On Christmas 1983, my dad gave me a Bowie Knife made by Western. The blade was inscribed with my name, Paul “Mike” Sasser, and his initials, P.S. He gave it to me so I could hand it down to my son one day. My wife was seven months pregnant with him at the time.
I didn’t know much about the origins of the Bowie knife, but it traces back to the early 19th century in the American South. Its design is often attributed to James Bowie, an American pioneer and soldier, although the exact details remain shrouded in folklore.
The earliest version of the Bowie knife emerged around 1827, following the notorious Sandbar Fight near Natchez, Mississippi, where Bowie’s large, powerful knife gained widespread attention. In those years, single-shot pistols were not reliable and often missed their target, which resulted in a knife fight. The event started the knife’s fame, leading to its rapid acceptance across the frontier. Originally designed as a fighting knife, it quickly became a versatile tool for settler survival, hunting, and bushcraft.
I used the knife for bushcraft; in other words, you could clear brush, chop firewood, or cut a small tree down with it. I carried that knife with me when my buddies and I would go to North Georgia to hunt the Coleman River Wildlife Management Area (WMA) in December after regular deer season had closed.
We hunted there from 1981 to 1995, missing only three years. We would backpack all our supplies up the Coleman River Trail and camp near the river. One year, as we packed everything out and back to the truck, I placed the knife on the gear, which was piled high, and we left for home. That was the last time I saw the knife. I was deeply saddened by not having it anymore.
I went out and bought another knife just like it. I told my dad about the loss and my new purchase. He asked if I had it engraved. I told him, “Not yet.”
Fast-forward to 2025. I received a message from Clifford Williams on Messenger this year. It read, “Have you ever hunted in the North Georgia mountains? My dad found a knife years ago, and the name is Paul (Mike) Sasser. I’m just trying to find him. Thank you.”
I couldn’t believe it after all these years. I replied, “Yes, that was me. I lost it on the Coleman River WMA. My dad had it inscribed for me, it’s a Western W 49, overall length is 14 ½ inches”. Then he sent a picture. He replied, “I was with my dad hunting up there and found it in the middle of the dirt road. We had it for many, many years and had it on Facebook years ago and never found anyone. I’ve had it on all the hunting pages and forums.”
We then messaged about meeting up around Helen since he lives nearby, and we were going to Sautee Nacoochee. He then said, “I am just excited I finally found you to return your knife.” My reply “Yes, that is awesome, I have thought about that knife for many years. My dad just passed away last May so thank you so very much.”
We met at the Old Sautee Nacoochee Store, and he told me that he had recently come across the knife in his dad’s basement and decided to try again to find the owner. He sent the message out to 6 Mike Sassers and 3 Paul Sassers, and I finally answered.
He gave me the long-lost Bowie knife, and our wives took some pictures in front of the store. While we were getting to learn a little about each other, I said, “I have something for you.” He started, “Oh no, no! I don’t…” I cut him off (no pun intended). “No, you’ve got to take this knife,” as I was pulling the Bowie knife I bought years ago out of my inside coat pocket. He knew he had no choice in the matter. I think it was an emotional time for both of us.
After narrowing down my hunting records and pictures and Clifford’s memory (he was around 13 years old then), we believe I lost the knife sometime between 1987 and 1989. That’s at least 36, if not 39, years ago.
Everyone I have told this story to thinks the world of Clifford and how honorable he is; there are good people out there.
Thank you, Clifford, for your committed effort to find me after all these years.
This article was written and submitted to Now Habersham by Paul “Mike” Sasser
