were reading comicbooks and jerking off to Ellie Mae Clampett, I was reading the Herter’s catalog. yeah, I know, that probably explains a few things; but lord, what a catalog!

You could buy any kind of gun accessory.

Boats, too!

Fishing rods

A minibike. hell, they made several.

THis sucker was the Christmas Wish Book for kids doomed to the sporting life, and I read each catalog cover to cover. Of course, sometimes scraping together the $1 cover price for the catalog was the most I’d be able to scratch together in a year, and that, often as not, had to be enough. My fishing supplies were purchased by Dad, until I could afforsd to myself, in my teens. My hunting supplies were what dad had.

But with the Herters catalog, I could dream. I could look at the cool stuff and think about the day I could be the big game hunter, the professional sport fisherman, the perfectly accessorized sportsman.

Old George Herter was going barking mad, and it showed in the things he did and wrote, but they were incredibly entertaining. if you ever lay your hands on an old catalog, you’ll find it’s an interesting read.