Ruger P89 Review: For What it Isn’t
“For what it is.”
That’s what you say when something doesn’t suck as much as you thought it would. That’s what you say about chain steakhouses, off-brand smartphones and all strip clubs located on Dixie Highway.
That’s what you say about the Ruger P89.
Wondernines like to chill on my patio.
“It’s a good gun. You know, for what it is.”
So then…
I suppose you’re expecting me to reframe that qualifier with a flattering appraisal of “what it is.” Sure. I could go that route. I could give you facts, opinions, anecdotes and bitchin’ adjectives (like “stalwart”). I could tell you how I WANT you to feel about the P89.
But I’m not. At least not yet.
Instead, I’m gonna start this review by telling you what the P89 ISN’T. And that—my fellow gun hipsters—brings us to the question you’ve all been patiently agonizing over.
What makes the Ruger P89 hipster worthy?
Despite its “budget-gun” pretentions, the P89 in no way constitutes a compromise in terms of accuracy, reliability, quality or anything else that actually matters in a service pistol.
I almost titled this review “no compromise.” Sorry, HK.
Because that’s what everyone thinks the P89 is: a trade-off, a concession, a halfway decent gun on a Pabst Blue Ribbon budget.
But I’m here to tell you the P89 ISN’T a compromise.
Nor is it “halfway decent”—it’s all-the-way _uckin great. And not just “for the money,” “for what it is,” or any other vague approximation of cheapness you care to use as a pretense.
By every objective metric, the P89 holds its own with any of the big-name service pistols that originated in the so-called “wondernine era.” In fact, Ruger designed the P-Series guns to compete in the U.S. Military’s XM9 trials of the 1980s… alongside the Beretta 92, the Sig P226, the Walther P88 and the FN HP-DA.
But to really understand the P89, you have to understand Ruger, as a company.
Thus, I have prepared a sufficiently snarky—reasonably pithy—chronicle of thematically relevant points on the history of Sturm, Ruger & Co.
Which begins… right after this sexy picture.
Concrete, brick, stainless… yessss
Casting a New Vision
Ruger’s “thing” is investment casting.
It’s what made Ruger different. It’s what made Ruger successful. It’s what made Ruger…
Ruger.
Long story short, pouring molten metal into a mold (i.e., casting) is cheaper than pounding metal into a given shape (i.e., forging). Casting gets you closer to the shape of the finished part, so there’s less machining and less scrap. Plus, you can cast more stuff more quickly.
Also…
The term “investment” in “investment casting” simply means that molten metal is… ahem… “invested” into a hollow mold. In case you were wondering. In fact, you can learn all about Ruger’s casting process on YouTube. They’ve got a cool multi-part series with a lot of technical detail.
So, yeah—casting is pretty awesome. And so are the profit margins, if you’re selling cast sh!t and all your competitors are selling forged sh!t.
Which begs the question:
Why didn’t anyone make cast guns for, like, the first 500 years of guns?
Because castings aren’t as strong as forgings. And guns? Well, they need to be strong. Because… “bang.”
William B. Ruger, Sr.—his son (also William) took over in 2000 (Wikipedia)
But in the early 1950s, William B. Ruger said “to hell” with the voice of metallurgical reason. He showed up at jewelry store in Brooklyn NY (before Brooklyn was all yoga studios and kombucha bars) and he was like, “Yo, you guys know how to cast stuff, right? Can we cast a revolver?”
As logic would dictate, they laughed. Maybe it was more of a droll snicker? We’ll never know. But we do know that—somehow—Bill convinced these ardent casters of rings and bling to try making a gun.
The first few attempts sucked. But they improved their process: better quality control, better heat treating. And finally… they ended up with a dandy .22 caliber revolver:
The Ruger Single Six.
Ruger Single Six Revolvers (Wikipedia)
The quality was good. The price was right. The thing sold well.
Unfortunately, Bill’s business partner—Alexander Sturm—passed away around this time. Yet, Bill wanted his friend’s name to continue on as a part of the company he helped found. So, it was officially “Sturm, Ruger & Co” from then on.
But I’ll just say “Ruger” when I refer to the company. Cool? Cool.
As time went on, Ruger expanded its casting capabilities and opened one of country’s largest foundries, known as “Pine Tree Castings.”
More importantly…
Ruger began designing firearms from the ground-up to utilize investment-cast construction. In other words, they allowed the unique properties of investment casting to inform a gun’s design, instead of retrofitting a forged design to be cast.
Ruger Security Six in .357 Mag. Note the beefy frame—especially the top strap.
Generally, this meant designing bigger, beefier parts that could match (or exceed) the strength of a comparable forged part. As a result, Ruger’s DA revolvers—launched in 1972, with the Security Six—were every bit as tough as forged offerings from Colt (like the Python) and Smith & Wesson. And considerably less expensive.
The LE contracts rolled in.
So, life was good. Cops were buying revolvers. Ruger was making money. Run DMC and Grandmaster Flash were rocking ghetto blasters everywhere.
Then…
The US military decided they wanted a new service pistol.
Leaning service pistols against light fixtures did not factor into the Army’s testing protocol.
Breaking the Mold
Yeah. That was another casting pun. Molds? Casting?
Sigh.
Anyway…
Bill Ruger envisioned a high-quality service pistol that could undercut competitors on price, while giving nothing up in terms of performance—all thanks to his company’s casting capabilities. After all, the “quality for less” strategy had served him well for over 30 years. Why wouldn’t it work for a U.S. military contract?
But…
No one had ever attempted to make a fully cast semi-auto pistol before. Then again, no one had made a fully cast revolver either—until Ruger did.
So, how hard could it be?
Well, I wasn’t there. But I’m gonna guess it was pretty hard.
In any case, here’s what I can tell you about the design—which ultimately became the Ruger P85 and subsequently spawned an entire line of “P-Series” pistols (including my spiffy P89).
Like Ruger’s DA revolvers, this new bottom-feeding behemoth had to be super thick and beefy. Because, again, castings generally can’t match similarly sized forgings in terms of strength. So, given the stresses imparted to semi-auto slides, they gave this thing a bodaciously buxom top-end that even Dolly Parton would envy.
BBS - Big, Beautiful Slide.
And you know what they say about big slides…
Big barrel-locking surfaces.
I’m not sure they say that. But they should—because Ruger’s P-Series guns use gigantic barrel hoods that lock into correspondingly gigantic ejection ports. It’s similar to what you see on P2XX Sigs, but bigger, bolder and Ruger-ier. P-Series barrels are also 100% cast. Early P85s used a two-piece barrel construction, while later P85s and P89s went to a one-piece setup.
P226s got hood envy—and link envy.
Moreover, P-Series extractors, triggers, hammers and other internal parts are all commensurately huge and—presumably—also made from castings. Though, I think some of the levers (and the ejector) might be stamped. Not 100% sure.
But…
As bulky as the slides on P-Series pistols are, the frames are even thicker.
The alloy frame on my P89 is like a double-hulled Soviet nuclear-missile submarine. Only smaller. Barely. And not Marxist. And while my Beretta PX4 and my Sig P229 actually have wider slides than my P89, the P89 wins handily in overall width, thanks to its monolithically massive frame.
Now, it’s important to note that P-Series frames are made from cast aluminum. Nearly all aluminum-framed pistols use forged/machined billets for frames. Obviously, aluminum isn’t as strong as steel. And cast aluminum—I’m guessing—isn’t as strong as forged aluminum.
So, I think that’s why we see such massively thick frames on Ruger P-Series guns.
Forged schmorged. Also, the slide stop pin is captured—which is dope.
Also interesting…
Ruger P-Series pistols use a 1911-style swinging link to cam the barrel. Once JMB and Saive designed the linkless cam in the Hi Power, the swinging link fell out of favor… until it showed up on the P85. Maybe cast camming lugs couldn’t handle the pressure? Who knows.
However, on later P-Series guns, Ruger did switch to a proprietary linkless system on certain .40 & .45 models. I’m guessing—like so many other handgun designs—the pressures of .40 forced engineering changes that weren’t necessary for 9mm… or even .45 in some cases.
Just in Time for XM9?
By 1984, Bill and his engineers had realized their bold vision of a courageously corpulent all-cast wondernine. By all indications, it matched any other pistol in terms of strength and durability. And, in retrospect, it probably exceeded most: Ruger P-Series pistols have proven to be some of the toughest semi-autos ever made.
And, per Bill’s vision, the guns were much cheaper to produce.
Hangin tough. HUH!
Unfortunately, though…
The prototype wasn’t ready for the rigors of military testing. And Bill knew it. So, he decided not to enter the XM9 pistol trials in 1984, lest his nascent pistol make a poor showing and tarnish his company’s reputation.
After another year or so of tweaking, Ruger finalized the design. And, in 1985, they dubbed it…
The P85.
But the XM9 trials were over by then, and Beretta was in.
Or so they thought.
Then again, XM10
Everyone was pissed Beretta got the contract.
Broken slides. Broken teeth. Unreasonably high round counts with over-pressure ammo. You know the story. So, the military held another round of trials in 1988 to see if Beretta’s apparent success was but a fluke.
That’s when Ruger decided to show the world what their new P85 was capable of. In what came to be known as the “XM10 trials.”
Turns out, the P85 was capable of meeting—or exceeding—every requirement set forth by the U.S. military. And while Sig didn’t re-enter the P226 in XM10, the P85 held its own with the Beretta 92 and handily beat the Smith & Wesson 459.
Long story short: The P85 was a really good pistol.
But so was the Beretta 92. And unless it really sh!t the bed this time around, it was still gonna be the Army’s pick.
It didn’t. And it was.
The P89 Shines
Almost immediately after XM10, Ruger made some tweaks to the P85 based on what they’d learned in the trials. These included:
A stronger, more reliable firing pin/safety
A one-piece barrel that improved accuracy vs. the original two-piece design
I’m sure there were other tweaks as well, but those were the major ones.
This post-XM10 P85 became known as the “P85 MKII.” Almost immediately, Ruger won some LE contracts for the revised pistol, including the San Diego PD, the Chicago PD and the Wisconsin State Patrol.
Then, in 1989, Ruger changed the name of the P85 MKII to…
The P89. Which is precisely what we have here.
I had a white-brick loft—now I’ve got a white-brick house. Brand continuity, man.
My P89 was made in 1994. As such, it incorporates a few other tweaks over the initial P89 configuration. Most notable of these is the raised barrel hood which sits higher than the rear portion of the slide. From what I’ve read, Ruger introduced this change in 1993 to help tighten the barrel/slide lockup.
And I can tell you… it did.
My P89 has one of the tightest lockups any pistol I own. You can feel it squeeeze into battery. Of all the 25+ pistols I own, the only one that might lock up tighter is my mint condition Walther P88 Compact.
Yes, you read that right. A Ruger P-Series pistol locks up just as tightly as classic Walther, 4 times its price.
And that lockup isn’t just for show, bro. In my experience, the P89 holds its own with just about any other production pistol I’ve tried in terms of accuracy and shootability.
Like I said: NOT compromise.
Sure Shot
When you take aim with a P89, it’s like…
You’ve already hit your target. Through its battery of simple—yet effective—ergonomic inputs, the gun imparts a reassuring sense of stability and confidence.
The P89 just feels accurate.
The grip fills your hand without overfilling it. The panels are actually recessed into the frame (genius), which makes it feel slimmer than a Beretta 92 or Sig P226—yet still wide enough to offer lateral stability. Moreover, the backstrap follows a clean, straight angle with no curves or humps to undermine your trigger reach.
Every part of your hand that needs to make contact with the gun… does. In just the right way.
Who says there’s no time for recess?
Net, you feel completely in control of the weapon.
Especially the trigger.
It’s not that the trigger on the P89 is anything exceptional. The SA wall is fairly stout, with a crisp, predictable break—though it’s not quite as snap-tastic as a Beretta 92’s SA trigger.
But it’s the way you interface with the trigger that’s sooo simplistically intuitive. You’ve got this rock-solid grip situation goin’ on—and then—you’ve got this broad, flat plank of a trigger that’s just waiting for your fingertip. As soon as you take the slack up to the SA wall… add a little bit of pressure…
It just feels right, man.
BANG!
And if you decock, the DA pull offers a very smooth response, largely free of stacking or excessive overtravel. Even with short fingers, I feel in very much in control of the gun when the hammer falls in DA. I much prefer it to the DA on a Beretta 92. And most P2XX Sigs, honestly. Decocking between shots, I can manage some nice, tight patterns with the P89.
Moreover…
In the ~500 rounds I’ve put through my P89, I’ve had no failures. Nor did I expect any. The P89 has reputation for reliability that’s commensurate with other contemporaneous wondernines.
I’ll also say I love the P89’s 3-dot sight setup. The dots are small, close together and they sit low on the slide. Plus, the front dot is red, so you have a touch of contrast as you’re lining things up. The sight picture feels very direct and precise; you get the sense that what you see is exactly what you’re gonna hit.
BANG!
And more often than not… you do:
50 rounds @ 10 yards, SA
#Kerchunklife
In my experience, there is no pistol that captures the essence of “kerchunk” more than the P89 (and probably other P-Series Rugers). When that phantastically phat slide comes back at you… you feel it.
But in a good way.
A way that informs—and validates—your sense of shot placement. A way that’s soft, gentle, comfortable… and uniquely satisfying.
The P89 makes “kerchunk” feel like a lifestyle choice. A placid state of mindful clarity, where everything just seems right. If “kerchunk” was a country, the P89 would be its lavish, cosmopolitan capital. If you ordered “kerchunk” at a restaurant, you’d be served a thick, juicy filet of P89… smothered in shootability.
Only the P89 can make “kerchunk” sexy—and maybe the P90 (just ask Antonio Banderas)
“Kerchunk” is the P89’s love language. And once you get a sense of how it shows affection, accuracy becomes accessible, predictable and seamlessly replicable.
Nevertheless, “kerchunk” isn’t for everyone.
If you’re looking for the flattest, smoothest, most “inert” recoil impulse you can find, you’ll be disappointed in the P89. Honestly, even P2XX Sigs—with their oft-maligned high bore axes—seem a bit more “settled” shot to shot.
But for me…
BANG!
…as soon as I feel the slide complete its cycle, it’s like confirmation: I know I made my hit.
BANG!
BANG!
At intermediate distances, the P89 has a persnickety predilection for tightly cloverleaved patterns. The first few shots I ever took with this gun (which were the first few shots I ever took with any P-Series Ruger) basically went through the same hole.
DA only @ 10 yards—the P89 very shootable in DA
I purchased my Heckler & Koch P9S around the same time I purchased this P89. So, there were some mutual range trips. And while the P9S offers a zen-like sense of directness that’s really unlike any other pistol I’ve tried…
At 10 yards, the P89 was more than holding its own with the P9S. Now, I suspect the P9S is probably more inherently accurate. Like, in an absolute sense. And, if pressed, I think I can conjure up slightly tighter groups with some of my other pistols—including the P9S. And my Beretta PX4.
But we’re splitting hairs, here. The point is…
The Ruger P89 is no joke when it comes to accuracy. Maybe it’s not $3,000 Wilson Combat accurate. But neither is a Beretta 92 or a Sig P226. And a P89 will hang with those two all day.
Speaking of the Beretta 92…
The Un-Italian Stallion
In terms of its heft, its ergonomics and its presence in the hand, the P89 gives me Beretta 92 déjà vu (deja pew?).
Like the 92, the P89 has a looong slide that points with intent and authority.
With both guns, you feel a sense of confidence when you take aim. I find the weight and the balance similar—as well as the feeling of stability and control I get. And while neither gun has the slender, graceful pointability of a Browning Hi Power, they both feel so… righteous… when you line up your sights and prepare to impart 9mm justice to your target.
Furthermore, the P89’s grip angle and grip proportions seem 92-esque. At least to me. Though the P89 does benefit from a slightly slimmer grip width (thanks to its recessed panels) and a straighter backstrap. Moreover, the trigger reach—and even the trigger break itself—are reminiscent of the 92. You get a nice firm wall that preludes a hearty, satisfying snap.
The P89’s recessed grip panels make it a bit slimmer than a 92
But…
As good as the P89 feels, the Beretta 92 still offers that “X-factor” in terms of its smooth, even-keeled recoil impulse. The 92 just speaks to you.
The P89…
Well, it “kerchunks.” As previously stated. Which—as also previously stated—feels pretty darn good.
For a kerchunk.
Yeah, the 92 is still my gold standard for a big ole’ honkin’ wondernine. But that doesn’t mean the P89 isn’t great. To be perfectly honest, I find it to be a more natural, intuitive shooter than a P226. Or a Smith & Wesson 5906. But, to be clear, the differences here are subtle and subjective; I love P2XX Sigs and Smith 3rd gens, and I shoot all of the above well.
Net: P89 is very nice shooter and an all-around fantastic gun.
Until you put it in your pants.
Big-booty 9s, up with it…
Belt Buster
I don’t think we need to belabor this point. Nevertheless…
The P89 is fat. So, it’s not the most comfortable gun to have pinned up against your spare tire.
But it’s not like you can’t carry the thing. I stuck mine in a generic IWB holster, went to the range, ran some errands. No, it wasn’t as comfortable as a P2XX Sig or a Smith 5906—both of which have significantly thinner cross sections. But it wasn’t awful. It feels similar to a 92 in the pants. Maybe a slight edge in comfort for the 92.
But let me put this in perspective…
If the P89 was your only gun and you had to go to a sketchy gas station for milk at 2 AM…
The comfort of having an accurate, reliable DA/SA pistol in your pants will far outweigh any waistline-related discomfort. Not that you should make a habit of buying milk at sketchy gas stations.
In Conclusion
The P89 is…
NOT what you think.
NOT what you expect.
NOT what you’ve been led to believe—by the pervasive pretensions of “cheapness” that serve to undermine the pistol’s true merits.
The P89 is NOT anything less than an excellent service pistol. And if you give it any shred of a chance to meet that standard—a standard for which it was originally designed—it will NOT let you down. As long as you’re not sticking it in your pants for long periods of time.
So…
If anyone asks you about the Ruger P89, don’t begin with “for what it is.” Instead, tell them what it isn’t. Because it isn’t price that should define the P89’s legacy.
It’s excellence. Which is the only thing you’re left with, if you give the P89 a fair shot.
Thanks so much for reading.
What are your thoughts on the Ruger P89? Experiences? Opinions? Scathing condemnations on my review? Feel free to share below…
#hiptac
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