From:   [EMAIL PROTECTED]

http://www.msnbc.com/news/522692.asp
via Drudge

Guess this election AND the results of the SW boycot prove that individual 
actions can make a difference.       Mike P

 
 
   
A Gun Deal’s Fatal Wound   
 
    As a landmark pact to control gun sales falls apart, Smith & Wesson takes 
the hit  
  
By Matt Bai
NEWSWEEK   
 
    
 
     Feb. 5 issue —  For more than 50 years, George Romanoff’s family has 
been selling Smith & Wessons: .357 revolvers with hardwood handles, sleek 
pistols forged from blue and stainless steel.    

     SMITH’S VAUNTED HANDGUN line was easily the biggest seller at Romanoff’s 
Pittsburgh-area store, Ace Sporting Goods—until last March. That’s when the 
149-year-old gunmaker signed a stunning agreement with the Feds to get out 
from under lawsuits, promising to impose strict new rules on all its dealers. 
Now those who wanted to keep selling Smith guns would have to keep 
computerized records of every sale and store all their guns—not just 
Smiths—in some kind of vault. And they’d have to limit their customers to one 
gun every two weeks.   
 “If Smith & Wesson goes under, it will be an extremely sad day for our 
industry. “It’s like a nail in our coffin.” 
— GEORGE ROMANOFF
gun dealer          Romanoff was about to kick off a weekend sale—up to $50 
off on Smith & Wessons—but he had to cancel it because his customers were 
furious over Smith’s surrender to the enemy. To them, the new recordkeeping 
alone sounded like a first step toward a police state, and Smith was the 
government stooge. Since then, sales of the company’s pistols have been so 
slow that Romanoff has slashed his inventory by a third. Now Smith & Wesson, 
reeling from a consumer boycott, wants him and other dealers to go along with 
a scaled-back version of the agreement. But Romanoff says there’s no way he 
can keep selling Smiths if he has to accept the company’s terms. Like his 
customers, he feels betrayed by Smith & Wesson’s sellout; at the same time, 
it’s as if he’s turning his back on an old friend. “If Smith & Wesson goes 
under, it will be an extremely sad day for our industry,” he says. “It’s like 
a nail in our coffin.”
       
POWER IN THE GUN WORLD
       The government’s celebrated pact with Smith & Wesson was supposed to 
bring the secretive gunmakers to their knees, much like the assault on Big 
Tobacco. But a year later, the deal is all but dead—and the nation’s largest 
handgun maker faces real questions about its survival. Analysts say its sales 
lag behind the rest of the struggling industry by at least 20 percent. “This 
is a critical time for us,” says Ken Jorgensen, Smith’s spokesman. “We need 
the dealers to sign this in order to go on and do business.” How the deal 
became a disaster says a lot about power in the gun world—power that the 
people who buy guns wield over the people who make them. The Feds were sure 
that other gunmakers would follow Smith’s lead, but the rest of the industry 
ran for cover instead. Smith & Wesson, meanwhile, ran face first into a gun 
lobby at the height of its power, and a gun culture hostile to change. “They 
entered into an agreement that was silly,” says the NRA’s Bill Powers. 
“Sooner or later you’ve got to pay for the mistakes of the past, and they’re 
paying for them.”  
  
        A shifting political landscape didn’t help. When Smith & Wesson 
signed the deal, the Clinton administration was threatening its own suit to 
force gunmakers to change their ways, and there were cries for new gun laws 
on Capitol Hill. It didn’t last. The gun lobby played a key role in electing 
George W. Bush, and its leaders expect him to oppose more restrictions. The 
gunmakers, meanwhile, are hoping Bush will do what he did in Texas: sign a 
law blocking any city from suing the industry. The gun war remains hard 
fought, but the momentum has shifted.
        Smith & Wesson’s nightmare began in a Hartford, Conn., hotel room 
with a handshake between two uncommonly tenacious men: Andrew Cuomo, Bill 
Clinton’s Housing secretary, and Ed Shultz, then Smith & Wesson’s CEO.   
Newsweek.MSNBC.com  

More than 30 cities had sued the gun industry for the costs of violence on 
their streets. Cuomo had brashly stepped into the legal swamp, hoping he 
could be the guy to force concessions from an obstinate industry. Most 
gunmakers refused to negotiate. But Shultz, a plain-spoken farmer and onetime 
Army sergeant, figured Smith’s legal bills would soon surpass its income. His 
British parent company, Tomkins PLC, wanted to get Smith out of the courts so 
it could sell the company.
        Shultz and Cuomo talked in personal terms. “I have two 5-year-olds 
and a 3-year-old, and I have a gun in my home,” Cuomo told Shultz. “If you 
can make me a safer gun, I’ll buy it.” Shultz agreed to do that—and more. The 
25-page pact was so sweeping that lawyers for the cities feared until the 
last minute that Shultz would back out. Once Smith signed, the assumption was 
that other gunmakers would inevitably follow the leader. Cuomo had no plans 
to take the Smith deal to a judge to enforce it immediately; he’d wait for 
other gunmakers to sign on first.
        It would prove to be a long wait. In the gun world, where any small 
step toward new restrictions is seen as a giant leap toward tyranny, the deal 
exploded like buckshot. Shultz had expected a backlash, but nothing so 
visceral. The NRA immediately faxed ferocious alerts to its 3 million-plus 
members, calling Smith a British-owned traitor to the Bill of Rights. It was 
an election year, and Smith & Wesson had just given the gun lobby its 
rallying cry. Irate customers overwhelmed the switchboard at Smith’s 
Springfield, Mass., headquarters and deluged Shultz with venomous e-mail.
       
POUNDED FROM ALL SIDES
       Soon Smith was getting pounded from all sides. In a business where 
Smith controlled more than a quarter of an ever-shrinking handgun market, 
competitors couldn’t resist piling on. Brazilian-owned Taurus started giving 
away an NRA membership with every new gun, just to underscore its commitment 
to gun rights. Meanwhile, two new cities brought lawsuits against Smith & 
Wesson, despite pleas from the administration to leave Smith alone.
        Those who tried to help Smith made matters worse. Two states, New 
York and Connecticut, launched antitrust investigations against the other 
gunmakers, accusing them of trying to run Smith out of business. Their 
lawyers sprayed subpoenas up and down New England’s Gun Valley, which only 
served to make Smith & Wesson look like a government witness in a mob case.
        By midsummer, Shultz had to close his plant for an extra two weeks 
and was planning to lay off 120 workers. Shultz told Cuomo he’d have to kill 
the deal if another gunmaker didn’t sign on soon. Desperate for another ally, 
Cuomo set his sights on Glock, the nation’s leading supplier of cop guns. 
Glock’s general counsel, Paul Jannuzzo, had been in on the original 
negotiations but had passed on the deal at the last minute.
        Now Cuomo took the extraordinary step of leaning on Glock’s foreign 
owner instead. He had one of his aides call the U.S. ambassador in Vienna, 
Kathryn Walt Hall, who’d been a major contributor to the Democratic Party. 
She then took a message to 72-year-old Gaston Glock—Europe’s answer to Samuel 
Colt. Hall told the wealthy gun baron that Cuomo wanted to see him alone: no 
lawyers. Glock was “polite but noncommittal,” Hall recalls. He was willing to 
see Cuomo, perhaps, but not until his next trip to the United States in 
November. For Cuomo, that was too late.
        The deal came undone, and, in a sense, so did the men who negotiated 
it. Cuomo and the Democrats were turned out of office, in part because gun 
owners felt deeply threatened. Shultz, meanwhile, left Smith & Wesson in 
September. Smith still hasn’t given up on settling the lawsuits, however. 
With the federal deal officially abandoned by both sides, Smith has reached 
what it calls a “less onerous” version of the agreement, this time with the 
city of Boston. It’s expected to become binding in February, which means that 
other cities can join if they want to, and any dealer nationwide who wants to 
sell Smith guns will have to abide by the new terms. But some large dealers 
say they can afford to drop Smith & Wesson; the name has lost its aura in the 
gun world, and customers aren’t clamoring for its revolvers the way they used 
to. Smith & Wesson may yet reclaim its place as a proud symbol of the Old 
West. For now, it remains the unforgiven.
       
       © 2001 Newsweek, Inc.


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