As I get older and am busy with family matters, I have lost track of some good friends. While we weren't the best of buddies I was a friend, fellow shooter and a few times dinner companion of the man who some called "The Greatest Shot in The World", Rudy Etchen. To paraphrase the old Bum Phillips quote about Earl Campbell....if he wasn't the greatest shotgunner in the world, it wouldn't take long to read the list of those who were better. I was reading an article about shotgun stocks and the Etchen grip was mentioned and I thought, "You know, I haven't heard from Rudy since he moved out West, I wonder how he's doing?" So I punched his name into google and was very sad to learn that he died in 2001. They world lost a unique individual when he left us. I'm not going to list his numerous shooting accomplishments but he was amazing even in his later years shooting an 870 pump. I found this story, which shows how tough a competitor he was in all shotgun sports. He would have been about 47 years old in this shoot. This article is a good read if you know anything about pigeon shooting and even better if you knew Rudy. I'll hoist one or maybe two to you tonight, old buddy.

From Sports Illustrated:

March 21, 1966

A Pittance For A World Champion

A lot of money went into the Calcutta pool for the world championship of live-pigeon shooting last month in Mexico City, but only $40 of it bought the winner, who shot a perfect match and killed 57 straight birds

Mario G. Menocal

Live-pigeon shooting was started by Englishmen of the leisured class back in the late Victorian era. In those days blue-rock pigeons were a scourge in the home counties, and farmers, in order to save their crops, trapped the birds in nets and then killed them. Some fast-thinking sportsman, whose name is not recorded, saw a solution to the farmers' problem and a chance for some early shooting for himself and his friends before the legal shooting season opened in mid-August. The sportsmen hit on the idea of hiding one pigeon under each of five silk hats that were disposed symmetrically in an open field. At the shooter's command one of his companions would jerk a string attached to one of the hats, allowing the pigeon to escape. Since double-barreled shotguns were used for shooting in England, it was natural for each competitor to get two shots at his bird. Their contemporaries nicknamed these sporting squires "The Top Hats," and the sport caught on. Eventually, in a much more sophisticated form, it became popular on the Continent, too. The hats were replaced by boxes, the shooting field was encircled by a fence, and a set of rules was devised. Fundamentally, these were the same rules used at the 30th world-championship match that was held in February at the Club de Tiro de Pichón de Mexico in Mexico City.
This was the first time a world championship match was staged in the Western Hemisphere, and the home hemisphere was well represented, with the U.S. sending the largest contingent (168) and Mexico running next with 107. In all, there were 348 entries who came from 13 countries.
It was a three-day affair with $25,000 at stake, the winner getting $3,000. In pigeon shooting there is no nonsense about amateur standing: everybody is cheerfully in it for the money as well as the fame. Also in it for the money—and excitement—are the spectators, who are an ardent lot of bettors, not because of the amounts they bet, which are modest enough for the most part, but in the vociferous way they go about it. The shouting of the bettors is to the pigeon shoot as the calliope is to the circus parade. The tune is a simple one of odds being called for a gunner to kill his bird. A bettor holding one hand palm up might call, "Four," meaning he will give 4 to 1 the gunner will kill. Another bettor who likes the odds and wants the action will shove a bill into the hand, and the bet is struck.
Bettors who do not know a shooter's ability from personal experience may get a line from the price his backers paid for him in the Calcutta pool. But the bidding in Calcutta pools is most often influenced by emotion and alcohol. This was proved to a fare-thee-well in Mexico: the Italian, Giovanni Bodini, went for the top price of $650, Francis Eisenlauer (U.S.) for $500, Homer Clark (U.S.) for $450. Far beneath this top layer of talent lurked the ultimate winner, León Bozzi of Argentina, who was bought for $40.
Under the international rules each competitor in a world championship remains in the match until he has missed four birds, unless the entry is 250 or more guns, in which case only three misses are allowed. So this year the three-misses-and-out rule was in effect.
To start his round each gunner inserts a plastic token—which he purchases for each bird he shoots—in an electronic box located inside the ring. The token activates the electronic circuit, and the machine selects the trap from which the pigeon will fly. The gunner then walks down a narrow concrete path to his mark. In this match the mark was 27 meters from the center trap. When the shooter says, "Pull," the sound of his voice trips the release, and his bird is out of the box and away. He has two shots to kill the bird, and the bird must fall inside the 31½-inch-high fence that encloses the range. In the last few years it has been the rule rather than the exception for the winner of the world championship to finish with no misses. Homer Clark was the first man to finish with a perfect score. He did it in 1949, when the contestants shot 20 birds and then had a sudden-death miss-and-out to break a tie. Today the contestants shoot 25 birds, then a series of 10 birds if tied. If two or more men are still tied, a miss-and-out series is shot from the 28-meter mark.
Ramon Estalella of Spain drew No. 1 slot this year, and he killed the first bird of the tournament. At day's end 310 contestants remained after the fourth bird.
After three days of shooting only seven men had withstood the pressure of the competition and the yelling of the bettors to kill 25 straight birds: Italy's Bodini; four Americans, John Broughton, Rudy Etchen, George Ross and Johnny Downes; Alejandro Ramirez, a Mexican; and Argentina's Bozzi.
Ross and Downes were out at the end of the 10-bird shootoff and then there were five. It was hot and airless, and the birds were not flying very fast when the sudden-death shootoff began. The pressure surrounding the five men was a tangible thing. Even the bettors were carrying on their serious business in mutters rather than shouts. As the tired gunners bore down, their manner of shooting became more stylized and characteristic.
Bodini, a slight 5 feet 4, walked slowly to the 28-meter line, taking off the dark glasses that he wore except when shooting. He was expressionless. He opened his gun, loaded it, adjusted his hat and wiped his hands on the skirt of his jacket. Mounting his gun, he pressed the butt twice against his shoulder to set it firmly. After the command, "Pull," the crash of the opening box hardly seemed to have sounded when the double crack of the shots was heard. The bird was a crumpled handful of feathers, not 10 feet away from the opened box. Bodini turned back to his seat inside the shooters' enclosure and slumped, stooping even when he sat down. No emotion of any kind was visible on his face.
John Broughton came up: an older man, calm. He moved very deliberately to the line, loaded without flourishes, mounted his gun, dropped it a bit and calmly surveyed the semicircle of traps, mounted it again and called for his bird. His first shot seemed a trifle slower than Bodini's, but he killed just as well.
Rudy Etchen, a tall, blond, husky man built like a college fullback 20 years after, was dressed in the height of shooting fashion. He took his time. Etchen had been in a thousand shootoffs, had won a thousand prizes; pressure is an enemy so familiar as to be almost a friend. He was very careful about the placement of his feet; once they were settled he held the Purdey in his left hand and flipped his right arm up to settle the right sleeve of his shooting coat, grasped the pistol grip again and started to bring up the shotgun slowly. The box crashed open, the bird moved a few feet and disappeared in a puff, hit in the center of a tight pattern. He fired the second shot automatically—it is unnecessary, but no real pro will take chances with a pigeon that may be worth $3,000.
The next man, Alejandro Ramirez, was slim, youthful, quick-moving. He did not fuss in his preparations to shoot. He loaded rapidly, closed the gun, brought it up and shouldered it in one sweeping movement, needing only to press his cheek against the stock to achieve a perfect gun mount. He shot at about Etchen's speed with a quick, effective second barrel that caught the bird falling in the air.
León Bozzi was as tall as Etchen but slimmer. His lips were pursed, and there was a grave look about him. He saw a friend or teammate a few yards behind the enclosure of gun racks where shooters stand. His concentration broke and he smiled, then he pursed his lips again and turned toward the shooting field. When he shot, it was with great economy of motion: he took his stand, loaded immediately, gripped the gun with the right hand and brought the left up, closed the gun and mounted it in one motion. He shot very fast, and his second barrel was devastating.
The shooting continued. Bird No. 36, 5 kills; No. 37, 5 kills (Bozzi seemed to miss with the first barrel but recovered perfectly, as usual); No. 38, 5 kills; No. 39, 5 kills; No. 40, 5 kills, with another apparent first-barrel miss by Bozzi; No. 41, 5 kills (Etchen got no more than a piece of the bird with his first shot, but the second was good); No. 42, 5 kills, Bird No. 43, three kills. It was Ramirez' turn. He drew a bird that flew high and fast to his right, nicked it with the first shot, again with the second—but the pigeon got over the fence and Ramirez went out.
Bird No. 44, 4 kills; No. 45, 4 kills; No. 46, 4 kills; No. 47, 4 kills; No. 48, 4 kills; but now Broughton seemed to be having trouble killing with his first shot. No. 49, 4 kills; No. 50, 4 kills; No. 51, 4 kills. Broughton drew a tremendously difficult bird, a twister from No. 5 box on the extreme right, which he handled perfectly. No. 52: Bodini killed his bird; Broughton got set and called for his. The No. 4 box opened and a bird streaked for the far barrier. He shot a little behind it, and as the bird neared the fence it was hit by an updraft from the ravine and scooted straight up about two feet. Broughton undershot it, and he was out of the running.
Bird No. 53, Bodini up. The high, slightly nasal voice called, "Pull," and the crowd gasped. It was an incredibly difficult pigeon from No. 3 box, the middle one. The bird streaked for the fence, bearing a little to the left and dipping. Bodini missed, and the bird suddenly rose in an angling climb. On his second shot he got a piece of it, but the bird fluttered over the fence. The slight, stooping Cremonese was out.
Bozzi and Etchen were left, the American shooting first. Bird No. 54 (from box 2 for Etchen and the same trap for Bozzi), two kills; No. 55 (from box 5 for Etchen and box 3 for Bozzi), two kills; No. 56 (from box one for Etchen. He missed with the first barrel but killed with the second. Bozzi drew a bird from box 2 that he killed perfectly). He was shooting better than ever. Etchen's bird, No. 57, was a strong pigeon that made a huge spiral to the left, to the rear and to the right, rising all the time. Etchen could not quite get his sights on it, and the bird flew, slightly wounded, over the barrier on the right front side of the field. Bozzi's bird flew straight but very fast from the same box, No. 2; he made a perfect kill and became the champion of the world—a champion who went for 40 bucks and earned $17,200 for his buyers.

Here's a linkto some more information about Rudy plus some interviews he did with Grits Gresham. Times and styles have changed a bit, but most of us would do well to read and evaluate what he had to say about skeet and trap.

I like his "record" of 104 skeet targets in a row, using a 12 ga. Sound easy? Well, not if you're standing on one foot on top of the skeet position posts and shooting with one hand.

I wish I had one but Rudy gave them to whoever could find them. He'd go out to some of his drilling sites and entertain the crew by shooting quarters, dimes, halves, etc thrown up with his pistol. IIRC when I talked to him about it he used a K22 most often but sometimes a .38 or .357. Damn, he was a fine shot with anything that went boom.