My Search for a Ruger Red Label: A Decisive Blow

It had now been nearly five months since our trip to Montana and my first exposure to the gun that was to keep me up for endless nights. Since that time I had been able to immerse myself in a full upland bird season and the result was that without question, I loved this. I loved waking up on Saturday mornings and thinking about getting out into sagebrush country. I loved cleaning the oil off my gun, putting it in its case and grabbing my vest to head out. The drive to the field was pure joy and with Farley learning in his own way the entire experience was more than one can ask for.

James and I had both become better shots, we had both learned more and more about the birds we were pursuing, and we were finding new areas to get into, but I think above all it is was the passion that I found within myself that made my dream of owning a Ruger Red Label all the more plausible.

My infatuation with the gun was immediate but I had wondered if a guy like me should actually invest in something that would cost nearly $1,700. I mean, that’s a lot of money, and with my lifestyle and current income, living large is usually not on the table. It’s day to day, meal to meal, hoping the brown dog doesn’t run out of food. But this past bird season changed all that. I knew now, more than ever, an investment in such a firearm would be well worth it and pay dividends for years to come. And so, without any more hesitation, I was ready to commit myself to the gun. However, the one final hurdle to overcome was one of a physical nature, being that I had never even held the gun I wanted. Mike had a 12 gauge but I knew I wanted a 20 and the last mental stair to climb was getting my hands on one, looking it over to feel the weight, the wood, and the barrels. And then I found out, with a single phone call, I would get my chance in Las Vegas.

Mike called me that week and told me that he wanted to invite me to the SHOT Show in Vegas, a massive convention sporting the latest in firearms and outdoor gear. All the big players would be there; Remington, Beretta, Sig & Sauer, Sako, and to my ears delight, Sturm, Ruger & Co. This would be my time, a chance to not only talk with others about the gun but more importantly, hold it in my hands and make the last step towards fully committing to the idea.

I started my trip on a Sunday afternoon and the two day drive down was almost unbearable. After meeting up with Mike and James the conversations about all we would be seeing over the next week only served to make my rest uneasy. When we arrived at the Show I was given a floor plan with hundreds of booths laid out and an index that would tell me exactly where things would be. There were banners draped over I-beams, lights shining down on displays, and free beer if you knew where to look, but I only wanted to get to one stand, I only wanted to see one thing.

However, despite the burning desire to press forward I decided to wait even longer. I decided to let the anticipation build, let myself experience the rest of the Show before diving head first. As such, I walked the floor, holding shotguns worth $100,000, looking at the latest boots from every company one could possible think of, learning that I really knew absolutely nothing about bullets, and just having a down home, backyard bonfire good time. What a place to be.

As the morning shifted to afternoon I decided now was the time. I knew exactly where I needed to go and as I approached Ruger’s booth I could see their massive banner hanging over head, calling to me like a siren’s song. I moved through the crowd with ease and entered the display section with the excitement of a toddler. I had finally reached my destination.

As I scanned the display racks I saw many beautiful guns, polished and finished for all to see and hold. The booth was crowded, one of the most visited at the Show, but that didn’t bother me much. So I kept enjoying and moving around. Soon afterwards I had circled around the booth but when I realized I had made my way back to where I started I had to stop and look around. I thought, “How did I miss the Red Label section”? So I began scanning the signs: “Rifles”; “Pistols”; “Semi-Automatic”; but no “Shotgun” sign. I concluded that I must be missing it, it must be in the back somewhere and not wanting to search any longer I asked one of the Ruger salesmen where I might find one. His short and simple response was, “We didn’t bring that gun with us this year”. What?!? Wait a minute here. What is going on? What did he just say? Why wouldn’t they bring it? Why wouldn’t they bring their only shotgun? Has this guy been drinking too much of the free beer? I need to find someone else. I need to ask someone else. What was happening?

From here, without going into the over dozen conversations I had with their salesmen, I learned that in an unceremonious end, production of the Red Label, Ruger’s only shotgun and one that has carried a following for almost 40 years, had ceased. My heart sank. The wind that had fueled my sail for nearly five months was in an instant, gone. My spirit was crushed and I was dealt a decisive blow.

There were many sentiments shared amongst our group and others around us but nothing we could say or do would change the fact. I now had to think about where I would get the money. Soon there would be no more new guns out there. They would now become a collector’s item, the prized final few, the last years of production. The price for one would only start to rise. I didn’t know what to do.

I walked out of the convention that night defeated. Where do I go from here? What is my next move?  Is my dream over? The emotional rollercoaster had just dropped me off an edge and there was no end in sight. However, the next day I would be nudged by hope again, not by Ruger, an America company, but by Beretta, made in Italy, with a hunting heritage and history thicker than morning gravy. “Wait a second”, I thought, “What am I talking about? I don’t want a Beretta; I want a Ruger". Right?