Blessings on thee, Mr. Browning. This morning I'm grateful for your most elegant shotgun, the Ithaca 37, particularly the one which took up residence in the Camp J arms vault yesterday afternoon. The 37 is alleged to have the fewest moving parts of any pump shotgun.
The old girl suffers from a mild case of patina, and her walnut benefited from severe scrubbing and a couple of coats of brown MinWax. While her debutante glow is irretrievable history, she still pleases me in the wake of her cleanup -- something like a dowager who never missed her day at the gym, beginning about the time of the Tet offensive.
I've owned a couple-three of these things but never tried the slam-fire function which made her desirable to certain police forces. It will be a way of getting rid of a handful of loose 12-gauge orphans in a delightfully noisy manner.
The adoption fee was quite reasonable. The lady who brought her around "just wanted the thing out of my closet." The perfectly functional Stevens 84D came mostly as lagniappe. (Bonus knowledge, new to me: Remington .22 rifle magazines from the middle of the 20th Century work fine in at least some of the same-era Stevens.)
The same source will be bringing around a SW 27, about unfired, in the factory wooden box. Pant. Drool.