Distinctly Montana Magazine

40 D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA N A M A G A Z I N E • S U M M E R 2 0 2 3 A s a young boy growing up in rural Ohio, I had always read of the shooting exploits of the men and women of my era in many outdoor mag- azines: sharpshooters like Tom Parsons, Adolph (Ad) Topperwein and his wife "Plinky," and fellow Ohioans Annie Oakley. And, of course, Tom Frye. However, I had never seen a shooting exhibition be- fore, so it was an extra special day for me when visit- ing family in Billings, Montana. I happened to glance through the newspaper and saw the advertisement saying that there was going to be a shooting exhibition put on by none other than Tom Frye at a local sporting goods store (Gibson's) at 10:00 o'clock a.m., today. Well, I looked at the clock and it was well past that time, but my wife and I decided to go anyway. It was only about a mile or so from the house and it was a sporting goods store, so it was not a total loss. We pulled into the parking lot and walked toward the side entrance of the store. As expected, the shoot- ing exhibition was pretty much over, with a few strag- glers picking up spent .22 short shell casings. As we neared the door to the store there was an roguishly handsome gentleman sitting on an old wooden Remington cartridge box that was inverted so as to make a seat. The gentleman was under a large cowboy hat, and he looked up at me and said, "Did you come for the shoot?" I acknowledged that we had. "Well, as you can see, you're a bit late. But not to worry, there will be another show, up in the Heights, at 2:00 p.m. if you have a mind to come. My name is Tom," he added, and extended his hand. Yep, it was Tom Frye in the flesh and he was shak- ing my hand. He was wearing a turquoise shirt that had shooting patches on both sleeves, a western bolo around his neck and Levi's blue jeans. He had on cow- boy boots with a piece of duct tape on the left toe of the boot. Mr. Frye was sitting comfortably on that am- munition box but he was attached to an oxygen tank. I introduced my wife, and he stood up in a gentle- manly manner and shook her hand. He sat back down on that old ammunition box and began rooting around in his shooting box, which was just an old fishing tack- le box, and handed me two medallions. They were like the ones that he would have tossed in the air and shot a hole through years ago. He apologized because these medallions did not have any holes in them because of the safety factor with houses around and he just did not do that anymore. He also handed me a few spent .22 short casings from that morning's shooting exhibition. I asked him for his autograph, and he grabbed an old crumpled envelope and autographed it for me. I still have it to Meeting The Montana Marksman article and photos by FRANK VARGO T m Frye

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