When my dad died back in January of 1994, he left a "working collection" of guns. He wasn't a collector per se, he was more like me...he was an accumulator. I don't give a damn about collecting guns. I am a shooter and along over the years I have accumulated guns I shoot. Dad was the same way, so when he died, he had 26 guns. They were all working/hunting/defense guns. Some were "collectible" based on what they were, but none of them were pristine-collector-grade-make-a-gun-nut-spooge types. BUT...they had value to me as shooters and a couple did have sentimental value like the Model 19 Smith snubby he carried as a detective with the sheriff''s department, or the Model 92 Winchester 44WCF that had once belonged to my great grandfather, and the companion Colt SAA in 44WCF, and the Colt Commander Dad carried in Korea and Vietnam Republic of. BUT...none of them were getting sold as far as I was concerned.
My older brother was an ******* and had a drug and gambling problem his whole life and saw dollar signs and I knew that if I didn't do something proactively...those guns would be gone and in the hands of pawn shops or dope dealers in a matter of hours. He was also a prohibited possessor because he caught a dishonorable from the Army and never took the steps to get it changed when he was eligible to do so. I also have an older sister who is a co-dependent head case most of the time, and all three of us were in the will. So, I went to Dad's house...loaded up all the guns and took them to my house.
BUT...being the only one who was emotionally functional after Dad passed I took charge of the situation. I told them both that I was keeping the guns and I would cut them each a check for a third of the value before the insurance policies paid off, and I was already on Dad's checking account and that I would cut them out each a third of that. I also let them both know that it was not an offer that was open to negotiation, it was how it was going to be. I was the youngest, but Dad named me as executor.
Yes, I am an *******, but I am at least an honest one. I had my friend who is the editor of a nationally published gun magazine who also lived in the area come over and we hashed out the dollar value of the guns. This was in 94, so there was no interwebz auction sites...so we used experience, Shotgun News, Fjestad's Blue Book, and "What would you be willing to pay if it was you?" guidelines. We came up with the amount, I cut a third to each of them of what was in the checking account, then used the remaining third that was mine and paid them for the guns. I was more than fair because I went with a "Plus 10%" on the guns, and used "VERY GOOD" condition as the price point, even though the guns were well worn and used. Mechanically perfect, but they all had holster wear, field wear...like honest working guns.
My brother didn't argue...he went right to the bank, cashed both checks and got high as a kite for 2 months and 4 days until he put the barrel of a 22 rifle in his mouth and turned his brain into gray matter soup after his last hot shot of heroin. When I cleaned out the mobile home my dad had bought him to live in I found a suicide note, six dollars in change, and dozens of empty "forty pop" H-Balloons. Just say NO to drugs kids. Dumbass.
If the dumbass would have waited two more days...the insurance policies paid off and he would have had a smooth 40 grand to party on for a few more months before he blew a hole in the soft pallet of his mouth.
Anyway...I used my (now half) of the insurance money to buy out my sister's half of Dad's house in Prescott and I got in touch with some old hunting and shooting buddies of Dad's and let them pick through the guns I wasn't keeping. These were life-long friends of Dad's, many were other deputies he worked with, and a couple of military buddies, so I felt good about giving them some of his guns. Over the years as some of them passed, I got a few of them back.
I wanted Dad's guns to be used by guy's who would appreciate them. I came out on top. I got to keep the guns I wanted, and got the house I grew up in and no longer had to worry about getting "that phone call" on night shift that someone had my brother cuffed up on the side of the road dropping MY name and asking me what I wanted them to do with him...(I always said, Take his ass to jail to detox).
I don't know why I just shared that. Hell, it was in April of 1994...I haven't even thought about my brother in a LONG time. BUT...the point is, the guns are still alive.
My daughter gets all my guns...she's already told me that, and she's on the Family NFA trust...so she gets those too. I doubt she will sell any of them because she's more rabid about guns that I am.
I have always followed the old saw of: Always treat others as you want them to treat you. This has worked out well for me all these years. And yes I HAVE offered more than what someone has wanted for a firearm in the past (real value to them) but still had them say-- I just want it to go to someone that will enjoy it as much as I did.
