My Friends,
I grew up knowing about Arthur Savage's personal connection to my father ... we'll get to that in a bit. What I didn't know was what an interesting life, fabulous is a bettter word, that Mr. Savage lived.
I've been studying his life for the last few days and I'm still amazed.
You can Google as well as I can, BUT imagine a man who was born and raised in Kingston, Jamaica in 1857 and who went on to prospect in Australia for black opals. The man was kidnapped by aborigines and held captive for over one-year.
One version of the story says that his captors demanded a ransom, but his family refused to pay, so he killed many of captors and somehow managed to struggle his way across the outback desert and find his way home.
Then, he explored the outback while driving a covered wagon (probably a Studebaker) and eventually went on to own the biggest cattle ranch in Australia. Tiring of this, Savage sold his Australian ranch, returned to Jamaica at the age of 34 and grew coffee for a few years.
And while he was doing this, Savage improved the British service rifle and among his inventions was a torpedo that he sold to the government of Brazil. He also developed the recoilless rifle.
Eventually, he tired of Jamaica and emigrated to America, where he he took a job managing the Utica Belt Line Railroad in Utica, N.Y. In the evenings, he developed a hammerless, lever-action rifle in his home workshop. He patented the design in 1893 and he founded Savage Arms in 1894.
There's lots more, but you can Google as well as I can. Something you might miss is that Arthur Savage also invented the radial tire ... Yeah, a man of more than a few talents.
The reason for this post is my father's personal connection to Arthur Savage. I grew up with the family legend and I'm getting a bit old, so rather than have the legend die with me, I thought I'd pass it on
Believe it or not, my Dad rode on the Utica Rail Line in New York. The timeline is unclear, but I'd say it was some time in the late 1930s or early 1940s. My father met Arthur Savage and the two of them spent a very special day together. Dad was in the United States Army Air Force at the time and Arthur Savage, though a very sick and old man, at the time, found my father to be of interest.
Specifically, Savage wanted to know about my Dad's hunting.
When my Pop said proudly, "I shoot a Savage 99 in 250-3000 and I believe it to be the finest rifle in the World." And Dad was a lot like me, he always traveled with a packet of photos of slain critters. Dad proceeded to show Arthur Savage photos of big Montana mule deer, whitetails and one 6X7 elk that he'd killed. Dad told me that, though Savage was old and very sick, he "Lit up like a Christmas Tree."
When the two men parted, Arthur Savage gave my Father his business card. Savage said, "I may not live much longer, but if I do ... when you come back from what is bound to be a horrible, horrible World War, I want you to send this card to me."
On the back of the card was written "Send this soldier an engraved and gold inlayed, finest quality Model 99 in .250-3000."
Arthur Savage died not long after. He was in his 80s and suffered from an incurable disease. He took his own life, that fine and wonderful man, may God Eternally Rest His Beautiful Soul.
My dad lived through the war. He left his blood, his bones and his meat, plus a lot of sanity in some God-forsaken places. Parts of his soul were left in those places, too. He returned a broken, bitter man.
When Dad got back from WWII and learned of Arthur Savage's death, he felt it was NOT APPROPRIATE to send the business card to Savage Arms and ask for a free rifle. Hey, Arthur Savage committed suicide; the family and the company did not need a poor, itinerant, drunken watchmaker & jeweler trying to claim a rifle. So Dad Just let it be
Dad put Arthur Savage's business card, the one with the promise of a fabulous Model 99, in his watchmaking bench.
I grew up with that partial-father; a man who probably should not have come back at all.
I apprenticed watchmaking & goldsmithing under my Dad. Once in a while, in a quiet times, he would pull the business card out of the top drawer of his watchmaker's bench and look at it. And he would tell me, "Son, I'll bet that the rifle would have been one beautiful son-of-a-bitch!"
And I would always answer, "We can only imagine. Yes, it would have been gorgeous."
And Dad would put the card back. Always on the right side of the top drawer and clear to the back.
Dad died in 1976 and I transfered Arthur Savage's business card to my watchmaking bench. Yep, I kept the card in my top drawer, to the right and clear to the rear.
We closed our store and retired in 1992 and I brought my goldsmithing and watchmaking gear home. I saw Arthur Savage's business card at that time and put it back.
Later, I sold my benches and carefully put the business card away ... somewhere. Frankly, I have not seen the card for probably fifteen years or so, but it is probably somewhere in our "stuff." We still have it, I'm sure, and somewhere in this pile of crap we call a home is that wonderful engraved business card with the great man's promise.
I told Ron Coburn about Arthur Savage's business card once, when he invited me on a prairie dog hunt. I half-expected Ron to offer me a rifle, sixt-five-years after the fact, but the offer did not come. I would have declined, anyway ... the promise was made to my Father and Ron is the new owner of Savage Arms ... Hey, there is no binding contract. But it is still an interesting historical fact.
One day, when the business card re-surfaces, I'll probably send it to the NRA Firearms Museum, or maybe to Savage Arms.
Or maybe I'll just burn it ... while thinking of Arthur Savage, the chance meeting of him and my Dad. Burning the card, remembering the two men and praying for both of their Souls somehow makes the greatest sense of all.
Hey, they were two men meeting and enjoying each other's company. One man, Arthur Savage, was broken from age and disease and was soon to end his life on his own terms. The other man, my Father, was on his way to war and he was soon to leave so much of himself in foreign lands; and in many ways he never came back.
Both men were on their separate roads to Destiny ... but for a day, for one wonderful and delightful day, they enjoyed talking about guns, cartridges and hunting. I only wish I could have been there to enjoy that long conversation; I'll bet that you folks wish the same.
God Bless Y'all and May God Bless America
Steve
