My memories of Major Golden
Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2014 9:44 am
I was away from home for a couple of weeks and had no access to the internet. By phone I heard of the death of my old friend Major Golden. I decided then to write a short piece about him when I returned home. Below is my effort.
Many of us were saddened to hear of the recent death of long time IHMSA member Major Golden. I considered Major to be a good friend. We are certainly diminished by his passing. I had the privilege of sharing the range and also many enjoyable conversations with him. Just how we became friends is a rather interesting story, at least from my perspective, and I decided that I would share that story with all of you. It will take a little while to set this story up so please bear with me.
I became an IHMSA member in 1980 and after a couple of seasons I decided to attend the 1982 Internationals which were held in Fortville, Indiana that year. There I had the opportunity to meet and share a conversation with David Bradshaw, an accomplished shooter and gun scribe. Until then I had only heard of David, had read many of his writings, and was pleased to finally make his acquaintance. Now fast forward to the year 2000, back in Louisiana, and imagine my surprise to find David at one of our local matches. At that time he was staying in our state due to a work commitment and he had decided to attend our local IHMSA event. “Hey, it’s a small world, huh”! We struck up another conversation, reminiscing about the Fortville match and other trivialities. I shared with him the fact that I was planning a vacation trip to Tucson, Arizona to shoot at the Three Points Range where IHMSA first started here in the USA. In the early 1970’s my parents had lived in Tucson for a short time due to my mom’s failing health. She succumbed to her illness there in 1976 so I had a double incentive to want to travel there again. He suggested that while there I should look up an old friend of his and to please extend his greetings. “His name is Major Golden” he said. “He should be in attendance at that match”. I assured him that I would make the effort to pass that along.
My wife Carolyn and I drove the 1400 miles to Tucson with my travel trailer in tow and we camped at the range the night before the match. The Three Points Range was much as I had imagined it, dry and dusty but a very good layout and I could almost feel the history of that place. Match morning came, the shooters started arriving, and I soon identified Major from the description David had provided. I introduced myself and my wife to him and delivered David’s greeting. Major asked where I had seen David and I told him that it was back in my home state of Louisiana. He asked me “Where in the Bayou State do you hang your hat?” I told him “I live in Gonzales, just south and east of Baton Rouge”. He shared the fact that he was also originally from Louisiana, having been born there. He said, “I’m from a little town in the north part of the state. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called Goldonna.” I laughed out loud. “Really”, I said. “My mom was born 8 miles down the road from there in a little town called Creston. My mom’s sister lives in Goldonna and I spent many of my summers there as a child. It’s a small world, isn’t it?” We each felt an immediate connection based on our common Louisiana small town roots.
The town of Goldonna is named after the Golden family and many of Major’s family members are buried there including Major’s father, Artber. Major joined the Navy after he finished high school and was a member of their marksmanship team. Once his service was completed he became a Border Patrol officer based out of El Paso, Texas. Upon his retirement he settled in Tombstone, Arizona.
I have shared range with Major a few times since then and I have also benefited from his hospitality by accepting an invitation to his home in Tombstone on one of my subsequent trips out west. There he gave us a walking tour of that historic town with narration along the way. He was quite the “Old West” historian. For those of you not familiar with his shooting skills, a look into his trophy room would reveal his prowess. Let me just say that his display of awards was very impressive. I never saw him shoot any category other than Standing and this was always with a single action Ruger. While I visited there in Tombstone we talked at length about his early years in Goldonna and his many adventures there. He was a gracious host to my wife and I and invited me back many times. I regret that I never had the finances and vacation time available to return there. We have kept in touch through the years via phone conversations and we exchanged Christmas cards. I last shared some time with him a few years ago. It was 2007 and I was again traveling out west with my family. I met with Major for a meal in Page, Arizona where he was attending an NRA silhouette event.
I now own a few acres in his home town of Goldonna and it is my intention to build a home there and retire. I have been deer hunting there with my cousins every year since about 1974 and I’m considered a local there. It’s a very small world.
I had been considering for quite some time about reaching out to Major with a small gesture I had thought he may appreciate. Major had not been back to Goldonna since his father’s death in 1975 and he often asked me how the small town had changed since his last visit. Just last month while I was in Goldonna I captured several photos, concentrating on features he had mentioned in our conversations. These included the main street, the small creek where he learned to swim, and the cemetery. I printed these photos and mailed them to Major along with a two page letter describing each photo. A few days later my phone rang and I heard Major’s voice once more. We had a good conversation, talking about the photos and how much he appreciated me sending them to him. After about 30 minutes of small talk he signed off with “Adios”. It would be the last conversation we had. He died just a few days later. I am so thankful that I did not put off taking those photos. I had been thinking about it for so long and finally did so, just in time. I can only say that it must have been part of God’s plan. It is indeed a very small world.
And finally old friend, although I may not fully agree, I will never forget your advice----------------------- “If it ain’t a wheel gun, it ain’t a real gun”
Rest in peace Major, you will be missed…. Adios.
Many of us were saddened to hear of the recent death of long time IHMSA member Major Golden. I considered Major to be a good friend. We are certainly diminished by his passing. I had the privilege of sharing the range and also many enjoyable conversations with him. Just how we became friends is a rather interesting story, at least from my perspective, and I decided that I would share that story with all of you. It will take a little while to set this story up so please bear with me.
I became an IHMSA member in 1980 and after a couple of seasons I decided to attend the 1982 Internationals which were held in Fortville, Indiana that year. There I had the opportunity to meet and share a conversation with David Bradshaw, an accomplished shooter and gun scribe. Until then I had only heard of David, had read many of his writings, and was pleased to finally make his acquaintance. Now fast forward to the year 2000, back in Louisiana, and imagine my surprise to find David at one of our local matches. At that time he was staying in our state due to a work commitment and he had decided to attend our local IHMSA event. “Hey, it’s a small world, huh”! We struck up another conversation, reminiscing about the Fortville match and other trivialities. I shared with him the fact that I was planning a vacation trip to Tucson, Arizona to shoot at the Three Points Range where IHMSA first started here in the USA. In the early 1970’s my parents had lived in Tucson for a short time due to my mom’s failing health. She succumbed to her illness there in 1976 so I had a double incentive to want to travel there again. He suggested that while there I should look up an old friend of his and to please extend his greetings. “His name is Major Golden” he said. “He should be in attendance at that match”. I assured him that I would make the effort to pass that along.
My wife Carolyn and I drove the 1400 miles to Tucson with my travel trailer in tow and we camped at the range the night before the match. The Three Points Range was much as I had imagined it, dry and dusty but a very good layout and I could almost feel the history of that place. Match morning came, the shooters started arriving, and I soon identified Major from the description David had provided. I introduced myself and my wife to him and delivered David’s greeting. Major asked where I had seen David and I told him that it was back in my home state of Louisiana. He asked me “Where in the Bayou State do you hang your hat?” I told him “I live in Gonzales, just south and east of Baton Rouge”. He shared the fact that he was also originally from Louisiana, having been born there. He said, “I’m from a little town in the north part of the state. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called Goldonna.” I laughed out loud. “Really”, I said. “My mom was born 8 miles down the road from there in a little town called Creston. My mom’s sister lives in Goldonna and I spent many of my summers there as a child. It’s a small world, isn’t it?” We each felt an immediate connection based on our common Louisiana small town roots.
The town of Goldonna is named after the Golden family and many of Major’s family members are buried there including Major’s father, Artber. Major joined the Navy after he finished high school and was a member of their marksmanship team. Once his service was completed he became a Border Patrol officer based out of El Paso, Texas. Upon his retirement he settled in Tombstone, Arizona.
I have shared range with Major a few times since then and I have also benefited from his hospitality by accepting an invitation to his home in Tombstone on one of my subsequent trips out west. There he gave us a walking tour of that historic town with narration along the way. He was quite the “Old West” historian. For those of you not familiar with his shooting skills, a look into his trophy room would reveal his prowess. Let me just say that his display of awards was very impressive. I never saw him shoot any category other than Standing and this was always with a single action Ruger. While I visited there in Tombstone we talked at length about his early years in Goldonna and his many adventures there. He was a gracious host to my wife and I and invited me back many times. I regret that I never had the finances and vacation time available to return there. We have kept in touch through the years via phone conversations and we exchanged Christmas cards. I last shared some time with him a few years ago. It was 2007 and I was again traveling out west with my family. I met with Major for a meal in Page, Arizona where he was attending an NRA silhouette event.
I now own a few acres in his home town of Goldonna and it is my intention to build a home there and retire. I have been deer hunting there with my cousins every year since about 1974 and I’m considered a local there. It’s a very small world.
I had been considering for quite some time about reaching out to Major with a small gesture I had thought he may appreciate. Major had not been back to Goldonna since his father’s death in 1975 and he often asked me how the small town had changed since his last visit. Just last month while I was in Goldonna I captured several photos, concentrating on features he had mentioned in our conversations. These included the main street, the small creek where he learned to swim, and the cemetery. I printed these photos and mailed them to Major along with a two page letter describing each photo. A few days later my phone rang and I heard Major’s voice once more. We had a good conversation, talking about the photos and how much he appreciated me sending them to him. After about 30 minutes of small talk he signed off with “Adios”. It would be the last conversation we had. He died just a few days later. I am so thankful that I did not put off taking those photos. I had been thinking about it for so long and finally did so, just in time. I can only say that it must have been part of God’s plan. It is indeed a very small world.
And finally old friend, although I may not fully agree, I will never forget your advice----------------------- “If it ain’t a wheel gun, it ain’t a real gun”
Rest in peace Major, you will be missed…. Adios.
