Downtown Fort Mill icon and his shop pass into local history

Through decades of growth and change, if there’s been one enduring symbol of what natives longingly refer to as “old Fort Mill,” it would have to be The Knife Shop on Main Street.

That, too, has changed.

The passing last week of proprietor Bill Richardson hastened the planned closing of the shop, his wife Janette Richardson said. Bill Richardson never fully regained his health after suffering heart failure in 2007, and a bout of pneumonia last fall left him further compromised, his family said. He was hospitalized briefly recently, sent home and, and while under hospice care, died in his sleep April 19.

“Eventually, he realized at the end he had to close, but he was sad about that,” Janette Richardson said. “He knew he had to because his health was failing.”

Even before then, Bill Richardson had downsized The Knife Shop, closing off a room where customers used to find various antiques, from furniture and china, to vintage sewing machines. The main shop area, however, still had what it was known for – display cases with dozens of knives of every shape and size, including many one-of-a-kind, handmade varieties. There were pen knives, Scout knifes, hunting knives, novelty and promotional knives, Swiss Army knives, survival knives.

Each one was an extension of the man who turned a lifelong passion into his life’s second act.

“He can tell you anything you needed to know about knives – he started collecting knives when he traveled and it just got bigger and bigger,” Janette said.

“It was just something he loved to do,” Mr. Richardson’s son, Billy Richardson, said.

“He always had knives and he loved making them. He did a great job of making them and he made nice handles, some out of deer antlers and things like that.”

Long before The Knife Shop opened in 1988 – first at 124 Main St. and later in its present spot at 202 Main – Mr. Richardson was a weekend retailer.

“He started selling knives at the flea market in Rock Hill in 1983 and that’s where he started his customer base,” one of his daughters, Pamela Richardson-Nowak, recalls.

Mr. Richardson had many other interests and passions, his family says, but if there’s anything he loved above all, it was them.

“He was always there for us,” his other daughter, Karen Pigott, said.

Oftentimes, that wasn’t so easy.

Working for a subsidiary of A&P, Mr. Richardson had to spend days on the road, visiting the grocery chain’s stores up and down the East Coast. But as soon as business was concluded, he’d make a beeline back to South Carolina to spend as much time as he could with his kids.

“When he was home, he was with us non-stop,” Richardson-Nowak said.

“He could be in New York or Philadelphia, but when that meeting was over he would drive all night to get home with us. It would be 6 in the morning and there he would be. He’d bring us Matchbox cars and such, little things, but he just wanted to be there when we woke up. That’s the kind of dad he was.”

All of Mr. Richardson’s children talk about the Friday game nights and old movies they watched on TV together Saturday nights, playing badminton in the yard and the homemade waffles before church on Sundays. Even after Mr. Richardson and his first wife divorced and the kids lived with their mom, he was no less a part of their lives. That sense of family and stability, they said, was likely rooted in Mr. Richardson’s desire for his kids to have a life opposite of the one he knew growing up.

According to his obituary, Richardson was born “on his grandmother’s bed” in Jesup, Ga., Dec. 20, 1940. After graduating from high school in Savannah, he served in the U.S. Air Force before moving to York in 1973. Nine years later, Bill and Janette – who met at the A&P where she worked – married and settled in Fort Mill, where they’ve been ever since.

The life he knew from childhood through joining the Air Force was less than idyllic.

“I think he liked being in one place,” Richardson-Nowak said, “because of how he grew up. He went to 22 schools in 18 years. Working and traveling was natural for him, but he wanted to be rooted. He never wanted to go anywhere but Georgia to see family.”

If his children were his anchor, Janette was the one who charted the course for the rest of Mr. Richardson’s life. Newly divorced, he was looking for a rooming house around the time they met and she steered him toward a friend with a room to rent. Janette and Bill started going out soon after and dated for three years before they married. Eventually, she inspired him to open what became The Knife Shop.

“He had so many (knives) and we saw all these stores on Main Street were empty and I said, ‘Bill, why don’t you rent that building (at 124 Main) and put your stuff in there.’ It was kind of an accident. That’s how that came about.”

There likely was little chance The Knife Shop was going to turn into a lucrative venture, Janette says, but it was enough that it made her husband happy.

“Bill would give you the shirt off his back and he literally did at times,” she said.

“He was generous to a fault. One of the reasons he never made any money in the shop was he wouldn’t turn away someone if they couldn’t pay. If he saw someone showing interest in something and they didn’t have the money for it, he’d say, ‘honey, you just take it and pay me when you can,’” Janette said, laughing.

Besides selling knives, antiques, vintage magazines and sundry items, Mr. Richardson also offered a service that’s reminiscent of days gone by: knife-sharpening.

“Oh, he was an expert at sharpening knives,” Billy Richardson said. “And after he’d sharpen a knife he’d do the paper test or the hair test to show you how sharp it was.”

And sometimes customers didn’t come in for the service or to browse. Some people just wanted to visit with Mr. Richardson – and his cats. Annie was the shop’s first feline. Most recently, the aged Sammy and Andy lived there. If not dosing in Mr. Richardson’s lap, the cats could be found dozing or playing in any corner of the shop or even inside a display case.

Although family and The Knife Shop occupied most of Mr. Richardson’s time, he had many other interests. He was a huge fan of Buddy Holly as well as other 1950s-era musicians who were the architects of modern rock ‘n roll. There was a print of Holly, a gift from one of his daughters, hanging in the shop and the day before he passed, he asked Janette “to get him some Buddy Holly glasses,” Billy said.

She did.

Other strong interests included history, reading about it and watching the History Channel, listening to talk radio and working on classic cars.

“He seemed forever curious,” daughter Karen Pigott said.

Another passion later in life was art. A self-taught painter, he explored different genres, such as surrealism and abstract expressionism, and some of his work hung in The Knife Shop. He even sold a few.

“When someone wanted to buy one of his paintings, that made him so happy,” Janette said.

He also loved Fort Mill, his family says.

“He didn’t like the fact that it’s grown so big, but he liked the town very much, and he liked meeting new people,” Pigott said.

“He loved the community,” Billy said. “He loved people coming in the shop...even if it was just to talk.”

This story was originally published April 25, 2016 at 4:56 PM with the headline "Downtown Fort Mill icon and his shop pass into local history."