The Hamilton Model 7 Rifle
Buy Chicken Feed, Get A Rifle!
“Hey, I’ll bet I’ve got something you’ve never seen!”
Anytime your gun dealer says this with a sly grin on his face, you know it’s going to be a good day.
Ted, my FFL and old friend, is an official anachronism — he still runs a one-man gun shop. His business sells all sorts of things, but his passion is old, scarce and oddball guns. The converted garage where he keeps his firearms stock, cats, antiques, books, ammunition, turtles and all manner of other things is more of a museum than an actual place of business. Thus, the act of picking up a new gun or shipping one out usually turns into a two-hour gabfest/show-and-tell session. While ostensibly conducting commerce, we manage to yak about everything from the local gossip to a discussion of how to drill out the powder from a live Civil War cannonball. By the way, the answer is — very carefully.
The whole experience of visiting Ted is quite satisfactory, and I wish there were a federal program to bus disadvantaged schoolchildren to such places. The goal would be for them to witness how things were done before the world went totally bat-$hit crazy.
A Hamilton Model 7 Rifle. These were the first model produced by the Hamilton Rifle Company of Plymouth, Michigan,
and were intended as a boy’s training rifle. Many were given away as prizes or premiums.
A Bonus
Ted retrieved something from his back room and held it behind his back. “I’ll bet you never found one of these in your grain sack,” he said, offering up a delicate wire contraption I initially thought might have been an antique child’s toy.
I was puzzled at the homemade-looking gun-thingy until Ted explained he had recently traded for this relic, and it was quite rare. His prize was a Hamilton Rifle Company Number 7.
What Ted meant by his grain sack remark was that some companies would put these rifles in random sacks of chicken feed as a bonus giveaway. If you bought the right sack of laying mash, you might get a rifle!
I was instantly hooked by such an intriguing and quaint story. I vaguely remember seeing such rifles in the past, yet none so primitive but functional. Back at home, I immediately headed to the land of Google to see what I could find. As is typical with odd and rare guns, there’s plenty of online research material, but in the end, it raises more questions than answers.
What We Know
The Model 7 was made from 1899-1901 by the Hamilton Rifle Company of Plymouth, Michigan. It was intended as an inexpensive “boy’s rifle” at a time when marksmanship was considered a manly and vital virtue to teach male children.
The design was the brainchild of Clarence J. Hamilton, who started the Plymouth Iron Windmill Company in Plymouth, Michigan in 1882. Sales were lackluster but enough to keep the company going. As an inveterate tinker and watchmaker by training, Hamilton eventually designed an all-metal air rifle, which he also began manufacturing. At first, the air rifles were given away with each Iron Windmill, but eventually took off on their own.
By 1888, the company was producing more air rifles than windmills. However, Hamilton decided his future lay in real firearms, so he sold his interest in the Iron Windmill Company to General Manager Lewis Cass Hough. While testing the prototype air rifle earlier, it is claimed Hough shouted “Boy, that’s a daisy!” and the name stuck.
By 1890, Hough had 25 employees and, in 1895, changed the name of the business to the Daisy Manufacturing Company. You know the rest of this story from there. I’m sure Hamilton’s descendants wish he had stuck with the air gun.
The “action” of the Hamilton Model 7. Made of castings, wire and pressed-steel parts, they retailed for $2-5
at the turn of the 20th century.
Meanwhile…
The Hamilton Rifle Company began building firearms and soon unveiled their first product, the Number 7 Rifle. It is lost to history why it was named the Number Seven instead of the Number One rifle, but Hamilton was noted for their non-sequential oddball naming structure.
According to several sources, approximately 44,700 No. 7s were built, but due to their low quality, only a handful remain. It is widely claimed only 45 of these rifles are in existence, but a quick check of internet gun auction sites will show that there are considerably more gracing the closets of America.
This “only 45 in existence” error comes from an interesting thread of history I discovered. Almost every single website containing information about the Hamilton Number Seven contains this exact phrase — “Mr. Ringbauer, Hamilton Rifle Historian, Author and Collector estimated 99.9 percent have gone to ‘rifle heaven.’”
First off, this widespread phrase shows plagiarism is alive and well on the internet. Secondly, I learned details of Mr. Ringbauer have been lost to history because an extensive search didn’t find a single detail on the man, his body of work or anything else he did related to Hamilton Rifles.
At this point, I’m convinced the elusive gentleman was an expert on Hamilton Rifles, and he likely published a book, but it is long out of print and lost to the mists of time. However, I’m also putting the odds at 50/50 that we’ll get an email from a GUNS reader who has a copy of said book and can shed more light on this exalted “Rifle Historian, Author and Collector.”
Hamilton kept building inexpensive .22 rifles, all of which after the model 11 — merely a Hamilton Model 7 with a wood buttstock.— were of a more-traditional design and construction.
The Hamilton rifles were popular in the Midwest, especially lower Michigan, but never really developed a large following due to the no-frills nature of the designs and general competition from other bigger companies such as Remington, Savage, Marlin and Winchester. During World War II, the company made parts for the war effort but finally closed its doors in 1945.
In a weird twist, clones of Hamilton Rifle Company Model 27 were made in Japan in the 1960s and imported into the U.S.
The barrel pivots on the upper frame and accepts a .22 Short cartridge. The mechanism was held closed by a cast steel lever.
It also allegedly sports the longest firing pin — nine inches — of any sporting arm.
The barrel or action didn’t have room for a makers-mark, so Hamilton displayed company
and caliber information on the butt casting.
Details
The Number 7 rifle was made of castings, stampings, bent wire and coil springs and originally sold for between $2 and $5 dollars (approximately $75 to $180 dollars in 2025). It was nickel plated and featured an 8” brass-lined steel barrel with a 9” firing pin — still reputed to be the longest firing pin on a sporting arm ever manufactured.
The barrel opens with an upward twist, pivoting on the top steel rod. A single .22 short is loaded into the barrel and locked back into place with a steel lever, then you pull back on a knurled nut to cock the firing pin and you’re ready to go. The rear sight is a folded and riveted piece of sheet steel, while the front sight is part of the muzzle casting. There is no safety.
I take issue with the whole “given away in feed sacks” urban legend. Such a thing is certainly possible, and it is mentioned in several articles, but I believe the practical aspects make it unlikely. First off, if you’ve ever hauled a 50-pound bag of feed, you know the soft steel wire frame of the Number 7 likely wouldn’t withstand being roughly handled in a heavy burlap bag. Moreover, it wouldn’t be too challenging to move around a few grain sacks at the local elevator or hardware store to decide which, if any, contained a rifle.
A later Hamilton Model 51 rifle owned by Roy Huntington. This was the first Hamilton Model to accept the .22 Long Rifle Cartridge
and was made between 1935-41. Photo by Roy Huntington
So, it’s a fun story, but I don’t think the Hamilton Number 7 ever came inside sacks of chicken feed. However, I am sure they were frequently offered as premiums or prizes for purchases, giveaways and sweepstakes. I’ve seen one advertisement where a Hamilton Rifle was offered to Boys and Girls as a prize for selling Successful Farming Magazine. I’ve also read of them being offered as enticement or selling seeds, greeting cards and even Cloverine Salve!
In case you were wondering, the Hamilton Number 7 is legal to own and is not considered a Short Barrel Rifle (SBR) by the ATF. The guns are officially listed as Curio & Relics on page 25 of the current C&R list, where it notes, “Hamilton, Models 7, 11, 15, 19, 23, 27, 31, 35,39, and 43 Rifles.” Note the later Hamilton Model 51 is still considered a ‘regular’ firearm.
Cheap wire-frame rifles have been around for a while and remain even today, with examples such as the Bronco Survival Rifle. However, the Hamilton Number 7 is most notable for likely being the “cheapest of the cheap,” a firearm technologically on-par with the zip gun. Even contemporaries such as the Quakenbush Bicycle Rifle are works of art compared to the Number 7.
Collector value is anywhere from $150-600, depending on condition. Most of these guns didn’t receive good care at the hands of their teen (and younger) owners, so many didn’t survive. The ones most often seen are in pretty poor shape, with the nickel plating missing and rust rampant. While the barrel would likely survive firing a modern .22 Short, the locking mechanism isn’t exactly the epitome of firearms manufacturing technology, and the trigger is essentially a stamped steel lever. It would also be charitable to call the sights “rudimentary.” In other words, the Hamilton Model 7 is an interesting side note to firearms history but they best remain as a collector’s items, not shooters.
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