A dozen years ago next week, I decided to research the needs of my home Roman Catholic parish of St. Jerome's in Hyattsville. Then I was a new member of the school advisory board and we were looking for areas we might improve for the children and the community. My first stop was a meeting of the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) that oversees school-related athletic activities. I learned that the school's basketball uniforms were, on average, nine years old, frayed and faded. St. Jerome is one of the key feeder parishes for nationally ranked DeMatha High School barely half a mile away.
I looked around at the assembled parents, most of whom fit the "blue collar"/craftsmen category of social pidgeon holes and did a mental inventory of nearby-resources.
My thoughts ran to the facts that Prince George's County, MD ran a world class trap/skeet/sporting clays complex about five miles away and that I was sure I could get Mossberg to donate a couple of shotguns as door prizes. I proposed a family-oriented sporting clays tournament to raise money to buy the uniforms. A few people were skeptical but no one objected. What I didn't notice was an old paunchy gent sporting a ratty grey pony tail sitting quietly at the table. I didn't know it at the time but he was one of the parish nay-sayers, who liked to bully women, and didn't have the balls to voice any objections to anyone's face. Suffice to say, he wasn't even a member of the CYO board.
Let me give you a bit of historical background.
I had recently been sent packing from the National Rifle Association after a decade as the organization's chief spokesman. During that time, I weathered the John Lennon killing and attempt on President Reagan's life. My division - Public Education - slowly built credibility with the national media (more on that another time). Over my tenure at NRA I ran afoul of the entrenched regime for disrupting the status quo.
After a dozen accidental shootings in Houston, Texas, I worked with the local TV station, Sheriff's and Police Departments and public school system to create a pamphlet on gun safety in the home. Over a million were printed and distributed, mostly through the unbridled energy of a young woman named Kym King, then the community service director at one of the Houston TV stations. Upon my return to NRA headquarters, I was condemned by the NRA Secretary (who also sat on the board of the National Safety Council) because in his opinion, NRA "had no right telling parents how to raise their children." Yep he said that during a staff meeting of all NRA division directors. That was the beginning of a stretch of twilight zone antics that left my head spinning at the lack of logic or testicular fortitude of the handful of gentlemen running the joint.
Other areas where I "crossed the line" included having my department design and print the first updated gun safety brochure since the 1950s (oops stepped on the toes of the education and training director who never thought of the idea...after repeated attempts to get him to move in that direction went ignored) and took a recommendation (from again some members in Houston) to create a woman's self-defense program...and being told that we are a marksmanship not personal safety organization.
I guess that Maverick attitude started when I first got to NRA and found they had no literature on the origins and intent of the framers of the Second Amendment. My brochure addressing that issue was trashed (literally thousands were tossed in the dumpster by the house General Counsel not because of any misinformation but because he didn't write it). Had to wait about 5 - 8 years before some PhD types put the same info into book form.
Back to Hyattsville and St. Jerome's.
At first, even the parish pastor mouthed support for the fundraiser claiming to be a gun owner himself. OK. Hyattsville is just down the street from Congress and if you know anything about certain members of the clergy or watch the antics of Members of Congress you already know that in politics, an endorsement is only as good as the moment it's given. The pastor turned out to be a political weasel. He quickly cozied up to Ponytail and friends and showed us the door.
Before ponytail climbed out from under his rock to stir up problems, I headed off to Kenya and a U.N. conference on endangered species. A week or so later I returned to find that ponytail boy went to the local bishop, the Washington Post and and the pastor and got the sporting clays event condemned and forbidden. He and his wife and one other couple from the parish linked our efforts to crime in the streets of Washington DC and the bloodshed in the Middle East. We were, they claimed, trafficking in guns to juveniles.
Not being one to cave into poltroons and charlatans I created an organization quite separate from the parish, called it the Catholic Sportsmen Organization, and got non-profit status in record time. Over the past dozen years we've raised nearly $100k for athletic teams, helped young musicians from the local public middle school get to a national competition, donated to scouts, and purchased therapeutic tricycles for a local public high school for physically and mentally challenged youngsters to mention a few of our projects.
Oh, ponytail boy and his friends harrumphed and fumed and left the church because the church wouldn't excommunicate us. The pastor still hasn't dropped by the event but enjoys the money. Probably doesn't want to hurt his chances of progressing up the ranks.
At any rate we're staging the 12th Annual CSO Father's Day Weekend Sporting Clays Classic on Saturday June 18th. Did I mention that the first shotgun we raffled off went to, no not a DC crack dealer but to one of the assistant General Counsels of NASA and the first door prize shotgun went to one of the specialists in charge of loading the space shuttle's payload??? Or, that we award the "Ponytail" good sport statuette (it's the south end of a pony) to the low shooter that comes with free shooting lessons at the range?
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