GUNS Magazine December 1955 - Jeffersonian's Home Page

Souped-up Ford V-8 used by Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow was literally riddled with bullets as noted crimiinals'escape from Ranger ambush was cut short by volleys from Browning Automatic Rifle wielded by Hamer.to Hamer "By the Grateful Citizens." Although the SingleAction proved a favorite with donors of pistols, othermakes are represented among the dozens of legitimateHamer guns. One hightly prized by Hamer himself wasa heavy Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum, presented tohim in his later years by five or six of his Ranger associates.His use of guns did not give him primary status as agunfighter, but rather as a lawman. Yet there was a timewhen the future of Hamer hung precariously, and he hadas much chance to become a master criminal as a masterdetective.Hamer grew up in the pistol-haunted town of San Sabawhere "Blackjack" Tom Ketchum's celebrated band ofroad desperadoes had incubated. Texas Rangers wereconsidered meddlesome characters who barged in to stopvendettas between rival cliques in San Saba. The hardriding,pistol-toting Ketchum brothers-Tom and Samwerelocal heroes as the James boys had been in theirMissouri home town.During his early youth, Frank Hamer heard only onefavorable comment about the obtrusive roving Texas lawmen.They were the best shots in the whole country. Andmen who'd run afoul of them displayed scars to prove it.Young Frank swore that he'd learn to outshoot andoutride the Rangers who'd exiled the Ketchums from theirnative draws and canyons. Six years old he was whenthose two ingenious gunsmiths, Charles Newton and HenryDonaldson, began perfecting the .22-caliber varmint rifle.At 10, Frank Hamer was San Saba's crack shot with thenew-style weapon. Before he'd reached 14, he was winningevery one of the town's rifle matches with Winchestersand Marlins.At 19, he'd become one of the wandering, restless cowboysfrom whom outlaw rings often recruited fresh manpower.Six feet three he stood then, with his giant framecarrying 200 pounds of brawn and muscle. Oh a ranchnear San Angelo, he found himself forking broncs withan older man who'd followed Blackjack Ketchum till NewMexico marshals had finally shattered the gang."I'll cut a San Saba boy in on a deal I'm figuring,"thefugitive bandit told his younger saddlemate. "When wepunchers deliver the next string of ponies to San Angelo.we'll stick up the bank there. Then we'll light out to Mexico,buy a ranch there and live like kings.""Yeah," Hamer agreed. "What's the use of bustin' yourcan for thirty a month when the bank's got thousandsjust waiting to be snatched."All plans had been carefully laid when the punchersdrove a herd of horses into San Angelo a few weeks later.As they'd anticipated, the ranch foreman strayed off tofind a buyer for the ponies. That quest, they felt, wouldtake him a minimum time of one hour..Within 15 minutes, the would-be robbers had steeredtheir mounts toward the head of the street where the banklay. Their Colts were loaded; they were looking expectantlytoward their leader for the go-ahead sign when theforeman suddenly reappeared."Found a buyer the minute I left you," he boasted. "Nowgit back to where them ponies are penned and drive 'emover to his corral."Reluctantly the punchers obeyed orders. The bank kept