Was listening to the Leon Metz Radio Show the other day. The guests were John Hansen and Joel Jones, local history buffs and veteran gun collectors. Mention was made of the guns used during the Mexican Revolution, and it triggered some memories of great stories I learned from the Original Buckaroo as we sat around the back room of the shop. That back room was a great place to gain a wealth of knowledge of history, guns, and the unmentionable history of the Old West. Come to think of it, the best stuff the Buckaroo shared of his vast knowledge was unmentionable in mixed company.
To put himself through school, the Buckaroo would travel rural Mexico during the early 1960’s, armed with a generator and 8mm movie projector. He’d charge a few centavos to watch old westerns projected on a sheet hung the far side of the placita. One the show was over; the Buckaroo would ask around and find out who might have old guns they would be willing to sell. For dirt cheap, he would pick up old Colt Single actions, and Winchester carbines, and haul them back to El Paso for resale.
During one such trip, he was directed to this little old man. Following an old goat trail up the mountain, the Buckaroo found the dingy adobe shack the old man lived in. In traditional Mexican fashion, the old man would bring out one gun at a time, and they would dicker over the price. The Buckaroo picked up a couple of decent pistols, and passed on the others. This went on for quite awhile.
Finally, the old man brought out the last gun, his best gun. The Buckaroo was skeptical when he saw the old man proudly lay down a worn out gray ghost of a single action. There was no telling how long the barrel had been originally, it had been bobbed years ago. The cylinder wobbled as it cycled, and didn’t quite lock up in battery. The grips were homemade blocks, poorly fitted. The gun was a wreck waiting to happen, yet the old man was extraordinarily proud of it.
“This gun my best gun, Shoot all calibers!” exclaimed the old man.
To prove his point, the old man loaded a .44 special cartridge into the cylinder and let loose into the ceiling. In that tiny room, the boom was deafening. Dust and debris from the roof rendered the air almost un-breathable. It didn’t deter the old man. He next loaded a .45 Long Colt, followed by a .38-40, .44-40, and .44 Russian cartridges. There was no telling what caliber it had been originally chambered in, but it was worn out to the point where you could shove about anything into it and fire.
The previous guns had gone for anywhere between 8 and 12 dollars, but for this gun, the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers”, he would have to have $25. Of course, the Buckaroo had to pass on the deal.
To be truthful, this story was a lot better when the Buckaroo would tell it. The gestures, and faces he’d make in the telling were hilarious. And I do admit that I wish he had bought the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers.” It would have made a great display of one man’s junk being another man’s treasure.
Until next time, Take Care, God Bless, and Keep your Powder Dry!
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