![]() ![]() There, his two sons joined him in learning the firearms industry. That same year, Baker agreed to partner with three other investors to start producing firearms in Ithaca, New York.īaker decided to move on to something else and sold the business to Lyman. This new venture became the Ithaca Gun Company. After four years, Baker decided to withdraw from the partnership and went back to Syracuse to work with his brother, Ellis.Įllis Baker had formed the Syracuse Forging Company to produce forged wagon wheel components and other parts used for different types of manufacturing. When William became involved with the business, the name was changed to Syracuse Gun & Forging Company. The production of shotguns designed by A.C. In 1888, after a large fire had destroyed the Syracuse factory, the Baker brothers moved their operations to Batavia, New York. William, unfortunately, was suffering from tuberculosis. The name of the company was changed to Baker Gun & Forging Co. under the leadership of Frank Hollenbeck. Production remained at the Batavia, New York facility until 1919, when its gun manufacturing portion was sold.I arrived during a miserable winter. ![]() It had rained most amazingly the locals had never seen such rain. The new sewers down at the pueblo were a total loss. Roads washed out, and the stages were late or never arrived at all. There was, I understand, a little mining town up in the San Gabriels that was washed away completely- whole thing wound up down on the plain in scattered soggy bits. Only the rancheros were happy, because of the good grazing there was going to be from the rain. Little did they know that that was the last rain they were going to see for years. Before it rained again, Senor Drought and Senorita Smallpox and a few shrewd Yankee moneylenders would pretty well end the days of the gentes de razon. One disaster after another, always has been. Those particular disasters were still somewhat in the future on the day I finally walked into HQ. I'd followed the coast down as far as Buenaventura and then swung inland to follow El Camino Real through the hills and along the valley floor, traveling most by night to avoid the mortal population. The rain never let up the whole way, and I was soaked through. I crossed innumerable creeks swollen with white anger, roaring their way out to sea and taking willow snags with them. I saw smooth green hillsides so saturated, their grassy turf slid, like a half-taken scalp or a toupee, and left bare holes that the rain widened. All I saw of it that dark morning was water, brown water and creamy mud, and black twigs bobbing along in the hope of someday washing up on a white beach. ![]()
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