E U G E N E ’ S O R D E R
O F S T E E L I S N O T
W H AT YO U T H I N K
BY BEN RICKER - PHOTOS: TRASK BEDORTHA
Y
ou hear the rhythmic metal tick-tock of
armor plates clapping against chainmail
from a long way off.
The sun sinks in the west as three
swordsmen reach the wide cement
platform that covers the College Hill
Reservoir.
Kurt Gerhard Studenroth lifts the steel helm from his
cranium and offers his winded fellows hot tea from a half-
gallon camping flask slung around his waist.
It’s the neoprene thermos that looks uncannily out of
place; all other signs indicate we’re looking at Studenroth
through a wormhole that connects South Eugene to
medieval Europe.
The reality is much simpler than that, though. Think of
it this way: Businessmen dress in suits and carry briefcases;
police officers patrol the streets wearing guns on their hips
and badges over their hearts; knights put on armor and
swing swords.
Time travelers, medieval souls reincarnated, lay-
historian sword nuts, antiquarian misfit militiamen,
strangers in a strange land — one thing is certain, The
Order of Steel isn’t playing. As much as is practical, its
constituents reject modern finery and distraction. Single
combat ignites in them a sense of meaning that is otherwise
lost in the Internet Age, they say.
If they can’t claw their way back several hundred years
through time, they content themselves to bring the Dark
Ages with them wherever they go.
After a minute, Studenroth and a flush-faced Tucker
James set their teacups on the ground, don heavy gauntlets
and helms once more and square off in the center of the
concrete expanse high above the city.
Meanwhile, David “Ronin” Herzog drops to the ground
and pounds out a series of pushups while dressed in a suit
of Japanese armor that weighs about as much as a sack full
of bowling balls.
IF THEY CAN’T CLAW
THEIR WAY BACK
SEVERAL HUNDRED
YEARS THROUGH
TIME, THE ORDER
CONTENTS ITSELF TO
BRING THE DARK
AGES WITH THEM
WHEREVER THEY GO.
Ronin were wandering samurai in feudal Japan — men
without masters.
Herzog took up Japanese sword fighting roughly ten
years ago. He set aside all formal kenjutsu training after
moving to Eugene a few years back because he couldn’t find
an instructor who specializes in his particular discipline.
Herzog sees himself as a swordsman without a master.
Herzog rounds out his warm-up exercises as James
yields to Studenroth.
James staggers off to the edge of the dueling ground,
removes his “sugarloaf” helmet and collapses flat on his
back, exhausted.
The simple sugarloaf design resembles a shiny metal
bucket that tapers to a point. You’ll see helmets like it in
movies set during the Crusades.
The unventilated sugarloaf heats up fast, like a tiny
sauna; sweat pours down James’ face.
With James out for the count, Herzog cycles into
battle.
Nothing like Hollywood, the action here is methodical
and anticlimactic. The swordsmen circle-stalk one
another and stutter-step test enemy reflexes.
Sparks fly in the gloaming light when steel collides
with steel. The tip of Studenroth’s blade punches against
the scales of Herzog’s breastplate and raises bystander
concern for his health and well-being.
The duelists first met on battlefields outside Lebanon,
Oregon, many summers ago during the annual fantasy
festival SeaDog Nights and Gypsy Carnival. Herzog and
Studenroth joined forces and began calling themselves
The Order of Steel only about a year ago.
“We grok,” Studenroth says.
Since forming The Order, Herzog and Studenroth
have allowed in only two or three recruits. Depending
how generous its core members feel at the moment, The
Order says it’s four or five swords strong.
Herzog hesitated to return calls from EW, fearing any
exposure might lure flocks of LARPing amateurs to his
doorstep.
“We’re not LARPers,” James interjects. “We get that
a lot.” The difference being: Live Action Role Players
only pretend.
Combined, The Order boasts more than four decades
of classical weapons training.
To join, hopefuls must know their shit and come
correct with years of martial arts instruction already on
their curriculums vitae.
As well, The Order requires members to gather
together a pricey list of safety equipment: steel gloves,
helmet (or at least a heavy-duty fencing mask), as well as
some kind of thick underlayering and, of course, a sword.
Those willing to invest in the right materials still have
to wonder whether they’ve got the biscuits to venture out
wearing such conspicuous gear.
eugeneweekly.com • January 5, 2017
13