Stevens Model 59 Shotgun
A Gun For The Common Man
The Stevens Model 59 .410 bolt-action shotgun was made from 1937-1967. This gun has passed through four generations
of Brent’s family and likely dates to the 1945-1949 timeframe.
I recently wrote about a favorite bolt-action shotgun in my collection, the Mossberg 190A. I love that gun because it was the first one I purchased myself, using a summer’s worth of lawn-mowing money. This was back in the day when it was possible for a 16-year-old to walk into a gun store with cash and walk out with a shotgun.
However, while I was putting the 190A back to bed in the gun safe, I was reminded of another bolt-action shotgun that I knew very little about, even though it’s been in my hands for 15 years or so. It came from a family member and belonged to either my grandfather or possibly his father. Digging out the gun from the back corner of the safe, I hefted it and realized it was time I actually learned something about my Stevens Model 59 shotgun.
World’s Biggest
The Stevens Arms Company was founded in 1864 by Joshua Stevens and, by 1902, claimed to be the largest manufacturer of sporting arms in the world. The company was sold to Westinghouse in 1915, and five years later, in 1920, it was again sold, this time to Savage Arms. The sale ushered in the heyday of Stevens. As a division of Savage, the name was used until 1991, dropped, then revived in 1999. Currently, there is a mish-mash of a few Stevens shotgun products still made by Savage, but at this point, it seems like a brand in search of a mission.
The Model 59 was built in various iterations from 1937 to 1967. The original model was manufactured until 1945 and totaled about 21,000 guns when the 59A was unveiled. Later B and C models were introduced but exact dates are hazy.
The barrel on my gun is about 23” in length with a shallow roll-mark of J STEVENS ARMS COMPANY, CHICOPEE FALLS MA, U.S.A. It’s also marked “.410 Bore Proof Test” and the model 59A. There is no indication of a choke, and the gun takes 2-1/2 and 3” shells.
The Model 59 is a bolt-action shotgun, a robust, reliable and — most importantly — inexpensive to manufacture.
It was aimed at farmers, ranchers and small game hunters.
Aging the gun proved to be a chore and required some deductive reasoning using these markings.
Online resources note Stevens dropped the “J” from their name “in the late 40s” to become simply “Stevens Arms Company.” Thus, lining up the markings with dates, it would appear my particular shotgun was likely built sometime in the 1945-1949 time frame, which jibes well with family tradition. This would place the brand-new shotgun in a rack at the local hardware store or Sears Catalog warehouse right after WWII. My grandfather would just be starting his family at the time and probably without much money, so I’m guessing the gun was actually purchased by my Great-grandfather and later handed down. My uncle remembered using it on his first “adult” hunts in the 1950s.
This dating problem is a common one, as serial numbers were optional on any gun until the 1968 Gun Control Act. Stevens did use serial numbers sometimes, but only for their more expensive guns. The “price point” (low-budget) Model 59 didn’t rate such niceties and was phased out by the time numbers became mandatory.
The Baby Bore
The gun is chambered in .410 “bore,” so named because the cartridge came from our friends in England and thus used a different nomenclature from the U.S. shotgun cartridge, “gauge.”
I’ve never been a big fan of the .410, not because it’s a bad cartridge but because I always felt like the .22 LR was a better choice for taking squirrel and rabbit-sized critters, especially if you don’t enjoy cracking your teeth on errant shotgun pellets.
However, earlier in the 20th century, when bagging a rabbit, squirrel, or even an opossum was crucial to having meat on the dinner table, this small shotgun bore was popular due to its effectiveness at downing small game.
I’m now reconsidering my attitude as the .410 has become a hot new choice for super-serious turkey hunters. Thanks to modern cartridge technology, you can now use the diminutive — and low-recoil — .410 to take gobblers at common hunting yardages with the surety formerly reserved for the big ol’ 12-gauge. Heck, there are even self-defense loads for the tiny shotty, so what I’m saying is, “Don’t listen to me. The .410 is still useful.”
Maybe I’ll even take my own advice. Moving on to the gun itself…
The action separates from stock with a knurled and slotted screw. The large box houses the lifter mechanism,
which lifts shells from the tubular magazine to the receiver.
The Model 59A is a bolt-action design with a unique twist — it feeds from a tubular magazine underneath the barrel. In fact, the gun looks like a rifle if you aren’t paying attention.
The stock appears to be of middlin’-grade walnut and sports what seems to be a dipped varnish finish. The notable feature is the painted black fore-end tip, which was ostensibly meant to mimic higher-end stocks with an inlaid ebony tip. In my opinion, it simply serves to make the gun look even cheaper, as the paint on the few guns I’ve seen chips easily and ruins the whole effect.
Interestingly, the stock on my gun is cracked right above the front of the trigger guard in an odd spot. The crack appears to run through the full thickness of the stock as it falls between the inletted action openings, and I’m not sure how such an injury would take place. Logic would suggest it wasn’t due to the “backbreaking” recoil of the .410.
In searching internet forums, I saw the same problem mentioned several times, so cracking seems to be a fairly common problem for the Model 59. The damage to my gun appears to be well repaired with some type of epoxy and whoever did the work — gunsmith or granddad — did it right.
The stock on Brent’s gun cracked and was repaired with epoxy. Cracking of the M59 stock appears to be fairly common.
The action is easily removed from the stock with a single captive knurled and slotted takedown screw in the front of the cast metal (likely zinc) trigger guard. Most of the action screws are noticeably “buggered-up,” not a surprise considering the gun has likely seen little in the way of professional gunsmith work and even less store-bought cleaning solution over its lifetime.
The magazine is a stout steel tube fitted with a sliding brass liner holding the follower and spring. The machined end cap is a bit fiddly to unlock but once you have, the heavy brass liner slides out to open a long oval loading port in the magazine tube.
The magazine tube is robust, as is the heavy brass liner housing magazine spring and follower.
Pulling out the liner opens the oval loading port for 2-1/2 or 3” shells.
The action works by means of a spring-activated shell lifter, which is lowered when the bolt is brought forward. When the bolt retracts, the lifter brings the shell upward from the magazine for the bolt to pick up on the return trip to load into the barrel.
My gun works about 40% of the time, and I quickly discovered why upon removing the action from the stock. The shell lifter pin isn’t mechanically held in place by any retaining device (aside from the sides of the stock inlet cavity), and mine has slipped slightly out of place, preventing the lifter from working as it should. After I hit “send” on this story, the problem shall be fixed posthaste by resetting the pin to its proper location.
The Butt of the Story
I discovered one other interesting facet of my gun — the recoil pad. The gun sports a decaying slip-on rubber recoil pad I had previously ignored. However, upon detailed examination, I found the base was marked with a U.S. Army Ordnance Corps bomb symbol, the letters “U.S.” and a stock number of B200968. Now, why anyone felt the need for a rubber recoil pad on .410 is beyond me, but it’s obviously been on there for a long, long time. In fact, pulling the pad back shows the stock varnish has faded significantly where it wasn’t protected.
Brent’s gun sports a WWII-era 1903 Springfield grenadier recoil pad.
Discussion questions — why put a recoil pad on a .410, and is this an original G.I. issue item?
Curious about this obvious military-surplus recoil pad, I found this type was issued during WWII to grenadiers using the older M1903 Springfield Rifle. Though often called “Garand” pads — some undoubtedly did find their way, officially or otherwise, onto the M1 Garand — they were primarily intended to protect the hard-kicking ’03 Springfield stock when resting it against the ground to launch grenades. Though mine is somewhat brittle and has a distinct set from decades of the gun resting on its butt, the pads are actually somewhat valuable. However, to complicate matters, I discovered there were also some reproduction butt pads made for the commercial market after the war. As mine appears to be quite old, I choose to believe it is an original version given to my grandfather by Audie Murphy as a war souvenir — and I dare you to prove otherwise!
The Model 59 series was built as a common-man gun and remains so today. Perusing online auction sites in late August 2024, I found them ranging from $126 to $400, with most falling in the $200 price range. Unfortunately, there is little collector value as the guns are plentiful and, while well-made, aren’t really anything special — just an ordinary, reliable, not-too-flashy, everyday kind of straight shooter.
Just like my Granddad.
—
Want more online exclusives from GUNS Magazine delivered straight to your inbox? Sign up for our FREE weekly email newsletters.
