And yes, I got those from John.
It's one of those good stories....
I never figured I see them again. I was shocked he sold them alone.
My current partner knew John and was really surprised that John could find the stuff he had. He also watched over the years as John managed to sell his guns for more than anyone believed possible. Don't feel too sorry for him having to haul a nekkid gun back home. John had more extra sets of Ivory grips than you can imagine. While he was telling me he sold them he was digging out a set of plain ivories to stick on the gun.
John and I became friends back in the mid -1990s. He had a ratty old M57 that had escaped the factory all scratched up. It had the nicest set of Ivory on it I'd ever seen (before and since!) The problem was he wanted way too much for it, and he wouldn't budge. Guess that's how he got so much for the ones he did sell. So I made it a practice to stop and talk to him at every show (5 per year back then). And after a couple of years, I was feeling healthy because it was obvious the gun was overpriced.
So it was a warm weather show in Louisville. I was sweatin' a bit because they didn't have the AC working very well. And I was a totin' a bunch of stuff I'd scored durin' my hike around the room. But John saw me comin' up the aisle. Our arguments and battles over his gun had kind of become a thing everyone else with tables had waited for. Happened every show.
So when he saw me makin' my way along he started yelling. Just the usual about me tryin' to cheat him out of a fine revolver and what not. Never one to be outdone, I pointed out that no one else alive wanted it, cause if they had, it'd been sold a couple of years back. And so he went on about tire kickers damaging the finish on his fine firearms, just by lookin'. And he finished the tirade by askin when I was tinkin' about getting serious. So I saw my opening. I told him I'd get serious as soon as he got serious about the price on that dog he'd been carrying for so long.
Seein' his honor bein' challenged, he said "well what would you call serious". So I told him $2000 would be serious and as he was swallowin' hard, I reached in my vest and pulled out a nice neat bundle of $100s, just the way the bank handed them over to me. Called his bluff, so to speak. Worse for John, everyone else in the island of tables was laughing. So red in the face, he reached down and picked up the money. Then he told me to get around back of the table and talk for a spell. We talked almost daily ever since, right up to his premature passing. I sure wish I still had him to visit with.
Right up to the end, he loved Ivory. He'd bought a 38/44 and handed it off to Jeff Flannery to do some magic on it. At about the same time I'd picked up a 44 3rd model. Nice gun, but the original blue was half gone. John had to have it. He was thinkin' a matched set, same engraving. Just one 44 and the other a 38. His problem was finding a good set of ivories to fit an N frame. He knew someone who had a set, but pride made it awful hard to ask me. They were Don Collins work, the first set of S&W grips made from bark ivory. His wife lit into him for wasting the prime piece of tusk on a S&W. She said no one would buy them and he'd be stuck. Don was a good guy (probably still is, but we don't see him these days). He took his beating from his wife like a good husband and didn't say anything.
Then after we got our tables set up I walked over to Don's to buy my grips. We'd discussed them several times. He neglected to tell his wife, no reason to disturb her rant about his sanity. So I walked up took one look and handed him the money. He handed the grips over and I went back to my tables. When his wife saw they were gone she was a little taken back. She'd predicted he'd have them forever. So when she asked who bought them, he just meekly said "the first guy who saw them."

She was kind of quiet after that.
So John wanted my bark ivory grips. And I told him I'd sell them for what I paid. He wanted Ivory, I gave him ivory. 'Cept they were all wrapped up good for protection in the overwrap that Ivory Soap came in.
Guess I should call his widow today and tell her who got the dance hall girl grips. She'd probably like that..
'Nuther John story. I was sitting at my desk, pretending to work on June day in 2003. My phone rang and it was John. He had to tell someone, so he picked me. On that day in 1953 he started working in his career field! He was 13 back then and got himself a summer job working in the local funeral home. Sweeping floors. And he was scared to death of dead people. All his friends were scared of him and for him. They figured a ghost or something would have gotten him. 50 years later he owned a funeral home and was the county coroner. He said all that time kind of taught him there was nothing to be afraid of.