Ken in Iowa
New member
NRA aims hatred at Iowa native
http://www.dmregister.com/news/stories/c4788998/11367873.html
Hostility, threats face Smith & Wesson's Ed Shultz at gathering.
By JEFF ZELENY
Register Staff Writer
05/22/2000
---------------------------------------------------------------
Charlotte, N.C. - Ed Shultz knows he is the most hated man in the National Rifle Association.
It's not that Shultz doesn't like guns. He's the top executive for gun-manufacturing giant Smith & Wesson.
It's not that Shultz disagrees with protecting the right to bear arms. He's a card-carrying NRA member.
No, Shultz is the most hated man in the National Rifle Association because of a decision he made two months ago. He was the first firearms executive in the United States to say the gun industry must change how it conducts business.
"Oftentimes, people don't know who their friends and who their enemies are," said Shultz, who is lauded by anti-gun activists and jeered by gun supporters. "Right now, mine are confused."
During the National Rifle Association's annual convention that ended here Sunday, Shultz was surrounded by those enemies, who believe he sold out to the Clinton administration and other gun-control proponents in exchange for being let off the hook for a portion of the lawsuits that could topple the U.S. gun industry.
When Shultz, the chairman of the world's largest handgun maker, wants to get away from the death threats and a seemingly constant flurry of hate mail, he boards his single-engine Bonanza and flies to southeast Iowa for a retreat on his family farm between Oskaloosa and Ottumwa.
"It's been sort of a home base," said Shultz, 58, who earned an engineering degree from Iowa State University in 1967 and worked as an executive at the Hon Industries in Muscatine before joining Smith & Wesson in 1992.
The threats against Shultz have so intensified that he won't disclose the location of the farm where he was raised. His mother still lives in Iowa. He said he wants to protect her and others from the criticism he has endured since signing a landmark deal in March with the federal government to accept wide restrictions on the way the company makes and sells its handguns.
"There's no point on making it tough on my neighbors," Shultz said. "If I tell you where I live, I'll have some more people visiting me."
It's true. People follow Shultz.
Take John Brotan, who traveled from Colorado to North Carolina to pass out bright yellow literature accusing Smith & Wesson of "selling its soul to the Clinton-Gore administration" and making "a pact with the devil."
"They sold out to the American people," said Brotan, a 57-year-old NRA member who explains his views while handing out stickers that say: "Shame!!! Boycott Smith & Wesson."
NRA First Vice President Kayne Robinson, a Des Moines man who also is chairman of the Iowa Republican Party, is furious at Shultz.
"He's a traitor," Robinson said. "He sold out for money."
When Robinson was reminded Shultz is from Iowa, he said: "I'm sorry to hear that."
Here's how Shultz sparked controversy: On March 17, Smith & Wesson signed a deal with the government, saying it will continue installing locks on handguns to safeguard them from children. The company pledged within three years to introduce a "smart gun" that uses fingerprint technology to allow only authorized users to fire the weapon.
Also, to dissuade illegal gun trafficking, people who purchase more than one weapon from a Smith & Wesson dealer can take only one gun home on the day of the sale. The rest can be claimed after 14 days.
Shultz said the agreement was simply a business decision to quell some of the 30 lawsuits filed by major cities across the country that want to hold gun makers accountable for gun violence. The deal settled legal action by 15 cities that were trying to collect damages from Smith & Wesson.
"Do I feel like a traitor? No," Shultz said. "I feel like I'm doing those kinds of things that responsible businesses must do as they move forward into the future."
Many of Shultz's critics call him an anti-gun man who is intentionally running the firearms division of his company into financial doom, hoping to protect other ventures of the corporation that is owned by Tomkins PLC in Britain.
Shultz counters that he's been a hunter all of his life. He would often carry a gun to his one-room Iowa schoolhouse, he said, not to shoot at friends but to hunt rabbits or other prey on the way home.
It was a school shooting that started to shape Shultz's view of gun control. Even though there were no handguns used in the Columbine massacre last year, he said, the public believes a gun is a gun.
"You're devastated by the tragedy of it all. As the CEO of a firearms business, what kind of damage control can you do?" Shultz said. "People call you and ask how you could make this type of product."
The NRA accuses Shultz of caving in during a critical political year for gun owners, manufacturers and distributors. Other gun company executives also question the decision of Smith & Wesson, a Massachusetts company that makes about one-fifth of the 2.5 million handguns sold annually.
"It hurts the whole industry," said William Keys, the president of Colt Manufacturing, which makes old-style pistols and revolvers. "If we don't stick together, we won't ever solve the problem."
That mind-set frustrates Shultz, who said the National Rifle Association and the gun industry will face political and financial suffocation unless America's changing gun culture is acknowledged. He said the NRA is getting "further and further from the reality of the world we're in."
"Change is happening, it's going to take place," Shultz said. "We can either embrace it and move with it or we can wait until it kills us."
Shultz brought that unpopular attitude to the three-day NRA convention center here, an otherwise friendly enclave for gun supporters. Standing in front of Smith & Wesson's display of 94 pistols and revolvers, he and his staff endured heckling and cold stares.
Shultz, a father and grandfather, knows he is hated. He says again that he doesn't hate guns. His necktie is a collage of handguns blended beneath a burgundy and brown hue. His silver watch bears the Smith & Wesson gun logo.
Shultz said he briefly considered skipping the NRA convention this year, but he wanted to explain his position to anyone willing to listen. Three days, however, might have been too much.
He left the convention after the opening day to fly his Bonanza back to Iowa where no one can find him.
------------------
http://www.dmregister.com/news/stories/c4788998/11367873.html
Hostility, threats face Smith & Wesson's Ed Shultz at gathering.
By JEFF ZELENY
Register Staff Writer
05/22/2000
---------------------------------------------------------------
Charlotte, N.C. - Ed Shultz knows he is the most hated man in the National Rifle Association.
It's not that Shultz doesn't like guns. He's the top executive for gun-manufacturing giant Smith & Wesson.
It's not that Shultz disagrees with protecting the right to bear arms. He's a card-carrying NRA member.
No, Shultz is the most hated man in the National Rifle Association because of a decision he made two months ago. He was the first firearms executive in the United States to say the gun industry must change how it conducts business.
"Oftentimes, people don't know who their friends and who their enemies are," said Shultz, who is lauded by anti-gun activists and jeered by gun supporters. "Right now, mine are confused."
During the National Rifle Association's annual convention that ended here Sunday, Shultz was surrounded by those enemies, who believe he sold out to the Clinton administration and other gun-control proponents in exchange for being let off the hook for a portion of the lawsuits that could topple the U.S. gun industry.
When Shultz, the chairman of the world's largest handgun maker, wants to get away from the death threats and a seemingly constant flurry of hate mail, he boards his single-engine Bonanza and flies to southeast Iowa for a retreat on his family farm between Oskaloosa and Ottumwa.
"It's been sort of a home base," said Shultz, 58, who earned an engineering degree from Iowa State University in 1967 and worked as an executive at the Hon Industries in Muscatine before joining Smith & Wesson in 1992.
The threats against Shultz have so intensified that he won't disclose the location of the farm where he was raised. His mother still lives in Iowa. He said he wants to protect her and others from the criticism he has endured since signing a landmark deal in March with the federal government to accept wide restrictions on the way the company makes and sells its handguns.
"There's no point on making it tough on my neighbors," Shultz said. "If I tell you where I live, I'll have some more people visiting me."
It's true. People follow Shultz.
Take John Brotan, who traveled from Colorado to North Carolina to pass out bright yellow literature accusing Smith & Wesson of "selling its soul to the Clinton-Gore administration" and making "a pact with the devil."
"They sold out to the American people," said Brotan, a 57-year-old NRA member who explains his views while handing out stickers that say: "Shame!!! Boycott Smith & Wesson."
NRA First Vice President Kayne Robinson, a Des Moines man who also is chairman of the Iowa Republican Party, is furious at Shultz.
"He's a traitor," Robinson said. "He sold out for money."
When Robinson was reminded Shultz is from Iowa, he said: "I'm sorry to hear that."
Here's how Shultz sparked controversy: On March 17, Smith & Wesson signed a deal with the government, saying it will continue installing locks on handguns to safeguard them from children. The company pledged within three years to introduce a "smart gun" that uses fingerprint technology to allow only authorized users to fire the weapon.
Also, to dissuade illegal gun trafficking, people who purchase more than one weapon from a Smith & Wesson dealer can take only one gun home on the day of the sale. The rest can be claimed after 14 days.
Shultz said the agreement was simply a business decision to quell some of the 30 lawsuits filed by major cities across the country that want to hold gun makers accountable for gun violence. The deal settled legal action by 15 cities that were trying to collect damages from Smith & Wesson.
"Do I feel like a traitor? No," Shultz said. "I feel like I'm doing those kinds of things that responsible businesses must do as they move forward into the future."
Many of Shultz's critics call him an anti-gun man who is intentionally running the firearms division of his company into financial doom, hoping to protect other ventures of the corporation that is owned by Tomkins PLC in Britain.
Shultz counters that he's been a hunter all of his life. He would often carry a gun to his one-room Iowa schoolhouse, he said, not to shoot at friends but to hunt rabbits or other prey on the way home.
It was a school shooting that started to shape Shultz's view of gun control. Even though there were no handguns used in the Columbine massacre last year, he said, the public believes a gun is a gun.
"You're devastated by the tragedy of it all. As the CEO of a firearms business, what kind of damage control can you do?" Shultz said. "People call you and ask how you could make this type of product."
The NRA accuses Shultz of caving in during a critical political year for gun owners, manufacturers and distributors. Other gun company executives also question the decision of Smith & Wesson, a Massachusetts company that makes about one-fifth of the 2.5 million handguns sold annually.
"It hurts the whole industry," said William Keys, the president of Colt Manufacturing, which makes old-style pistols and revolvers. "If we don't stick together, we won't ever solve the problem."
That mind-set frustrates Shultz, who said the National Rifle Association and the gun industry will face political and financial suffocation unless America's changing gun culture is acknowledged. He said the NRA is getting "further and further from the reality of the world we're in."
"Change is happening, it's going to take place," Shultz said. "We can either embrace it and move with it or we can wait until it kills us."
Shultz brought that unpopular attitude to the three-day NRA convention center here, an otherwise friendly enclave for gun supporters. Standing in front of Smith & Wesson's display of 94 pistols and revolvers, he and his staff endured heckling and cold stares.
Shultz, a father and grandfather, knows he is hated. He says again that he doesn't hate guns. His necktie is a collage of handguns blended beneath a burgundy and brown hue. His silver watch bears the Smith & Wesson gun logo.
Shultz said he briefly considered skipping the NRA convention this year, but he wanted to explain his position to anyone willing to listen. Three days, however, might have been too much.
He left the convention after the opening day to fly his Bonanza back to Iowa where no one can find him.
------------------
