The Last Post

Final Resting Place of Famous Riflemen Harlon Bronson Carter

Regional Commissioner, U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, Executive Vice President of The National Rifle Association, World Class Rifle and Pistol Competitor, American Patriot

August 10, 1913 - November 19, 1991

By J. Paul McFadden

Can our form of government, our system of justice, survive if one can be denied a freedom because he might abuse it? Harlon B. Carter

If you are reading this and live in the United States of America, there is a good possibility that you own a firearm and you also have friends who are gun owners. Most likely, you have seldom reflected on how you are able to accomplish this feat while the rest of the world can only dream of the freedom you take for granted. All over the world, former gun owners now look at their empty gun cabinets and think, “How could this happen to me?” Certainly the second amendment “guarantees” that you have the right to keep and bear arms, mostly at the whim of your local, state and federal government. Our gun rights are really only words that are not worth the paper they are written on without the power to enforce them. It's time to meet and come to know a man who understood power and the placement of individual liberty above security and all else, Harlon Carter.

The Carter family is not a Johnny-come-lately to the new world, neither is it a stranger to the principals of American freedom. Harlon's ancestors migrated from England and settled in South Carolina in 1634. They fought in the War for Independence. The family farm was their pride and joy, which they had developed with hard work and American free enterprise for more than two centuries. All was lost when they chose to defend their rights in the Civil War. Like many displaced and homeless Southerners, they scraped together a few greenbacks and bought a boat ticket to Texas. The family patriarch eventually settled near Grandbury, located just south of Fort Worth. Harlon's father, Horace, who was the family's first native Texan, married Ila Baker and the couple set up housekeeping at Granbury. Times were hard and the new family was dirt poor, but Horace and his new bride did their best to scratch out a living on the edge of town. They raised turkeys and Ila took in sewing to try to help make ends meet. One day she ran out of thread and little Harlon was given the assignment of making the trip to the store, with a few pennies, to purchase a spool of thread. On the way home, he decided to see how much thread was on the spool so he spooled it out as he went. The young man satisfied his curiosity, but his tail feathers apparently caught fire when he presented the empty spool to his mother. He was a quick learner as he never forgot how much thread was on a spool and he was never tempted again to double-check his statistics. One year, the turkey business did well and Harlon struck it rich. His father sold ninety turkeys and Harlon received his first five-cent piece, which looked as big as a cartwheel to the little fellow. He attended grade school in Granbury where the teacher, who discovered his talent in debate, encouraged his interest in literature, and would help him establish his quest for knowledge that would allow him to find his place in the world.

Many things can influence a young man's life and, perhaps, a life changing revelation occurred when his father decided it was time to teach Harlon and his sister, Miriam, how to shoot.

He was hooked with a lifetime addiction and now the problem was how to finance his shooting habit. Young shooters think of wealth, not in dollars and cents, but in rounds of ammunition and something accurate with which to shoot it. The answer came in the form of a milk cow and Harlon was allowed to sell the excess milk to the neighbors. His shooting career was on its way and every spare minute, when he wasn't doing chores or in school, was spent with a gun in his hand. An old Stevens .22 rifle and model 91 Moisin-Nagant constituted Harlon's armory. The old weapon was a battlefield pickup with a broken extractor. Fortunately, the foresighted Russians had equipped it with a handy rod under the barrel to extract the fired cases. This was the same “foresight” that Erskine Allin had used at Springfield Armory when he designed the trapdoor Springfield with a rod to enable country boys to extract .410 shells fired in the 45-70. Rapid fire was not a problem to Harlon as he had to make every shot count. He couldn't afford to do otherwise.

1924 was a time of change for the Carter family. Horace landed a job with the Immigration and Naturalization Service and he was assigned to Nogales, Arizona for his one-year probationary period. After his year of probation was over, Ila and the children joined him in Nogales, and within a year the family was expecting twins. She was a Texan and having her children born in a “foreign land” was not an option. She needed help with the children, so Horace wrangled an assignment to Laredo, Texas. During his stay in Nogales, eleven-year-old Harlon made his first “apprehension” for the Border Patrol. On a walk down the railroad track, he spotted a young Mexican national who seemed lost and hungry. It wasn't hard to convince the young man to tag along home with him for some frijoles. When they arrived, Harlon's father took charge and the young man was on his way home to Mexico. Horace Carter made the Laredo Station his home where he served for the next thirty years. He retired in 1955, at 70 years of age.

Harlon continued his education in Laredo, where he learned to speak Spanish from his schoolmates and worked hard to finance his shooting and prepare for college. He also found the time to teach his two brothers safe and skillful gun handling.

After attending the University of Texas, he joined the Border Patrol on May 16, 1936. That same year, he became the Texas State High Power Rifle Champion. It didn't take the Border Patrol long to find out that Harlon could handle a six-shooter with the same dedication he applied to his rifle marksmanship. He would go on to hold an NRA distinguished rating in both rifle and pistol competition as well as being a member of the 1600 and 2400 club in small-bore rifle. During his lifetime, he was one of only 19 civilians who achieved this status. He was also the holder of 44 national records for marksmanship. Harlon was an intense competitor and he expected to come out on top in whatever endeavor he might find himself. At the National Pistol Matches in Florida, just before WWII, Harry Reeves had edged out Harlon for the National Championship by a couple of points. Harry was a superb pistol shot and one of the toughest competitors ever to stand up at the firing line. Most pistoleros considered it an honor just to shake his hand. Being beaten by Harry Reeves was a familiar experience to most of the top shooters in the world, but not to Harlon. He had gotten a glitch in his trigger finger at a critical moment, and in his opinion, had blown the match. The score he turned in would have been a matter of extreme pride to any shooter, but in his mind, he was a loser. Harry Reeves was the winner and when an observer congratulated Harlon on his performance, he said, “I wouldn't wish second place on my worst enemy.” One was either a winner or a loser, anything in between amounted to nothing. Although he despised losing, Harlon never spoke ill of an opponent. He knew that the other guy didn't beat him, he beat himself and bad mouthing a fellow shooter, who was an excellent shot, wouldn't improve his shooting. He used his mind to analyze his problems and how he could tighten up his group in the next match.

The members of the Border Patrol belonged to a close-knit organization and, for the most part, they tried to look out for each other. It didn't take long for Harlon to make friends with Charles Askins, who was also a member of the Border Patrol Pistol Team. Charlie was never very far from controversy and the national matches of 1937 were certainly no exception. NRA rules required that only five rounds be loaded for each five shot string, but Charlie had six holes in his revolver cylinder and he felt the need for some backup insurance in case he short-stroked it during the heat of a match. So he loaded six rounds, intending to shoot only five, unfortunately a match official happened to notice this digression and Charlie was disqualified. This naturally caused a serious stir through the powers-that-be in the Border Patrol and Harlon was called in for an interrogation. He was in the middle of a “tempest in a teapot” that was not of his making, but he decided to make the best of it. When asked if he had noticed anything out of the ordinary, he replied, “No, he had not.” The investigator countered with, “How can you say that, you were right next to him, not four feet away?” Harlon stated, “I had been drinking at the time.” The investigator was shocked, but common sense told him that his leg was being pulled and Harlon proved that he could think on his feet.

The time comes in every young man's life when he feels the need for matrimony and the desire to start a family becomes a top priority. Harlon was no different. He met Mary Lange and they were married. Their daughter, Joy, appeared on the scene in January, 1942 and their son, John L. was born in August, 1944. A law enforcement career places a tremendous stress on a marriage and that burden is shared in the Border Patrol. If a Patrol Inspector wished to advance, he had to be ready to move anywhere in the United States on a moment's notice and he had little input into his assignments. Circumstances such as these may take a toll on family life and Harlon and Mary were divorced in 1948. Harlon loved his children dearly and he carried on in spite of the emotional stress that came down upon him like a dark cloud.

When it came to strength of character and administrative ability, he had few equals. Second place just wouldn't do and he started working his way up the Border Patrol chain of command. He was promoted over many old timers, but he never looked back and by 1942, he was the New Orleans Station Chief. It was an interesting assignment that would put him to the test in a way he could never imagine. At this time, the sporting crowd in the Crescent City was allowed the diversion of slot machines and the one-armed bandits were holding court in every dive in town. Boys being boys, it wasn't long before an off duty member of the Border Patrol tried a Mexican ten centavo piece in one of the quarter slots. The coins were nearly identical in size and it worked like a charm. Everyone was happy with the exception of the bar owners and their “goons” who just happened to be members of the New Orleans Police Department. The off duty Border Patrol Inspectors were amazed when they would go into a bar and see a uniformed police officer, who was obviously on duty, slugging down drinks and then casually walk or stagger out, without a thought of payment. Everything went well until it was discovered who was playing the one-arm bandits with funny money. The cops were called and a general disagreement took place. Reinforcements were sent for on both sides and Bill Jordan, who happened to be on Harlon's staff, quickly appeared on the scene. Jordan, who was six-feet-seven with hands the size of hams, was not one to be taken lightly. As the donnybrook started to reach critical mass, Harlon and his assistant were called to the scene. The assistant wanted to dive in, but the cooler head prevailed. While Harlon was trying to sort things out, he could hear a voice saying, “I'm down here! I'm down here.” He finally found Bill Jordan, flat on the floor, handcuffed around a column. The meeting was adjourned and reconvened at the local police captain's office, where Harlon managed to convince the police captain of the need for cooperation. He told the captain that the federal officers and the local police had to work together for the mutual good. After all, the New Orleans Police had given as good as they got and he would personally see that any Mexican money found in New Orleans slot machines would be from a source other than the U.S. Border Patrol. The next day, a box appeared on Harlon's desk and the word was out that all Mexican loose change had better be deposited therein. The box rapidly filled up and peace, momentarily, returned to the Crescent City due to his leadership.

The Border Patrol had promoted him to Chief Patrol Inspector at headquarters in Washington, D.C. and it just happened to be the home office for the National Rifle Association. Fate was about to play an important role in the future of both the NRA and Harlon Carter. The NRA, which had been around since 1871, was organized to promote interest in marksmanship and competitive shooting. It was about to undergo a major transformation. Harlon, who had been an active NRA member for many years due to his intense interest in rifle and pistol competition, was elected to the board of directors in 1951. It didn't take him long to become intimately acquainted with internal procedures of both organizations.

One day, business took him into the Border Patrol Personnel Division and his life would never be the same. There he met Maryann Kamus. Harlon knew that something had been missing from his life for a long time and here it was. He was totally twitterpated. Something had to be done, but what? He had a lot going for him like brains and good looks, but so did she. Maryann was no dummy and every bit his equal. He just couldn't let her get away. One evening, they worked past normal quitting time and Harlon asked her if he could escort her home, but she had quality upbringing and that just wouldn't be proper with someone she had known for such a short time. Finally, he asked her out for coffee and she accepted. Harlon and Maryann were married in February 1953. They became a team that only death could separate. She will later prove to be Harlon's strong right arm, (behind the scenes, of course). Their son, J. William “Bill” Carter, is presently an NRA director and a retired Border Patrol Chief. John L. Carter, is presently on Border Patrol active duty serving as Station Patrol Agent in Charge at Pecos, Texas.

Meanwhile, the NRA was rolling along and trying to not make any waves with a few major pitfalls in the form of the National Firearms Act in 1934 and the Federal Firearms Act of 1938. This major legislation was brought about as a result of the public outcry to “do something” to counteract the attempted assassination of FDR in Miami in 1933, and to combat “motorized bandits” with their use of selective fire weapons. Machine guns were not outlawed, but were simply a casualty of the fact that the power to tax is the power to destroy. Laws aimed at automatic weapons received little interest from hunters and competitive shooters, who had little or no use for them. Criminals didn't worry, as they didn't usually go out of their way to obey most laws in the first place. World War II put everything on the back burner and weapons of every kind didn't seem so bad when we were fighting unspeakable evil to preserve the human race. Many machine guns were brought home as war trophies by returning GI's in violation of federal law.

Enter the riots and assassinations of the 1960's and all bets were again off. The cry to “do something” was heard again and the liberal news media, together with gun-hating politicians, had all the answers. Meanwhile, Harlon was elected NRA President for a two-year term from 1965 to 1967 and he did his best to get the message out. He knew what was really behind all the hand wringing and calls for “compromising” by the liberal media and politicians. “Something” had to be done and the elimination of firearms in the hands of law-abiding citizens wasn't it. The Gun Control Act of 1968 had become law and the situation was looking dark for the gun-owning public. The gun confiscation crowd smelled blood and the NRA was being portrayed as the black hats that favored the proliferation of “Saturday Night Specials.” Any handgun with a barrel less than a foot long, met the criteria for a SNS and therefore had to be banned. NRA leadership was trying to be on both sides of the controversy and having a hard time fighting a two-front war. They were trying to convince the American public that the organization favored “sensible” legislation, while the membership was told to expect gun registration to be followed by confiscation. NRA Executive V.P. General Maxwell Rich stated that the organization was totally in favor of banning poorly made guns. Rich had good intentions, but he had allowed the start of the descent down the slippery slope, from which there would be no return.

Harlon was never one to dive into a fight and start swinging blindly. He had a head on his shoulders and he could see that the constitutional rights of Americans to keep and bear arms were going down for the count. He knew his American History and appreciated the power that came from the grass roots. There was a ready-made organization that could reach them, but the leadership didn't understand the basic principal of political power. With the help of like-minded directors, he formed the NRA Institute for Legislative Action in 1975 and he became its first director. The ILA became the political arm of the NRA and it was up to Harlon to “get the show on the road.” There was no office space available in NRA Headquarters so he rented three hotel rooms across the street. Contributions were coming in, but he desperately needed a trained staff and he needed it now! His right arm, Maryann, was feverishly packing their personal items in the car and was quickly on her way from Tucson, Arizona to the nation's capital. The minute she arrived, she called Harlon at his makeshift office to tell him she had hit town. He told her not to unpack anything, just get down there at once. She was immediately made office manager, personnel manager, and secretary. The show was on the road and they never looked back.

General Maxwell Rich was a good man, but he just couldn't say, no! He thought of the NRA in terms that had been outmoded for many years. Whether he liked it or not, the organization was locked in a life or death struggle, with everything coming to a head in May 1977. Harlon had stepped down from the ILA and returned with Maryann to their home in Arizona. He needed a rest but that was not to be. Maryann was on a trip to Europe and the balloon was about to go up. The NRA annual meeting was held in Cincinnati, Ohio and when the dust had settled at 4 a.m. on Sunday morning Harlon Carter was the new executive vice president. He telephoned Maryann in Holland to tell her that they were going back to Washington, D.C. Known in the organization as “The Cincinnati Reforms,” it marked the end of the strategic retreat concerning gun control and signaled a no-quarters-battle to regain lost constitutional rights. Harlon was in control of what Washington Politicians referred to as “The Gun Lobby” and they did not like it one bit. The era of “compromise,” where the gun owners of America gave up their weapons piece by piece, had come to an end. He had turned the ILA over to Neal Knox in 1976 who held the post until 1982. The fight for freedom is always tough and hard and Harlon truly believed that, “Those who will not fight for their rights deserve to lose them.” Like any patriot, he had to fight some friends as well as the foe, but he tripled the NRA membership and turned it into the greatest civil liberties organization in world history. When the organization's 1983 Annual Meetings were held in Phoenix, Harlon invited President Ronald Reagan to speak to the membership. He was the only sitting president to do so.

Harlon loved and prayed for the future of our country's younger citizens. He often remarked to his son John that shooting and the discipline found in the shooting sports imparted and taught a view on life. It taught the shooter discipline and a unified sense of purpose with direction toward accomplishment of goals. During their shooting trials, he would always recite, to his son, that a good marksman is always “safe, somber, and sober.” This simple mantra pertained to the structuring of the shooter's attitude, his demeanor, and his frame of mind toward one given goal…firing the shot in the gun. No other rounds to be fired could be of concern. The shooter must concentrate only on the accurate delivery of that one round. He often remarked that the essence of reaching a goal and understanding in life involved the determination of the problem and addressing the issue in its basic form. His historical perspective, with modern application, was illuminated in his example as NRA President, Director of the ILA, and Executive Vice-President.

Harlon stepped down from his position with the NRA in 1985 and few can truly appreciate the extent of the stress and weight of responsibility that he shouldered everyday. Having the weight of the world lifted, he greatly enjoyed his retirement. He filled his days with shooting and big game hunting, but he never went to Africa because he didn't want to kill it if he couldn't grill it. However, he couldn't give up the fight for gun rights and he continued to write for publications such as PRECISION SHOOTING . In the late 1980's he found himself becoming physically weaker and, for a strong-willed person of Harlon's character, this was certainly no small problem. He had never smoked in his life, but the diagnosis was lung cancer in 1989. It had just developed without any apparent reason. Cancer had to blind-side him, because it would most surely have lost in a face-to-face confrontation. Harlon summoned the strength to attend the NRA Annual Meetings in San Antonio, Texas in 1991. It was to be his last and he now lies in the Arizona soil that he loved so dearly, at the Evergreen Cemetery in Tucson.

Harlon, may you rest in peace and may those of us who love liberty and freedom never forget you and the super-human effort that you made to retain these rights for us and the future generations of Americans. May the Lord grant us the courage to never let your precious flame of liberty flicker out.

The author wishes to thank the Carter family, Maryann, John L., and Bill, for their assistance and the gracious use of their archives.

Sources:

Maryann Kamus Carter
Chief William T. Toney, Jr. U.S. Border Patrol, retired
“No Second Place Winner,” Bill Jordan
National Border Patrol Museum, El Paso, Texas

Gravesite Photography:

Cathbin Ayoob Kondo