rburg
Member
Its easy to locate and obtain a box for a 1940 K22 Masterpiece. Just buy a gun that has a box and discard the gun, leaving the box. OK, maybe not the answer to your question.
I've obtained 2 of the 3 masterpiece boxes I've owned separate from guns. The first, a poster here, located a very worn and damaged box in a barn they were tearing down in upstate New York. He sent it to me as a gift, unsolicited. I thanked him profusely at the time. I still appreciate it. But I moved it along to a friend who had a similar condition K22 2nd, and didn't have a box. It was free to him, too.
The second box was just by mistake. I was downstate at my favorite gun shop. I'd gone there (78 miles one way) to pick up a gun they sold me. The owner, Reece, said he wasn't letting me out of the shop with just a gun. So he went on a mad frenzy, looking for something else to sell me. He went to their back room and walked out, a good 30' from where I stood holding a red "Outdoorsman" box. I just glanced across the room at him and commented "I'll take it." It was maybe 10 years ago, and I needed another Outdoorsman box. I still do. But I could see from a distance it met my still low QC standards, meaning it was basically shaped like a box and wasn't falling apart.
I was too interested in my new gun to even look at the K22 box. The owner was writing up my receipt and bantering me on how much he should charge. He wanted $100 for it, so I said fine. Then he said maybe its worth more, and that he'd feel bad if he discovered it was worth $50 or $150. I didn't care, honestly. It was worth $150 to me, too. So he charged me $100. As he was putting it in the bag, as it was sliding out of sight, I glimpsed the word "Masterpiece." My heart, never a strong point, stopped working. It was all I could do to remain standing in front of the counter. But he took my money (I don't pay with plastic) and thanked me for my business. All I could utter was "its always a pleasure." Then I pivoted and pulled a hasty retreat. Out the door and down the steps.
I got on the interstate before I even opened the bag. I confirmed the word on the pristine red box. Then I set cruise at 55 (well under the speed limit) and cruised home, a happy man. All was right with the world that day. I maybe could be talked out of it. I was thinking $5000. See, you don't really want my box. I only own 2 K22 2nds. Both live in very good condition boxes, and I plan on them staying right where they are until I die. Then my newly wealthy widow can do as she pleases.
Just as an aside, my senses stopping and my breathing too has only happened twice in recent years. The other time was at a tiny gun show. A guy had a 10 ga shotgun shell box filled with the worldly remains of a postwar 357 Magnum (Y'all might call it a pre 27). I was nosy and looking, and right below the barrel was a screwdriver, black in color and clearly never used. I asked the old guy what he wanted for the screwdriver. He said you need a screwdriver? Hold on. Then he asked his partner what he wanted for it. The answer was "$1". I almost tore my pants getting the bill out and handing it to him. Then I walked, stumbled up to the end of the aisle. My wife, who was with me, said "whats wrong with you?" I said nothing, I just need to catch my breath, I haven't had one since he said $1. OK, it wasn't a $100 screwdriver, it probably at the time was worth only $75. It made my day, and such an impression on me I still remember it.
I've obtained 2 of the 3 masterpiece boxes I've owned separate from guns. The first, a poster here, located a very worn and damaged box in a barn they were tearing down in upstate New York. He sent it to me as a gift, unsolicited. I thanked him profusely at the time. I still appreciate it. But I moved it along to a friend who had a similar condition K22 2nd, and didn't have a box. It was free to him, too.
The second box was just by mistake. I was downstate at my favorite gun shop. I'd gone there (78 miles one way) to pick up a gun they sold me. The owner, Reece, said he wasn't letting me out of the shop with just a gun. So he went on a mad frenzy, looking for something else to sell me. He went to their back room and walked out, a good 30' from where I stood holding a red "Outdoorsman" box. I just glanced across the room at him and commented "I'll take it." It was maybe 10 years ago, and I needed another Outdoorsman box. I still do. But I could see from a distance it met my still low QC standards, meaning it was basically shaped like a box and wasn't falling apart.
I was too interested in my new gun to even look at the K22 box. The owner was writing up my receipt and bantering me on how much he should charge. He wanted $100 for it, so I said fine. Then he said maybe its worth more, and that he'd feel bad if he discovered it was worth $50 or $150. I didn't care, honestly. It was worth $150 to me, too. So he charged me $100. As he was putting it in the bag, as it was sliding out of sight, I glimpsed the word "Masterpiece." My heart, never a strong point, stopped working. It was all I could do to remain standing in front of the counter. But he took my money (I don't pay with plastic) and thanked me for my business. All I could utter was "its always a pleasure." Then I pivoted and pulled a hasty retreat. Out the door and down the steps.
I got on the interstate before I even opened the bag. I confirmed the word on the pristine red box. Then I set cruise at 55 (well under the speed limit) and cruised home, a happy man. All was right with the world that day. I maybe could be talked out of it. I was thinking $5000. See, you don't really want my box. I only own 2 K22 2nds. Both live in very good condition boxes, and I plan on them staying right where they are until I die. Then my newly wealthy widow can do as she pleases.
Just as an aside, my senses stopping and my breathing too has only happened twice in recent years. The other time was at a tiny gun show. A guy had a 10 ga shotgun shell box filled with the worldly remains of a postwar 357 Magnum (Y'all might call it a pre 27). I was nosy and looking, and right below the barrel was a screwdriver, black in color and clearly never used. I asked the old guy what he wanted for the screwdriver. He said you need a screwdriver? Hold on. Then he asked his partner what he wanted for it. The answer was "$1". I almost tore my pants getting the bill out and handing it to him. Then I walked, stumbled up to the end of the aisle. My wife, who was with me, said "whats wrong with you?" I said nothing, I just need to catch my breath, I haven't had one since he said $1. OK, it wasn't a $100 screwdriver, it probably at the time was worth only $75. It made my day, and such an impression on me I still remember it.
