I remember what I struggled with when I was 13 — mostly homework, maybe worrying about whether I would play well in my next basketball game. I always came home to a hot meal, and outdoor activities like hunting or fishing were just fun hobbies.
But times have changed in just a generation or two. Imagine being in the heart of the Great Depression, waking up before school to check your traps, banking on fur to help feed your family.
Myron Johnson Jr., “the Duke” — my great-grandfather and the best outdoorsman you’ve never heard of — did just that.
Just one mink could earn as much money as his father Myron Sr. made in a month. Thanks to Duke, the family was doing well because of his trapping skills, even at a young age. One morning during Christmas break, he checked his trap line and was lucky enough to catch not just one, but two mink.
The young trapper was about to get into some serious business. Myron Sr. had a newly bought Winchester Model ’94 30 WCF that Duke had his eye on. After probably little negotiation, Duke walked away with the new rifle and some cash. Myron Sr. sold the two mink pelts and “lived it up” for the next month, as Duke later described. Stories like this are endless, covering a lifetime of outdoor adventures.
Deer hunting in the early 1900s was popular, but nowhere near as popular as it is today. In the Duke’s younger years, he was more likely to be on the trapline in the fall rather than looking for deer. It’s funny, though, because although there’s a lack of deer hunting stories from his early years, the pictures we have of him and his father show that they had some excellent hunts.
I wish I could give him a call and have him recount some of those stories — stories I’ll only be able to imagine forever. I do know one fairly well, though. It was 1929, and Myron was just 14. Somehow he made it to a rough two-track road outside of town. As he sat overlooking a crossing, a big, mature eight-point buck stepped out, and Myron dropped him.
While waiting for help, a party of older hunters came along. These old hunters tried to bully and pressure Myron into believing they had shot the buck, hoping the young hunter would back down and be intimidated by the crew.
They were wrong.
After some hurried conversation, the party went on its way. Even today, when I drive down that very dirt road, crest that little hill, and look down into the bottom, I say under my breath, “Johnsons Crossing.”
Circling back to the old Winchester that the Duke received as payment for the mink pelt, the gun has its own stories. It was used for hunting, protection and as a tool while Myron manned a fire tower in the late 30s and into the 40s. It took down many deer, a lot of bears and, if the stories are true, a moose. Not to mention bobcats, coyotes and foxes.
In the old photos, it’s easily identified by its three-quarter magazine tube, which is slightly different from most Model 94s.
So, what happened to the old lever gun? Well, I’ve got it now. I’ve been fortunate enough to carry it in the woods. It works like new, and I’ve already taken a few deer with it.
The Duke is my hero. I was fortunate to know him, even if it was only for eight quick years. My dad tells me I resemble him a lot. I hope he’d be proud that I’m still using that old gun.
