savate, chausson marseillais, la canne, and couteau. The Maquisards of the French Resistance hailed from that region, and they were renowned for their silent use of knives. In Marseilles you can still buy French-style navajas in hardware stores, just like you can in Andalusia. In fact, it was in a French shop that I found the biggest antique navajas outside of Spain.
PALADIN: You are recognized as a master in the International Masters at Arms Federation. Can you tell us more about this federation?
JL: The IMAF is an organization of professional teachers of Western armed arts. Its stated mission is “to preserve, study, practice, and teach the martial arts of the Western world heritage” while functioning as “a guild of professional teachers in keeping with the tradition and heritage of arms.” As such, the IMAF is primarily focused on historical and classical fencing; that is, fencing of the 14th through the 19th centuries, based on surviving traditions and historical documentation. As teachers, we are not interested in agonistic competition but rather in preserving the historical and martial aspects of European fencing and swordsmanship.
Masters in the IMAF are individuals who have created a complete teaching methodology and have studied at least one traditional Western armed system under a master with a living tradition and lineage from those disciplines (such as classical and duel fencing, knife fighting and stick fighting) that have survived in the Western world in as close to their original forms as possible and are not influenced by modern sport systems or new interstyle forms.
PALADIN: The navaja is more widely recognized now than it was prior to the release of Sevillian Steel. At least two separate Web sites that specialize in selling navajas from Spain quote from your book. Knife instructor Bob Kasper acknowledges that he designed his Perfigo folding knife after reading it. Stage combat instructors from the Society of American Fight Directors used it as a reference tool for choreographing the knife fights in the opera Carmen. And now, more than a handful of Western martial arts training sites list the navaja among the weapons they purportedly teach. It seems as if you’ve started a trend.
JL: I’m not certain I can take the credit for all of that. The navaja has been around for centuries, and people throughout the Mediterranean have always been well acquainted with the knife in some form or another. Also, during Hollywood’s golden age, dramatically choreographed navaja fights were depicted in movies featuring the likes of Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Glen Ford, and Victor Jory. One interesting duel involving a navaja and a sword cane is portrayed in the 1975 version of The Count of Monte Cristo starring Richard Chamberlain.
What I have tried to do is bring a heightened awareness of the navaja to non-Hispanics who might have been unfamiliar with its design and handling. In the 1960s, my ninjutsu instructor, Ronald Duncan, was the first to bring the arts of the ninja to the attention of the public. Perhaps that’s what I’ll end up doing with the navaja.
PALADIN: Do you see the navaja’s growing popularity as a positive trend?
JL: Of course, although there will inevitably be drawbacks. Already there are numerous individuals alleging to be “navaja instructors”—individuals who lack even the most rudimentary understanding of the weapon’s mechanics and dynamics. They superimpose the movements of Filipino and other Asian systems onto the navaja, memorize some terms from Sevillian Steel, and hang a shingle. What they fail to realize is that the navaja is not just another folding knife. The shape of its blade, the curve of its handle, the ring-clasp locking mechanism, and all of the navaja’s other design features play an integral part in the weapon’s handling. When these individuals perceive or use the navaja as they would any other folding knife, they are depriving their students of many of the weapon’s unique combat functions.
My grandfather gave me my first navajita (small boy’s navaja), and my father taught me to use it safely. When I began my formal study of the navaja and other Andalusian weapons, I had already cross-trained with Filipino friends and relatives in arnis de mano and was a certified instructor in Japanese tantojutsu. Yet, despite my familiarity with both Eastern and Western edged weapons, I found it necessary to train for seven summers to fully appreciate the arts of acero sevillano, navaja sevillana, serdañi Romani, and a variety of other regional styles of armas blancas cortas (small edged weapons). I don’t say this to boast but to underscore the fact that there was very little overlap between what I previously knew and what I later learned.
PALADIN: Your latest Paladin project, Manual of the Baratero, is certain to add fuel to the fire. What is important about the origonal manual, and what led to your translating it?
JL: To answer the second part of the question first, I first translated the manual around 1995–96 as part of my thesis work in acero sevillano. As in many other professionally led combat systems, instructorship in acero sevillano is awarded not only on the basis of physical skill and technical mastery but also on the candidate’s ability to explain and disseminate instruction in a knowledgeable and scholarly manner.
As it turns out, I gave the manual passing mention in Sevillian Steel and later discovered that many Western arts aficionados were using copies of it to “reconstruct the art of Spanish knife fighting.” (I got a pretty good laugh at one “translation” that ended up posted on the Internet.) Other than that, I never thought much about my own translation until last year when Paladin Press asked to look at it and, after reviewing it, offered to publish it. Since I was not comfortable with the rather casual treatment I had originally given the translation, I asked for time to rework it, tighten the text, and insert additional historical and technical commentary. Because the original manual’s line drawings are somewhat deteriorated, I supplemented them with sharply detailed illustrations of knife fights and knife-fighters from the time period when the work was originally published (mid- to late 19th century).
Paladin’s publication of Manual del Baratero in English is important for three reasons. The first is succinctly explained by Maestro Ramón Martínez in the foreword. Specifically, since Spanish knife fighting is, for all intents and purposes, unknown outside of Spanish-speaking cultures, and its tenets have heretofore been passed down from generation to generation only by word of mouth, this translation introduces the reader—whether Hispanophile, historian, or martial artist—to the navaja system that was prevalently practiced throughout Spain in the 19th century. Second, the manual provides a fascinating glimpse into a segment of Spanish society from an age gone by. Its opening prologue, along with its end essay on the phenomenon of the baratero—a denizen of the underworld described in the translation—affords the reader firsthand historical and sociological insights into the era. Class rivalries, social values, gender roles, criminal behaviors, and other aspects of mid- to late 19th century Spain are portrayed in the original author’s detailed, if at times ineloquent, descriptions. Third, through the range of techniques it encompasses—practical or otherwise—the manual underscores the importance of never losing sight of the prime objective in personal combat: survival.
The translation also corrects many of the mistaken notions that other “translators” have inevitably arrived at as a result of their cultural biases. Therefore, this new edition of the Manual del Baratero is much more than a simple translation of Spanish to English. This becomes obvious from the fact that, whereas the original Baratero was a mere 57-page monograph, the Paladin publication is a substantial 130+ pages that brings to light the manual’s strategic insights while duly noting its tactical shortcomings.
PALADIN: So, other than the supplemental illustrations, what was added to the original text?
JL: There are extensive commentaries throughout the manual’s various sections, as well as analyses of many of the techniques it describes. It also includes explanations of the correlation between elements of Spanish knife fighting and the knife fighting systems that evolved in countries once colonized by Spain, such as Mexico and Argentina. Finally, there is a glossary of terms associated with the weapons, techniques, and individuals involved in the Spanish edged weapons arts and a structured training syllabus based on the rather random topics covered in the manual.
PALADIN: Is this the syllabus of the Baratero navaja system that you referred to in Sevillian Steel?
JL: Not exactly. What I included is actually a sample syllabus. When you look at the manual from a didactic perspective, it is merely a series of semirelated lessons strung together in a loosely structured fashion. The depth of instruction in each lesson is glaringly uneven: some lessons are two or three pages long; others are just one or two sentences in length. There are also quite a few redundancies throughout the text.
What I chose to do was provide a comprehensive model syllabus that the interested reader can use to practice the manual’s strategies, tactics, and techniques in a logical and effective manner. Alternatively, the reader can use the model provided as a training aid to more intelligently develop his own syllabus, unencumbered by the random and redundant sequence of the manual’s lessons. In essence, what the sample syllabus provides is an outline of every strategy, tactic, and technique found in the manual, presented in a logical and practicable progression.
PALADIN: What do you hope readers will derive from reading your translation?
JL: They should recognize that the act of translating such an old work does not consist of mechanically transcribing words from one language to another. Proper translation requires looking beyond the work’s surface content and factoring in the context in which it was written. In so doing, the translator must take into consideration the period in which the work was written, as well as the politics, history, and other salient aspects of the culture.
It would also be ideal if readers would come to appreciate the fact that historical manuals, treatises, and discourses are not bibles, not gospel, and not written in stone. In fact, instead of seeing these old writings as historic, readers should regard them as dated. They should also remind themselves of the obvious—that is, that manuals, treatises, and discourses are written by men who, though they may have been masters (and often were not), invariably wrote of their systems from a highly personal and subjective perspective.
And while we’re at it, let’s strive to keep our own perspective objective. After all, why belabor the “proper” way to grip a knife or wield a sword in a day and age when our deadliest attacker is going to accost us with a handgun?
PALADIN: What’s in store for you at this point?
JL: Well, I am currently collaborating on a navaja project with fellow Paladin author Dwight McLemore, who wrote The Fighting Tomahawk and Bowie and Big-Knife Fighting System. Dwight is unquestionably as skilled as he is knowledgeable.
In addition, there are about a half-dozen more books that I’ve contracted to complete for Paladin. I’ll have to get focused on finishing them. Apart from that, there’s always more traveling, training, and teaching.
Manual del Baratero
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