SHOOTING MATCHES RIGHT ON TARGET

NEW HAMBURG -- They start filing in with guns and small squares of wood about an hour before the match -- leaving plenty of time for a burger and a couple of beers.

They may take a few practice shots and brag to their friends about their new guns, but then it's down to the serious business of running a shooting match.

Sam Rains has been behind the Friday-night matches at Schindler's Tavern in New Hamburg for the past year, but his shooting career spans over the last 25. The Sikeston resident stays busy working at the Schindler's match, but two other nights a week, he gets out to shoot some boards of his own.

It's tough to estimate how many people show up to shoot, because records are kept by the board, not the person.

When a shooter comes in, he either brings small boards or buys some from Rains for 50 cents apiece. He draws small circles on the board, worth 50 cents each, and he can draw as many as he wants.

Rains' assistant, Randoll Hooe, uses a razor blade to cut small Xs through the center of the circles and takes the proper amount of money. Then Rains checks the Xs, assigns each board a number and puts them in a box to be carried outside.

Somebody may shoot as many boards as he likes. The more boards sold, the more money collected and the more prizes awarded. If 100 boards are sold, for example, there will probably be 10 meat prizes, ranging from a big box of steaks to a box of leg quarters.

"They used to call them turkey shoots," Rains said. "Anymore, they're getting away from turkeys and giving out larger meat, like a quarter beef."

The shooting takes place under a small metal shed behind the bar, where participants stand shivering around a heater until their numbers are called. They fire 12-gauge shotguns with 9-shot ammunition at a target 30 yards away, hoping a pellet hits one of the carved Xs dead center.

Shooting enthusiasts can do the same thing almost every night of the week within 40 miles of Cape Girardeau. Many match sponsors run small ads in local newspapers, and one group of ads in Jackson's Cash-Book Journal shows matches every night but Monday.

On Tuesday, there's one at Laflin, on Wednesday, one at Biehle and so on. The busiest night is Friday, with four matches available, and the busiest afternoon is Sunday, with three. Apparently none of them have trouble staying in business.

"Some people like to water ski and some go to shooting matches," said Hooe.

The difference is that shooters come out rain or shine, hot or cold, sometimes even with snow on the ground.

Teresa Brown, manager of Leemon Lounge near Fruitland, said her customers usually stick close to home -- she expects the same group every Friday night, plus a few newcomers.

Two other match sponsors with advertisements declined to talk about their events. They said they didn't want to attract attention to their bars because some question the safety of combining beer and 12-gauge shotguns.

But so far, so good on safety at Leemon Lounge.

"These guys are really serious about the matches," Brown said. "Once in a while we'll have someone who gets aggravated and thinks his shot is better, but they want to win bad enough that they keep the drinking under control."

Part of keeping customers happy is a fair judge, Rains said. He picks different judges out of the shooters each week, finally coming up with three after plenty of rejections.

The first judge looks at the boards as they come in, the second judge sorts through the clear losers and then all three must agree on the final winners. They use calipers, bright lights and magnifying glasses to be sure everything is fair.

And when it's all over, even the losing shooters have had a good time. One man, who asked not to be named in the newspaper, revealed with a wink the true reason he goes to shooting matches.

"We all get away from our wives."