Thought this might be an interesting story someone might enjoy. When I was a teenager in the early 70's I always wanted a double barrel hammer shotgun to hunt with. You would think it wouldn't be any trouble to find one in rural Southern Illinois, but to a kid with limited funds, no drivers license and a father who discouraged me at every turn {You'll blow your head off with one of those old guns!} it seemed as if I would never own one. Following up on one of the few leads I had, a friend and I went to an old black man's home who it was rumoured had several, indeed he did, missing various parts with stocks made of what appeared to be two by fours and held together with friction tape and stove bolts. I remember breaking one open, rather forcefully and looking down the barrels, they appeared to be full of dirt, etc. I blew in one and roaches shot out the end of the barrel, true story, and the old man laughed. His asking price was $50.00, I was actually considering it I was so desperate to own a hammergun, but held off. About a month or two later, I heard about a man in town who was moving and having an auction and had an old double barrel for sale. I went to his house and knowing my family, he agreed to let me look at the gun in question. He came out with an old rotten looking canvas case and pulled out what turned out to be a W. Richards Belgium 12 gauge double with hammers. Gun was in reasonably good shape, no tape or stove bolts and had a deerhead buttplate which only added to it's beauty in my eyes. If he had pulled out a Parker Invincible I couldn't have been more excited. For the next week I plotted about how I could get it, how much it would cost, etc. On the day of the auction I showed up with my bankroll of 38 dollars I had saved mowing yards. When the gun came up I bid on it, a 15 year old kid, bought it for $32.00 and was allowed to go home with it. Those were the good old days I guess. My Dad still thought I was nuts to want it, but didn't forbid me owning it. My buddy and I heard that it was dangerous to shoot twist steel and had heard of prooftesting so I swiped a couple of 3 inch magnum goose loads from the old man, took it back to the woods behind our house, stuffed both shells in it, cocked both hammers and let fly. The gun jumped, I fell on my butt with a bruised shoulder with a deerhead imprint on it but the old gun held firm. After that I shot whatever I could find to shoot in it. The only flaw I could see in it was the right side of the forearm had a split about 2 inches long and I was afraid it would get caught on something and break off. This was before the days of epoxy or anything like that and no glue would hold it. I finally took two brass tacks and drove them in to hold the crack together. For the next five years or so I used that gun for anything that walked, crawled or flied, ducks, squirrels, rabbits, etc. When I was 20 years old, an old WW1 veteran offered me 50 dollars for it and in a moment of weakness I let it go. He died within a year and I always wondered what happened to it. Last fall, at age 53 I went to a local auction about 30 miles from where I grew up. There were a couple of old guns leaning up against a shed at the auction and I told my brother, who was with me, that looks like my old double. I picked it up and again remarked how much it looked like my old gun, same patina, everything. He said how can you tell and I remarked, just joking actually, if it's got two brass tacks in the forearm, that's it. I rolled it over and like Fred Sanford, I about had the big one. There were the two tacks just as I had hammered them in 38 years before. And here's where it gets really strange. The auctioneer was the same auctioneer who conducted the auction I originally bought it at. To make a long story just a little longer, it's now back home. Only thing is, I don't think I'll be shooting any 3 inch magnums in it.
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