When I was a kid growing up, I would often help my dad with various projects around the house.  Especially at first this mostly involved me standing around a lot and running and getting him tools and supplies when asked, and one of my earliest memories of fetching a tool for my dad was getting him a hammer.  I went down into the basement and grabbed the nicest looking hammer and came running back with it.  "Oh, no, sorry, but I wanted your grandfather's hammer--the one with the brown leather handle," he said.  "Could you please run and get that for me instead?"  I was perplexed.  I knew the hammer he was talking about, and it was a rusty, beat up looking thing with a weird handle!  Why did my dad want THAT hammer?  Just because it had been his dad's maybe?  I didn't know, but, I ran down and got him that hammer instead.  I soon learned that when my dad wanted a "hammer" he wanted THAT hammer--evidently his favorite hammer.

The hammer in question was, of course, a 16 ounce straight claw leather handled Estwing, and later, when I got old enough to do more than fetch tools--when I actually started swinging a hammer myself--then I understood.  That Estwing was just plain RIGHT.  It felt right, it struck right, it was absolutely rigid and true, and despite the way the old leather handle may have looked to my childish sensibilities, the thing just felt really good in your hand.  There was no contest.  It was by far the best of the half dozen or so hammers my dad had scattered about.

And it was, apparently, already one generation old!

I don't know where I got my gene for organizing and taking good care of my tools, but it certainly wasn't from my dad.  That Estwing hammer got left out lying on the lawn in the rain more than once; it was literally used hard and (not) put away wet!  So eventually, long after I had graduated from college, one of the rings in the handle broke apart thus allowing the rest of them a great deal of play and slippage, thus practically ruining the hammer.  I honestly don't remember whether I asked permission, or if I just stole it, but either way, I took that hammer--MY favorite hammer--from my dad.  I carefully cut some sections of thick leather to push into missing section to get rid of the play and fill in the channels of the tang (it's like an I-beam) and then I wrapped waxed linen cord around and around to finish filling in the void and bring the hammer back into working order.  It worked out really well, and the handle was firmer and more secure than ever.

I went to all this trouble because I just assumed that it was no longer made and I loved it!

Then, one day, I saw a 16 ounce leather handled Estwing with a curved claw in a hardware store and did a bit of looking into it, and found out that Estwing still made that exact hammer--my grandfather's hammer!  Who would have believed it!?!  So I had the store order me the straight claw version (because who in their right minds wants a curved claw?  Anything a claw hammer can do, a rip hammer can do better.)

So, I now own my grandfather's Estwing, and my own, much newer (and much better cared for) version of the exact same hammer.  And both make me very happy.

I have used many dozens of different hammers over the years for everything from roofing to framing to finish work, and this Estwing is still one of the best hammers ever made and I love it and would never ever part with it.  It is beautiful, functional, and of the highest quality.  Forget all the fancy new fangled MIG welded, titanium, fiberglass, death-on-a-stick, carbon fiber, replaceable face hammers out there.  This is the one you want.  Once you have this one, go ahead and flirt with others--you will always come back.

It's just plain right.  And it will last a lifetime.  Or longer.
When I was a kid growing up, I would often help my dad with various projects around the house. Especially at first this mostly involved me standing around a lot and running and getting him tools and supplies when asked, and one of my earliest memories of fetching a tool for my dad was getting him a hammer. I went down into the basement and grabbed the nicest looking hammer and came running back with it. "Oh, no, sorry, but I wanted your grandfather's hammer--the one with the brown leather handle," he said. "Could you please run and get that for me instead? "  I was perplexed. I knew the hammer he was talking about, and it was a rusty, beat up looking thing with a weird handle! Why did my dad want THAT hammer? Just because it had been his dad's maybe? I didn't know, but, I ran down and got him that hammer instead. I soon learned that when my dad wanted a "hammer" he wanted THAT hammer--evidently his favorite hammer. The hammer in question was, of course, a 16 ounce straight claw leather handled Estwing, and later, when I got old enough to do more than fetch tools--when I actually started swinging a hammer myself--then I understood. That Estwing was just plain RIGHT. It felt right, it struck right, it was absolutely rigid and true, and despite the way the old leather handle may have looked to my childish sensibilities, the thing just felt really good in your hand. There was no contest. It was by far the best of the half dozen or so hammers my dad had scattered about. And it was, apparently, already one generation old! I don't know where I got my gene for organizing and taking good care of my tools, but it certainly wasn't from my dad. That Estwing hammer got left out lying on the lawn in the rain more than once; it was literally used hard and (not) put away wet! So eventually, long after I had graduated from college, one of the rings in the handle broke apart thus allowing the rest of them a great deal of play and slippage, thus practically ruining the hammer. I honestly don't remember whether I asked permission, or if I just stole it, but either way, I took that hammer--MY favorite hammer--from my dad. I carefully cut some sections of thick leather to push into missing section to get rid of the play and fill in the channels of the tang (it's like an I-beam) and then I wrapped waxed linen cord around and around to finish filling in the void and bring the hammer back into working order. It worked out really well, and the handle was firmer and more secure than ever. I went to all this trouble because I just assumed that it was no longer made and I loved it! Then, one day, I saw a 16 ounce leather handled Estwing with a curved claw in a hardware store and did a bit of looking into it, and found out that Estwing still made that exact hammer--my grandfather's hammer! Who would have believed it!? ! So I had the store order me the straight claw version (because who in their right minds wants a curved claw? Anything a claw hammer can do, a rip hammer can do better. )

So, I now own my grandfather's Estwing, and my own, much newer (and much better cared for) version of the exact same hammer. And both make me very happy. I have used many dozens of different hammers over the years for everything from roofing to framing to finish work, and this Estwing is still one of the best hammers ever made and I love it and would never ever part with it. It is beautiful, functional, and of the highest quality. Forget all the fancy new fangled MIG welded, titanium, fiberglass, death-on-a-stick, carbon fiber, replaceable face hammers out there. This is the one you want. Once you have this one, go ahead and flirt with others--you will always come back. It's just plain right. And it will last a lifetime. Or longer.