Today, the industrial-age factories are little changed: workers still sit at tin desks twisting and clicking new revolvers into place, at a rate of about four an hour, while the smoldering stench of forged metal drifts over the valley. But in just about every other way, life in Gun Valley is not what it was. As fewer people shoot for sport, profits are drying up quicker than the parched river. Old-line companies find themselves marketing cheap handguns and assault rifles in an effort to compete with renegade suppliers. Lawsuits are raining down on the industry, and public opinion has turned squarely against it. More than 200 years after the Revolution, Gun Valley is now the site of another popular revolt–this time, against the gunmakers themselves.
Change doesn’t come easily to a business that still uses gravel to smooth out gunmetal. But it’s coming. Determined to survive, the notoriously secretive gunmakers are preparing for a more friendly and public approach, putting their spokesmen on TV and reaching out to critics. Just last week, at a summit with officials from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, gun execs signaled they may now be willing to monitor their sales more closely to cut down on illegal trafficking–a key demand of the 24 municipalities now suing the industry.
But before gunmakers can hammer out a truce with their enemies, they may have to fight their friends: the National Rifle Association. The NRA has boycotted gun companies before, with devastating effect, and the group has let it be known that it will not tolerate concessions that might jeopardize Second Amendment rights. “The biggest problem the industry has is the NRA,” says an industry lobbyist. “There’s going to come a point where they’re going to have to sit down and say to the NRA: ‘No, this is not how it’s going to be’.”
Like so much of life in Gun Valley, the industry’s relationship with the NRA has eroded over time. For decades, the organization served as a kind of marketing apparatus for the gunmakers, wooing generations of gun owners while the industry itself remained invisible. In the 1970s, when handguns flooded the market and gun control became a hot issue, the NRA acted as a shield for the manufacturers, fending off foes while the companies kept up brisk production.
But in relying on its customers to represent its interests on Capitol Hill, the gun industry put its fate in the hands of a group that sounded increasingly extreme. Fearing a backlash against the industry, some gunmakers talked openly of regulating their own products–only to find that the lobbying giant they helped create could turn on them with a vengeance. After a California school shooting in 1989 prompted calls for restrictions on semiautomatic weapons, one of the Gun Valley companies–Sturm, Ruger–called instead for limits on high-capacity ammunition clips. NRA members boycotted the company, bleeding it of crucial business. When Colt’s former CEO, Ron Stewart, suggested in an industry newsletter two years ago that the licensing of gun owners might be inevitable, a furious NRA rallied its members. Colt reeled, and Stewart retired.
The skirmishes between some gunmakers and the NRA broke into open warfare after cities such as Chicago and New Orleans began suing the industry last year, claiming that gunmakers negligently distribute guns to criminals. Several companies tried to find a middle ground, meeting with mayors to head off lawsuits and striking a deal with President Clinton to put safety locks on new handguns.
Angered by the concessions, the NRA demanded unity in the gun lobby, but the reformers wouldn’t listen. “Lemmings are united in their march to the sea,” observes Richard Feldman, who led the negotiations with the White House for the American Shooting Sports Council. “The industry isn’t there to protect the Second Amendment. It’s there to stay in business.” The NRA set its sights on getting Feldman fired, and eventually had its way. Industry hard-liners aligned with the NRA went even further: they had the ASSC itself disbanded.
Industry leaders are nearly desperate for a way to stop the current wave of senseless shootings. For one thing, the gunmakers are just plain tired of watching the news and wondering if they might have made the murder weapon. “I feel the way you do if you found out that somebody from your hometown committed a horrible act,” says Jeff Reh of Beretta USA. More to the point, there’s the fear that all the ugly publicity is poisoning the jury pool. “I don’t want a jury of 12 people deciding public policy because no one’s given them a better solution,” says Paul Jannuzzo, Glock’s vice president and general counsel. Jannuzzo is floating his idea for a modified one-gun-a-month law, where buyers of multiple guns could take one gun home after clearing a standard instant background check, but could get the rest only after a waiting period and a more thorough vetting.
Other proposals will soon be on the table. A critical element of the lawsuits involves the industry’s two-tier distribution system; gunmakers ship their wares to distributors but make no effort to find out where those guns are ultimately sold. In their meeting with ATF officials, gunmakers offered to change that, although exactly how is unclear. “We are committed to doing more,” says industry spokesman Bob Delfay. The gunmakers are also willing to keep a sample casing from every gun sold, so agents can quickly match bullets used in crimes to the right guns.
The catch is that the industry insists Congress give the ATF additional money to lead these initiatives. And, even if that happens, it could put the gunmakers on another collision course with the NRA. While gun execs have worked closely with ATF agents in recent years, the NRA distrusts the agency; it once branded ATF agents “jackbooted thugs,” provoking former president George Bush to resign his NRA life membership. NRA chief Wayne LaPierre warns bluntly that any company that agrees to too much compromise risks a boycott. It’s a miserable choice for any corporate boss: take your chances on an angry jury or a desperate Congress–or incur the wrath of the NRA. “If you take responsible leadership on this issue, they will beat you up unmercifully,” Feldman says. “It does not feel good.” In Gun Valley these days, very little does.