Old as I feel, I was only 12 when that decade ended. I didn't have the financial wherewithall to buy the guns of my choice. Yes, dad had a 1917 and a M98 Mauser. His deer gun was a 12 gauge with slugs.
But we did have a subscription to the American Rifleman. From the end of WWII, before I was born, all the way past the 1950s (and 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s). Yes I still have every issue, neatly boxed on shelves in the basment for easy retrieval. So I spent the later 50s racing home from school to beat Dad to the mailbox for the latest edition. It was kind of a game to get it and read as much as I could before he'd hide it from me.
The best gun of the 50s? Obviously a M70. My dream? One of them with a BalVar 8 scope. Now I know the shortcomings of the external adjusting mount, but back then a guy could dream (and charge $1 to cut the neighbors grass, an insufficient sum to ever purchase one.)
But then about 15 years go I'd developed some bad habits. The worst being to cover a gun show from end to end, top to bottom. Except the island of tables were we set up shop. For whatever reason, I never spent adequate time in our own neighbors displays. That day the show was over. It was well after noon on Sunday, about half the vendors were packing up and trying to get the drive home out of the way. For whatever unknown reason I still had a pocket full of money (and a smile on my face.) Entrances into the islands are just a foot or more opening between the tables. I'd used the one way in dozens of times that weekend. Had to be careful because the gun with the endcap had a rifle display set up so you had to lean the other way.
As I was going out for another scouting run, I noticed a M70 in the rack. It'd been there the entire time. The vendor was even starting to pack up his table. So I stopped and asked him permission to fondle the gun. Shore'nuff, it was the rifle of my dreams from 40 years before. My earliest memory of what a proper sportsman should own. Right down to the low serial number and the BalVar 8 scope and mount. I found some room and tossed it up to my shoulder, aiming at some object up in the ceiling. Scope was clear, not canted in its mount. Then I looked at the stock, unfortunately modified just a little. Different checkering than I'd expected, but the low serial seemed to indicate a 1st year gun.
Then I noticed I was being watched. Common sense and buying skill took over and I put it back, saying "nice old gun". And I took off for a hike to not disclose my lust. I only got a few tables when my partner, John, ran me down. Guess he knew how to read me. Said "why didn't you ask him how much". I lied (lying to John was fun, but stupid because he could see right through it.) I told him I wasn't much interested. I came back a little while later, ammo in hand. I always buy ammo. The vendor with the rifle asked if I was interested. I'd seen the price tag of $700, so I just said it was too much. The vendor knew a lie himself, but realized it was proper to lie in price negotiations. He said he could come down a little. I was a fool and let my eagerness show. I said "how much down?" He dropped the price by a $100, I told him still too much. But $550 would be good. He jumped and said OK. Its how I came to own 2672. None of this pre 64 stuff, prewar is where its at.
I wish I was born about 40 years earlier. I would've been in much better shape I feel.
