Why New Yorkers from all walks of life can put a gun on their holiday wish list |
All I want for Christmas is a snub-nosed .38.
Some .38 Special ammunition would be nice too.
This holiday season, we should all be thinking of our firearms wish list.
A year ago, I never thought I would be one of those rare New Yorkers to navigate the city’s byzantine gun laws. Nor did I quite anticipate the peace of mind that comes with firearms ownership.
But I did it, earning my own license to carry a concealed pistol.
I now practice weekly at the range just down the block from my office with my own registered revolver. You can do it, too.
Sure, we’ve heard the stories of onerous regulations, invasive questioning and endless delays. Compared with much of the country, the application process remains a burden.
But I am here to tell you it is no longer impossible.
As I found, it can even be a rewarding experience.
And if you want that Centennial-style hammerless Airweight in your stocking, you first need a license to carry it.
My story began when I inherited an old service revolver from my father, Carl.
A New York-based architect, one who had worked on designs for the World Trade Center and JFK Airport, he had taken to firearms when I was a teenager in the 1990s.
He enjoyed the sport and comradery of the range, which he said reminded him of his time in Army basic training.
He also saw it as a means for some father-son bonding and a reconnection with our Italian roots.
I well remember the day he first took me to John Jovino Gun Shop.
The storied retailer shuttered after 109 years during the 2020 lockdowns, but at the time, the store in Little Italy was thriving as it sported an oversized pistol hanging from its sign.
Dad had me pick out my own bolt-action .22 rifle. He then slipped next door to resupply his homemade winemaking operation, another Italian pastime.
At an upscale range near Wall Street, now long defunct, he shot his pistol while I practiced my aim with the small, rimfire rifle.
All the while, a five-gallon glass carboy of red wine fermented in our highrise West Side apartment.
Decades later, when the time came to transfer his gun, a blued .357 Magnum manufactured by Smith & Wesson in the 1960s, I paid my first of many visits to the Westside Rifle and Pistol Range.
Operating out of a basement space on West 20th Street since 1964, the range is an enduring lifeline for city gun owners.
Here you can take training classes, join its shooting club, use its services as a federal firearms-licensed dealer (known as FFL) or simply try out one of its .22 rifles (no license required).
I have done it all. But first, I sat down........