Before we begin running my bi-monthly “Sidearms for Sportsmen” column, I figured it would be prudent to define what these short articles will contain. I also want to provide my background and experience in law enforcement, hunting and reloading to add some perspective to the reviews. I’ll go ahead and address the latter.
Some of my earliest memories of my Grandfather, State Wallace, take me back to his garage in Charleston, South Carolina, where we sat at his workbench as he let me pull the lever on his Rock Chucker press. We were making handloads for his favorite pistols and rifles, and though I couldn’t have been older than 5, I understood that time at the bench meant time on the range.
Over the next few years, while other kids were playing video games, I was soaking up the fundamentals of reloading, marksmanship and firearms maintenance. State was a WWII combat veteran, and to him, proper maintenance was every bit as important as marksmanship.
As I grew older and more responsible, State introduced me to the world of hunting and fishing and to the Jack O’Connor books that I would read whenever I was stuck indoors. State passed away when I was 19, but I’d already had a decade-long love affair with the outdoors and the stories written by men with the same mistress. This passion would be State’s greatest gift to me.
I spent my early to mid-20s learning some tough lessons on my own, one of which was that l wasn’t ever going to be content working in an office. I’d always wanted to be a game warden and it was time to give that a shot.
After quickly learning the wildlife department had implemented a hiring freeze, I took the advice of a seasoned warden and decided to gain some experience as a police officer, so I’d have completed the law enforcement academy and accumulated some practical experience by the time the hiring freeze ended. This path would strengthen my chances as a game warden applicant, so I got to work.
Before I knew it, I’d started a nine-year progression from police officer to game warden to plain clothes/undercover special agent. The common denominator: a sidearm.
As a rookie police officer, I found myself looking down the sight plane of my service weapon on my first day out of the academy. My training sergeant and I were pursuing two-armed drug dealers when their vehicle crashed. The driver and the passenger immediately bailed out of their car, but Andy and I we were waiting with guns drawn when they made their move.
I vividly remember thinking, Hell, I hope I’m supposed to have my gun out right now. Nobody wants to come out of the gate like some gung-ho rookie on his first day, so I glanced over at Andy and saw that he had the other suspect at gunpoint. I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t overdone it.
Two-and-a-half years later, I had to turn that same pistol over to state investigators after I’d gotten mixed up one night with a man armed with a shotgun who decided my wife and infant daughter would be better off without me. We disagreed in a very permanent way.
An hour before the sun came up that next morning, my chief reached into his holster and handed me his own pistol. He told me to carry his gun until the investigators finished their ballistics report. Anyone who has ever been in my position will tell you there’s something about having to hand your sidearm over to an investigator that shakes your confidence, even when you know things were clean. My Chief’s gesture was a pat on the back to get me re-focused. He was wise like that.
Two months later, before I had my own weapon back, I returned the chief’s pistol to him. The news came down that I’d been hired as a state game warden. The chief wished me well and sent me off with some very solid advice about making sure I didn’t let my new job become my top priority. He was a family-first kind of guy and he wanted to pass that priority on to me. It stuck.
The game warden life was better than I’d even hoped it would be. The guys I worked with were outdoorsmen and every one of us was passionate about our job. It’s hard to not be passionate about things when you have your Labrador retriever by your side as you cruise the river at sunup in a state-issued boat with state-issued gas. I was as content as I can ever remember being.
But the grass is always greener, and after a few years I was recruited to serve as a special agent with another agency. I’d already told the agent who was calling that I wasn’t interested in leaving my green uniform more than once, but I eventually went for the bigger paycheck.
After a few years into my new job, however, I was miserable. But not everything was bad. I was restless, and I knew family life could be a whole lot easier with a career change. I’d miss those nights in Atlanta, dressed undercover with a night-vision optic waiting to track a criminal through the dark, but I knew it was time to look at hanging it up.
Before I turned in my last issued weapons, I’d met the Sporting Classics guys and every one of them reminded me in some small way of my Grandfather, State. They were people I could learn from and I’d once again have the opportunity to work in the world of hunting and fishing.
I’d also been approached by a tech startup in Charleston looking to make an entry into the world of law enforcement with new technology that I knew would save the lives of officers in the field. They knew I really wanted to work with the magazine, so we figured out a way to make both efforts work. You don’t get the best of both worlds often, and I jumped at the opportunity to get back to something I love.
So here I am, a 37-year-old public relations director at Sporting Classics magazine. My bachelor’s degree in criminal justice doesn’t always translate well for the print media world, but I get to enjoy the guys I work with just as I did when I was a game warden. I’m surrounded by true sportsmen who have real experience. Things are good.
As for the “Sidearms for Sportsmen” column, I hope to utilize my experience with handguns to highlight the practical features and real-life applications where these firearms can benefit you, the reader. As most of us rarely hunt in grizzly territory, this series isn’t going to focus on things like carrying a pistol to defend yourself from a charging bruin. We may get to that, but this is geared more toward everyday life and having the right tool for the job.
We’ll cover the guns that are good to wear on your belt and those that might be best for the glove box . . . the pistols that are ideal for packing in an overnight bag and those you can carry when a smaller frame is absolutely necessary for concealment. We’ll also look at ammo, holsters and safety.
One of my best friends was practicing his holster draw technique and shot a hole in his bathroom mirror while his wife was in the shower. I’m going to keep you from doing that.
I don’t know much about anything, but I do know firearms. Let’s get started.