Gun Fun, Inc.

True, Josh Stevens had a rough childhood, but who wouldn't, born the youngest of six boys born in a tough neighborhood and hard times. Had psychologists and cause-finders looked closely at the fun-loving man who created the popular international gun clubs, certainly they could pin-point the other reasons that guided him into Gun Fun, Inc.: He was a hard worker and he desired balance.

Joshua Theodore Stevens, as he was known by his co-workers at the Cedar Valley Rest Home, was a mature, well-balanced, hard-working counselor. No one complained of his people-skills because they had no reason to. Mr. Stevens was a model worker, one who got along with everyone, even the highly stressed, pressure-cooker types, and he even did it with aplomb.

Everyone in the entire organization and the health care business in general was flabbergasted when the man who promoted the gentle approach, non-violent, and caring approach, opened Gun Fun, Inc., the non-profit organization for pistol lovers. They were equally amazed that for every day of the eight years he had counseled the disturbed, he fired at least a hundred rounds with his Bereta ten-shot, semi-automatic pistol in the back field of his country property after work.

Just as no one at the health center knew of his hobby all those years, no

one who joined him in those early days imagined he worked with disturbed adolescents. It was only years later that his picture kept showing up in the newspapers and magazines as a winner of awards that people put his two dissimilar activities together.

Josh, of course, had no difficulty marrying the two. Using no esoteric language, he said simply, "whether you like it or not, dealing with high-strung, disturbed kids every day affects you. Shooting is a socially acceptable way to get rid of the tension." And though there was dissension among the members of the Board of Directors at first, once his hobby became a fad, many of them were seen packing pistols after work and adopting his hobby as their own.

The first week Josh worked at Cedar Valley he knew he had to do something to keep his balance. Though he'd learned from his childhood environment to keep cool, eight-hour days with problem after problem did get to him. Josh didn't want to jog, lift weights, or expend any undue energy to clean out his system of the stress he'd accumulated at work. He chose the pistol after remembering a patient in Baltimore who fired six shotguns into the air after repeating the name of his father, two uncles, and three brothers, men who laid some very heavy psychological trips on him in his youth.

"This is for you, Father, right between the eyes." Boom.

"And you, Uncle Jed, where it hurts most." Boom.

"Unkie Ernie, you've deserved this all your life." Boom.

"And dear brothers, you bullies who told me I was nothing but a worm-crawling failure." Boom, boom, boom.

The man's psychiatrist said that the blasts did wonders for the patient, creating an instant and life-benefiting catharsis.

When Joshua Stevens read that, he sensed he had found his medium.

On Friday evening after his first week of work, the new employee purchased his first and only pistol, and fired exactly five-hundred long rifle rounds into the steep, clay bank down by the river. And ever since that highly rewarding evening, he has fired a box a day.

Now, this was all for his own balance, to rid the stress of the day, and for the pure fun of it. Josh never dreamed of going public with his hobby-therapy, even when he got very good. For years he ignored the weekly target-nights with the local gun lovers. He deliberately kept far from the ex-police jamborees and the pre-hunting blast-outs at the Men's Club. In fact, not only did no one know of his love and expertise, they never even suspected that the health care counselor had the slightest interest in hand guns. It wasn't until Terry Stone and Mike Quentin from Squad 57 of the Cedar Valley Police Force investigated Josh's home range that anyone knew.

Being good surveillance men, Terry and Mike found themselves one evening at the nature-made butt peeking from behind bushes as they watched Josh perform fetes of aerial shooting, firing from the hip, shooting over his shoulder, and rapid-fire blasts at beer cans thrown from a self-invented conveyor belt run by an electric motor and a truck battery. And all with superb accuracy. The policemen particularly enjoyed the counselor's quick-draw as a beer-can launcher sent an empty Bud into the air and hit it twice before it touched the ground, the first from the hip, the second aimed.

Loving to shoot, Terry and Mike asked to use Josh's facility, but only after promising on their badges not to reveal his secret. The three had done business before, since many of Josh's clients been into trouble with the law at one time or another, so he trusted their vow of secrecy.

Even with the monthly mandatory qualifying target shooting at the

downtown pistol range, the policemen couldn't hold a cartridge to the almost magical abilities of Josh Stevens. They were competitors and strove to out-shoot the counselor, but they came to know that they didn't have a chance. And so they, like Josh himself, shot every evening they were off duty for their own reasons -- to release stress from their tension-filled jobs and simply to have fun.

In time, in spite of Terry and Mike's tight lips, the word slowly slipped through the police ranks, and by the end of his tenth year at the Cedar Valley Care Center, Joshua Stevens became the host to as many as thirty pistol-packing patrolmen an evening. He enjoyed every second because, after all, his instincts as well as his profession were to help people, and what better way than to help the helpers? Everyone had fun and everyone felt better when he left. Moreover, what first looked like a gun-toting men's club changed in time. Now at least one-third of the fun-loving shooters were women. That was when Josh was asked to create a club.

Jenny O'Reilly put it this way. "Mr. Stevens, the guys and gals who come here are only a drop in the barrel compared to the number of people the world over who need to loosen up and have more fun. Why don't you create a club, call it Gun Fun, keep it non-profit so no one can claim that you're exploiting the killing instinct, and go big-time?"

Josh had never considered such a thing, but as the ranks at his earthen butts increased, he considered Jenny's suggestion.

Soon after, the police proposed the project to a university MBA class. With the eagerness of educated youth bent on making their mark, the class created a business plan par excellence. They had all the details, all the figures, proposed growth curves, development of world-wide franchises, all under the umbrella of a non-profit organization. The proof of the students' excitement and careful research and planning was that in one

year Gun Fun, Inc. went into operation.

The media had a field day. Since shooters were allowed to use any kind of pistol, bizarre species were presented at Josh's range, and TV cameras and magazine photographers shot from every angle. The opening day was a media person's paradise.

It was to Josh Stevens' credit that none of this affected him. After all, at heart, he was a dedicated helper of mankind, not a businessman or big-event organizer. That he had fun and got relief at his private, clay-bank Gun Fun range, and others received the same from the franchises, was enough for the hard-working counselor. And when his solo-turned international hobby became known by everyone, he down-played it by saying, "So let's deal with your situation," and changed the subject. But the residents of Cedar Valley, and especially of the care center, wouldn't let him off the hook so easily, so in time his hobby became part of the curriculum.

After the first session with a 35 Magnum, the President of CCRH said, "Joshua, after shooting here, I'm reminded of the psychiatrist in Van Nuys who almost went bankrupt from loss of patients after he hung a punching bag in his waiting room. You know, because they got rid of so much tension they felt they didn't need therapy. Well, shooting on your range does wonders --- every time I pull the trigger I feel an hour of stress vanish. No wonder you have survived so well these many years -- you've had your own, daily therapy!"

So we have reason to give Joshua Theodore Stevens a great deal of credit for relieving America and the world of untold stress and tension, plus adding immeasurable joy and fun to the pistol-packing Gun Fun, Inc. members everywhere.