All Fired Up http://www.washingtonpost.com/cgi-bin/gx.cgi/AppLogic+FTContentServer?pagename=wpni/print&articleid=A58626-2000Jun3
By Osha Gray Davidson
Sunday , June 4, 2000 ; B01
I was 10 years old the first time I fired a gun. It was love at first shot.
I loved the heft of the well-made .22-caliber bolt-action rifle. I loved the loud crack of the explosion when I squeezed the trigger, and the puff of smoke from the muzzle. I even grew to love the acrid smell of
the spent gunpowder.
But most of all, I loved that I was able to hit the target dead center nearly every time. I was something of a Wunderkind at Camp Esther K. Newman on the Nebraska prairie in the summer of 1964. Being
the top marksman was an intoxicating experience for a boy who had previously associated sports with a single emotion: humiliation. And then there were the shiny brass medals I earned as I steadily shot
my way up the ranking system: Pro-Marksman, Marksman, Marksman-First Class. Stamped across each medal were three words: National Rifle Association.
Today those words are freighted with political baggage--both self-generated and imposed by outsiders--but back then I barely noticed them. All I knew about the NRA was that it sponsored the camp
shooting program. And, in fact, there wasn't a whole lot more to know about the gun group of that era. It did some lobbying against gun control measures, but by and large the NRA was then primarily a
hunting and sport-shooting organization. In 1968, when Congress was considering banning mail-order gun sales, the NRA's leader, retired Army general Franklin Orth, testified before a House
committee--in favor of the bill. "We do not think any sane American, who calls himself an American," declared the general, "can object to placing into this bill the instrument which killed the president of the
United States." Orth was referring to long rifles like the Mannlicher-Carcano that Lee Harvey Oswald used to kill John F. Kennedy. As it happens, Oswald bought the weapon through a mail-order ad in the
NRA's American Rifleman magazine.
One wonders what Orth, a model of spit-and-polish military rectitude, would think of today's NRA, whose leaders malign federal law enforcement officers as "jack-booted government thugs," allege that the
president of the United States is "willing to accept a certain level of killing to further his political agenda" and oppose virtually all gun control legislation.
My guess? He'd think they're nuts. He'd also raise an eyebrow, I bet, over the NRA's decision to thrust itself squarely into the fall elections by attacking Vice President Gore's presidential run and by
launching a multimillion-dollar stealth campaign in support of George W. Bush and congressional candidates in 20 states.
I come to those conclusions as a former NRA member, and as a journalist who spent a decade researching the group and writing a book about its tumultuous, fascinating and increasingly radical history.
Whatever your opinion of the gun lobby, let's stipulate this fact: In the past 25 years, the group has been extraordinarily effective in preventing the enactment of meaningful gun laws, especially after
hard-core extremists took over the NRA in 1977 and booted out the more moderate hunters and sport shooters in the leadership at the group's annual meeting in Cincinnati. To gauge the NRA's success,
just look at the only gun control legislation pending in Congress. Partisans have been battling for more than a year over a bill that would do . . . what? Require background checks on prospective purchasers
at gun shows. Ye gods! For all the hyperbolic rhetoric, you'd think this wisp of a bill called for the immediate confiscation of all guns--right down to my old .22.
Which is exactly what the NRA tells its members.
The NRA's power comes in large part from convincing its membership of this axiomatic deception: that any gun bill, no matter how mild or reasonable, is the first step down a slippery slope that ends in
total gun confiscation and the establishment of a police state. This NRA-induced paranoia explains the bizarre T-shirt so popular at the the group's annual convention last month in Charlotte. The shirt
features a picture of Adolf Hitler striking the Seig Heil salute, over the caption "All in Favor of Gun Control, Raise Your Right Hand."
Gun control = Nazi tyranny. Not a bad equation for whipping up the troops. Or for recruiting members who'll fork over a minimum of $35 a year to stop National Socialism, er, gun control. That fee is just
the first installment in this crusade. Members are subject to a never-ending barrage of fundraising letters, known as "action alerts," each a variation on the same apocalyptic theme: Without your immediate
help (check, cash or credit card accepted), the barbarians will be goose-stepping through the gates by nightfall!
If you haven't seen these appeals and think I'm exaggerating, here are a few examples:
"[O]ur government creeps toward authoritarian rule. . . . Wake up, America! Little by little, your freedom and safety are being robbed . . . "
"[G]ood people . . . could have their doors kicked in and their property taken by a police state driven by masters of deceit. . . ."
"[T]he time has come for the showdown of the century. Will you fight, or will you fold?"
Most NRA members don't know that for many members of the group's top leadership, the fight isn't really about government tyranny. It's largely about increasing the NRA's revenue stream.
Take the NRA's top staffer, Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre. He wrote the infamous fundraising letter (mailed a month before one-time NRA member Timothy McVeigh bombed the Alfred P.
Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people) that called Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agents "jack-booted government thugs." And he recently claimed that President Clinton
desires a certain number of gun deaths each year. Pretty extreme stuff.
But when LaPierre and I sat down for a one-on-one interview several years ago, I found that in person he is soft-spoken, and, in his hand-tailored suit, wingtips and aviator-style glasses, looks more like the
CEO of a Fortune 500 company than the head of a gun lobby. Even more surprising, LaPierre was far less familiar with guns than I was at Camp Newman. He's the first NRA leader who came to the group
with a love not of firearms, but of politics. A former campaign manager, he was on the board of the American Association of Political Consultants. With LaPierre at the helm, it's clear that the NRA's
metamorphosis from a sportsmen's group to a political lobby is complete. In recent years, the shift in priorities has meant a shift in resources from traditional NRA programs, such as hunting clinics and
assistance in setting up target ranges, to the group's lobbying wing, causing disaffection among its more traditional members.
But the NRA's fear-mongering appears to be paying off. The organization boasts that it raised $10 million in a recent six-week period, money it plans to use to help put Bush in the White House in
November.
The NRA also claims its membership rolls have skyrocketed from 2.6 million members in 1998 to a record of 3.6 million today. I don't doubt that the group has added some members as the debate on gun
control has heated up. But the numbers deserve closer scrutiny. First, what the NRA doesn't mention is that in 1994 it had more than 3.5 million members, and then lost 25 percent of them over the next four
years as gun owners abandoned the group for a variety of reasons, including embarrassment over the NRA's extremist rhetoric, which was publicly scrutinized following the Oklahoma City bombing. So
today's "all-time high" figure, as the NRA calls it, is only a slight improvement over its 1994 figures. And as a proportion of the American population, membership is down.
There are far more serious problems with the figures. Two years ago, David Gross, then an NRA board member, confided to me that a substantial number of the group's 1 million Life Members are, well,
dead--an assertion reported in my book. "There just isn't that much incentive to go find out when someone passes away," Gross explained. "Not when the cost of maintaining [a dead member] is minimal
and when they add to your membership list."
Then there's the fact that not long ago the NRA switched accounting methods, including on its roster anyone who had made an installment payment toward life membership, where previously it had counted
only fully paid members. Only the NRA knows how much the switch boosted its membership. Who else is included in that figure of 3.6 million? I may be--although I haven't been a member for years. Not
long ago, I received an NRA form letter stating that in recognition of my previous commitment to the Second Amendment, the gun group had granted me an honorary membership. The mailing even
included an NRA membership card embossed with my name.
Partial members, former members, dead members: It's all part of the NRA's campaign of smoke and mirrors to make itself appear more formidable in Washington, where appearance often trumps reality.
The NRA leadership must offer a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of journalistic sloth and credulity every time a reporter repeats that figure of 3.6 million members and the words "record high."
But let's forget the problem of membership inflation and, for the sake of argument, just accept the NRA's assertion that things have never been better. With that concession, a far more important question
emerges: Is what's good for the NRA good for gun owners? I don't think so.
It's true that in the short term the NRA's fortunes and the interests of gun owners sometimes do converge. A powerful NRA has managed to shoot down most recent gun control legislation, but some of the
NRA's victories have hurt gun owners--sometimes literally. For example: Thanks to the NRA's efforts, the Consumer Product Safety Commission is prohibited from regulating firearms. Through that
NRA-engineered loophole passed the Ruger Old Model six-shooter, which, because of a design defect, has a history of firing when dropped. The company sold 1.5 million of the guns before it halted
production in 1972. More than 600 people (mostly the guns' owners) have been accidentally shot by this defective handgun, for which--again thanks to the NRA--there exists no recall provisions. That's
because the NRA opposes any laws making gun manufactures accountable to gun owners, citing the familiar "slippery slope" theory. This bias toward manufacturers owes more to the bottom line than it
does to the Second Amendment. Gun makers are well represented on the NRA board and a significant portion of NRA revenue comes from advertisements bought by this industry.
It's in the long term, however, that the NRA's interests and those of the average gun owner diverge most. For decades, polls have indicated that a majority of Americans favor stronger gun control legislation.
But proponents weren't as committed to passing laws as NRA members were to blocking them. As NRA board member Robert Brown (whose day job is publishing Soldier of Fortune, a magazine for
mercenaries) observed: "It doesn't matter what the mainstream is. What is important is, who will vote?"
The NRA is betting that the future will forever mirror the past, with gun control advocates unable to harness mainstream sentiment on Election Day. But this confidence appears more misplaced all the time.
Americans, particularly women, and even more particularly suburban women who vote, have grown increasingly impatient with congressional inaction after a string of schoolyard massacres culminating last
year in 13 dead at Columbine. The NRA spin doctors have tried to downplay the significance of the recent Million Mom March, dubbing the event that brought several hundred thousand people to
Washington calling for more stringent gun control, the Misinformed Mom March.
The wise gun owner, however, will see the march for what it was--a symptom of widespread and growing frustration with the NRA's extremism and unwillingness to compromise on common-sense,
reasonable gun control measures. There have been other signs, including one a year ago in gun-friendly Missouri, where voters rejected a "concealed carry" bill--despite the fact that the NRA had poured
millions into that referendum.
The NRA's response to this groundswell is shrill and predictable: The Second Amendment is under attack! Circle the wagons! Send money! But this tactic merely heightens polarization on this already
divisive issue, a situation that benefits no one--except the NRA. It certainly doesn't help responsible gun owners, who are increasingly perceived as being outside the mainstream, thanks to the gun lobby's
histrionics. When NRA President Charlton Heston hoisted a musket over his head at the group's convention last month and roared "from my cold dead hands!" he merely reinforced the view that all gun
owners are cliche-spouting buffoons, unable or unwilling to discuss rationally how to balance gun rights with responsibilities.
Gun owners should understand that the will of the majority can be bottled up for only so long. And when it breaks through, as it inevitably will, the results might be gun control measures far tougher than
anything advocated today by mainstream groups such as Handgun Control. By constantly fighting a battle against an illusory slippery slope, the NRA is leading gun owners over a very real cliff of
Draconian gun legislation, demanded by a citizenry sick and tired of gun violence, disgusted by the NRA's extremism and no longer in the mood to compromise.
And then, the NRA will gnash its teeth and scream bloody murder, crying, "We told you so!" But, for all the NRA's protestations, the political landscape it will deplore will be of its own making. And gun
owners who didn't speak up and protest the NRA's extremism will share the blame.
Osha Gray Davidson is an adjunct associate professor at the University of Iowa and the author of "Under Fire: The NRA and the Battle for Gun Control" (University of Iowa Press).
© 2000 The Washington Post Company
By Osha Gray Davidson
Sunday , June 4, 2000 ; B01
I was 10 years old the first time I fired a gun. It was love at first shot.
I loved the heft of the well-made .22-caliber bolt-action rifle. I loved the loud crack of the explosion when I squeezed the trigger, and the puff of smoke from the muzzle. I even grew to love the acrid smell of
the spent gunpowder.
But most of all, I loved that I was able to hit the target dead center nearly every time. I was something of a Wunderkind at Camp Esther K. Newman on the Nebraska prairie in the summer of 1964. Being
the top marksman was an intoxicating experience for a boy who had previously associated sports with a single emotion: humiliation. And then there were the shiny brass medals I earned as I steadily shot
my way up the ranking system: Pro-Marksman, Marksman, Marksman-First Class. Stamped across each medal were three words: National Rifle Association.
Today those words are freighted with political baggage--both self-generated and imposed by outsiders--but back then I barely noticed them. All I knew about the NRA was that it sponsored the camp
shooting program. And, in fact, there wasn't a whole lot more to know about the gun group of that era. It did some lobbying against gun control measures, but by and large the NRA was then primarily a
hunting and sport-shooting organization. In 1968, when Congress was considering banning mail-order gun sales, the NRA's leader, retired Army general Franklin Orth, testified before a House
committee--in favor of the bill. "We do not think any sane American, who calls himself an American," declared the general, "can object to placing into this bill the instrument which killed the president of the
United States." Orth was referring to long rifles like the Mannlicher-Carcano that Lee Harvey Oswald used to kill John F. Kennedy. As it happens, Oswald bought the weapon through a mail-order ad in the
NRA's American Rifleman magazine.
One wonders what Orth, a model of spit-and-polish military rectitude, would think of today's NRA, whose leaders malign federal law enforcement officers as "jack-booted government thugs," allege that the
president of the United States is "willing to accept a certain level of killing to further his political agenda" and oppose virtually all gun control legislation.
My guess? He'd think they're nuts. He'd also raise an eyebrow, I bet, over the NRA's decision to thrust itself squarely into the fall elections by attacking Vice President Gore's presidential run and by
launching a multimillion-dollar stealth campaign in support of George W. Bush and congressional candidates in 20 states.
I come to those conclusions as a former NRA member, and as a journalist who spent a decade researching the group and writing a book about its tumultuous, fascinating and increasingly radical history.
Whatever your opinion of the gun lobby, let's stipulate this fact: In the past 25 years, the group has been extraordinarily effective in preventing the enactment of meaningful gun laws, especially after
hard-core extremists took over the NRA in 1977 and booted out the more moderate hunters and sport shooters in the leadership at the group's annual meeting in Cincinnati. To gauge the NRA's success,
just look at the only gun control legislation pending in Congress. Partisans have been battling for more than a year over a bill that would do . . . what? Require background checks on prospective purchasers
at gun shows. Ye gods! For all the hyperbolic rhetoric, you'd think this wisp of a bill called for the immediate confiscation of all guns--right down to my old .22.
Which is exactly what the NRA tells its members.
The NRA's power comes in large part from convincing its membership of this axiomatic deception: that any gun bill, no matter how mild or reasonable, is the first step down a slippery slope that ends in
total gun confiscation and the establishment of a police state. This NRA-induced paranoia explains the bizarre T-shirt so popular at the the group's annual convention last month in Charlotte. The shirt
features a picture of Adolf Hitler striking the Seig Heil salute, over the caption "All in Favor of Gun Control, Raise Your Right Hand."
Gun control = Nazi tyranny. Not a bad equation for whipping up the troops. Or for recruiting members who'll fork over a minimum of $35 a year to stop National Socialism, er, gun control. That fee is just
the first installment in this crusade. Members are subject to a never-ending barrage of fundraising letters, known as "action alerts," each a variation on the same apocalyptic theme: Without your immediate
help (check, cash or credit card accepted), the barbarians will be goose-stepping through the gates by nightfall!
If you haven't seen these appeals and think I'm exaggerating, here are a few examples:
"[O]ur government creeps toward authoritarian rule. . . . Wake up, America! Little by little, your freedom and safety are being robbed . . . "
"[G]ood people . . . could have their doors kicked in and their property taken by a police state driven by masters of deceit. . . ."
"[T]he time has come for the showdown of the century. Will you fight, or will you fold?"
Most NRA members don't know that for many members of the group's top leadership, the fight isn't really about government tyranny. It's largely about increasing the NRA's revenue stream.
Take the NRA's top staffer, Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre. He wrote the infamous fundraising letter (mailed a month before one-time NRA member Timothy McVeigh bombed the Alfred P.
Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people) that called Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agents "jack-booted government thugs." And he recently claimed that President Clinton
desires a certain number of gun deaths each year. Pretty extreme stuff.
But when LaPierre and I sat down for a one-on-one interview several years ago, I found that in person he is soft-spoken, and, in his hand-tailored suit, wingtips and aviator-style glasses, looks more like the
CEO of a Fortune 500 company than the head of a gun lobby. Even more surprising, LaPierre was far less familiar with guns than I was at Camp Newman. He's the first NRA leader who came to the group
with a love not of firearms, but of politics. A former campaign manager, he was on the board of the American Association of Political Consultants. With LaPierre at the helm, it's clear that the NRA's
metamorphosis from a sportsmen's group to a political lobby is complete. In recent years, the shift in priorities has meant a shift in resources from traditional NRA programs, such as hunting clinics and
assistance in setting up target ranges, to the group's lobbying wing, causing disaffection among its more traditional members.
But the NRA's fear-mongering appears to be paying off. The organization boasts that it raised $10 million in a recent six-week period, money it plans to use to help put Bush in the White House in
November.
The NRA also claims its membership rolls have skyrocketed from 2.6 million members in 1998 to a record of 3.6 million today. I don't doubt that the group has added some members as the debate on gun
control has heated up. But the numbers deserve closer scrutiny. First, what the NRA doesn't mention is that in 1994 it had more than 3.5 million members, and then lost 25 percent of them over the next four
years as gun owners abandoned the group for a variety of reasons, including embarrassment over the NRA's extremist rhetoric, which was publicly scrutinized following the Oklahoma City bombing. So
today's "all-time high" figure, as the NRA calls it, is only a slight improvement over its 1994 figures. And as a proportion of the American population, membership is down.
There are far more serious problems with the figures. Two years ago, David Gross, then an NRA board member, confided to me that a substantial number of the group's 1 million Life Members are, well,
dead--an assertion reported in my book. "There just isn't that much incentive to go find out when someone passes away," Gross explained. "Not when the cost of maintaining [a dead member] is minimal
and when they add to your membership list."
Then there's the fact that not long ago the NRA switched accounting methods, including on its roster anyone who had made an installment payment toward life membership, where previously it had counted
only fully paid members. Only the NRA knows how much the switch boosted its membership. Who else is included in that figure of 3.6 million? I may be--although I haven't been a member for years. Not
long ago, I received an NRA form letter stating that in recognition of my previous commitment to the Second Amendment, the gun group had granted me an honorary membership. The mailing even
included an NRA membership card embossed with my name.
Partial members, former members, dead members: It's all part of the NRA's campaign of smoke and mirrors to make itself appear more formidable in Washington, where appearance often trumps reality.
The NRA leadership must offer a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of journalistic sloth and credulity every time a reporter repeats that figure of 3.6 million members and the words "record high."
But let's forget the problem of membership inflation and, for the sake of argument, just accept the NRA's assertion that things have never been better. With that concession, a far more important question
emerges: Is what's good for the NRA good for gun owners? I don't think so.
It's true that in the short term the NRA's fortunes and the interests of gun owners sometimes do converge. A powerful NRA has managed to shoot down most recent gun control legislation, but some of the
NRA's victories have hurt gun owners--sometimes literally. For example: Thanks to the NRA's efforts, the Consumer Product Safety Commission is prohibited from regulating firearms. Through that
NRA-engineered loophole passed the Ruger Old Model six-shooter, which, because of a design defect, has a history of firing when dropped. The company sold 1.5 million of the guns before it halted
production in 1972. More than 600 people (mostly the guns' owners) have been accidentally shot by this defective handgun, for which--again thanks to the NRA--there exists no recall provisions. That's
because the NRA opposes any laws making gun manufactures accountable to gun owners, citing the familiar "slippery slope" theory. This bias toward manufacturers owes more to the bottom line than it
does to the Second Amendment. Gun makers are well represented on the NRA board and a significant portion of NRA revenue comes from advertisements bought by this industry.
It's in the long term, however, that the NRA's interests and those of the average gun owner diverge most. For decades, polls have indicated that a majority of Americans favor stronger gun control legislation.
But proponents weren't as committed to passing laws as NRA members were to blocking them. As NRA board member Robert Brown (whose day job is publishing Soldier of Fortune, a magazine for
mercenaries) observed: "It doesn't matter what the mainstream is. What is important is, who will vote?"
The NRA is betting that the future will forever mirror the past, with gun control advocates unable to harness mainstream sentiment on Election Day. But this confidence appears more misplaced all the time.
Americans, particularly women, and even more particularly suburban women who vote, have grown increasingly impatient with congressional inaction after a string of schoolyard massacres culminating last
year in 13 dead at Columbine. The NRA spin doctors have tried to downplay the significance of the recent Million Mom March, dubbing the event that brought several hundred thousand people to
Washington calling for more stringent gun control, the Misinformed Mom March.
The wise gun owner, however, will see the march for what it was--a symptom of widespread and growing frustration with the NRA's extremism and unwillingness to compromise on common-sense,
reasonable gun control measures. There have been other signs, including one a year ago in gun-friendly Missouri, where voters rejected a "concealed carry" bill--despite the fact that the NRA had poured
millions into that referendum.
The NRA's response to this groundswell is shrill and predictable: The Second Amendment is under attack! Circle the wagons! Send money! But this tactic merely heightens polarization on this already
divisive issue, a situation that benefits no one--except the NRA. It certainly doesn't help responsible gun owners, who are increasingly perceived as being outside the mainstream, thanks to the gun lobby's
histrionics. When NRA President Charlton Heston hoisted a musket over his head at the group's convention last month and roared "from my cold dead hands!" he merely reinforced the view that all gun
owners are cliche-spouting buffoons, unable or unwilling to discuss rationally how to balance gun rights with responsibilities.
Gun owners should understand that the will of the majority can be bottled up for only so long. And when it breaks through, as it inevitably will, the results might be gun control measures far tougher than
anything advocated today by mainstream groups such as Handgun Control. By constantly fighting a battle against an illusory slippery slope, the NRA is leading gun owners over a very real cliff of
Draconian gun legislation, demanded by a citizenry sick and tired of gun violence, disgusted by the NRA's extremism and no longer in the mood to compromise.
And then, the NRA will gnash its teeth and scream bloody murder, crying, "We told you so!" But, for all the NRA's protestations, the political landscape it will deplore will be of its own making. And gun
owners who didn't speak up and protest the NRA's extremism will share the blame.
Osha Gray Davidson is an adjunct associate professor at the University of Iowa and the author of "Under Fire: The NRA and the Battle for Gun Control" (University of Iowa Press).
© 2000 The Washington Post Company
