From: 34AEJ7D%CMUVM.BITNET@VM1.nodak.edu (Bill Gorman)
Newsgroups: misc.handicap
Subject: National Rifle Association honors disABLED engraver  (long)
Date: 13 Apr 92 20:11:59 GMT
Reply-To: 34AEJ7D%CMUVM.BITNET@VM1.nodak.edu (Bill Gorman)
X-Fidonet: Split

Index Number: 21015

The  following article  is quoted  from the  April, 1992,  issue
of  _The American  Rifleman_,  published  by  The National  Rifle
Association  of America.

This article  is presented here through  the courtesy, and with
the kind permission, of  both The National  Rifle Association and
the  Author, Mr.  Ron Swartley.  Permission has been granted  for
one-time, non-commercial, no-fee, not-for-profit reproduction of
this  material for the audience of L-HCAP and its various echoes.

Many thanks to Mr. Swartley, who  contacted me directly by phone,
and the Editorial Staff of  _The American Rifleman_, who
graciously  placed me in direct contact with Mr. Swartley.

Sez me,

W. K. (Bill) Gorman

----------------------------BEGIN QUOTED ARTICLE-------------------------

                    GOING WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT
                                by
                           Ron Swartley

       With His Legs Useless and His Hands Barely Functional as the
       Results of an Indian "Pole Dance" Which Went Horribly Awry,
       Richard Allen is Fighting to Launch his Career as a Gun Engraver.

   It was the afternoon of
Aug. 8, 1981, and the "Smoki"
celebration (a traditional               ___________________________
summer festival in Prescott,             |A photo of Richard Allen |
Ariz.) was in full swing.                |at his engraving bench,  |
Richard Allen -- along with              |which I cannot reproduce |
three other young men -- was             |in ASCII, appears here in|
getting ready for the                    |the original text.       |
performance of the "Pole                 ---------------------------
Dance", an event based on an
old Indian ceremony in Mexico.
Allen had practiced earlier in
the day and was feeling good.
The square "pole" soared 45
ft. into the air, and the
performers would start the
"dance" at the very top.
   Long cables led from the
pole's top, and Allen and his
three fellow performers --
called "Veladores" -- would
attach the ends of the cables
to safety harnesses at their
waists, lean out and let go
and let the unwinding cable
swing them out and gradually
to the ground -- to the
accompaniment of flute music,
played by the fifth performer
standing at the apex.
   There had never been an
accident during the
performance of this annual
event, though it was
considered somewhat dangerous.
It was known that back in the
old days an occasional Mexican
"Pole Dancer" would be killed,
but that was before the advent
of modern, scientifically
proven safety devices.
   Richard Allen felt a twinge
of excitement as the time grew
near. It was an exhilarating
experience to be swung out and
around -- like a trapeze
performer in the Big Top. It
was no problem for him
physically. He was in top
shape. He'd been the athletic
type all his life, used to
participating in organized
sports. He also loved the
outdoors, and would often
tramp the woods with a rifle
under his arm, looking to bag
a rabbit or squirrel.
   The Pole Dance finally got
underway as Allen and the
others left the security of
the pole and swung out into
space.
   But immediately something
began to go terribly wrong for
Richard Allen. The cable he
was attached to began to slide
out from its housing due to
the failure of a snap safety,
and he could sense the ominous
unnaturalness of it. It took
only a second for the tragedy
to unfold; a second for him to
be free floating out there in
space, then swiftly downward
to hit the ground on his head
in a bone-chilling crunch. A
horrified gasp went through
the crowd of 5,000 people as
the paramedics rushed to the
scene.
   Allen awoke in the Prescott
hospital hours later, his mind
cloudy and confused. He heard
someone talking to him,
telling him that he would be
all right, that he was lucky
to be alive. He would be
transferred to a neurological
center in Phoenix that night.
   It was a couple of weeks
later, in Phoenix, when he
finally learned the extent of
his injuries. His neck had
been broken -- he already knew
that -- and he was paralyzed
from the chest down. He hadn't
really comprehended the long-
term significance of his
injuries until that very
moment. He would never walk
again, he was told matter-of-
factly by a young intern. He
would never be able to sit
upright without support. He
might never be able to use his
hands again.
   The message was brutal,
uncompromising. Allen didn't
know how to react. As he began
the long program of therapy
and relearning, the question
nagged and nagged at his
brain. What was a quadriplegic
-- a young one at that, at age
23 -- going to do with the
rest of his life? What _could_
he do?
   The years drifted by, "You             _________________________
settle into a kind of groove             | Photo of the receiver   |
of therapy and deep                      | of the Winchester Model |
reflection," he says of those            | 95 appears here in the  |
years. "Do you write yourself            | original text. Caption: |
out of life? Or do you accept            | One of Richard Allen's  |
what the fates have given you            | earliest engraving jobs |
and go with what you've got?"            | was full-coverage em-   |
   Allen opted to go with what           | bellishment of a        |
he had. Gradually, he regained           | Winchester Model 95.    |
fairly complete control of his           ---------------------------
right hand, though there was
little feeling in it. His left
hand had quite a bit of
feeling, but there was little
control or strength.
   He got interested in
athletics for the handicapped
after a time and won first
place in a 10K wheelchair
race. Later, he got involved
in wheelchair basketball. He
also began to take classes in
things like computer science
at the local community
college, planning on a desk
job as his career alternative.
Along the way he became
interested in calligraphy, the
art of elegant writing, and
spent long hours practicing
with his right hand. Also
along the way, he met a
wonderful, attractive woman
named Sarah, and she became
his constant companion.
   It was when Allen came
across an illustrated story in
a gun magazine about the two-
dimensional art of scrollwork
designs -- an advanced,
beautiful form of
calligraphy -- that a turning
point arrived in his life. He
began experimenting with his
own scrollwork patterns,
becoming quite proficient in
the art form. Shortly after
that he learned about a
firearms engraving course
offered at the community
college, and it caught his
attention.
   Gun engravers get paid for
their work, don't they? The
good ones do. He wondered if
it would be possible for him
to learn the gun-engraving art
and to become good enough to
make a profession of it. Allen
had always been most at home
working with his hands, and
this just might be what he was
looking for. This desk job
scenario he had been trying to
prepare himself for really
wasn't appealing to him.
   It was Rachel Wells -- a
gun engraver of some note, who
was also an accomplished
gonstock finisher and general
helpmate to veteran Prescott
gunmaker Fred Wells, as well
as the founding instructor of
the community college's three-
semester gun-engraving
course -- who decided it for
him. When Allen showed up for
the first class, she didn't
seem at all dismayed at his
prospects for success.
   He couldn't sit at the
standard engraving bench
without support, that was
obvious. So, for the second
session Wells brought two
cushions of just the right
size and shape, so he could
lean forward on his elbows for
support. (The school soon
designed and built a complete
custom workbench for him.)
   It was immediately
discovered that the
Gravemeister -- a power
engraving tool in wide use
by professional gun engravers,
and used extensively in the
school -- presented an
additional problem. It had a
foot feed to actuate and
control the tool head. But
since Allen couldn't use his
feet, there was no way he
could actuate the tool. Wells
took that problem home with
her that night and thought
about a solution. It took a
little experimentation, but
finally she came up with a
workable modification. A
length of surgical tubing
could be led through Allen's
mouth, and via an air bypass
arrangement, the tool's power
could be regulated merely by
clamping and releasing the air
flow in the tubing with his
teeth. The arrangement worked
just fine.
   It was tough going all                __________________________
right. Arms engraving isn't              | Over-the-shoulder photo |
the easiest kind of work, even           | of Richard at work,     |
for veterans. It's even                  | showing his hands and   |
tougher when you're going                | tools, appears here in  |
through the learning process             | the original text.      |
and making the inevitable                | Caption:  Unable to use |
mistakes. To attempt to learn            | his Gravemeister's foot |
the art when both hands lack             | feed, Allen achieves    |
the normal complement of                 | control of the tool by  |
strength and control was, it             | biting and releasing    |
seemed, asking for failure.              | surgical tubing.        |
   There had never been -- and           ---------------------------
hasn't been since -- a gun
engraving student who spent
more time in the gun engraving
lab than Richard Allen. He was
in there just about any time
the lab was open, day and
night. "He was such a
perfectionist," Wells says now
of her former student. "He was
determined to make a go of it,
and he did. We all learned
from Richard during those
three semesters. I don't think
I've learned as much about
perseverance, about hanging in
there, as I did while he was in
the class. ...Some of the
other students would be having
trouble with an exercise, and
say, 'I just can't do this!'
But then they'd look over at
Richard, struggling
there at his custom-made
bench, and that would
be the end of the complaining
for awhile."
   The first semester of the
course is devoted to learning
the basics of drawing, to
learning to control the
engraving tools and to
mastering basic scrollwork
patterns. Allen's early
interest in calligraphy and
scrollwork art paid off here.
   Second semester students
learn line engraving of animal
figures, landscapes, and
interlocking scrolls. "Those
early steel practice plates
swan before my eyes after
awhile," Allen recalls today.
   During the third semester
the students get into more
complicated relief engraving,
inlaid borders and figures,
and then they're expected to
do a complete, full-coverage,
gun-engraving job as the final
project.
   The gun Allen chose was a
classic Winchester Model 94,
and he struggled mightily on
the steel with the
Gravemeister and hand tools,
as scrollwork, relief
engraving, inlaid borders and
figures took hard shape.
Finally the task was finished,
and Allen turned the .30-.30
in to his instructor.
   Rachel Wells was impressed
with her student's first major
engraving project. She readily
agreed that he should enter
the gun in the art competition
at the county fair, and the
gun won first place in its
category.
   That county fair victory
was in the summer of 1988.
What's been happening in the
life of Richard Allen since
then?
   He's been hard at work
trying to make it as a
journeyman gun engraver, of
course. Word got around the
northern Arizona high
country -- where elk, muleys,
turkey, pronghorns, and a
variety of other wild game
abounds -- that Rachel Wells
isn't the only gun engraver
working on the local scene.
Little pieces of gun engraving
work began to drift in almost
immediately. And they continue
to come in. A full coverage
job on a Winchester Model 95
lever action rifle was one of
the early pieces, followed by
an extensive project on a
Model 721 Remington. Allen was
starting to make his own way,
despite the handicaps.
   "He's got what it takes to
be one of the real good ones,"
Wells says now. "It'll come, I
have no doubts about that."
   "I'd like to be good
enough," Allen says, "to do
exhibition-grade work someday,
work that's good enough to
bring to a top gun show and
have people look at it, study
it, and maybe say its pretty
darned good work."
   "That's not an unreasonable
goal for himself," Wells
responds, adding, with a grin,
"It seems to me that I'll be
getting some pretty serious
competition around here before
too long. I may end up having
to leave town if I'm not
careful."

-----------------------------END QUOTED ARTICLE-------------------------
Mr. Allen may be reached at:

     Richard Allen
     P. O. Box 211
     Prescott, AZ  86302

Mr. Swartley may be reached at:

     Ron Swartley
     P. O. Box 8040
     Albuquerque, NM  87198

The NRA may be reached at:

     National Rifle Association of America
     1600 Rhode Island ave., N.W.
     Washington, D.C.  20036
     Voice: (202) 828-6000
     TDD:   Unknown

The American Rifleman magazine may be reached at:

     The American RIfleman
     c/o The National Rifle Association
         at the NRA address shown above