Making Model 70 Memories

I was in direct violation of doctor's orders when I put that whitetail doe in the center of my scope and squeezed the trigger. I was recovering from brain surgery just five weeks earlier, and the procedure involved a hole in my skull and a tube to be permanently inserted from my abdomen connecting to a shunt on the right rear portion of my skull. As a right-handed shooter, it just so happens that the buttstock of a rifle rests a few inches away from where the newly-placed tube is located.

The doctor was concerned about the effects of recoil from my rifle - and rightly so since my chest was still bruised from the procedure. It was, however, the last day of deer season and I was finally feeling well enough to be up and about a bit more. Not to mention that it was going to be the only chance I had to fill my tag.

The initial plan was for me to just go tag along with a friend who would, with any luck, tag a doe and then give the meat to me. It was a bit of a compromise – and my tag would go unfilled, but I’d still get to be there for the thrill of the hunt and I was grateful to have a friend who was willing to do that for me.

Upon arrival at my house, he was most certainly surprised to see me walk out with a rifle slung over my shoulder. I told him that I was bringing it just in case. It just felt weird heading out on a hunt without a gun. I wasn’t certain that I’d actually take a shot. Perhaps, I’d follow the doctor’s advice and let my friend pull the trigger. (Truth be told, I was a little worried myself about shooting.) Or, perhaps, I’d end up acting like the stubborn mule that I am and insist on taking the shot if the opportunity arose. So, with a friend by my side, we carefully climbed into a buddy stand and waited.

Climbing 15 feet into a treestand was never more difficult than it was that day, but I tried not to let it show. My body was hurting and, at that moment, I was totally prepared to let my friend take the shot for me. As the time passed, I recovered and by the time a doe made her way across the field just before last light, I was feeling pretty good. In the end, I decided to risk it and took the shot myself.

That was a special hunt, not just because I was hunting with a friend or because of what I had overcome just to be there, but because of the gun I was using. This was the first animal I had gotten with a new-to-me, “pre-64” Winchester Model 70 in .30-06 Springfield. Yep, that’s right; this was a special hunt because of the vintage rifle I was using.

The year is 1951. Harry Truman is in the White House. “I Love Lucy” premieres on CBS and Winchester is in their heyday for making bolt-action Model 70 rifles. There were 33,474 others like it made that year, but this one is mine. For many hunters, they attach meaning and sentimentality to guns that have been handed down from one generation to the next, keeping the family tradition alive. That’s not the case in my family – and it’s not the case with this gun. As a hunter and an arms historian, I absolutely had to have one of these legendary rifles, and I practically stole this one at an auction a few years ago.

There’s just something about the Model 70 that has captured the hearts and minds of hunters for almost 90 years now. There’s a reason this model is known as the “rifleman’s rifle.” The one I own is by no means a rare gun. I didn’t buy it to be a safe queen; I bought it to use it and I’ve certainly put it through its paces these past couple deer seasons.

You could argue that carbon fiber barrels, Cerakote actions and composite stocks make for more durable rifles today, but there’s a reason why these guns do so well on the secondary market decades after they were made.

Yes, modern guns may be built to tighter tolerances thanks to computers and CNC machining, but the guns being churned out today lack soul. Every gun is meticulously made exactly the same. They’re all perfectly alike and any deviation means that it’s bound for the manufacturer’s website as a “blem” model at a discount.

That wasn’t the case for vintage Model 70 rifles up until 1964. The “pre-64” guns, which are most popular among collectors and hunters, were all machine-built but finished by hand, ensuring that while each gun is the same, no two are exactly alike. You can feel the craftsmanship that went into each one and, quite frankly, it’s hard to deny that walnut and blued steel oozes sex appeal in a way that Cerakote and composite simply cannnot match. Perhaps, that’s why I spend almost as much time in a treestand looking at my Model 70 as I do watching for whitetail.

One day near the end of deer season in January 2024, I was completely unaware of a doe that had snuck silently through the woods from my left until she was directly below my stand. Were it not for the cracking of a twig under her hoof, it’s entirely possible that she would have slipped by me without me ever knowing she’d been there. She was focused dead ahead of her, listening and watching for anything out of place, moving ever so slowly and keeping an eye on the open field ahead of her and off to my right. I, on the other hand, was lost in the checkering on my Model 70 until I heard that twig snap.

I was deep in thought, looking at the lines that had been cut into my rifle’s stock. At arm’s length, the checkering pattern looks perfect: expertly executed by someone who had spent a great deal of time learning the checkering craft and ensuring that each gun he worked on was executed to the best of his ability. Up close, the story’s a bit different. The lines aren’t perfectly straight and the pattern isn’t laid out entirely symmetrically. At the edges, there are overruns where the single-line checkering tool went a bit too far and extends beyond the bounds of the pattern. In short, it is perfectly imperfect.

I couldn’t help but wonder who’d made my gun. Who were the people that heat-treated the receiver, blued the barrel and put the bolt together? Who was this guy who checkered my rifle in 1951? Was he new to the job? Is that why there are some small mistakes? Or was he a seasoned pro who was working on auto-pilot, deep in thought about his family – a sick child perhaps – or remembering a funny moment in the latest episode of “I Love Lucy” when he laid out the pattern or overran a line. I’ll never know for sure, but I’d like to think that being lost in thought staring at the checkering on this Model 70 is something that he and I have in common. A bond we share separated by 73 years.

I also share a bond with the gun’s previous owners. Because almost all of the factory records for the Model 70 were purposely destroyed to save space at the Winchester factory, I’ll never know where the gun originally shipped. I’ll also never know who had it before me or how many people, for that matter and what they may have hunted with it. Did they take it on the hunt of a lifetime? Was it used to teach a grandson how to hunt? Who knows, but I like that mystique.

While the factory sights on my rifle are very good, I wanted to put a scope on it. My first instinct was to grab one of the modern 3-9x40 scopes that I have floating around loose among my piles of gun stuff. Upon mounting one of these brand new scopes, I knew immediately that something was wrong. There wasn’t anything wrong with the scope. Its reticle was level and the picture was crystal clear. Instead, there was something wrong with the gun’s overall image. It just looked incredibly out of place; a modern intrusion on a vintage classic.

A classic gun deserves a classic scope, so I began researching options that would’ve been around in 1951. I settled on a Weaver K4. Introduced in 1947, the K4 is a fixed 4x scope that was considered to be peak performance when this Model 70 was made. Once I got this scope mounted on the gun, I knew I’d made the right choice – not just aesthetically, but practically, as well. Like the gun, I’ll never know what other rifles this scope had been on before. All I knew was that it was going to get put to work.

Most of my hunting is done in areas where shots won’t exceed 200 yards. Would it be nice to have the option to increase my magnification for shots that are at that upper end? Sure, absolutely. However, even with some practice, there’s really nothing that can’t be done with a fixed 4x scope.

I’ve really enjoyed taking this old Winchester Model 70 into the woods over the past couple of deer seasons. I’ve got plenty of other deer rifles to choose from, but I just keep coming back to this one. For some reason, it’s special. While I have no idea what it’s done or where it’s been, I just know that I’m now using it for the exact purpose for which it was built: to make memories, both for myself and with my friends.

I don’t have kids, so this gun won’t get passed down in my family. Most likely, it’ll come full circle and end up at auction once again. My sincerest hope is that it ends up in the hands of another shooter and hunter who has a passion for firearms history just like me. They won’t know the gun’s history, but they’ll feel it – just like I did.

Update: Life has changed since this article was written. I am now expecting my first child in October 2025. I guess this gun will get passed down after all.

Note: This article first appeared in the Fall 2024 issue of Hunting Life Magazine. It won 2nd place in the 2025 Awards-in-Craft competition held by the Association of Great Lakes Outdoor Writers.

Click here for a free 3-page download with tips about caring for your antique and collectible firearms.