My new wife and I bought our home in April, 1980. Some of our neighbors were a delightful older couple named Joe and Lois. They were from the south. Joe was an agent with the U.S. immigration department. He had served as a Border Patrolman in Arizona and Texas prior to that.
I liked shooting, had a few guns, had just finished college as had my wife, and I was looking to get into law enforcement. Joe and Lois's home was the social center of the neighborhood. Between Joe's horseshoe pits and Lois's wonderful pies, much neighborliness occurred. Two of the other neighbors hunted, so hunting, guns and shooting were much discussed as we threw horseshoes. Sometimes, one or more of us would bring one or more of our guns to show off and compare to others' hardware. It was like a bunch of country boys relocated to the 'burbs.
Joe had guns. His work gun was a nickel plated, 2-1/2 inch Smith & Wesson Model 19. He had put a set of square butt Pachmayr grips on it as he often carried it in a uniform, He carried it in a 4 inch holster when he wore a full duty 'Sam Browne' belt but carried it in a lighter 2-1/2 inch holster on a good stiff pants belt when wearing a coat and tie. He said his supervisors liked the Immigration cops to shoot well, and frequently issued boxes and boxes of factory loaded ammununition to the officers, split evenly between .38 Special mid-range wadcutter target ammo and 158 grain .357 Magnum jacketed hollowpoint. They were supposed to shoot some up every month and bring back the empties, both to be recycled or sold off, and also to prove the ammunuition had been expended, ostensibly to benefit the marksmanship skills of the agents. He didn't mind the .38 Special wadcutters, but they got his nickel gun quite drty. The jacketed magnums were cleaner but really pounded old Joe and his faithful Model 19. Joe was way back-ordered in his shooting chores!
Joe proposed that I assist the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service by helping to turn his loaded, issued cartrdges into once-fired brass, as he was getting way behind in this portion of his work. As an aspiring deputy sheriff, I felt it my duty to assist the veteran lawman any way I could. Nearly every week, Joe gave me two boxes of .38's and two boxes of .357's, and I promptly returned 200 freshly spent cartridge cases for Joe to turn back in.
I, too, had been a Skeeter Skelton reader for a few years at this point and following his guidings, I had gathered up a new 5 inch S&W Model 27-2, a 4 inch Model 66, a 4 inch Model 18 in .22 LR, plus a pair of new Colt Single Action Armies I had gotten cheaply through a friend at a local sporting goods chain, both 7-2-1/2 inches, a nickle .45 Colt and a blue and case hardened .44 Special.
I explained to the gentlemen that I had learned to cast my own bullets for the .44's and .45's recently, and had long been casting projectiles for my .38's and .357's. This gave me a measure of prestige among the group, all older and possessing much more life and outdoorsman experience than I did.
Just prior to October, 1980 SHOOTING TIMES MAGAZINE published a collection of Skeeter Skelton's writings in a softcover tome entitled "SKEETER SKELTON ON HANDGUNS." It had a large chapter outlining the saga of the Colt Peacemaker, filled with the history of the old thumbuster, many illustrations, serial number ranges when changes had been made and a breakdown of how many SAA's had been made in which calibers. I brought the magazine over to Joe along with my two long barreled Colts. Joe found the magazine fascinating, very educational. He brought out two Colt thumbusterws he had picked up over the years. One was a mid-first generation SAA that had originally been a .38/40 but had been rebarreled and rechambered to .45 Colt with the 5-1/2 inch barrel. It had been used and carried a lot since and showed many miles of horseback trail and 4WD Jeep travel in his earlier service.
Joe also brought out a very rarely seen Colt, a Bisley with black plastic grips and a 4-3/4 inch barrel. It had a crude black finish on the whole gun that may have been some sort of laquer paint. It was chambered for the .32-20 Winchester round. The gun came in a wooden 'presentation box' that was lined with red velvet. Joe had bought the gun from a very old widow quite some time earlier.
Joe had been looking for a lever action Winchester 1892 carbine or rifle to go with the Bisley. They planned to retire in the next year or three and move to Tennessee or Kentucky on a small tree farm or ranch. Joe had always enjoyed potting small game, turkeys and game birds with a small rifle and thought the combination would be ideal.
Joe had accumulated several hundred rounds of .32-20 that he had shot up, saving the brass. He didn't reload but thought he might start when he retired and settled down. I found a set of RCBS .32-20 bullet moulds, the Lyman 3118, if I remember correctly, which threw a nice 115 grain flat nosed bullet that wore a gascheck. I tumbled his brass in my Thumbler's and cast and sized a few hundred of these shiney little projectiles. I then loaded the primed cases with a quantity of -2400 powder. Joe shot these up in his Bisley with a lot of enthusiasm.
As luck would have it, I soon ran into a very, very nice Marlin 1894 lever rifle in .32-20. The bore looked new, it had most of it's metal finish and the wood had few dents or scratches. The action was clean and smooth as you worked the lever. It had sat in a corner of the pawnshop for a couple of years, people even declining to look at it when they found out it wasn't a Winchester. The Marlin shot my handloads very, very well. A pop can at 100 yards or less was gonna be hurtin'!
I had shot Joes Colt a good bit. I took it and my Marlin back to him and asked if he was interested in trading the sixgun for the levergun. He offered to buy the Marlin outright, wanting to have both. I could see his point.
The day finally came when Joe retired and they sold the house in the neighborhood. They had their new tree farm and log house picked out down south. A moving van loaded up their belongings and left one afternoon. Joe and Lois spent one last night with another neighbor, and most of us gathered around Joe and Lois's El Camino the next morning to say our last goodbyes. It was emotional.
I had decided that the Marlin really did belong with Joe and his Colt. I wrapped it in a nice blanket and, when he wasn't around, put it in the El Camino's cab down below and behind the drivers seat, where there is some storage. I knew it would be going to a good home.
Joe and Lois made one last trip into their old house to make sure they got everything and turned off the lights and water. My wife went inside with Lois, who said that she wanted my wife to take the food and milk left in their refridgerator, which was staying with the house. In a couple of big paper grocery sacks, Lois loaded up a couple cartons of milk, cream and eggs, some butter, jars of her home made jams and jellies and a few other vittles. My wife called to me to come tote the 3 big bags over to our house and put them away. I got them into the kitchen but it sounded like Joe and Lois were about to leave, so I ran back to their yard for the last round of handshakes, hugs and well-wishes. There were more than a few tears shed as Joe guided the Chevy away from their old place, towards their new place. The bunch of us stood and waved as they drove out of sight, then stood silently for a minute before heading back to our own houses. I smiled as I thought about Joe finding the levergun when he unloaded his El Camino.
In the kitchen, I began to empty the grocery bags, most of the contents heading to the fridge. At the bottom of one bag was a white cardboard box that neatly filled the bag's bottom. I removed it. It was heavy, clearly not some of Lois's handmade candy or cookies. I opened the lid. Inside was the wood case with Joe's .32-20 Colt Bisley in it. A short handwritten note said, "These 2 .32's belong together!"
I sent the Bisley into Colt when they announced they would refinish these old guns early in the 1980's. The grip frame, trigger guard, barrel and cylinder were polished and nicely reblued while the frame and loading gate got re-casehardened. The colors were vivid and gorgeous. When it came back to my dealer, a large gunshop in Salt Lake City, he offered me $3,500 for it. I laughed. Joe and Lois made a visit back to Salt Lake the next spring after I got the Colt back. They were just passing through and only stayed one night, but we old neightbors had a small bash to celebrae. Among the good-byes the next morning, it was no big deal to slip the Bisley inside it's zippered case in behind the El Camino's seat with their luggage.
I sure would like to know how many squirrels, rabbits and turkeys those two guns have accounted for!
The only .32-20 I have now is a nice old S&W 1905 Fourth Change M&P with a square butt, nicewood service stocks and a 4 inch barrel, with most of it's original blue. I haven't shot it for a few years. I need to find that old Lyman mould, fire it up and resolve the situation!
