model70hunter
Member
According to Greek mythology there were sirens that lured sailors into the rocky coastline of their island with their beauty and music that reached ones soul. Listening to them placed one in a curse. If one has lived this it became a Greek tragedy scribed by Homer or one of his peers.
At least I hope I escaped the curse. I was doing well until Bill Bates started showing some beautiful guns. Then a few others chimed in with some more wonderful doubles. Oh how the sirens sang and smiled, but I turned my head. Thank god for partial deafness from years of no ear plugs.
Ok, Ok I'll hold my breath and they will go away. The curse of the double is all consuming once it latches on to all your faculties.
I was content to play with my handguns, my rifles and my pump and auto shotguns.
Lately I've been staying up too late, stepping out the door to smoke another Marlboro gold and sip some Disaronno and think about all the doubles I loved and how I fell into that pit.
I grew up on the Ozark Mtn plateau. Sturdy farm folks, a few quail hunters and lots of pump, or auto or single shot shotguns. Nothing fancy. Not many farmers here bought American doubles, if you saw one it was an LC Smith farmers gun. It was a large frame heavy gun, sturdy enough to drive fence posts. It was not a game gun, no, no it was a meat gun and hung on nails over the kitchen door or sat in a closet.
I'd read of Parkers, Ithacas and AH Fox of Philadelphia. Names in a book. My father was a well read man with a college degree, he was an engineer. He was not from the Ozarks, my mother was from here. Dad met her in WW 2 and returned to work for the DOD US Army as a civilian engineer.
Dad was from NW Iowa, he hunted ducks and Pheasants.
My mothers folks were farmers. Her Dad owned 800 acres he and the oldest son farmed it. Grandpa fished some, noodled catfish and trapped. He had a single shot 22 and a single shot 12 gauge, his sons learned with them. the 22 did more hog and beef slaughtering than anything else.
Once when they were cutting a yearling stallion that panicked broke free jumped the barnyard fence and while running up the fence line across the road he hit a culvert and broke a leg, I was about 5 or 6, I always tagged after Grandpa, Dad and my uncles to observe manly things. The horse was down and couldn't get up, it lay there struggling screaming, the uncle that owned him was upset, i was in some kind of kid mortification, shock in a surreal world. Dad nor I followed them, Grandpa told the youngest uncle to run in the house and grab the 22 after they looked at the horse.
I saw Grandpa take the 22 and turn to the horse. I turned my head and very quickly heard the shot and the horses screaming stop. I looked back at Grandpa, he was walking away, no emotion. One uncle later pulled it away with his tractor.
That described farm folk, no need for a fancy or even a stout double meat gun.
My uncles gravitated to Model 12's or 870 pumps. Good for rabbit hunting.
Dad went thru a Browning sweet 16 but he told me the wonders of a double gun. He subscribed to Outdoor Life and bought Gun Digest and the Stogers book yearly. I glimpsed in and saw the doubles he looked at.
One day Dad came home with a Stevens 311 double in 16. He was in heaven. He was an excellent shot, his quail hunting buddies all had pumps except one Browning Auto 5 guy.
As a preteen I was now a double man. I killed one turkey, tons of squirrels, rabbits some ducks and a few feeble Doves with that 16.
I did not know it but I was wielding a great meat gun, heavy and stout.
When I left home I bought a few cheap pumps, and started a love affair with the Win M-12.
I like to read, I read every thing guns or hunting themed I could get my hands on. I read that post WW 2 saw the death knell for doubles. They sat unwanted on LGS shelves. LGS' would not give squat for trade in on the gun everyone wanted, an auto shotgun.
I found an old Remington double 12, I shot it some and liked it. another meat gun.
As my job grew I found a little extra gun money and bought many rough guns, fixed them up and took that money to buy more fixer uppers and a few nice guns. My life is great, Pre 64 model 70's, M 12's and a few handguns.
My job moved me, I left an area that had 2 pawnshop's that sold guns. Standard meat guns, nothing special. I never bought my 1st pre 64 M 70 until I moved and started seeing them on racks.
I drove to every little LGS I could in the Kansas City area. It was a new world. I started seeing guns I had read about, Parkers, AH Foxes and a few Winchester Model 21's I wasn't smart enough to buy. Some had years of dust on them.
I ended up buying 6 Parkers and 5 AH Foxes, I doubt I had $200 each in all except a broken Parker A grade and I traded my Ithaca Mag 10 for it. Here you see the curse working, I didn't, who trades a nice working gun for a broken one?
The weak link in a Parker is the little part that is called a stirrup I believe, that assists in opening the gun when you push the lever over. The owner in frustration on not being able to open the gun put it on his knee and forced it. He broke and splintered the stock at the wrist. Scott the gunman turned the Parker upside down and jiggled it as he pushed the lever, it opened, he had a part and in a week I had an A grade Parker minus a stock. I was going thru Warsaw, Mo and stopped at Fajens. I had bought quite a few stocks from them, Fred Winnig said I have a stock that will fit this gun, we weaved thru the old warehouse, it looked like a setup for hens to lay eggs. We finally stopped and he pulled out a AAA piece of wood. He said we made this for a guy years ago, he paid part up front and never answered our letters. He let me have it like a plain jane hunk of walnut.
I inlet it and finished it. I had Errol Case checker it and I was in the A grade business. I could bird hunt with my Parker or AH Fox 16's. All my Pumps disappeared. I was into it. Then I found 2 more Winchester 23's, a 12 and a 20. I did not use them.
I am flying along never once realizing I am in full curse.
I went to Tulsa and came home with a Westley Richards 12 gauge. I was very close to buying an H&H 12 ga Badminton. The guy packed up early and left.
The curse does things to you. I started looking at things like English made Oil skin hunting coats.
I believe it was W&C Scott but could have been WM. Evans who were advertising a box lock GAME gun for under 2K.
By now I knew the difference between a meat gun and a game gun. I'm in, I'll see your bet and raise you a little of my brain and soul.
I sent a letter off to England requesting a catalog. Must have been about this time of year as I invited them on a Turkey hunt if they happened to be here. I received a stiff upper lip British letter. It was entirely serious business on their part.
I still have the letter in storage. They replied if they ever came to the colonies it would not be to hunt Turkeys. There was more but that one sticks out. I took it to the LGS hangout. Guys would read it and inquire are they serious? Or just bust out laughing. Funny as it was it was an omen of things to come. I had just felt the first glimmer of recognizing the curse.
We started shooting sporting clays, I'd take a SxS double and have fun. Did pretty well. Then one day I awoke fully realizing I had been cursed, an actual Ju-Ju doll from the depths of a deep and dark back alley in New Orleans. I put them in the back of the safe, I got an official Sporting Clays Over and Under. A Browning.
I broke the double curse, I was flying high, no double curse. As I was scooting along looking over my shoulder at the double curse dimming I flew eyes wide open blindly into the curse of Sporting Clays. Did not know it.
For years my marriage had been over, we did not like each other and had not divorced for the kids sake. Finally the kids came to me as a group and demanded we all get a divorce from her. I could handle the divorce lawyer financially but suddenly she now wanted the kids. They wanted me and no one else. But a pure divorce lawyer finds ways to skin a cursed man. I sold all the doubles. Paid for the child custody fight and won. My $150 guns had climbed to $800 and more. It was worth it. The curse is gone, dead and over. Water was thrown on the ex and she melted away.
Then along came Bill... It is a succubus who drains you, a Count Vlad who takes your blood so beware when you hold beauty in your hands there is a price to pay if one listens to or looks at the sirens.
Duane.
At least I hope I escaped the curse. I was doing well until Bill Bates started showing some beautiful guns. Then a few others chimed in with some more wonderful doubles. Oh how the sirens sang and smiled, but I turned my head. Thank god for partial deafness from years of no ear plugs.
Ok, Ok I'll hold my breath and they will go away. The curse of the double is all consuming once it latches on to all your faculties.
I was content to play with my handguns, my rifles and my pump and auto shotguns.
Lately I've been staying up too late, stepping out the door to smoke another Marlboro gold and sip some Disaronno and think about all the doubles I loved and how I fell into that pit.
I grew up on the Ozark Mtn plateau. Sturdy farm folks, a few quail hunters and lots of pump, or auto or single shot shotguns. Nothing fancy. Not many farmers here bought American doubles, if you saw one it was an LC Smith farmers gun. It was a large frame heavy gun, sturdy enough to drive fence posts. It was not a game gun, no, no it was a meat gun and hung on nails over the kitchen door or sat in a closet.
I'd read of Parkers, Ithacas and AH Fox of Philadelphia. Names in a book. My father was a well read man with a college degree, he was an engineer. He was not from the Ozarks, my mother was from here. Dad met her in WW 2 and returned to work for the DOD US Army as a civilian engineer.
Dad was from NW Iowa, he hunted ducks and Pheasants.
My mothers folks were farmers. Her Dad owned 800 acres he and the oldest son farmed it. Grandpa fished some, noodled catfish and trapped. He had a single shot 22 and a single shot 12 gauge, his sons learned with them. the 22 did more hog and beef slaughtering than anything else.
Once when they were cutting a yearling stallion that panicked broke free jumped the barnyard fence and while running up the fence line across the road he hit a culvert and broke a leg, I was about 5 or 6, I always tagged after Grandpa, Dad and my uncles to observe manly things. The horse was down and couldn't get up, it lay there struggling screaming, the uncle that owned him was upset, i was in some kind of kid mortification, shock in a surreal world. Dad nor I followed them, Grandpa told the youngest uncle to run in the house and grab the 22 after they looked at the horse.
I saw Grandpa take the 22 and turn to the horse. I turned my head and very quickly heard the shot and the horses screaming stop. I looked back at Grandpa, he was walking away, no emotion. One uncle later pulled it away with his tractor.
That described farm folk, no need for a fancy or even a stout double meat gun.
My uncles gravitated to Model 12's or 870 pumps. Good for rabbit hunting.
Dad went thru a Browning sweet 16 but he told me the wonders of a double gun. He subscribed to Outdoor Life and bought Gun Digest and the Stogers book yearly. I glimpsed in and saw the doubles he looked at.
One day Dad came home with a Stevens 311 double in 16. He was in heaven. He was an excellent shot, his quail hunting buddies all had pumps except one Browning Auto 5 guy.
As a preteen I was now a double man. I killed one turkey, tons of squirrels, rabbits some ducks and a few feeble Doves with that 16.
I did not know it but I was wielding a great meat gun, heavy and stout.
When I left home I bought a few cheap pumps, and started a love affair with the Win M-12.
I like to read, I read every thing guns or hunting themed I could get my hands on. I read that post WW 2 saw the death knell for doubles. They sat unwanted on LGS shelves. LGS' would not give squat for trade in on the gun everyone wanted, an auto shotgun.
I found an old Remington double 12, I shot it some and liked it. another meat gun.
As my job grew I found a little extra gun money and bought many rough guns, fixed them up and took that money to buy more fixer uppers and a few nice guns. My life is great, Pre 64 model 70's, M 12's and a few handguns.
My job moved me, I left an area that had 2 pawnshop's that sold guns. Standard meat guns, nothing special. I never bought my 1st pre 64 M 70 until I moved and started seeing them on racks.
I drove to every little LGS I could in the Kansas City area. It was a new world. I started seeing guns I had read about, Parkers, AH Foxes and a few Winchester Model 21's I wasn't smart enough to buy. Some had years of dust on them.
I ended up buying 6 Parkers and 5 AH Foxes, I doubt I had $200 each in all except a broken Parker A grade and I traded my Ithaca Mag 10 for it. Here you see the curse working, I didn't, who trades a nice working gun for a broken one?
The weak link in a Parker is the little part that is called a stirrup I believe, that assists in opening the gun when you push the lever over. The owner in frustration on not being able to open the gun put it on his knee and forced it. He broke and splintered the stock at the wrist. Scott the gunman turned the Parker upside down and jiggled it as he pushed the lever, it opened, he had a part and in a week I had an A grade Parker minus a stock. I was going thru Warsaw, Mo and stopped at Fajens. I had bought quite a few stocks from them, Fred Winnig said I have a stock that will fit this gun, we weaved thru the old warehouse, it looked like a setup for hens to lay eggs. We finally stopped and he pulled out a AAA piece of wood. He said we made this for a guy years ago, he paid part up front and never answered our letters. He let me have it like a plain jane hunk of walnut.
I inlet it and finished it. I had Errol Case checker it and I was in the A grade business. I could bird hunt with my Parker or AH Fox 16's. All my Pumps disappeared. I was into it. Then I found 2 more Winchester 23's, a 12 and a 20. I did not use them.
I am flying along never once realizing I am in full curse.
I went to Tulsa and came home with a Westley Richards 12 gauge. I was very close to buying an H&H 12 ga Badminton. The guy packed up early and left.
The curse does things to you. I started looking at things like English made Oil skin hunting coats.
I believe it was W&C Scott but could have been WM. Evans who were advertising a box lock GAME gun for under 2K.
By now I knew the difference between a meat gun and a game gun. I'm in, I'll see your bet and raise you a little of my brain and soul.
I sent a letter off to England requesting a catalog. Must have been about this time of year as I invited them on a Turkey hunt if they happened to be here. I received a stiff upper lip British letter. It was entirely serious business on their part.
I still have the letter in storage. They replied if they ever came to the colonies it would not be to hunt Turkeys. There was more but that one sticks out. I took it to the LGS hangout. Guys would read it and inquire are they serious? Or just bust out laughing. Funny as it was it was an omen of things to come. I had just felt the first glimmer of recognizing the curse.
We started shooting sporting clays, I'd take a SxS double and have fun. Did pretty well. Then one day I awoke fully realizing I had been cursed, an actual Ju-Ju doll from the depths of a deep and dark back alley in New Orleans. I put them in the back of the safe, I got an official Sporting Clays Over and Under. A Browning.
I broke the double curse, I was flying high, no double curse. As I was scooting along looking over my shoulder at the double curse dimming I flew eyes wide open blindly into the curse of Sporting Clays. Did not know it.
For years my marriage had been over, we did not like each other and had not divorced for the kids sake. Finally the kids came to me as a group and demanded we all get a divorce from her. I could handle the divorce lawyer financially but suddenly she now wanted the kids. They wanted me and no one else. But a pure divorce lawyer finds ways to skin a cursed man. I sold all the doubles. Paid for the child custody fight and won. My $150 guns had climbed to $800 and more. It was worth it. The curse is gone, dead and over. Water was thrown on the ex and she melted away.
Then along came Bill... It is a succubus who drains you, a Count Vlad who takes your blood so beware when you hold beauty in your hands there is a price to pay if one listens to or looks at the sirens.
Duane.
Last edited: