WINCHESTER’S MODEL 1892—ERGONOMICS, AHEAD OF ITS TIME
STILL-HUNTING—A PRELUDE
In 1882, a previously unknown writer by the name of Theodore S. Van Dyke published a book on hunting that was destined to become a classic and have a profound effect not only on the way men hunted but, by extension, on the rifles they used.
The book was called The Still Hunter. The origin of the term “still hunting” is not absolutely certain, but it’s generally believed to be derived from “stealth” hunting, which is exactly what it says, and is remarkably close to the British practice of deer stalking. In fact, in an early chapter of his book, Van Dyke says that still-hunting and deer stalking are one and the same. Although we might assume that hunters in the 1880s were hardy outdoorsmen, moving through the woods like Indians, and deadly shots with whatever weapon came to hand—the prevailing myth of the American frontiersman and his trusty Kentucky rifle, or the mountain man with his Hawken—such was not the case, and not by a long, long way. In fact, so unlike this vision was big-game hunting in the late 1800s that Van Dyke felt the need to write his book in an attempt to persuade hunters to at least try his methods.
We should remember that The Still Hunter appeared shortly after the final demise of the great bison herds of the West, and at a time when big-game populations were either in peril or terminal decline due to expanding settlements and the prevalence of market hunting. While Van Dyke’s book is aimed primarily at whitetail deer hunters of the East, his theories and methods can be applied to any big-game animal. Particularly, he mentions how they could be readily applied to pronghorn antelope.
In the East, the preferred method of hunting was to drive deer, with lines of guns spread out while the animals were stirred up and moved either by hounds or human beaters. By contrast, Van Dyke advocated hunting on your own, on foot, in wilderness areas. Van Dyke’s still-hunter moved silently and slowly through the bush, always watchful, reading sign, gauging the wind, hoping to catch sight of an animal before it saw him, or flushing it from its hiding place and getting a snap shot as it disappeared.
In 1882, American hunters had two basic types of rifle available. One was the big single-shot like the Sharps, which had been used to wipe out the buffalo, and was preferred by most big-game hunters. The other, in its infancy at the time, was the lever-action repeater such as the Winchester Model 1873. The lever actions of that time were chambered for relatively light, short-range cartridges like the .44-40, but had the great advantage that their tubular magazines held a dozen or more rounds. While not ideal as hunting rifles, especially for really large game like elk, bison, and grizzly bears, they were very good multi-purpose guns for the man who might encounter hostile Indians or bandits during his travels through the West.
Van Dyke devotes relatively little space in his book to discussing rifles, except in general, and none at all to specific types, styles, or calibers. He does, however, examine some individual aspects of them, such as the concept of express rifles, with their light, high-velocity projectiles, and the practice of exaggerated long-range shooting. On subjects like the above, he could just as well have been writing in the 1980s as in the 1880s—or, for that matter, today.
WINCHESTER’S TRIUMPH
The era of the breechloading center-fire rifle began, in the US, with Smith & Wesson’s .22 Short in 1857, and progressed, more or less in parallel, with development of central-fire breechloaders in England and Scotland. Like Col. Boxer’s primer in England, Col. Hiram Berdan’s self-contained primer, patented in 1866, spurred similar development in the US. The Sharps falling-block rifle was the earliest big-game cartridge rifle, and the Henry the first widely successful repeating rifle.
The series of Winchester lever actions, which began with the Model 1866 and progressed through the ’73 and the ’76, became gradually more powerful, more accurate, and more usable for big-game hunting. Generally, however, they were too heavy and awkward for the minimal power they delivered. Cartridges like the .44 Henry Rimfire were, to put it mildly, anæmic, while the rifles themselves had stocks with far too much drop at heel, resembling the early Pennsylvania and Kentucky long rifles. These were suitable for offhand shooting but little else. They were usually fitted with a deeply curved steel buttplate which needed to be carefully positioned in the shoulder, precluding much in the way of accurate instinctive shooting. At the same time, the barrels were unnecessarily long, adding considerable weight in themselves, and when the full-length tubular magazine was filled with up to fifteen cartridges, they were very barrel-heavy as well. This overall configuration might have worked for offhand target shooting, except that the rifles and cartridges were not accurate enough to make this worth the effort.
The Sharps falling-block rifle, the earliest big-game cartridge rifle, dominated hunting on the Great Plains during the era of the great bison herds.
The turning point came in 1879, when a previously unknown Utah gunmaker and inventor named John Moses Browning sold Winchester a design for a falling-block single-shot rifle. He also assigned them first rights to any subsequent gun design. What Browning had in mind was a lever action unlike anything that had been made up to that date. This became the Winchester Model 1886, an action that was strong enough to handle the most powerful cartridges made, was long enough to accommodate even big buffalo rounds like the .45-90, and was both sturdy and dependable. In his book Winchester—An American Legend, historian R. L. Wilson calls Browning’s designs masterpieces of “unadulterated functionalism,” and quotes him as saying “Anything that can happen with a gun probably will happen, sooner or later.” Browning was obviously a man of extensive practical experience.
John M. Browning’s famous single-shot rifles, the Winchester Low Wall (top) and High Wall, were the first in his long collaboration with Winchester Repeating Arms.
“His (Browning’s) guns were sturdy, supremely practical, and functional,” Wilson writes. “And, in accordance with the adage of form following function, they were generally supremely handsome, even graceful.”
Wilson also notes that John Browning and his brothers were serious hunters in the wilds of Utah, and tested his finished models in the countryside around their home in Ogden.
“John was an excellent shot,” Wilson noted, “And he and his brother Matt . . . were (on) the leading trap and live-bird shooting team of Utah in the 1890s.”
The Winchester Model 1886, considered by many to be the greatest lever-action rifle ever made. This is an original ’86, chambered for the .40-65, restored by Doug Turnbull.
Obviously, John M. Browning could bring to his design work a practical experience and understanding of what made a great hunting rifle, and what did not. The Winchester Model 1886 has a claim to being the greatest lever-action ever made, and very few would dispute that. It was unquestionably powerful, accurate enough, and reliable. It was also, however, heavy and relatively awkward in handling. Although it was several cuts above the Winchesters that had gone before, there was still considerable room for improvement.
Jumping ahead, the most famous lever action of all time was also a John Browning invention: the Winchester Model 1894. It came out in that year, chambered for the first small-caliber, smokeless-powder big-game cartridge, the .30 Winchester Center Fire (WCF), later known as the .30-30. With more than eight million rifles and carbines produced over the course of 120 years and counting, there can be no dispute as to the ’94’s qualities as a hunting rifle. Almost certainly, more whitetail deer have been killed by still-hunters using ’94s in .30-30 than with any other rifle and cartridge combination. In its later carbine form, with a 20-inch barrel (rather than 26 inches), it was light, fast-handling, and quick to load and reload. However, the rifle that is in this book representing the John Browning genius is not the Winchester ’94 but its slightly older, slightly smaller brother, the Winchester Model 1892.
The ’92 is a scaled-down version of the 1886 action. It was introduced in 1892, chambered for four cartridges: the old .44-40 and .38-40 (which originated with the Winchester ’73), as well as the diminutive .25-20 and .32-20. Appearances to the contrary, in terms of power there is very little to choose between the .44-40 and the .38-40. The .44 is actually a .42, while the .38 is .40-caliber, and while the .44-40 shoots a 200-grain bullet, the .38-40 uses a 180-grain. Neither one is much good for deer beyond 125 yards, but within that range any practical difference in power lies largely in the imagination.
For the seething Model 94 devotees who might be reading this, a further explanation of its exclusion is necessary. No one disputes its history or its reputation, but it does have practical limitations. If its .30-30 cartridge has more power than the .38-40, it only really matters beyond 150 yards, and to make use of that power, you need better sights than the open leaf on the barrel with which the rifle was equipped. A scope is a problem because of the rifle’s top ejection, which makes a receiver or tang aperture sight the only practical alternative. Also, with its 20-inch barrel, the rifle is barrel-light, which makes accurate shooting difficult without a rest.
On all of the above counts, Browning’s Model 1892 outshines the ’94. My particular rifle is a .38-40. With its 24-inch barrel, the full-length tubular magazine holds fifteen rounds—enough that one could fill the magazine and go out for a day’s hunting, and not have to carry any extra ammunition. For the dedicated still-hunter, divesting one more thing to carry is a blessing. The Winchester ’86 is rightly noted for having the smoothest lever action ever invented, and I will cheerfully accept that. This smoothness was carried over into the scaled-down ’92 which, because of its size and weight, seems even easier.
The Winchester 94, this one in rifle configuration with a 26-inch barrel, is both ergonomic and comfortable to shoot.
With my usual tendency to try to perfect any rifle that comes into my possession, I scoured the gun auctions looking for a Lyman tang sight for the ’92. When I found one, I removed the rear sight and replaced it with a dovetail blank. I used the rifle like this for about half a season, when it dawned on me that I was really gilding the lily since all my practice shooting was being done at 125 yards or less. I removed the tang sight, reinstalled the open rear leaf, and found that I could shoot the rifle every bit as accurately, and with more ease. In fact, I began shooting it almost like a shotgun, instinctively, with both eyes open.
Ever since I began reading gun magazines and books in my impressionable teens, writers have been condemning the open sights with which all rifles come equipped from the factory. And, I learned, they had been doing it for fifty years before that. In almost all cases, I agree with them, but one exception is the Winchester Model ’92. In either .44-40 or .38-40, the ’92’s open sights are perfect for the rifle’s purpose.
With its 24-inch barrel, the ’92 is longer than the ’94 carbine, and weighs a few ounces more (6 lbs. 13 oz. versus 6 lbs. 8 oz.). Those few ounces are all out front, which makes the rifle remarkably steady for offhand shooting, but also very smooth and stable on moving targets. As Larry Wilson pointed out, Browning’s designs are usually graceful, and this translates into ergonomic operation. The ’92 has a straight stock (no pistol grip) and a slim forend. As with a good English game gun, I find that a straight stock and slim forend (splinter, as opposed to beavertail) contributes mightily to fast, positive handling. After 1918, as lever actions lost ground to bolt-action sporting rifles in the United States, Winchester and other lever-rifle manufacturers tried to “modernize” them with pistol grips, bulky forends, and even Monte Carlo stocks and cheekpieces. All this did was negate the lever gun’s natural handling advantages, without in any way allowing it to compete with bolt actions on their home ground, which was high-velocity cartridges, longer range, and more precise accuracy using riflescopes.
For still-hunting, few bolt actions can even begin to compare with a fine, traditional lever rifle. As they came from the factory, the ’92 (and also the ’94 and various Marlins) had no sling swivels, and while this might have seemed like a drawback, it was actually an advantage in still-hunting. Prowling through the woods, prepared for a quick shot across a clearing, or a buck bursting out from behind a log, a rifle on your shoulder is no use whatever. It should be in your hand (or hands) 100 percent of the time. Carried at the trail (the military term for balanced in one hand, down at your side), the rifle can be brought up to the shoulder and grasped with the other hand in fractions of a second. When it is carried across the chest, it’s as quick into action as a game gun on a grouse.
The Winchester ’94 is without question the most famous deer rifle in history, and has probably taken more whitetails than any other. This one is a .32 Winchester Special, and yes, it took that very whitetail.
No less an authority than Jack O’Connor stated in various places that he would no more go hunting with a rifle without a sling than he would go without his pants. I am a strong sling admirer myself, but looking back I can recall several occasions when I would have had a fighting chance at a deer had my rifle not been slung on my shoulder. Particularly as the day wears on and the weary miles pile up, the temptation to sling your rifle becomes almost irresistible. There is also the argument that, if you do get a deer, it is much easier to drag it out with your rifle slung on your shoulder. Or, should you have to climb a bluff and need both hands to do so, your rifle can be on your back. All of this is true, but those situations can be accommodated by something as simple as carrying a length of twine in your pocket and looping it over barrel and buttstock in a makeshift arrangement. Every still-hunter should carry some twine or cord anyway, so it’s no additional burden.
If there is one tiny quibble with the ’92, it’s the deeply curved rifle-style buttplate, which has a sharp steel toe that could be used to split kindling. If the cartridge were any more powerful, or the rifle any lighter, recoil might make this a problem. As it is, with any of its factory cartridges, the ’92 is very comfortable to shoot and, if you bring the rifle quickly to your shoulder and don’t manage to seat the buttstock properly, there is no harm done.
Overall, the Model 1892 rifle, as John Browning designed it and the Winchester factory delivered it, was well-nigh perfect for the traditional still-hunter of whitetail deer. No, I would not recommend it for elk on a mountainside, moose in the muskeg, or grizzly bears anywhere, but for whitetails in thick timber? Absolutely.
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The Model ’92 stayed in the Winchester line until 1937, during which time about one million rifles were made. Several variations also came and went. The Model 53, introduced in 1924, was essentially a ’92 with a nickel-steel barrel, half-magazine, and “modernized” buttstock and forearm. It was offered in the same calibers as the ’92, minus the .38-40. About 25,000 were manufactured before it was replaced, in 1933, with the Model 65. The 65 was originally offered only in .25-20 and .32-20, but later the .218 Bee was added. The Bee was a .224-caliber varmint cartridge made by necking down the .32-20. It used the 40-grain Hornet bullet, but at considerably higher velocity (approximately 2,800 fps.) Only about 7,000 Model 65s were manufactured, and it is, today, a prized collector’s item.
In both the 53 and the 65, the Model ’92 action was modernized and updated, including some internal changes. Philip B. Sharpe compared the 65’s action to the Model 71, which was an improved version of the original 1886, and short of tearing all these actions apart and comparing the bits and pieces, it’s difficult to be exact about what was changed, and how it was an improvement.
The Winchester Model 1892.
Most authorities praise the ’92’s smoothness of action, although Sharpe himself says he did not find it as smooth as the ’86, and in the case of the Model 65, it was not as smooth as the Model 71. With a lever action, smoothness counts for a great deal. It allows the shooter to keep the rifle at his shoulder, with the sights aligned while loading and shooting, loading and shooting. Personally, I have no complaints about the ’92 in that regard, even with the limiting effects of a shoulder injury sustained while elk hunting in the Idaho mountains twenty years ago.
In 1979, Browning Arms Co. came out with a thoroughly modernized version of the ’92 called the B-92. It was very similar to the original, except it had a 20-inch barrel, and was chambered for the .357 Magnum and .44 Magnum. Rechambering or rebarreling ’92s to .44 Magnum had a brief flurry of popularity during the 1960s, and this undoubtedly influenced Browning in offering the B-92. Removing four inches of barrel, along with four inches of magazine and the three extra rounds it would accommodate, was questionable in terms of handling. The ’92’s desirable, slightly barrel-heavy quality in the rifle version was eliminated, muzzle blast increased, and the extra power of the .44 Magnum gave it a very unpleasant recoil.
Rechambering original ’92s to .44 Magnum, aside from enraging Winchester collectors, was pretty questionable given the softer steel from which both the barrels and frames were made, but of course this did not apply to the B-92.
The Model 65 in .218 Bee provides an interesting example of how ideas that seem good in marketing meetings can fall flat when offered to a public that is considerably more knowledgeable and discerning than the marketing committee itself. In the 1930s, there was wholesale pursuit of high-velocity .22 varmint cartridges. The king of these was the necked down .250-3000 (Savage), which came to be known as the .22-250, or Varminter. But there were many others, too. The goal was a high-velocity, light bullet accurate out to 250 or 300 yards, mainly for shooting crows and woodchucks.
Such performance was only possible with a spitzer bullet, and utilizing pin-point accuracy was only possible with a riflescope. In the case of the .218 Bee, neither was an option. With its tubular magazine, loading spitzer bullets was perilous because it placed the sharp point of one bullet up against the primer of the cartridge in front, so the Bee was offered only with flat- or round-nosed bullets. And, with the 65’s top ejection, a scope was tricky to impossible. Finally, when serious varmint hunters were experimenting with such solid lock-up actions as the Mauser 98 for maximum accuracy, the perceived sponginess of the lever action was a drawback. Add them all together, and you have a rifle which can best be described as a white elephant.
Three original chamberings of the Model ’92, from left: .32-20, .38-40, and .44-40, also known as the .32 WCF, .38 WCF, and .44 WCF. All have been used to take deer, and all are capable of doing it—in the right hands, and under the right circumstances.
The one possible advantage of the 65 in .218 Bee was that it was a factory rifle and readily available, but in the cash-strapped 1930s, anyone serious enough about varmint hunting to lay out any substantial amount of money could do far better than the Bee—and obviously, most did. It was gone from the Winchester line when war came, and never reappeared.
About the best any authority could say about the Model 65, .218 Bee combination was that accuracy was “surprisingly good, considering . . .” One would think that marketing executives would learn from such examples but, alas, it appears not. At least, not considering all the remarkably similar mistakes that were made with other rifles and other cartridges throughout the 1950s and ’60s, and right up until today.
During its forty-five-year lifetime, the Winchester Model 1892 was offered in the usual bewildering array of configurations. There were both round- and octagonal-barreled rifles; barrel lengths ranged from 30 inches in a “military” model to 14 inches in the “Trapper.” Some were made with outsized lever loops, made famous in various movies and in the 1950s TV series, The Rifleman. Spinning the rifle around to work the action became a highly questionable stunt, comparable to fanning a Colt .45. It is also more difficult than it looks, especially with longer barrels, and gives shooting instructors apoplexy because of the safety aspects. However, it sealed the ’92’s reputation as a smooth action.
Magazines were offered in both full- and half-lengths. Buttstocks were made with both “rifle” and “carbine” buttplates.
In the end, however, the prize for being the most ergonomic and perfect for its purpose is the original, 24-inch barreled rifle, in .38-40 or .44-40, with the original lightning-quick open sights (or the ability, at really short ranges, to do without the sights altogether.) Some years ago, I took one of the carbine-shooting courses at Gunsite, in Arizona. I took both my ’92 and a Ruger Mini-14. The ’92 was a bit tongue-in-cheek. The instructors at Gunsite take it all very seriously, and most of them, replete with rigs and harnesses that would do credit to a paratrooper, festooned with handguns, back-up guns, and deep-secret back-ups to the back-ups, regarded my ’92 with something approaching contempt.
Amid the plethora of ARs, AKs, and various hideously unergonomic modern rifles, the ’92 stood out in that it was both fun and comfortable to shoot, and it was highly effective at knocking over steel plate after steel plate with rhythmic regularity. It shoots readily from the shoulder, from the hip, and anywhere in between. Instinctive shooting comes naturally to the ’92, and this is often valuable in hunting situations. The obvious one is a charging animal, which one would hope would not occur with something as diminutive as a ’92, but a buck that bursts out from behind a log right in front of you, and offers a split-second chance at a shot, certainly requires instinctive shooting. A hunter who’s good with a ’92, using relatively amiable cartridges like the .38-40 and .44-40, can get off three very accurate shots in a remarkably short period of time.
The Model 1892 in rifle form, with a 24-inch barrel. Even with its curved rifle-style buttplate, it is highly ergonomic and handles like a charm.
At Gunsite, these qualities quickly evinced themselves. It’s an interesting exercise to take several guns to a range, with several shooters of varying degrees of experience, and see which ones they gravitate to. Which do people line up to shoot, simply because they are either fun to shoot or because they shoot well with them? These two qualities, I have found, are closely related—and also connected to the question of gracefulness in a rifle that we looked at earlier. A rifle that is fun to shoot will be shot a lot. A hunter who shoots a particular rifle a lot will become better with it, more comfortable with it, and more confident in his ability. This, in turn, contributes to calm and accurate shooting, and fends off attacks of buck fever, which are largely due to lack of confidence and fear of failure.
In the early years of computers, Apple aired a series of television commercials in which a couple of senior executives of a company watched employees at work on different computers. It was common for a company to own one or two Macs, for special purposes, but outfit everyone else with cheaper IBM PCs. The two executives noticed that the employees would line up to use the Mac, because it was ergonomic and intuitive, and simply fun to use. As a result, they became comfortable with it and very good at using it, whereas they continually struggled with the PCs. Exactly the same principle applies to big-game rifles, and it doesn’t matter if it’s a .250-3000 for deer or a .505 Gibbs for pachyderms.
John M. Browning was a hunter and a shooter, and I do not think it’s any accident that the original Model 1892 was such a near-perfect combination of barrel, cartridge, sights, weight, and balance, for a big-game hunter in the thick woods. All the later modernizations and variations only took away from Browning’s practical, ergonomic design, rather than adding to it.
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Holland & Holland .500 Express (3¼”).
