That cap
pistol may have gotten me started in gun collecting because,
thereafter, I was able to gather quite a few toy pistols. One
had a long barrel and was made of tin. It went clickity-clack
when the trigger was pulled. Somewhere, I have a picture of
myself with that pistol. In the picture, I’ve got a cowboy hat
(red with white lacing) tilted over one eye, and a real neat
pair of chaps with a big bandana tied around my neck.
In those golden
days of yesteryear, having the right cowboy clothes was just as
important as having the right gun. Once every year or two, a man
would come around the neighborhood with a pony and a camera.
He’d ring the doorbell and ask if any kids lived in the house.
When he found a house that had kids, and most of them did, he’d
offer to take the kids’ pictures astride the pony. I always
wondered how that guy could make any money. He couldn’t have
charged too much, since I never heard of any kid in our
neighborhood not getting his picture taken because a parent
thought it cost too much. And I don’t remember my folks
complaining about the cost, either. And certainly, whatever the
man lost in the way of potential profit by keeping the price
low, he didn’t make up in volume either. After our folks agreed
that we could have our picture taken, the man would have to wait
patiently outside while we got into our cowboy outfits.
After all, no self-respecting kid
would be seen atop a horse, or anywhere else for that matter,
without his or her trusty six shooter and Stetson. Five, 10, or
even 15 minutes later, we’d be ready. There we’d sit, all decked
out, high up on the pinto pony, while the man took our picture.
Many of the kids from my generation still have those pictures
and treasure them. I know I still have mine.
The kids in the neighborhood who
weren’t home when the man came around sometimes didn’t believe
that a man with a pony had come into our neighborhood. In such
cases, sometimes we’d be lucky enough to be able to show the
doubting kid evidence on the front lawn that a pony had stood
there.
I still remember the best set of guns
I ever owned. I got them for Christmas. They were called
“49ers.” They were nickel plated with some sort of “engraving”
all over them. The grips were ivory-colored plastic and had a
genuine red plastic ruby in them along with a picture of an ox
team pulling a covered wagon. The cylinder rotated, and you slid
the left grip aside to put in a roll of caps. I had a carved
leather belt and double holsters for the 49ers, as well as a
matching set of what we called “cuffs.” These “cuffs” snapped
around your wrists like the tops of gloves and also were made of
carved leather, with real plastic diamonds and rubies on them.
I came across a set of cuffs several
years ago, and bought them, even though my wrists have grown too
big to wear them. Sometime later I found a 49er for sale. It
cost me $125, but I didn’t hesitate. I’d like to find another,
as well as the holster set they originally came in. Now that I
live in the 49th state, the significance of the 49er name is not
lost on me.
Many of our guns, as kids, were cap
guns. You can’t find caps any more. Caps generally came in a box
of 250 for a nickel. The good ones were made by Kilgore and had
50 shots to a roll. You’d buy a box, and then break the rolls
apart, as you needed them. Kilgore caps made a sharp bang when
they went off, and there was plenty of smoke as well as the
acrid smell of burnt gunpowder. Nowadays there are many people
who say kids shouldn’t have toy guns at all; they claim that toy
guns foster aggressive tendencies in kids. I never thought that
aggressive tendencies were bad. I’d rather have aggressive kids
than passive kids.
Our kids all had toy guns when they
were very young. Barb and I let them have these guns, even
though we had real guns in our home, because toy guns allowed me
to teach our children proper gun safety at an early age. The
kids learned that pointing a gun at a person - even if the gun
was “only a toy one” - resulted in harsh penalties, including
“unilateral disarmament.” They quickly learned to always - watch
where the muzzle was pointed, and that training served them in
good stead when they started handling real guns later.
I’ve owned a lot of guns since my set
of 49ers. Some of the guns I own are worth many thousands of
dollars. But when I go into my gunroom, I still like to pick up
the little nickel-plated, engraved, ivory handled, ruby-inlaid
pistol with an ox team pulling a covered wagon. And I think of
Carl Burbach and his kindness to me so long ago. Carl, wherever
you are ... thanks for getting me started on a fascinating
hobby!
Col. Wayne Anthony Ross of Alaska is
an NRA Director and Chairman of the NRA Gun Collectors
Committee. He is an Honorary Life member of OGCA, and a member
since 1980. We hope to see him in the very near future in
Wilmington. |