Back in the day....

[Char-Gar]

My Grandfather used to speak of the days when "A dollar was as big as a wagon wheel.". I don't remember that far back, I I do recall the days when there was much, much money in the average pocket. Credit cards were not invented and folks lived on what they made and made do with what they had. Two income families were as rare as eyebrows on eggs.

Shooters and hunters owned far less guns and shot very little factory ammo as it was very expensive. Handloading became an economic necessity for those who wanted to shoot more than a box or two of ammo per years. Bullet casting took the shooter even farther down the road to shooting more often.

In the November 1956 issue of Guns Magazine, Kent Bellah the reloading maven wrote an article entitled "Low Loads For Higher Scores" aimed at the budget shooter (most of us) who wanted to shoot more and get better.

He recommended cast bullets with Unique power for rifles and Bullseye powder for handgun loads. He divided his loads into lower velocity indoor/gallery loads which could use plain base bullets or gas check bullets without the check. He also gave outdoor loads and handgun reduced loads.

He said to cast your bullets from 725 degree lead.

However the chart he gave was for jacketed bullets although at these level, they would work just fine for cast as well.

Here is his chart, and it seems as good to me as it was 55 years ago. I do need to comment this was before the progressive reloading craze hit, and folks could and did inspect each charged case to watch for a double or triple charge. Such an overload could cause serious damage to the firearm and/or shooter.

Indoor Loads: Unique Powder (jacketed bullets)

30/40 Krag.....110/6/974 fps
30/06..........110/8/1172 fps
220 Swift......50 Sisk/7/1655 fps
257 Roberts....87/7/1151 fps
270 Win........100/7/1189 fps

Outdoor Loads: Unique Powder (jacketed bullets)

220 Swift......50 Sisk/10/2235 fps
222 Rem........50 Sisk/5/1500 fps
257 Roberts....100/10/1500 fps
30/40 Krag.....150/12/1450 fps
30/06..........150/14/1600 fps

Reduced Handgun Loads; Bullseye Powder (cast bullets)

38-357.........150/1.5/540 fps
38-357.........135/2/635 fps
44 Spl.........210/3/620 fps
45 ACP.........190/3/665 fps
45 Colt........190/4.5/710 fps

As an aside in the same issue an outfit in North Hollywood California was selling...

"We have been extremely fortunate in securing the last remaining lot of official United States saddle carbines, the famous Krag Model 96, caliber 30-40 with 22" barrels. These carbines were manufactured as Springfield Armory and were the pride of the U.S. Calvary in the Philippines, Cuba and China.....Good Condition $34.95"

Being short of money, that was the year I bought a Krag rifle with barrel chopped to 22" and a Pacific receiver sight for $15.00. I still have it.

[gray wolf]

Nice story, thanks for sharing it.
It's sort of sad the way our dollar has lost it's value, and the quality of the goods we spend it on has gone way down also.


Sam

[BruceB]

That 1956 Krag Carbine price of $35 is $281 in 2010 dollars.

I'd gladly pay that amount for one!

Around '98, I found my Krag "NRA carbine" (arsenal cut-down rifle with an '03 front sight) at a Reno gun-shop for $169. I grabbed it IMMEDIATELY, did a cursory check on the bolt lug in bright sunlight, and ran for home.

It's been a beautiful friendship ever since that happy day.

This is interesting information, especially for those of us who can remember reading the info when it was still new....

[Bwana]

My father got his Krag in the late fifties while stationed at Elmemdorf AFB. I was a wee lad then. Flash forward about 12 years, and throw in one of my Uncle's stubborn pack mules that my father was leading, and when Dad decided to try to "coax" the mule to move by "tapping" it on the side of the head with the buttstock of the Krag the stock broke at the grip. He purchased a Herters inletted stock and we fitted it and I sanded it and put I don't know how many coats of linseed oil on it.
My mother still has that gun and hopefully I'll get it eventually. First rifle I reloaded for ( 1968). Still have those dies and shellholder.

[williamwaco]

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the November 1956 issue of Guns Magazine, Kent Bellah the reloading maven wrote an article entitled "Low Loads For Higher Scores" aimed at the budget shooter (most of us) who wanted to shoot more and get better.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------



WOW! A blast from the past.

Kent Bellah was a professional photographer as well as a "Reloading Maven". He lived in Saint Jo, Texas.

He taught my father to shoot handguns and rifles but he never could get him interested in reloading. When I came along, he took my baby pictures. A few years later he taught me how to shoot handguns and we ( Kent and myself ) talked my father into setting me up with reloading equipment and supplies and Kent then proceeded to teach me to reload. And yes, he taught me to use Bullseye and Unique. I still use them today. I have tried many others but always come back to those two. The only exception is 2400 for the magnums.

1956 coincidentally was the very year that he introduced me to the .44 Magnum. He had two of them, one Smith and one Ruger.

I would have sold my soul to the devil for either one of them but the Smith was both hopelessly out of my price range and most definitely not for sale. I did manage eventually to talk him out of the Ruger Blackhawk. It was the first gun I ever bought with my own money. I was 17 years old, still in high school, and paid him $15.00 per month for that Ruger. Don't remember for sure but It was about $75.00 for the Ruger, a set of RCBS dies, a Lyman 429421 single cavity mold and 50 empty fired cartridge cases.

Even in Texas, in those days, it was not legal for a 17 year old to buy a handgun. I asked him If he wanted me to have my father come in and purchase it for me. He said "No, you only need to be 16 years old to buy a rifle in Texas." I said "Yes but it is not a rifle." He replied, "It is powerful enough to be a deer rifle."


If I told this story to my daughter, she would tell me that nobody is interested in "old people's stories". Most of you will probably agree with her. The beauty of the internet is that I can tell my story and click "submit" before anyone has a chance to tell me "Oh yea - and you walked 10 miles in the snow to school every day, uphill both ways".

[Char-Gar]

William.. Boy is that a story to tell! Hanging out with Kent Bellah would be ever budding shooter's fantasy. I was 14 when I bought my first handgun in Texas and the same age when I bought the Krag. If, we had laws about selling guns to kids, nobody in my part of the world knew about it. Although I was 6 foot tall when I was 14.

Was Kent Bellah married and if so, was his wife's name Hazel?

[williamwaco]

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Was Kent Bellah married and if so, was his wife's name Hazel?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------




Where in Texas are you from?

Yes, he was a very lucky married man.

Hazel K Bellah was also a professional photographer. ( Better than Kent ). She was one of the most pleasant people to be around that I ever knew and was an unofficial "aunt" to half the kids in the county because she and Kent made most of the baby pictures in the county. They knew everyone from the farm hands to the bank presidents and never forgot a kid's name.

She was also a "Touch up artist." After the selection was made of which shots to print, she would remove the zits, hide the scars, remove the unruly hair, etc. Lighten the dark areas, darken the light areas, etc.

Portrait sized colored prints were not available in those days. "Color" portraits were printed in black and white and then hand colored by the touch up artist. This meant that she had to remember the coloring of each subject, at least long enough to get the negatives printed and the prints colored.

[303Guy]

Wow, you guys. Those are such amazing stories! Thanks for sharing them with us.:drinks:
(http://castboolits.gunloads.com/member.php?u=16066)

[Jim]

Personally, I could sit on the deck with a cold one and listen to this stuff all afternoon.

[songdog53]

Yes, young folks today aren't interested in stories of back in the day, but there are us that remember those days. It is a shame they don't sit and listen to older people but i remember was hard for me to do it when i was young till i realized that if would listen with my mouth shut i would learn something. Here's to " Back in the day"

[Moonie]

WOW! A blast from the past.

Kent Bellah was a professional photographer as well as a "Reloading Maven". He lived in Saint Jo, Texas.

He taught my father to shoot handguns and rifles but he never could get him interested in reloading. When I came along, he took my baby pictures. A few years later he taught me how to shoot handguns and we ( Kent and myself ) talked my father into setting me up with reloading equipment and supplies and Kent then proceeded to teach me to reload. And yes, he taught me to use Bullseye and Unique. I still use them today. I have tried many others but always come back to those two. The only exception is 2400 for the magnums.

1956 coincidentally was the very year that he introduced me to the .44 Magnum. He had two of them, one Smith and one Ruger.

I would have sold my soul to the devil for either one of them but the Smith was both hopelessly out of my price range and most definitely not for sale. I did manage eventually to talk him out of the Ruger Blackhawk. It was the first gun I ever bought with my own money. I was 17 years old, still in high school, and paid him $15.00 per month for that Ruger. Don't remember for sure but It was about $75.00 for the Ruger, a set of RCBS dies, a Lyman 429421 single cavity mold and 50 empty fired cartridge cases.

Even in Texas, in those days, it was not legal for a 17 year old to buy a handgun. I asked him If he wanted me to have my father come in and purchase it for me. He said "No, you only need to be 16 years old to buy a rifle in Texas." I said "Yes but it is not a rifle." He replied, "It is powerful enough to be a deer rifle."


If I told this story to my daughter, she would tell me that nobody is interested in "old people's stories". Most of you will probably agree with her. The beauty of the internet is that I can tell my story and click "submit" before anyone has a chance to tell me "Oh yea - and you walked 10 miles in the snow to school every day, uphill both ways".

I most respectfully dissagree, my hero was my Grandfather, I still remember EVERY story he ever told me. I can't think of that man without tearing up and he has been gone for 22 years now. Larger than life men, those stories are always worth the time to listen.

Something I heard right after he past, when an old person dies a library closes. Nothing is closer to the truth.

Anytime anyone wants to post an "old people's story" I can guarantee I'll be reading it.

[Char-Gar]

I was raised by my Grandfather who was posted to Ft. Brown (Brownsville, Tx) in 1944. When he was mustered out of the service at the end of the war, he stayed in Brownsville. He was a lawyer in Floydada before the war, and that area was blow away by the dust bowl and not much there to go back to. Thus I was raised in Brownsville, but have lived all over Texas, New Mexico and a stint in Ecuador. I am retired and once again live in Brownsville.

The man who taught me about gun, handloading and gunsmithing was our local gunsmith named Worth Palmer. As a teenager, I just about lived in his gun shop when I wasn't shooting, going to school or chasing girls. He probably had more influence on me than most of my blood family.

I have had a very good life with lots of great memories to draw from as the shadows get longer. As a child who grew in the 40's and 50's, it was a great time. Things were more simple and old values still ruled. I think I got the sweet heart of the melon and would not want to change places with the younger set. We are all going to die anyway, but I would have rather lived and grew when I did than now.

[beagle]

Boy, that's almost back to the "good olde days" when Interarmco or Ye Olde Hunter in Alexandria, VA was big and sent out a newspaper every month. Springfields at $29.95, High Numbers for $39.95 and extra select $10 more. M1917 Colts and S & Ws at $24.95, select $29.95.

SMLEs were $15.95 up and #5s were $39.95. .310 Martinis were cheap as dirt and M98s were $29.95 up depending on condition and vintage. Many had sand still in the actions from North Africa.

Webleys, both .38 and .45 were darn near giveaways.

I roomed with a guy in college that worked in his place. In the decosmolining room. They got boxes straight off the boat, cleaned them, checked SNs and segregated the better numbers for a premium price and stacked them on a pallet for sale. He brought me a M1917 Smith for $24.95. Picked it out of a fiberboard barrel on the floor.

Said you could never tell what would be in a box when they opened it. Like Christmas.

They removed all the cosmoline and then fitted rifles in a fixture, inserted a rod and a hydraulic cylinder pushed all the cosmoline out in a long rod. Said he stayed greasy all the time.

But, the prices from those days were fantastic. That was in the early 60s. Alas, those days are gone./beagle

[Char-Gar]

Songdog.. Yep..lots of young folks don't like to listen to older folks. They seem to want to challenge and correct if they get a chance.

I had the great good fortune of being raised by my Grandfather who was born in 1886. My Grandmother was born in 1891 on the Choctaw Nation in Indian Territory. I grew up listening to them and their brothers and sisters telling stories of "way, way back in the day".

My Grandfather's father was a Texas Ranger fighting the Comanche with Rip Ford before the Civil War. Now there are some stories worth hearing.

I absorbed all of this stuff like a sponge when I was a kid. I am no longer a kid, but those who are seem to think they have all their possums up one tree.

[Char-Gar]

Beagle.. I remember those days, and being a kid with a flat wallet I took advantage of those prices. In those days there lots of "old guns" floating around for $25 - $35 and less.

I once bought a minty Winchester 94 carbine in 25-35 for $20.00. It if has been in 30-30 it would have gone for $30. I remembers barrels on Winchester 92s that came out of Mexico for sale at our local pawn shop for $15.00 each. Some in in rough shape, but others were in better shape.

Unissued Reminton Rand, Ithica or Colt 1911A1s could be hand for $35.00.

Then was was the Remington 30-S in 25 Remington I bought for $25.00 and on and on and on.

[44man]

Most forget when gas was 21 cents a gallon and bread was a nickel.
Making $1.25 an hour was RICH.
I was there and a $35 gun was EXPENSIVE!
I remember the penny packs of BB's, quarter would let me shoot for weeks.
Penny candy was super when you could actually buy something for a penny.

[Char-Gar]

I remember 21 cent gas, nickle Cokes and 3 cent stamps.

[Huntducks]

1968 I was Coues deer hunting in So. Az I had just bought a 1968 Bronco W/PTO winch were heading down this sandy dirt road when we come across 2 guys trying to dig out a Int. Scout stuck big time, so we ask if they want a pull out and this guys sticks his head out and says you bet, low and behold it's Jack O'Connor well to make a long story short after pulling him out we talked about were we could shoot a couple of bucks and he ask what I was shooting Md 99 Sav in 300 Savage no scope ( only wooses used scopes then) he precides to tell me I need a 270 W/glass and gives me a box of his reloads for my first 270 well all 20 rds are still intact I did pull one apart for guys on another forum to see what the powder charge was as it was always disputed how many grains.

Well within 6mo I bought a used pre war md 70 W/scope for $89 at a pawn shop and had to put it on lay a way.

[Char-Gar]

I would bet the powder was 4831!

[williamwaco]

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Most forget when gas was 21 cents a gallon and bread was a nickel.
Making $1.25 an hour was RICH.
I was there and a $35 gun was EXPENSIVE!
I remember the penny packs of BB's, quarter would let me shoot for weeks.
Penny candy was super when you could actually buy something for a penny.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gas 21 cents?

At the time I wrote about, I was working in a filling station attached to the Ford dealership. ( During the summer when school was out. ) I worked from 7AM to 7PM six days for the princely sum of $19.00 per week. Do the math. That is twenty six cents per hour.

Gas was 15 cents a gallon but even at that, almost nobody could afford to "Fill'er up"
The normal order was "gimme a dollars worth" or "gimme two dollars worth." The reply was "Cash or charge?" If it was cash they got a seven cent bonus.

If they ordered "gimme a dollars worth" and paid cash, we pumped $1.07 into their tank.

Yes - WE pumped. The driver never opened the car door in those days. In addition, for that $1.07 or $2.14 sale, we cleaned the windows and checked the oil and tires. Every time.

$19.00 - That doesn't sound like much money, but after working 72 hours, there was no time left to spend it. That was the only time of my life when I was literally making more money than I could spend. Oh yes, a movie ticket was 20 cents.

[Von Gruff]

There was a real sense of knowing who you were and where you came from in our day that is sadly missing for the young ones now.
In the 1950's we heard stories from our Maternal great Grandfather, (who was born in the 1880's,) about his father who was born in the 1860's and his travel to New Zealand as a remittance man ( family paid him to come here and stay as his 'little drinking' problem was apparently a bit embarrasing for them) He was a school teacher and the first teacher in the Rough Ridge - Ida Valley of NZ. A traveling teacher who tought at three schools for two days each week so Great Grandfather was well schooled as he had to go with him, as did his brothers and sisters. Great Great Grandfather would also take supplies to one of the mining comunities and died when his cart overturned going through a creekbed and trapped him underneath.
Great Grandfather was a goldminer and raised family in two 12ft by 10ft shacks living there untill he came into town for his last year. We would go to his claim as a family when we were kids and with Great Grandfather, Grandfather, Father and uncles so there were some exceptional times. Stories at the old ones feet, and some of the not so old with songs and music from an old button accordian. Grandfather telling us tall tales and laughing till the tears rolled down his cheeks. The warmth of many women fussing arround us all with fantastic food and many of the rabbits and fish that the menfolk bought back to camp.
Got to stop as the memories are very powerfull. Paternal GGGF came from Ireland although there was not the same family stories to come down through Grandfather but the thing is we knew who we were and where we came from.

The thing that sometimes annoys me is that many of the things seen in the country museams are thing I grew up using and still use today.

Von Gruff.

[Mohavedog]

Bringing back my growing up years in the 40's and 50's. I made about 5 or 6 dollars a week mowing neighborhood lawns with a push mower and hand edger. Problem was mom made me put most of it in the bank. I was able to "give" myself a small allowance to spend at the hobby shop. Even so, I'm thankful for the values she instilled.

To illustrate the purchasing power of the dollar in those days I'm also reminded of my maternal grandfather. I was raised in Southern Calif and my grandfather was a frugal farmer in Colo. Grandpa and grandma would winter in Calif and spend a lot of time with us. I recall grandpa saying one time that he thought an artichoke was the "biggest waste of a nickel he ever saw". I guess it showed him the wasteful ways of we extravagant Californians.

Thanks again for the memories, Mohavedog (John)

[fatelk]

If I told this story to my daughter, she would tell me that nobody is interested in "old people's stories". Most of you will probably agree with her.
My grandfather was born in '07. I still know most of his old stories by heart. I think someone in the family has a video of him telling stories before be passed away at the age of 96. Stories about riding his (nearly new) 1926 Harley cross-country from Iowa to California, or hunting, trapping, and shooting in Montana in the early 30's. His stories tended to grow over time, and sometimes he would forget that he had just told me the same story the day before, but I never minded.

Young people who have no time for "old people's stories" are missing something very important. I think that a lot of kids and young folks who have an attitude about or disrespect for the elderly fail to realize that someday (if they're lucky) they just might be old themselves.

[Huntducks]

I would bet the powder was 4831!

Yep and 60.2grs pushing a 130gr Win silver tip bullet.

When I was 16 (1964) I got my first real job for the summer working for a outfit called National Ordance they were in So. El Monte Ca. they where an importer of WWII surplus, I use to strip down well used M1 Carbines, 1911, 1903, Garands, 98 you name it, if it was in WWII we got it, even Machine Guns they were always kept seperate in a locked in area always wanted to get my hands on a Thompson, we could buy a carbine for $7ea and $15 on 1911 before stripping.

I use to have tons of spare parts that some how fellowed me home some were picked out of the trash.

I made $1.10 per hr.

[smoked turkey]

The Herters catalog was wonderful entertainment for me. I think I read the thing from cover to cover and that was no small task. I thought George Herter knew about everything. I remember ordering a Puma sheath skinning knife from the Gander Mountain catalog for the princely sum of $8. It was a beauty. My son still has the knife and its still a beauty.

[rintinglen]

I recall selling gas for 20.9 cents a gallon, though this was in the Nixon era, not the Eisenhower one. By then, a decent 1911 would run you 65 dollars over at the K-mart in Taylor, Michigan. But handguns were pretty much looked down on by my father and his friends. "Everybody" knew you couldn't hit nothin' with a .45. I spent a lot of my teen age dollars earned shoveling snow , raking leaves, or mowing lawns on Gun Magazines in the 60's. I wanted a Savage 99 about as much as anything in this world. But the 150 dollars (plus 4.25% sales tax) for a 99F was roughly equivalent to a month and a halfs pay from my first job. 35 years, a marriage, two kids and a heck of a lot of raises were to go by before I finally got my Model 99. In fact, I think I need to take it shooting!

[blackthorn]

Quote:
"If I told this story to my daughter, she would tell me that nobody is interested in "old people's stories". Most of you will probably agree with her."

"Young people who have no time for "old people's stories" are missing something very important. I think that a lot of kids and young folks who have an attitude about or disrespect for the elderly fail to realize that someday (if they're lucky) they just might be old themselves."

A year and a half (at christmas) ago my grandaughter (now aged 27) gave me a 5"x7" book, the purpose of which was to write down a family history and to record some of the stories of my eary life for her to keep. Once I started to fill her request I found the book was going to be way too small so I set out to do something on the computer. Took me until about 3 months ago to "get-er-done" but the result was a 92 page, spiral bound book with pictures. I had several copies made, one for Shawna, one for each of my two boys and about 5 or 6 extras (at the request of LOML). My wife showed the book to her daughter and she wanted one and the other step kids have expressed an interest as well. I was really suprised when my step-grand kids asked for one too, as I really have had minmal exposure to them as they live in Washington State and we seldom see them. I hope those of you with these great and precious memories write them down or record them on tape for those that will come after. Doing this project for Shawna has been a great experience for me as I was forced to think of all the blessings I have had in my life! Have a great day!!

[Echo]

I was raised by my Grandfather who was posted to Ft. Brown (Brownsville, Tx) in 1944. When he was mustered out of the service at the end of the war, he stayed in Brownsville. He was a lawyer in Floydada before the war, and that area was blow away by the dust bowl and not much there to go back to.

T.

Got a story about Floydada, and my Grampa. When we got into WWI, Grampa thought he should join, but, since he had some college behind him, he thought he ought to go in with a commission. He was running a hardware store in Matador (my Dad told of eating out of a Matador Ranch chuckwagon), but couldn't get anyone interested in granting him a commission. Finally, through his wife's people back in Illinois, he was accepted. They told him to go to the train station on a certain day and a ticket would be waiting for him, taking him to war. On the appointed day, he went to the station (in Matador) and sure enough, there was a ticket for him. He got on the train and headed out.

The train was flagged down @ Floydada, and he was told to dismount - the Armistice had been declared, and Grampa wasn't needed anymore. He had been in the Army about an hour...

And my Great-Aunt Opal (Mom's aunt) struck out independently when she finished HS and became a telephone operator about the same time- in Floydada. Long way from Whitewright, N of Dallas.

[Char-Gar]

Echo.. My Grandmother taught school on the Matador Ranch about 1916, the year before she married my Grandfather. They were both from the Trickham area in Coleman County and settled there until the late 20's when they moved to Floydada. There remained in Floydada until WWII started and my Grandfather was called to active duty. He was at the time a Major in the Texas National Guard. He volunteered in 1917 and after WWII he remained in the Guard all the time between the wars. Somewhere along the way, he got a college degree, a law license and a commission in the Texas Guard.

He started life as a Texas Cowboy and then a blacksmith and wheelwright. When the horseless carriage came along he saw the handwriting on the wall and went to college. That was rare for that day and time. My Grandmother also went to college which was super rare for a girl in those days.

These were the folks that raised me and boy was I lucky. They both came from families of long winded story tellers and I got the full dose.

[paul edward]

Thank you for the stories. They make for good reading.

I learned to shoot from my father. At that time he was a pilot in the Air Force, but before that he had been a border patrol agent, working out of Presidio Texas. Although that job was good for a deferment in 1942, he signed up and went in as soon as married men were accepted for flight school. His stories of life on the border were always exciting. Much of the country they patrolled had no roads and had to be covered on horseback. This was old hat as many of the border patrolmen came from a ranching background. They would occasionally visit with the Mexican border agents who were accompanied by pistoleros (gunbearers). This was how he learned about the Mendoza light machine gun. Dad thought it was a good design and easier to use than the BAR. Border patrol agents were armed to the teeth, with a .38 S&W on a .44 frame on their belt and an M-1 Garand in a cavalry issue scabbard. Many on the men also carried a personal rifle, invariably an 1894 Winchester in .30/30. Several were known to keep a small pistol in their boot. They loaded their own practice ammunition as they were required to fire 1,000 rounds a month to stay qualified. Even 40 years later he remained a very good shot with a pistol. My kids got to hear some of these stories and all have been taught the basics of responsible shooting.

[Crash_Corrigan]

I come from a Irish background. My Dad's folks immigrated into Canada from Ireland in the early 1800's and they settled in Kingston Ontario. The sons only married Irish gals and the bloodline was filled with Doctors, Nurse, Nuns, Priests and Bishops and such.

My gggrandfater was a Doctor. My great Grandfather was also a doctor. My Grandfather also. My Dad could not hack cutting up dead bodies and flunked out of Medical School.

My Mom was the daughter of an Irish couple. Her Grandmother immigrated into America with two children and a husband. The husband died on the trip and was buried at sea. A distant male relative met her and her kids on the docks of NYC in the 1800's. He was a Detective in the NYC Police Department and always had a buck. Graft and corruption was a way of life back then in NYC and the Detectives got the cream off the top always.

He married my ggrandma and they had two other children. One was my Grandpa.
My ggrandpa George had a country place up in nearby Ulster County which he offered to his new bride as a wedding present or she could have a townhouse on Sutton place in Manhattan. She wanted the country place. After a few years of waiting hands and feet on her new husbands political and police friends she decided to take the townhouse instead.

By this time my Grandpa had made some money and he bought the place for himself and stayed there year round. He expanded it into a full time dairy farm and lived the life of a country gentleman. He paid $6,000 for the farm and the surrounding 800 acres in 1906. He was well off then and got richer. He went to NYC to cavort and have fun from time to time. He met my Grandmom there. They married in 1912 and soon started their family. Grandma would tolerate the farm during the spring summer and early fall but wanted NYC thereafter.

During prohibition Grandpa ran booze from Canada into Ulster County. He made a pile. He would buy a new top notch car every year and store the old car in one of another of his 38 farm buildings. The dairy farm ceased when prohibition ended and he went into bookmaking with the same string of bars and customers.
He also always was well heeled and dressed and always drove big and expensive cars.

I can remember as as Kid in the late 40's and thru the 50's playing inside of his old cars. They had a particular smell and the tactile sensations of those mohair covered fabric seats was always something different.

In the early 90's I visited my Mom at the Farm upstate with my video camera. I set it up in the kitchen on a tripod on top of a cabinet and turned it on for 8 hours. Changing batteries and cassettes from time to time. After a time everybody ignored it and forgot it was there. Then we started a poker game with Mom, my two Aunts, my sister, myself and my wife. It went on for hours and I dragged from my Mother all the family stories and scandals that she was aware of. We had many laughs and I found out some things new to me about the family.

Too soon thereafter my Mom passed away and my relations with my Sisters went South. So I have kept the cassettes and I play them from time to time and cry again and again about my crazy family.

One year Grandpa dug out a WWII era BAR and with a few magazines he took out a herd of deer on Friday past Thanksgiving. The whole family had to butcher and hang 6 deer in the barn. Then my Mom and two Aunts lambasted Grandpa and he was forced to tell them where he got the BAR. It was a small part of the stash of stolen US ARmy goods he had hidden in a root cellar under the house.

There were three root cellars dug out to the side from the house way back when refrigeration was only a dream. Each was 10' x 16' and 6' high. Protected by steel doors with ancient padlocks for which nobody had a key except Grandpa.

We all got the Cooks tour. He was a dock and warehouse guard for the Army during the war and apparently he was also a part time thief. How he passed any kind of background investigation is beyond me.

There were wooden cases piled very neatly in every room. Some had BAR's, other 1911's, Thompsons, Rieslings, Garands, 03 Springfields, Colt .45 ACP revolvers, an actual case of Johnson Semi Auto Rifles, Carbines, Bazookas and even a Ma Duce 50 Cal in a very big case with another case holding the tripod.

And for all this there were two rooms full of ammo including 4 cases of frag grenades.

It makes me cry to remember that all these guns were then either sold off or just dumped somewhere because they were all stolen and possession of them would be jail time and possibly the confiscation of the farm.

I snuck around for a few days and finally found the key for the lock. I snagged two cases of grenades as I had a use for them and I was only 12 and I loved fireworks then. I wish I could have snagged a few Johnson Rifles and a Thompson.......

The next spring we apparently found a lot of money because a lot was spent that year on the Farm. A new outdoor pool was dug and put together. This was back in 1955 or so. A new well was drilled. New roofs for the farmhouse and a few other buildings were installed. A new commercial refrigerator was replacing the old propane powered refrigerator. A new Ford tractor was bought to replace the push type lawn mowers. New flooring for the apartments and 4 new cars were bought that year. So I guess the money went for a good cause.

It is a shame that we treat our elderly so badly. There is a life's worth of experience and knowledge available at our fingertips if we would only take the time to listen and converse with our more experienced people.

[NoDakJak]

Oh yes! What a tangled web we weave! I was born in 1939 and lived through the era under disscussion. People keep telling me that I should have bought many more of those cheap guns. Oh yeah! I went to work full time in 1954 as farm labor. Three dollars a day! I n 1955 I jumped up to four dollars and later that was increased to four dollars and board. In early 1957 I enlisted in the Navy and took a drop in pay. Thirty two dollars a payday but by golly I had three square meals a day, clothes and a clean, dry place to sleep. I had found a home! About 25% of my income was wasted on dry cleaning and laundry to maintin my uniforms. Probably my biggest expense at that time was gun magazines and paperback novels. My favorite authors at that time were Richard Prather with his Shell Scott novels and Mickey Spillane with his Mike Hammer novels. Donald Hamilton arrived a bit later with his Series starring Matt Helm. Enough!
In 1960 I was stationed at NAS Miramar in San Diego and whenever possible I would slip up to LA and make the rounds of the large firearms importers. Ye Olde Western Hunter was a special favorite. I once bought a new, in the cosmoline 1917 Enfield for $29.95 and placed it in the trunk of my 1951 Cadillac. A couple days later a friend asked if he could borrow my car for a date. Being the sucker that I am I said yes. I never saw the car or rifle again.
I owned perhaps a dozen 1917 Enfields that varied from very good to new condition. I considered them to be the most comfortable of all bolt action 3006's to shoot and very accurate. I had at least as many 1903 Springfields and the Enfields out shot all but one of them.
I could go on for hours but it is time to get some sleep. Neil

[Bret4207]

I used to work for a guy who was famous for telling his employees "There isn't a man alive worth a dollar an hour." I apparently wasn't worth even half that! Rock picking, could you even get a kid to pick and carry rocks away in the hot sun all day today?

My family's stories tended to center around the Depression and the "good years" before the Depression. My maternal Grandmother HATED FDR. Seems the family believed in gold, having gone through bad times during a "Panic" (recession) in the 1890s. Well, they owned a nice hotel on Lake George in NY and kept their funds in gold. Sure enough, FDR confiscated the gold. Whatever the exchange value was that the Gov't gave them it wasn't near what it should have been and shortly after they lost everything.

I've uncovered some facts that dispute family history using Ancestry.com, mostly where people were born, things like that. My maternal grandmothers mother HATED the French, (the women in my family were big on HATE). Found out her father emigrated from New Brunswick and his native language was French!

[Echo]

My Grampa later became a Deputy Sheriff for Harris County (Houston). Was the guy in charge of Sheriff's sales - would go out on the steps of the courthouse and auction off stuff the Sheriff had seized. But he lost his job when the Sheriff lost his. Therein lies a tale...

The Sheriff was having a meeting with some of his top Deputies (GP was not in the group), didn't like something his Chief Deputy had said, and stomped off. The Chief Dep followed him, saying 'No, Sheriff, that's not what I meant'. CD followed S into the Sheriff's office, still telling him he misunderstood - and the Sheriff shot him!

A gunshot in the courthouse generally causes some interest. Witnesses reported that the CD was lieing on the floor, and said, 'Don't shoot me Sheriff, you know I got babies' - and the Sheriff plugged him again, killing him.

Well - the Sheriff lost his job, and since all deputies were appointed by him, they lost their jobs too...

[ColColt]

I remember in the summer time we use to sit on the front porch when I was a kid and watch the movies at the drive in. The North 29 drive in, as it was called was just a few blocks away and while you couldn't hear you could watch. You could see all but the very bottom half of the screen as it was blocked out by a corn field. We'd always ride down to the drive in on our bikes on Sunday afternoon and ride up and down the isles looking for anything valuable..like a quarter or someone's watch. You'd be surprised what we'd find.

My Dad was a supervisor in the Spooler room at one of the local cotton mills. There were half a dozen of them back then in Charlotte, NC. I got a job there with him in the summer months making about $1.00/hour. It was hot, noisy and no ac in the mill and cotton fibers flying around everywhere. On Saturday night we'd "blow down" the Spoolers and it would look like a snow storm. We would take the high pressure air hoses and blow out from under and all around the spoolers and then I had to sweep up all that mess. Of course, you'd have to take those hoses and blow your clothes off and comb the cotton out of your hair before going home. The elevator that was shown early in the movie, "Driving Mrs. Daisy" was just like the one we had in the mill...brought back a lot of memories. That cotton mill killed my Dad. He died of lung cancer and I'm sure it was from breathing all those chemicals in the dye house and the fibers that were forever floating in the air.

TV was so much better then than now. We had no problem with only getting three channels. At least there were no commercials that went on forever and when you watched a show, you weren't distracted by more commercials running at the bottom of the screen as today. TV stations went off the air about 11:00 and they would play the national anthem. You got to watch the test pattern in the morning before tv came on but, we were use to that just as in the movies where there would be Movie Tone News first followed by some cartoons before you saw the movie you paid to see.

I don't miss having the bathroom 25 yards out back nor having to go outside an pump water by the "pump house". I don't miss having to drag a tin tub up close to a Warm Morning coal burning stove to take a batch since there was no tub or shower. We'd warm up the water on the stove and pour it in the tub along with some cold water if it was too hot. I was always second in line as my older sister got to take a bath first...the me...in the same water. That's part of the good old days I don't wish to return to. The house was cold in winter months and like a frying pan in the summer. No ac and no heat system other than a centrally located coal burner heater. That heat never made it back to my bedroom and you slept with flannel pj's and several quilts and hated to let your feet hit the floor in the morning for fear they may stick.

Today, kids go down the hall and switch from ac to heat, have hot and cold running water(inside of all things!) and don't have to walk 25 yards out back to pee. But, oh, what they really missed otherwise.

[Char-Gar]

Yep.. No AC and only a big Philco tube radio for entertainment. There was of course home made ice cream and catching fireflies in a mayonnaise jar. Baseball, and tag football on the front yard if we didn't get too rough or break windows.

[Von Gruff]

I LIKE the colour in my rose tinted spectacles, but the colour of yours is very good as well. More stories guys.
I remember my grandfather telling me about always keeping a few salt cartridges foe his 12 g because the neighbours horses kept getting in his orchard. he went out to give one a 'hurry up' one day and it dropped dead. Aparently the salt had got damp and set as a solid. My father was on last leave in 1944 and he and a friend went fishing on the Avon river ( runs through JeffinNZ's shakey city) they would toss a hand grenade over the back of the boat and row arround picking up the stunned fish. Aparently they had already pulled the pin and released the handle on this day when they saw an officer on the bank and deciding on the best course of action meant they were a bit late depositing the grenade in the water and the back of the row boat was nearly destroyed. I understand there were no serious consequences either, physical or militarily but I think the oficer got the fish.

Von Gruff.

[wmitty]

As a kid I got to work with my uncle who had been a B-17 pilot during the war. He kept us mesmerized with the accounts of the bombing missions he'd been on. I wouldn't trade the time spent listening to him for anything.

[canyon-ghost]

ColColt stuck a note with me. I'm a country kid, that means I figured out football in high school. The house really was blazing hot in the summer, you went outside in the wind to cool off under the trees. We had screen doors then. And one heating stove on propane.

I learned to shoot with a .410 single shot, cutting heads off of snakes in diamondback country. Rattlesnakes are to be feared, for sure. You best friend is your dog, he can smell them.
The old outhouse was awful in the dark, we had flashlights. You never knew what you'd encounter on the other side of the door. You may open it up to find a skunk, rattlesnake or just the black widow spiders that live in there. It always smelled bad.
The old windmill would creak and groan sometimes but always put out cold water. That round bathtub, the galvanized one, was a close fit for long legs. Felt like you were taking a bath on a theatre stage too.

I plowed the fields all day with the tractor and tandem disc for four quarters. Dad always had to give me four shiny quarters. "Makes it seem like more money", he'd say. I didn't have a lot of money, but I had a lot, really a lot. I had a bicycle, a pocket knife- "Don't forget to take it out of your pocket to go to school" and a vast expanse of land to wander over.

Oh yes, Dad is eighty and wears overalls and tee shirts. Most of the family call him Grandad now even though they might be his great grandchildren.

[shotstring]

I have become a grandpa several times over now, but I still don't have the age necessary for some of the very best stories. But I do remember a time growing up in the midwest when I went into the hardware store to buy some bb's for a bb gun that I had assembled from parts taken from 3 different guns. Anyway, there was a large wine barrel in the middle of the wooden floor filled almost to the brim with 1911s. Your choice for $50.00.

It was about 4 years earlier, I remember the add from my hunting magazine advertising recoilless rifles for sale. They came with 3 shells, and were under $200. The add read "Get that rabbit on the first shot...or even a near miss".

Different times indeed.

[ColColt]

Speaking of bb guns reminds me of my first Red Ryder. Not very powerful but we shot everything from birds and glass jars to cuckle berries off Sweetgum trees. My Mom wrapped mine around a pine tree after I'd shot my brother in the butt with some of those purple berries off a hedge bush. I put them in the barrel and cocked it and up to about 20 feet they stung pretty good. :)

[canyon-ghost]

Had a Red Ryder myself. Good little old bb guns for target practice.