Jack O'Connor's legacy

February 06, 2023

Jack O'Connor's legacy

Successful Iranian urial hunt with Rashid Jamshid. Also shot a red sheep. Shortly after hunt, Khomeini took over, the Shah fled, the U.S. Embassy was seized and my trophies remain in Iran

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Dear Angelo,

I hope [you] do not mind that I have inserted a few pictures here to prove my bonafides as a big-game hunter. Those wonderful days in the bush, valleys and on the mountains are long behind me but the memories will remain strong until the very end. Through the inspiration and support from my father and my 23-year stint as the outdoors editor of The Seattle Times, I was blessed to enjoy countless hours in the field and on the water.

Some pics below:

All the best, and again, congratulations.

{pertaining to his participation in judging for the Jack O'Connor writer's award}

Bradford

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What precipitated the conversation with Jack's son Bradford is one of those things that just fell into my lap. You see, Jack O'Connor, for those who are too young to know; was a legendary figure in the hunters world and my childhood adventure hero. Jack epitomized mountain sheep hunting for the world as well as other hunting subjects and wrote about it with a common mans flare and in a manner that made me fell like I was right there with him planning our next adventure in his garage.

On many occasions his work included outings with his wife and son Bradford and although they made rare appearances in his books, you can tell they were never really far from mind and accompanied him whenever the circumstances would avail itself.

As the heavens would have it and in retirement I was lucky enough to have the time to also write on an amateurs level about my hunting exploits. I even had my first article published about a sheep hunt in the Wild Sheep Foundations magazine Wild Sheep.

Years pass and then came along a contest by the Foundation and the Jack O'Connor Hunting Heritage Center. The qualifying conditions for the story were that the article had to be published and include a sheep hunting connection with O'Connor. In my opinion you never want to do that to yourself, to compare yourself to others who would be more qualified and perceived to be more eloquent in their craft. Well; figuring that would be the last I heard about it I pressed the send button and whoosh, off it went with my entry into the contest.

That particular article was one that was at least fifty years in the making. Once a young mind becomes transfixed, it becomes an obsession and mine was to hunt the revered Desert Bighorn Sheep in Old Mexico. A place where it is still as wild and uncertain as in his day. To make it genuine I had to tread that same ground.

It may be far fetched but once I hiked those sierras his words would ring in my mind and I could almost recite the Big Horn hunt in the iconic book, "Sheep and Sheep Hunting." I had a feeling, a feeling that I may be literally be walking in his footsteps. I believe you'll have no difficulty realizing something I simply can not put into words once the trigger was pulled and the animal fell; you're elated and sad at the same moment. It washes over you that you have came full circle and ended a quest that drove you for over fifty years. I brought a close friend to bear witness but it wasn't the same. I didn't have a child, a young man to tag along in my footsteps. One that would in turn impart our shared experience and the joy of the hunt.

Months go by and I get an email from some unknown email address. The writer indicates that he was a judge in the O'Connor writers contest and in short he indicates how he knew "right off" he would be voting for my article. He signed the email....Bradford.

At first I missed a step even though he signed it Bradford, not Brad or something less formal. One email warrants another a phone number was exchanged and then there was a call. On the other line was a delightful man , one with a sharp mind who wrote emails with a flare I still didn't have myself. Then; like a bolt of lightening I realized who it was; it was Jack's son Bradford. The one I read about, the shadow in its pages of his book.

I'm sure he must had thought it strange when he noticed a change in my demeanor. If he had only known what was going on on the other end of the phone. I tried to play it cool but it didn't came across I'm sure.

He told me about his adventures, some just his own and those with his father. As he talked he was young in spirit with adventure in his voice. He is a man in his eighties with a crystal clear memory of his past and as sharp as a tack. When we finally hung up the phone I thought I would probably never hear from him again but I did get a couple follow up emails and I later learned he and his wife were ill.

For myself, even if I didn't win the contest I felt I won the prize. I realized that the one thing that was missing in my life's adventures was shared with me by a man in the twilight of his life who already figured out what's most important, what you leave for others. O'Connor was a brilliant and insightful outdoors writer but his greatest gift was what he shared with his son. A life together that has given that boy turned man a lifetime of memory right up to his twilight years.

This is not about Jack and his world renowned writing; this is about his greatest legacy, his son Bradford and the cherished memories of a life in the field.