Читать книгу Gun Digest 2011 - Dan Shideler - Страница 14
ОглавлениеON THE TRAIL OF “SMALL DEER”WITH Allyn Tedmon
BY CLARENCE ANDERSON
When one gets down to a real honest confession of his good times, he usually ends up telling himself it was the little, inexpensive hunting trip he enjoyed most.” Every important gunwriter has on occasion addressed small game hunting, but how many became so enamored of it as to declare that “most of the shooting fun for the most of us has been had with small game”? Well-read riflemen are familiar with the work of Charles Landis, who made a science of squirrel and woodchuck sniping, and perhaps also Paul Estey, another ‘chuck specialist, but the name of their contemporary, and author of the preceding assertions, Allyn Henry Tedmon, is unknown to most twenty-first century shooters.
Republication of the books of Landis and those of other shooting authorities of the time – Crossman, Whelen, Sharpe – has perpetuated their reputations, but because Tedmon’s work, prolific though it was, appeared almost exclusively in magazines, his name has receded into obscurity and has been preserved from oblivion only by his unique association with a marque still venerated by many, the J. Stevens Arms Co.
Why resurrect the career of a writer whose work is unavailable except to collectors of vintage sporting magazines? Interest in shooting and collecting Stevens single-shots, and single-shots in general, which began to wane after WWI, has expanded enormously since Tedmon’s day. But absorbing as this may be to Stevens afficionados and small-game devotees, no less significant is his tireless, impassioned advocacy of good sportsmanship – the ethics, that is, of hunting – along with his seemingly obsessive concern with threats to the Second Amendment. Tedmon was not, of course, the only writer of the time to treat these subjects, but he was singular in his vehement insistence on them over a publishing career that commenced in 1914, if not earlier, and continued intermittently until 1959.
Champion of Stevens rifles, hunting ethicist, defender of the Second Amendement – Allyn H. Tedmon was all of these and more.
Allyn H. Tedmon Photo courtesy Jim Foral
“GANGLING PRODUCT OF THE WEST”
Local history collections in the Denver and Ft. Collins, Colorado, areas record almost nothing of the career of their nationally-known native son Allyn Tedmon but contain good deal of that of his entrepreneur father, Bolivar, who arrived in Ft. Collins in 1878. Perhaps it was Bolivar’s upbringing under the hardscrabble conditions of farm life in the unforgiving Adirondack Mountains of New York that fueled an un flagging desire to better himself, but for whatever reasons, he became a highly successful frontier businessman and civic leader, owning real estate, insurance, mining, and grocery interests as well as erecting northern Colorado’s earliest three-story brick building, the Tedmon House Hotel in Ft. Collins. After the latter property was sold in 1882 for a substantial profit, Bolivar’s political connections reportedly gained him appointment as Colorado’s Deputy Superintendent of Insurance, resulting in the family’s moving to Denver, where Allyn was born Nov. 11, 1884. Most of Bolivar’s business enterprises foundered in the Panic of 1893, compelling him in the late 1890s to accept a position with the Columbia Investment Co. of New York.
But this personal and financial calamity for his father proved to be a providential turning point in the life of Allyn, “gangling product of the West,” he called himself, setting the stage for his evolution into a shooting authority of national repute. Allyn was enrolled by his father in the college preparatory Dwight School of Manhattan, which suggests that his father’s losses, if crippling, were not ruinous. At Dwight, Allyn established a lifelong friendship with another student, Charles Hopkins, whose accounting and managerial skills eventually earned him the position of Treasurer of the J. Stevens Arms Co. This happy convergence of interests greatly facilitated Allyn’s research, decades later, into the history of the arms maker he came to esteem above all others. The first fruit of that research, and also the earliest detailed examination of the firm to appear in print, was “Those Stevens Rifles” in the Dec. 1926 issue of The American Rifleman, but several similar studies followed.
Like father, like son: two Stevens-equipped generations of Tedmons after a day’s hunting.
The germ of Allyn’s infatuation with Stevens, however, was implanted by his own father, whose Christmas gift in 1900 was “the first rifle I ever owned... a Stevens Ideal No. 44...to me, yet, the most beautiful Rifle ever produced in this country.” So emphatic a sentiment, expressed 20 years later and after much grown-up shooting experience, leaves no doubt as to the impression that “first rifle” made on 16-year-old Allyn.
The family apparently resided, at least seasonally, in northern New Jersey during some part of their “Eastern exile,” as a letter of Allyn’s published in the July, 1902, issue of Recreation identifies his address as Ridgefield, N. J. This brief response to another reader’s query, very likely his first appearance in print, further extols the “good work” of both the Model 44 and the .32 Long Rifle cartridge, which, he took pains to explain, was, unlike other rimfire ammunition, “inside lubricated” (i.e., the bullet’s grease grooves were inside the case). It also provides evidence that opportunities for the pursuit of “small deer” were relatively abundant.
Had the family never been uprooted, his father’s gift of a rifle and his initial exploits as a hunter could of course have taken place as easily in Colorado as in the Greater New York metropolitan area. The experience that would have been difficult to replicate elsewhere, however, was Allyn’s exposure to organized shooting activity, especially schuetzen-style competition, of an intensity probably unmatched anywhere in the country. “A worker in my father’s office” who was himself a schuetzen competitor seems to have been largely responsible for introducing Allyn, as a spectator only, to this demanding discipline. Curiously, references to his own father as a shooting mentor, beyond providing the hardware, are conspicuously absent from his later writings: a pointed contrast to Allyn’s intense involvement in coaching his own two sons.
“I well remember as a boy of 16 or 17... the old Greenville Schuetzen Range,” he wrote in “Those Stevens Rifles,” where “my brother and I met Dr. Hudson and numerous other noted target shooters of the time.” Likewise recalled with pleasure were “visions of the old Zettler Brother’s Gallery.” Born into the kind of rural culture which accepted guns as everyday objects of utility and sport, his exposure to the sophisticated world of schuetzen competition revealed a scientific dimension to riflery that a lifetime of shooting back on the ranch would have been unlikely to reveal. His “shooting consciousness” had been permanently enlarged.
HOME AGAIN
By 1904, Bolivar’s financial health had revived sufficiently to allow the family to return to Ft. Collins, where Bolivar, ever the entrepreneur, had purchased another real estate and insurance business. Having by this time graduated from Dwight, Allyn enrolled that same year in the Colorado Agricultural College of Ft. Collins and graduated in 1908 with a B. S. in Agricultural Science. His new degree was not the immediate passport to worldly success he probably envisaged, and because he evidently entertained no desire to join his father in business, he spent the next several years ranching with his brother in Wyoming – a meager living, but one enlivened with plenty of shooting. Once he remarked that, so as to reserve their beef for market, prairie-dog potpie (“the equal of any grey squirrel”) became a staple of their diet. By the mid-teens, however, he finally secured a position with the Wyoming Dept. of Agriculture in Big Horn and Washakie Counties, reportedly becoming that state’s first professional agricultural agent. Neither his professional position nor college education would have been deduced by readers of his early articles, however, as Allyn seemed to go out of his way to cultivate the impression that he was merely an ordinary cowpuncher.
Allyn played no part in WWI, owing, he once mentioned fleetingly, to a visual problem. This condition would account for his early interest in riflescopes – although for one suffering impaired vision, he reported many impressive accounts of good shooting on moving targets with aperture sights. (Ordinary open sights he derided as worthless.) Possibly the birth of Allyn’s first child, Allyn, Jr., in 1917 also had something to do with his escape from the trenches. Bolivar, Jr., followed in 1920, and both boys became “featured players” and frequent photographic subjects in their father’s articles of the ‘20s and ‘30s. Finally, in 1921, Allyn returned to Colorado to stay, having obtained the job of Arapaho County Agricultural Agent. He settled his family in the county seat of Littleton, a peaceful ranching community some ten miles south of Denver.
Although Allyn never brought up his career or professional duties in his own writing, “An Agricultural History of Littleton,” published by that city, paints a picture of an energetic young man full of ideas new to this community. As “the new agent from the college in Ft. Collins,” he “tried to persuade farmers that only through livestock could they succeed. This paid off...and in the 1920s Littleton was considered ‘The Pure-Bred Livestock Center of the West.’” The position of County Agent presumably meshed very nicely with the interests of a sportsman, for Allyn was probably a welcome guest at every farm and ranch within his district. The job, however, brought little financial satisfaction, if his complaints of penury were true. Discussing reloading in 1923, he remarked that he had done so for years without a powder scale, using only an Ideal powder measure, because “$10 is a lot of money to have sitting on a shelf, for me at least.” Though an early proponent of telescopic sights, he lamented in 1927 that he had been “without one for years simply because I couldn’t afford one.” A thoughtful reader is tempted to suspect such comments were actually references to his early post-college, prairie dog-eating years, not his late ‘20s circumstances, but even if true, it seems clear his college education never provided him with the financial means of his father, who lived until 1937.
HIGH-VELOCITY FEVER
That his special relationship with Stevens rifles culminated in his being anointed “Godfather of Stevens Rifles” in the May, 1940, The American Rifleman by J. V. K. Wager would have been surprising to readers of his earliest articles, because Allyn, like so many of his contemporaries in the ‘teens, had been bewitched by high-velocity and firepower. The spell, in his case, had been cast by a Model 99 Savage chambered for the sensational new .250-3000 cartridge. Having learned through C. E. Howard, a Colorado friend who collaborated with Charles Newton in designing small-bore, high-velocity cartridges such as Savage’s .22 High-Power, that the .250 was “in the works,” Allyn arranged to lay hands on one of the first to become available in 1915.
That cartridge proved to be a revelation. All his previous shooting experience, which included a hard-worked Model 99 in .303 Savage, had conditioned him to expect a perceptible lag-time between discharge and bullet impact, but the .250 “just simply reaches out and grabs them before one can think,” he marveled in Outdoor Life in 1915, the first of at least seven pieces celebrating this cartridge. “I have never shot an arm which gives such an impression of power.” Constant practice on running jack-rabbits honed skills he enlisted in the eternal war waged by most cattlemen against their common foe, the ubiquitous coyote, and reloading expanded the .250’s versatility to include another hereditary rancher’s enemy, the prairie dog. By the Nov. 1, 1922 issue of Arms and the Man, he believed “I have done more really good shooting with my Savage .250 than with all the rest put together.”
Belief in the .25 Stevens was something of a genetic trait in the Tedmon family, as this photo of one of Allyn’s sons shows.
The new job in Colorado, however, and its scarcity of the kind of shooting opportunities he had enjoyed in Wyoming, soon led to a cooling of his enthusiasm for his Savage .250 and a resurgence of interest in the guns of his youth, the Stevens single-shots. Cash-strapped as usual, he had sold his .303 to finance the new .250 but evidently never considered parting with his cherished Stevens 44, converted by this time into an even more useful .32-40 after sustaining cleaning-rod damage to its bore. (Stevens made a particular specialty of such reboring.) Although his fondness for “Those Stevens Rifles” had crept into earlier pieces, it was with that nicely researched treatise of 1926 that his initial reputation as a high-velocity advocate waned, and his public identification with the guns of Chicopee Falls began to take shape. (Lest his unsolicited nickname of “the Godfather of Stevens Rifles” be interpreted as somehow self-serving, he felt compelled to conclude the piece with a disclaimer: “Don’t take me for a Stevens salesman, for what I have are not for sale.”)
The Godfather reviewed and applauded Stevens scopes for their good value in the July, 1927, The American Rifleman and lamented the passing of Stevens’ acclaimed Model 44½ falling-block action in the July, 1930, issue. The following year of 1931 proved to be, in retrospect, one of particular significance for him, as the magazine published three interrelated pieces that established unmistakably the special niche he was to occupy in the shooting world the remainder of his life. “Small Deer Rifles,” in the March issue, recounted and analyzed his trials of innumerable cartridges, from rim-fires to downloaded high-power rounds, on a variety of small game species. “The .25 caliber Rifles vamped me,” he declared, referring principally to the .25 Stevens RF and the two .25-20s. Note that in Tedmon’s usage, the term “small deer,” an Elizabethan expression, referred to any wild mammal. Allyn made this quaint phrase, used once before in a 1921 Arms piece, his very own as effectively as if it had been trademarked.
Stevens was an early advocate of telescopic sights, especially when they were mounted on Stevens single-shots.
“Sighting ‘Small Deer’ Rifles,” following in the August issue, was a plea for small-game riflemen to recognize the futility of obtaining a clear aiming-point with metallic sights on targets so small as to be obscured by the blade or bead of a front sight. “Nothing less than a good telescopic sight is fit to put on a really good ‘small deer’ rifle.... You can’t afford not to have one.” This argument correlated perfectly with two other favorite themes: the fine value represented by Stevens scopes relative to others selling at twice the price, and the ethical hunter’s moral imperative to strive to avoid crippling, “the agonies of gunshot fever.”
The latter consideration became his principal thesis in the final part of his 1931 The American Rifleman trilogy, “Rim Fires and Game,” in the November issue. The object of that theme was the .22 RF cartridge, which Tedmon passionately insisted was the single greatest contributor to unnecessary suffering among small game of all varieties. “I know that many squirrels are killed with the .22 LR; on the other hand, many...crawl away wounded to die a lingering death not due these game little beasts.” That he was speaking from bitter personal experience he did not conceal: “During those thoughtless and heartless days of a man’s life, I shot dozens of prairie dogs with the .22 LR. Today I get little pleasure and plenty of regret when I recall how many were hit, only to crawl gamely into the burrow to die, victims of my thoughtlessness.”
ETHICAL CONCERNS
Extreme as Tedmon’s feelings may seem to contemporary readers, he was by no means alone in holding such views: “I have for years joined with Col. Whelen and others in condemning the .22 RF for shooting game; that is, anything larger than rats...English sparrows and the like.” In the August 1, 1922, issue of Arms and the Man, sightmaker “Trim Nat” (Tom Martin) enlarged upon this point: “Why will some men insist that the .22 LR hollow-point is amply large enough for such game [woodchucks]? It is not, and it is only trade selfishness and cruelty to advocate its use. The main effort is to sell the .22 LR as being just the thing for woodchuck hunting.”
But who would be so irresponsible as to make such a claim? A U. S. Cartridge Co. advertisement of the period confirms that these rimfire critics were not setting up straw men to knock down. Arms and the Man, in the March 1, 1920 issue, published a claim by Ozark Ripley, a very well known sporting writer into the 1950s, of clean kills with .22s on geese, turkey, deer, and a timber wolf. Plenty more of the same foolishness can be found by anyone who cares to review the literature of this period. Clearly, hyperbolic advertising, aided and abetted by the fatuous braggadocio of accomplices in the sporting press, promoted the abuses that inflamed Tedmon and others who took seriously their ethical responsibilities as hunters.
Discouraging the use of .22 RFs for hunting (but not, of course, for practice and target shooting) was but half of “Rim Fires and Game”; the other half was a ringing endorsement of Tedmon’s ideal small-game rimfire, the Stevens .25 Long. “After having spent a lifetime shooting at small game and seeing it murdered by others, I can only repeat what I have said time and again before: the .25 RF is by far the best small game rim fire cartridge we have today.” Such sentiments were echoed by almost everyone who wrote about this cartridge, including Whelen (“the only rim-fire to use for hunting”), but everyone complained of its unreasonable cost: well over twice the price of .22 LRs. “There is your answer,” explained Tedmon; “Humanity is a hollow term where the average man’s pocketbook is involved.”
For his own use, Tedmon inclined toward the .25-20 Single Shot, experimenting with loads that stretched the potential of this venerable round, but his words in this piece were aimed at the great mass of casual shooters who did not reload. It should go without saying, moreover, that he was not addressing himself to small-bore riflemen in the class of Charles Landis, who hunted with match-grade rifles and target scopes and whose marksmanship and skill in range estimation were fruits of a lifetime of practice and study of the technical minutiae of their sport.
No Ph.D. in psychology is needed to trace the origin of Tedmon’s unusual compassion for small game animals. Repeatedly, as if in contrition, he lays bare harrowing memories: “I emptied the magazine [of a M1906 Winchester] into that badger. . . . He probably lingered for a day or more, suffering untold pangs of death, while I, brainless yap that I was, rode off forgetful of it all.” That act of thoughtless cruelty seared itself into his memory, and helps to explain later outbursts of vitriol, such as this passage from “Mountain Marmot Stalking in Colorado in Sports Afield, July, 1936: “For those sportsmen who must kill, kill, kill, I recommend a job on the killing floor of a slaughter house.”
SECOND AMENDMENT ACTIVIST
Game hogs, slob hunters, and fools misled by advertising into believing their four-pound .22 repeaters were good medicine for 250-yard varmint hunting were perennial targets of Tedmon’s invective, but another menace loomed larger in his consciousness as the century wore on: “the white-livered busybodies” agitating “to take this right [to keep and bear arms] from us.” This impassioned warning about legislative assaults on the Second Amendment was delivered in “What Would Pat Garrett Have Done?” in the Jan. 1, 1923, Arms and the Man. In the June 1 issue (following the renaming of the publication as The American Rifleman), “A Law for the Outlaw” predicted with farsighted imagination how the back of the Second Amendment might be most easily broken – not by bans or confiscation, but by taxation. This same year, he was accorded the unusual privilege of presenting two editorials denouncing gun control hysteria, in the June 1 and Dec. 15 issues.
Modern shooters may wonder what all the fuss was about in those pre-Brady days, but Tedmon was by no means raising a false alarm: the national crime wave resulting, indirectly, from Prohibition precipitated a frenzied outcry from big-city politicians and newspapers for more restrictive firearms legislation, particularly the banning of privately owned handguns. Proposals modeled on New York’s Sullivan Law were introduced in several state legislatures, and the National Firearms Act of 1934, banning such mobster’s favorites as Marble’s Game Getters, and “trapper” carbines, became the law in force today. After the repeal of the Volstead Act, much of the clamor for new restrictions subsided – temporarily. Tedmon never again wrote expressly about gun control for The American Rifleman but he remained vigilant about this threat for the rest of his life.
Yet another pet Tedmon theme was the moral obligation of sportsmen to invest time in teaching children the sporting use of firearms: “If you and I don’t teach our boys the love of the rifled barrel...who is going to do it?” His own boys were made test cases with their progress charted in many of his articles, beginning with “Start the Boy Out Right,” in Outdoor Life of July, 1920. “Boys and Rifles” appeared in The American Rifleman of Nov. 1927, and “Rifles and Guns for Little Boys,” was a stand-in for Whelen’s regular Outdoor Life column of Oct., 1935. Both of the latter offered advice for remodeling rifles for shooters as young as five or six. The failure of most draft-age men at the beginning of WWII to possess even rudimentary rifle-handling skills was because their parents had waited for “government social workers” to exercise that responsibility, as he facetiously claimed in “Give Uncle Sam a Boy Who Can Shoot” in the Jan., 1943, The American Rifleman.
OTHER INTERESTS
Tedmon occasionally indulged in a genre of writing that has fallen out of favor since the 1950s, but once enjoyed widespread popularity: the largely fictional comic yarn. “Them Awful Boys,” in the Dec. 1925 Outdoor Life, “Mystery Lead,” in the Dec. 1944 The American Rifleman , and “Precocious Pellets,” in the Dec. 1946 The American Rifleman , are characteristic examples. Modern readers are apt to find these tales rather more tedious than entertaining, but they serve to illustrate something perhaps unexpected about the personality of Tedmon: far from being the humorless moralist which the occasionally scalding vehemence of his tirades might suggest, a broad sense of country-boy humor percolated through much of his work, particularly that of the ‘20s and ‘30s. Refined wit it wasn’t, but rather the kind of good-natured cornpone that made Hee-Haw a hit TV show in the ‘70s. He also occasionally ventured into fiction, as two known examples in Ace-High magazine attest.
Whether because he believed he had said enough, or because his editors thought so, Tedmon wrote less about small deer and sporting ethics in the years after WWII. In five pieces published between 1945 and 1952, he promoted a new (or rather, revitalized) interest – offhand, free-rifle competition, a modern derivative of the Schuetzen matches that had captivated him as a youth but had since died out due to anti-”German” sentiment. The last published work of his known to this collector was, most fittingly, a return to a “favorite” >subject, “The Stevens Favorite Rifle,” in 1959. He permanently left the range on November 28, 1969, at 85 years of age, and now lies among other family members in Grandview Cemetery of Ft. Collins.
Allyn Tedmon originated the tell-it-as-I-see-it, “straight talk express” the first time he put pen to paper; he never mastered the fine art of equivocation. For this reason, his charismatic voice would probably prove unpublishable today, or not, at any rate, without editing so severe as to oppress his distinctive spirit. Fortunately for anyone who cares to sample that spirit, much of his work appeared in Arms and the Man and The American Rifleman, which – because they tended to be preserved by NRA members – remain the most widely available today of pre-WWII sporting periodicals.
PARTIAL BIBLIOGRAPHY OF ALLYN H. TEDMON
| 1902 | “Recommend No. 44 Stevens,” Recreation, July. |
| 1914 | “Differs from ‘Antipop,’” Outdoor Life, Jan. |
| 1915 | “That New Rifle,” Outdoor Life (reprinted in Gun Writers of Yesteryear by Jim Foral). |
| “Horse Play Out West,” Outing, Dec. | |
| 1916 | “Rifle Notes,” Outdoor Life, Feb. |
| 1917 | “On the Trail of the .250-3000,” Outers’ Book, Nov. |
| 1919 | “Random Hunting Re flections,” Outdoor Life, March. |
| “Rifle Notes,” Outdoor Life, April. | |
| 1920 | “The .250-3000 Savage on Big Game,” Arms and the Man, June 1. |
| “Looking Backward,” Outdoor Life, July. | |
| “Start the Boy Out Right,” Outdoor Life, July. | |
| “What You and I Can Do with an Inexpensive Arm,” Outdoor Life, Aug. | |
| “Rifles What Was,” Arms and the Man, Dec. 1 | |
| 1921 | “Small Deer,” Arms and the Man, Oct.1. |
| 1922 | “Lest We Forget,” Arms and the Man, Feb.15. |
| “Hunting the Little Bears of the West,” Arms and the Man, May 15. | |
| “The Fable of a Rifle Nut,” Arms and the Man, June 1. | |
| “There Were Others,” Arms and the Man, June 15. | |
| “Coyotes,” Arms and the Man, July 1. | |
| “The Days of Real Sport,” Arms and the Man, Aug. 1. | |
| “The High Power,” Arms and the Man, Sept. 15. | |
| “Milkin’ Her Dry,” Arms and the Man, Nov. 1. | |
| 1923 | “What Would Pat Garrett Have Done?,” Arms and the Man, Jan.1. |
| “Canis Latrans,” Arms and the Man, Jan.15. | |
| “Ramblings of a Nut,” Arms and the Man, April 1. | |
| “If You Can’t Buy It, Make It!,” Arms and the Man, May 15. | |
| “A Law for the Outlaw,” The American Rifleman, June1. | |
| “Beyond the Dollar Sign,” The American Rifleman, Sept.1. | |
| “The .250-3000 on Lion and Bear,” The American Rifleman, Sept.15. | |
| “Truth is Mighty and Shall Prevail,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1924 | “Popping Prairie Poodles with Chauncy Thomas,” Outdoor Life, Feb. |
| “The Single Shot Rifle, Outdoor Life, Feb. | |
| “Not for Pistol ‘Antis,’” The American Rifleman, Sept.15. | |
| 1925 | “It Reminded Me,” The American Rifleman, March 1. |
| “Them Awful Boys,” Outdoor Life, Dec. | |
| “Those Stevens Rifles,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1927 | “Not an Hour Off, But an Off Hour,” The American Rifleman, April |
| “The Scope Sight You Can Afford,” The American Rifleman, July. | |
| “Boys and Rifles,” The American Rifleman, Nov. | |
| 1928 | “Where Peterson Barrels Were Born,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “A Man at Stake,” Ace-High Magazine, August 1. | |
| 1929 | “A Red Letter Day,” The American Rifleman, March. |
| 1930 | “The Stevens Ideal 44 1/2 Action,” The American Rifleman, July. |
| “Riders of the Crescent,” Ace-High Magazine, July 15. | |
| 1931 | “Two Favorites,” The American Rifleman, Feb. |
| “Small Deer Rifles,” The American Rifleman, March. | |
| “Sighting Small Deer Rifles,” The American Rifleman, August. | |
| “Rim Fires and Game,” The American Rifleman, Nov. | |
| 1932 | “On Safety in Shooting and Other Matters,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “The Front Sight on Small Game,” The American Rifleman, Nov. | |
| 1923 | “Butt-Plates to Order,” Field and Stream, Feb. |
| “.25-20 Super Speed,” The American Rifleman, Nov. | |
| “Thoroughfare Bear,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1935 | “Rifles and Guns for Little Boys,” Outdoor Life, Oct. |
| “A Good Rifle Rest,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1936 | “Mortgaged Marmots,” Outdoor Life, June. |
| “Mountain Marmot Stalking in Colorado,” Sports Afield, July. | |
| “Specter Buck,” Outdoor Life, Sept. | |
| 1937 | “C. W. Rowland Has Left the Range,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “The .25 Stevens Rim Fire,” The American Rifleman, March. | |
| “Hunting Marmots in the Rain,” The American Rifleman, June. | |
| “The .25-20 and Its Grandchildren,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1938 | “Stevens 44 ½‘s Still Favorites,” Outdoor Life, Jan. |
| “Try Jackrabbit Shooting,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1939 | “There is a Limit,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “C. E. Howard-Rifleman,” The American Rifleman, Feb. | |
| “When You Can’t Lie Down,” The American Rifleman, June. | |
| “Johnny Chuck-Game or Varmint?,” National Sportsman, Aug. | |
| “Duplicate Bucks,” The American Rifleman, Oct. | |
| 1940 | “The Savage Model 1899,” The American Rifleman, Feb. |
| “Why Not a Savage .35?,” The American Rifleman, March. | |
| 1941 | “Chauncy Thomas,” The American Rifleman, Dec. |
| 1943 | “Give Uncle Sam a Boy Who Can Shoot,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “Short Range Backlog,” The American Rifleman, July. | |
| “An Old Timer’s Story of .22 Caliber Hunting,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1944 | “That Man Peterson,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “Mystery Lead,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1945 | “Offhand, I’d Say,” The American Rifleman, March. |
| “Air Guns for Aerial Targets,” The American Rifleman, Oct. | |
| “Postwar Shooting,” The American Rifleman, Nov. | |
| “The Offhand Rifle,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1946 | “That Modern Single Rifle,” The American Rifleman, J |
| “Precocious Pellets,” The American Rifleman, Dec. | |
| 1948 | “Sport with the Free Rifle,” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| 1949 | “Tatar Cellar’s Junior Coach, The American Rifleman, Aug. |
| 1952 | “So You Want Better Offhand Scores,” The American Rifleman, July. |
| “The American Free Rifle,” The New Official Gun Book, | |
| Charles R. Jacobs, Ed. | |
| 1953 | “The Blake .400.” The American Rifleman, Jan. |
| “The Stevens Model 44 Action,” The Single Shot Rifle News, April. | |
| 1956 | “He Splits Cards at 100 Yards,” Guns Magazine, March. |
| “Single-Shots of Yesterday,” Gun Report, Sept. | |
| 1957 | “Stevens Tip-Up Rifles,” Gun Report, May. |
| 1959 | “The Stevens Favorite Rifle,” More Single Shot Rifles, James Grant. |
