Just about the time we were boarding our plane for St. Petersburg, Russia, in late May, Steve Shaw passed away. Three weeks later, I returned home to another of those empty places some people leave behind.
Not long after I returned to Paradise from decades in Colorado, late in the last century, I stumbled across the Kittitas County Field and Stream Club.
One of its officers was Maxine Shaw—Treasurer, as I recall. She had a great smile and an easy way of dealing with the grumpy old men who had been the face of the club for many of its first 75 years. Wilma Dloughy and Maxine were its first women officers.
Early on, at one of the club’s monthly meetings, I found myself sitting next to a young guy who smiled and nodded as Maxine gave her report. I said something to the effect of “You certainly know how to appreciate a Treasurer’s Report…” He smiled and said, “My mom just has a way with this. I like how she does her part.” I had just met Steve Shaw.
Each time our paths crossed, I had a feeling that I had known Steve forever. There was an ease about him, coupled with a drive for life and the pleasures it offered. I once asked him what his passions were. Without a pause, he said, “My family, anything outdoors and my store!”
A decade ago, I walked into a Steve and Reed Larsen conversation about the 63 year old One-Shot Antelope Hunt in Lander, Wyoming. I had been part of the Colorado One-Shot through the 1980s, and they chuckled at my angst over never making a Wyoming team for that granddaddy of One-Shots. That was about the time that Reed and Steve formulated their One-Shot story.
Reed will tell you that Steve was unaware of that oldest organized hunt in the US until they met in 1999, when Reed was a Charter TV rep. They bonded over their love of hunting. Each fall, the talk about the unique and rare hunting experience of the One-Shot Antelope Hunt grew a bit.
After years of passing on invitations, in 2004, Steve joined Reed as a guest One-Shot hunter. They headed to Lander for Steve’s first antelope hunt—each getting one of the licenses Wyoming Game & Fish allocates to the hunt. They bagged nice bucks, and Steve was hooked.
From that time, their friendship grew into a rich brotherhood.
It surprised no one that Steve fit right into that group of strangers in Lander. One of the more influential members of the Past Shooters Club was Reed’s father, Austin (Doc) Larsen. Doc took an immediate liking to Steve—a rare occurrence. In 2005, it was simply understood that the men were heading to Lander again, in an annual partnership.
To hunt in the One-shot for more than two years, Steve would need a team, since Reed was already a team member. Thus, in 2006, Steve was working to put a three-hunter team together—hoping to be one of the six teams selected from many applications, when Reed informed him that he had been appointed to the Sportsman Team. He would be a member of the Past Shooters Club by the end of the hunt, and could bring his own guests. That fall, under pressure, Steve bagged his antelope with one shot (only 50% of team members accomplish that).
As a member of the Past Shooters Club, Steve quietly helped the club with its 501c3 Water for Wildlife program funding water projects for wildlife across the West.
In 2009, for the first time, brothers Casey and Rusty Shaw were on a team with Clint Larsen. The Larsen and Shaw families became part of only a handful of multi-generational past shooters.
This year, on the Thursday of the hunt, the Chief of the Shoshone Tribe will eject a cartridge with Steve’s name on it from his rifle. It will be placed permanently in the One-Shot museum—an honor and tribute to the departed hunter.
My Old Man always said a man’s true character shows up when no one is looking and when he is inconvenienced by family. Steve’s son Casey passed along some thoughts. “[It was] just the way he did things… In 2006 dad had a bull tag in the Observatory. A couple days into the hunt he had been out hiking for the first few hours of daylight…only cows all morning. He had gotten back to his truck and was winding down taking off his boots. A group of hunters came by to chit chat. They had seen a nice bull first thing in the morning not far from where he had been. Dad decided to take one more hike…to work down a brushy draw that he hiked earlier. Tempted to just start at his current elevation, but knowing he should just put in the work, he went to the top of the draw. Sure enough, right at the top of the draw he threw a rock into the brush. A big 360+ bull ended up in the freezer and on the wall. He was always the kind of guy who would go just a little further and work a little harder than the rest.
“Growing up, all of us sons enjoyed the hills and frequently got ourselves in sticky situations—stuck in mud or snow—often in the middle of the night. Most teenagers would probably try to find a buddy to help them and avoid owning up to what they had done, but we always knew our first contact was going to be dad. Amazingly, he was never upset, he would just get out of bed, ask us where the truck or jeep was and what we needed to do to get it out. He might tease us later but he never got mad.”
At May’s NRA Banquet, I sat with Steve and Reed and Casey. They were family, and as I joined them I became family, too. I was in that easy place Steve Shaw carried with him—and passed along. Thanks, Steve…
[Copyright James L. Huckabay, 2013]
