Uhhhmmmmmm, checkered Rosewood. Beautiful wood, shaped into classic proportions and curves. Brings back memories....

One of my first area partners carried a four inch blue Model 19 with plain black sights and checkered Rosewood target grips with the diamond pattern. The wood had attained that marvelous rich dark purple-brown color with the little streaks of red.

Unfortunately, said partner was a real slob. Uniform, leather, boots always looked ratty and neglected. I doubt he ever spent his uniform allowance on uniforms, dry cleaning or equipment.

His Model 19, an early one, had significant rust developing mostly on the frame flats above the stocks, along the backstrap and on the front sides of the barrel where his holster had worn the blue away.

Those lovely Rosewood stocks were also beaten up and crud had accumulated in the borders around the checkering and in the checkering.

He decided to take a couple weeks vacation. He had a new, sleazy-looking teenage boy that had moved in next door to him, who ran with sleazier-looking cohorts. Worrying they might burglarize his house while he was gone, he asked if I would keep his guns for the two weeks. I said, "sure."

Besides the Combat Magnum, he had an unfired Colt SAA in .45 Colt, a bolt action .270 from I forget who and a Browning Superposed over & under.

The .357 was absolutely filthy. I don't know how it passed muster before qualification shoots. One afternoon, I decided to fix matters.

I totally disassembled the sixgun. It didn't look like the sideplate had ever been off; lint, crud and grunge prevailed throughout. I spent several hours scrubbing each individual part with Hoppes and various toothbrushes of both nylon and bronze, and then flushed them good with brake parts cleaner before rubbing them down with a clean, olied cloth. The carry-up was a little short, both in slow single- and double-action, so I fished through my stuff and found a K frame locking bolt that fit perfectly. I replaced his dented, bent rear sight blade with a new blade, screw and nut. I scrubbed enough lead out of the chambers and barrel with some Frontier Metal Cleaner to melt and cast into several new bullets. Using bronze wool and oil, I removed the thickening rust from the frame and barrel's exteriors. By the time the rust was gone, the metal was pretty much bare underneath.

Reassembling the revolver after applying a few drops of good lubricant on the friction points, the action was that old-fashioned, solid-yet-slick-smooth you rarely get to feel any more.

I scrubbed the grips with nylon bristle brushes, then soaked them in acetone overnight, then brushed them again. After drying them for a day or two, I steamed a few dents out with a hand iron and wet towel. I taped sand paper to a piece of window glass and sanded about 1/16 to 1/8 inch off the bottoms, which removed a lot of dents, nicks and scratches. Then I used tung oil on them. Even after the acetone, the rosewood still had plenty of it's own oil or sap in the wood and they didn't need much oil and rubbing to make them look presentable.

One local gunshop owner, Doug at Doug's Sports Chalet, was also a big S&W fan. He really shined up the trade goods he took in before putting them out for sale. Doug clamped it in his padded vice and first re-cut the striations running across the face of the worn Baughman ramp. Using a one-sided fine-cut file, he straightened the sides of the blade and removed a few little imperfections, so the front sight blade looked great in the glory of it's bare steel. He used some sort of paste cold blue, which's name included "44-40" if memory serves, after really degreasing the area to be touched up. After two or three applications of blueing, he would use a soft cloth and some kind of car wax and polish up the gun like a first class shoeshine artist.

While the old gun didn't look new by then, it was mighty attractive, and looked like somebody cared about it, and it was really slick and smooth.

Buddy Rex returned home and came to collect his stuff. I opened the cylinder of the Model 19 and handed the gun to him. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

"WHATTHEHELLDIDYOUDOTOMYGUN??!!" he thundered. He was really angry! I was surprised. "I removed all the rust that was eating your gun. I cleaned it. It was filthy. You're a pig. You shouldn't even be allowed to have such nice things."

"THAT WASN'T 'RUST,' THAT WAS PATINA YOU PIN-HEAD!!!"

"'Patina' is just the collectors word for 'rust', Rex."

He examined the chambers and the bore. They were bright, smooth, spotless and shiney. He spun the cylinder, which glided around on the yoke almost forever. Closing the cylinder, he dry-fired it a few times, each way. He grunted. He pointed it at an object on the fireplace mantle and dry-fired a couple more clicks.

"Rex," I said, "I bet that's the first time you've seen that front sight blade clearly in 10 years!" He grunted, not being able to decide if it was a good thing or a disaster.

It did have some impact on him. When he came to work a couple days later, he had polished his Roper duty boots, the first time in a year, I bet. He had disassembled his duty belt, his Sam Browne, and had died all the surfaces of the belt, cuff holder, baton ring, holster and ammo loop slide black again, then hit them with black leather polish. Then, he shined up the brass bits! The keeper snaps, the buckle, the brass ring of his nightstick holder. His badge, name plate and service stars glowed. He even cleaned, lubed and shined up his Peerless handcuffs!

And, he got a haircut!

Our sergeant was speechless. He stood Rex to attention and conducted an army-style inspection while the rest of the squad stood in silence. Being a shooter, Pappy had often deplored Rex's gun care in the past, and said he didn't think that it was the same gun!

When he was done, Pappy stood back, took a slow deep breath and said, "Rex, this is a startling transformation. I am impressed. Now, all you need to do is get your uniforms cleaned and pressed, replace that sweat-stained, oil-soaked-collared duty jacket with a new one, and you might not look like ****."

They then both stood at attention, saluted and turned and left the squad room. The rest of us applauded!

Later in the shift, Rex would corner one deputy or another, review what had just happened and sorta relive what was a very rare bit of praise for Rex's appeance.

When we met for lunch, Rex seriously asked me, "This jacket, this windbreaker... do you think that was a shot?"

I tried to buy Rex's Model 19 from him when the department went to autoloaders, and again when he retired, but he refused me and he still has it.

And those Rosewood stocks still look just great.