I had a reputation in my family of being the kid who never really finished anything I started. I had taken Piano/Organ lessons. I lost interest a few years later. I think there were some other things, but it feels like several lifetimes ago.
In my junior year of high school I decided I wanted to play guitar. We had an old steel-string Harmony guitar in our basement. The action, the height of the strings over the fretboard, would have challenged Frankenstein’s fingers.
I went to a Union Music in downtown Worcester, Mass. They lowered the action, changed the strings and tuned it up. Then I went about memorizing chords and trying to teach myself how to change chords in time.
Worcester had a music scene at that time. The J. Geils Band were regional favorites. Orpheus had a hit record. Jamie Brockett had local cult status.
I wanted to play like Paul Pena, who had become one of my musical heroes at the time. I saw an ad to take guitar lessons from Paul in a free local paper. I took lessons from Paul in his apartment behind Clark University until Paul signed with Capitol Records and left the Worcester area.
Paul inspired me to learn. He was blind so there wasn’t any written music. Portable cassette recorders were not invented yet. I had to listen, watch then imitate.
After each lesson I had to take two busses to get home. I couldn’t talk to anyone on my way back, which is very hard for me, because I didn’t want to forget anything.
I fell in love with playing the guitar. I felt like I could do something that no one could take from me. Playing guitar was mine and mine alone. It was personal and intimate. I would privately play and learn on my own. I could be quiet so no one could hear me struggle learning something new. I could choose when to be public. I could play almost anywhere for anybody I chose. Playing guitar is public and personal at the same time.
I wanted to sound better. I started to covet a better guitar. I set my sights on a Harmony Sovereign. It took months of layaway payments totaling $159 but finally my addiction was satiated. Or so I thought.
As I started to play around the local scene, I got to try other musicians’ guitars. My coveting of better guitars was reignited. I learned that every guitar sounds and plays differently, even if they are the same make and model number. Each guitar, each instrument, has a unique voice. You must play it, get its feel and listen.
I coveted a guitar that I thought would help me arrive as a professional musician wannabe. I sold my Harmony Sovereign to buy a Martin D28 and then I finally got what I thought was the ultimate acoustic guitar - a Martin D35, with its 3 piece back, dreadnought shape, booming bass sound and beautiful binding. Both guitars had the same body type. The D stands for Dreadnought. Both necks were the same in length and width. The D28 had a 2 piece back. The D35 has more binding and a 3 piece back. Each guitar had its unique sound.
I thought my guitar desires and wandering fingers had been fulfilled until one day in 1975 or 1976 when I went to Providence Guitar & Banjo on Brooke Street in Providence. I needed some adjustments to my D35 and Providence Guitar & Banjo was known as the best repair shop in the area.
Michael Allison heard me play my guitar in the store. He told me I was playing the wrong guitar. On his store wall was a Martin 00028 for sale. Michael said that was the guitar I should play. He suggested I try it.
It always feels a little suspicious when someone tells you that the instrument they happen to have for sale is the one you should own. I was curious, though, so I took the guitar off the wall and played it.
I immediately fell in love with that specific instrument. I knew that this was the guitar for me. My hands knew it, my ears knew it, everything inside of me knew it. I asked Michael to hold it for me, I saved some money, I sold my Martin D35 and finally bought this Martin 00028.
Over the past 50 years my Martin 00028 has literally traveled the world with me. It has been a musical constant in my life.
How can I accurately describe this relationship to you?
A fiddle belonging to a dear friend of mine was damaged while unloading after a gig. She worried it may never be repaired properly or sound the same again. She talked about how many tunes lived in her fiddle. She feared the precious musical memories between her hands and her fiddle might be lost.
I totally understand. There are very few things that I have loved for 50 years. My Martin 00028 has been with me most of my adult life. It is personal. My guitar holds so much of my musical memories. My guitar holds what I have learned, taught, recorded, and performed in my life. I have had offers from others wanting to buy to my guitar after they played it. My 00028 is still mine.