At the gun range, other shooters occasionally ogle the Python, ask politely to pick it up or maybe just drool. On the rare occasion somebody asks what I might take for it, a simple shake of the head is all the reply they get.
This Python is the gun I posed with for a photo appearing in the newest edition of the Nosler Reloading Guide, where I was honored to write about the .357 Magnum.
I carried it on a few hunting treks, once posing with it and an unlucky cottontail rabbit for publication in an outdoor newspaper where I worked at the time. By then, I had discovered the Python really liked a .38 Special load I had worked up using a 158-grain lead SWC launched by a moderate charge of Hodgdon’s HP-38, the same load I occasionally used in matches at the time.
A couple of years earlier, I’d purchased a 6” Model 57 Smith & Wesson in .41 Magnum. It too proved to be accurate with the right load — in my case a 210-grain Nosler JHP ahead of 20.0 grains of H110 ignited by a magnum CCI primer — and it’s the gun that has gone with me to several annual Elmer Keith Memorial long range handgun shoots southwest of Spokane. It’s an invitational event, at which some of the finest unknown long-range sixgunners I’ve ever met gather for a Saturday of camaraderie, potluck food, a silent auction and awards. Proceeds from this event go to support the National Rifle Association Foundation and Second Amendment Foundation.
Used Python:
Not for Sale — Ever!
Dave lights ‘em up at a past Elmer Keith shoot near Spokane
with his Model 57 S&W. It’s not for sale at any price!
The rubber duck decoy was about 250 yards away floating in a pond downhill from the back door of the clubhouse, where a couple of guys were banging away at it with a scoped, bolt-action rifle as I drove up.
Walking over to ascertain the situation, the property owner — it was his wide-open field in which the pond had been created for seasonal waterfowl shooting — told me the distance. I looked at the deke, told the guys I’d be right back and strolled out to the truck to retrieve a plastic tackle box inside of which was a well-sighted circa-1980 Colt Python with its 6” barrel and about two dozen .357 Magnum handloads consisting of 125-grain JHP bullets, propelled by a healthy dose of — if I recall correctly — then-Hercules 2400.
Using a two-hand hold, I touched off one round, watched to see the splash, adjusted my aim accordingly and with the second round, the rubber duck jumped out of the water. The third shot whacked it at the waterline. The fourth effort missed, and I prudently put the gun away. The point had been made.
You don’t sell such a handgun — you baby it, maintain it, keep it well-oiled and wiped down, and someday you pass it along to a son or daughter.
A couple of years ago, I visited with a buddy at a gun show and on his display table was a Python in about the same condition as mine and he was asking $4,000 for it. A couple of hours later, he got it, and far as I could tell, it was not accompanied by the original box. Mine is, and it sits in that box as you read this, locked in a gun safe but ready to rock. None of my firearms are a show horse. They all taste gunpowder on occasion.
When I first acquired the Python, I was visiting my aunt and uncle and told him, “I bought a Python.” His eyes lit up and he wanted to see it. Naturally, I had it in the car and brought it inside. He spent the next 45 minutes or so allowing his hand to get the feel of it, occasionally carefully cocking and uncocking the revolver slowly, listening to the clicking of the action.
There is something about the Python, or maybe a lot of somethings. I’ve had other guys tell me they’ve had theirs re-timed, but I must be lucky because no such problem has ever reared its head with my Colt. Maybe it’s because I don’t use maximum loads just to see how much punishment the frame will take
Twice, I’ve been out-scored by Debbie Ditunno, who also uses a Model 57, with handloads brewed up by hubby, Ed. Not ashamed to acknowledge her ability with a good revolver of the same caliber, with the same barrel length. I doubt her gun is for sale, either.
Indeed, it’s not surprising to be awestruck by some of the marksmanship on display at these events. You meet some of the nicest people at shooting matches and at such gatherings, you get to break bread, eat hot dogs, barbecued chicken, potluck beans and share tales. If you’ve never been to such a shooting match, find one or start your own.
At the most recent shoot in 2019, I watched a couple of guys pull apart an N-frame S&W and replace a spring with the same part out of another gun, using my truck tailgate as their workbench. It was no big deal. One of these guys had a compartmentalized parts box with some tools and I think they had fun tinkering just so one of them could compete.
Targets are placed anywhere from 100 to 600 yards, the farthest positioned to duplicate the shot Keith made on an Idaho mule deer buck some years ago with a S&W in .44 Magnum with a 6” barrel (according to a photo in “Hell, I Was There!”). Everybody tries his or her luck on that far target and I once actually hit it during a practice round on the evening prior to match day. It required some walking of my shots because at 600 yards, a handgun bullet has a trajectory arc that makes Keith’s hit on that buck one of the luckiest bits of shooting with iron sights I’ve ever heard or read about.
I’ve fired the Python during practice sessions at this event, but I always defer to the .41 Magnum for scoring relays.
For long-range work, the 6- to 7 ½” barrel seems to be the right length. That appears to be the consensus at these gatherings. Alas, for the second year in a row thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic panic, the Elmer Keith has been cancelled. But I expect it to be back with a bang in 2022.
With any luck, I’ll be there with the Model 57 and the Python, a comfortable chair and enough ammunition to make it a memorable occasion.
