GUNS, A YOUNG PETE, AND TILTING AT WINDMILLS

Picture of Prof Pete as Wyatt Earp in Stage Play

Art by Author for poster for stage play

Self Portrait by Author as Wyatt Earp for Stage Play poster

GUNS, A YOUNG PETE, AND TILTING AT WINDMILLS

With his permission, I am following up on Michael Fox’s article on the Gunfight at OC Corral.

William Shatner reports that when he hosted the 911 tapes specials and series, Rescue 911, one late evening December 14th 1988 in Arlington Texas, a thief broke into an apartment where a father, nine-year-old daughter, and 14-year-old son lived. The father woke up and confronted the intruder and the criminal attacked him with a knife. The nine-year-old daughter had the presence of mind to dial 911 and the entire episode was immortalized on tape. As the father and the knifeman struggled, the boy grabbed a loaded shotgun and shot the thief to death. Charles Osgood ran the whole tape shooting and all on his show.

The reports I read showed that the vast majority of the time when homeowners owned and knew how to use guns, and most people who own do know how to use them, they avert harm and either shoot, capture, or scare off intruders. There are millions of ex-servicemen and women and hundreds of thousands of shooters and hunters in America and they all know how to use guns.

As a rather romanticly, witless, teenager (are there any other kind) Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, would be happy to hear, I have tilted at my share of windmills. In fact, on several occasions, twice in my youth and at least twice as an adult used, a Colt Single Action Six Gun to defend home and myself and once captured a criminal.

My capture of a criminal came when I was 17 years old. We had a home in an upscale suburb west of Chicago. There had been articles in the local newspapers about a Peeping Tom, who was still at large. Back in those days police said most of these fellows were harmless.

Now the background is that from age 10-17, I thought I was the reincarnation of Wyatt Earp (lol). I was underage so a friend who was 21 years old (I played on a Professional Industrial League Baseball team where I was the youngest player by at least four years) agreed to sign for my purchase of my first Colt single Action Six Gun, a .44-40 caliber Black Powder Revolver. I practiced the Quickdraw and Shoot 45 minutes every day and was champion for many consecutive years at that sport in my age bracket. In the quick draw and shoot, you have to draw, cock and fire, hitting the target, and all of it was timed. In fact several years ago, because of a resemblance to Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday, in two different stage plays, I played the parts of Earp in one and and c Holiday in the other. The plays were based upon the actual Gunfight At OK Corral,

One evening when my folks and grandma were out shopping, my grand dad and I were sitting in the den talking. (He often escorted me to the shooting gallery as I was not 21 and by law was not allowed to shoot sans adult supervision.) He would give me tips on drawing and shooting, such as:
“Never try to be fancy and don’t hurry the draw. When your hand sweeps down to the holster, keep your thumb out straight, allowing it to sweep down and hook right around the hammer as you draw, thereby allowing the weight of the loaded gun to cock the hammer just as the gun clears the leather.

“You can, hold the trigger back, and drop the hammer for the first shot. Do not fan the gun. It causes inaccuracy unless you are at very close range. On the target (A man sized black silhouette.) always aim at the belt, in this way even if the guns kicks high you will hit a viable area and score well. Never try a head shot, not enough room for error. With your speed you will be hard to beat unless you are inaccurate with your shot, so practice shooting as much as drawing and aim low.” I found out later that Wyatt Earp’s bio had the same information. Gramps knew what he was talking about.

Well, anyway this night we were talking about the Cubs and about 9:00 PM. Gramps said he was going to fix himself a highball and I wanted to check my home work before putting it away for the night, so I headed directly to my room and sat at the desk reading my work. My bedroom window faced the bedroom window of the beautiful Felicia, my next-door neighbor. She was a little over a year and one half older than I. She was a beautiful Greek goddess, with long flowing, wavy dark brown hair with red highlights, light gray eyes, and a figure that sent every guy into a tizzy. She had long slender legs, a narrow waist and she said, a 36” 20” 34” figure.

We often opened our windows in the evening and had late night talks, flirting and telling stories, across the gangway and she came to all of my football and baseball games, but we were platonic friends, at that time. She, to me was more like a cousin than a dating target. I did not think, although she told me she was willing, that it would be a good idea to date each other. The proximity was, for me a problem, I was young, and there were a lot of pretty cheerleaders at school so I did not want to be tied down to someone, however, beautiful, who lived right next door. I thought I might feel crowded.

Anyway, she was there at her desk across the gangway and she opened her window so we could talk for a while. About 9:45 PM, she said she was going to shower and hit the sack, and I was going to finish my homework checking and then go down into our lower level recreation room and practice my Quickdraw.

When she had showered and was back in her bedroom, she called out to me and said, “You know, dear, just because you are a year and one half younger does not mean we cannot see each other.”

I said, “Well, maybe you are right about dating.”

She told me she was open for the weekend, so we made plans. Gramps and I had opened our lake home and I was supposed to go up and mow the lawn (two acres of lawn on a hill overlooking the lake, so I figured I could play Tom Sawyer and get her to cut part of the lawn for me) and said I would probably stay the week-end, so I asked if she wanted to join me since her folks were out of town. Well, she fairly leaped at the offer. I had the distinct feeling that the platonic segment of our relationship was about to end

She turned in but left her windows open because of the heat, I closed my blinds, put my homework in my brief case and shut the lights. I was about to go downstairs when I heard a noise outside. Thinking it was Felicia; I went back to the window and peeked through the blinds to see if she wanted something. The loaded Colt was in its holster, and I was going to unload it for practice. I saw that she was not at the window but in the full moonlight, I noticed a shadow moving below her window. It was a tall man and there was something gleaming in his hand, a large Bowie Knife. I raced to the kitchen and told gramps. He went to his room, looked out through the blinds, and then grabbed his own pistol. We did not have cell phones back then and stopping to call the police would have wasted precious moments.

“Peter, you go out the front door and stay close to the building in case we have to fire. I will come out the side door so that we will be shooting away from each other so we don’t hit each other in a cross fire. However, if you stay about 15 feet away from him, he cannot get to you fast enough with the knife, but if he also has, a gun hit the dirt and fire up. Do not shoot unless he tries to rush one of us.”

“Okay Colonel (his rank), will do.” We went outside and closed to within 15 feet of him from either side and then I yelled, “Don’t move! You are surrounded and we will shoot if you move. Drop the knife and lie facedown on the ground, hands folded behind your head!” He was trapped, felicia's house was to his north, our house to the south and Gramps and I blocking east and west. We had him.

Felicia heard the commotion and asked what was going on and I told her to immediately call the police, which she did. One station was five minutes from our house so they arrived within minutes with guns drawn, asking us to put up our weapons. We did and explained the event; they saw his huge knife and Felicia came out in her robe to thank us. The guy was arrested, the police who took our statements thanked us, and the whole matter was wrapped up in about fifteen minutes. They cuffed the peeper and took him away. One officer said, “thanks a lot Colonel, you your grandson did a good deed this night!”

Gramps told Felicia that she had better stay with us tonight, so he went over with her to pack her bag and they were back in a few minutes and settled her into a spare bedroom. My parents and grandma came home later from shopping and said heard the whole story on the radio, on the way home.

Friday night Felicia and I went up to the lake with her girl friend, Liana in tow as a chaperone. Saturday night Liana met one of my teammates at the bar and restaurant where we ate dinner. The restaurant sat on the north shore of the lake and looked out over the setting sun across the lake, very romantic. Felicia and I went out on the terrace where the waves lapped at out feet and pretty soon we began to make out.

Liana decided to stay and Felicia and I went home to have desert-no, not that kind of desert, we had chocolate cake alamode.

(Felicia knows about this article and encouraged me to write it, but to change her name. We were not in love but as we grew fonder of each other we loved each other as friends with benefits. A few years later, when we went away to graduate schools on opposite coasts, I in Vermont, her in California, we began dating other people. We have remained good friends for many years since. Whenever we are in company, she tells everyone the story of the Peeping Tom. If her husband is around, she skips over the relationship part of our friendship with benefits.)

There were three other gun episodes all of which ended either with the intruders, once in my house, hearing me coming down the stairs and before there was an actual confrontation, wisely ran away. In each case, I was mentally prepared, to fire, though I preferred not to do so and fortunately never had to, so far, thank God.

A famous case of a more violent ending came in Chicago when I was a boy. At St. Patrick’s Church, where we often went to mass when in town, an intruder met with his end. The pastor there was a former marine officer, six foot six inches tall and a fine athlete, a basketball player at Notre Dame in his youth, I think. Because the neighborhood is a tough one, and the rectory had been robbed twice, he always kept a weapon within easy reach. Early, One morning, an armed thief broke into the convent next to the rectory, accosted a nun, but the priest heard her scream and he broke through the always locked connecting door confronted the intruder and when the thief lifted his own weapon the priest fired his own .45 automatic service weapon and killed the him with one shot. It appeared that it might have been a rape attempt as well as a robbery. St Pat’s was never again the target of a crime.

In communities where there are more guns in the hands of citizens, there is less crime. However, I am not in favor of the arming of some people who are then allowed to carry concealed weapons by political party intervention and not allow others the same privilege, such as what allegedly appears to have happened in Orange County.

(John Lott Jr., the John M. Olin law and economics fellow at the University of Chicago School of Law is the author of "More Guns, Less Crime.")