Mr. Canjar (CAN-jer) used to run those..........
triggers in batches, I believe in lots of about 50-60 at a time, i.e. a batch of light pulls; then Mauser single-sets, etc. The way those triggers were made was truly amazing, and with the machinery he had it was doubly amazing, those having been purchased after the war as surplus or scrap. And sometimes scrap was significant. All the jigs and fixtures had been designed by him, many made by him as well, except for the welding I suppose. Plus, good labor wasn't easily found; the people there weren't getting machine-shop wages, so sometimes labor turnover was a consideration; And, most had to be trained to a certain degree by he & the foreman; even the guys that would get jobs there while going to CST had expenses that could be considerable, and they'd move on. Mr. Cangar held info like factory set-up & adjusting close to the vest, I guess to preclude imitators, a few of whom he had to sue. While his produce was good, he never wanted to glut the market, wanting instead to maintain a demand in place; The problem was, that if something unforseen occurred the demand got ahead of his production. Mr. Canjar lived a frugal, some might even say austere lifestyle, he had a little house on the property; Most didn't know it, he supposedly had some important responsibilities on the Manhattan Project. And, like all boys old and young, he still liked neat cars, you could peek in the window of his garage, and there was a white-on-red '54 Corvette; The hood was off and standing against the far wall, there was a 289 V-8 with two fours where the straight 6 had been, and there nearby, the six was standing on one end, still adorned with the three carburetors. Having no heirs, I believe Mary bought the business from a couple siblings he may have had, or he left it to her. Mary was the perfect manager, very loyal to a fault. Matthew Canjar had a stroke, I believe, and was in a nursing home for that, while Mary continued to run his business for him; that must have been a tremendous undertaking of responsibility for her. Anyway, after he'd been in this home/rehab, whatever, for a while, I believe he had progressed to where he could feed himself, and one day he aspirated some food and choked to death before anyone found him. When Mary spoke of this, her voice was very somber. Having only given up snow skiing in his seventies, it was a shame that such a self-reliant man, even then in his mid-eighties, should have such an unfortunate turn of events.