The Back Story
In The Beginning..
My love for the guitar began long ago. My mother recounts stories of when I was 3 years old that I would grab a large wooden spoon and jump on a table and pretend that I was playing. When I was around 12 or 13 I remember that I bothered my parents long and hard, and sure enough I got a Fender Stratocaster for Christmas. Wow!
I remember the guitar was a super shiny sunburst and I thought it was beautiful. There were a couple of problems though.
-- I didn't have an amp
-- I had no idea of how to play it or where to even start
-- We were poor and my parents could never afford lessons
I fooled around with it for a while but not knowing where to go with it I eventually lost interest. I do remember putting a big chip in the finish so I proceeded to peel all the paint and urethane off of it. I was going to repaint it. It never happened and to this day I have no idea what ever happened to it.
The Middle Years..
Fast forward 6 years or so. I had graduated high school. A bunch of friends and I always got shore houses for the summer. We'd all chip in and get a place in Wildwood or Margate, NJ. It was always a dump with tilted floors, walls peeling, smelled like stale beer and there were always bodies crashed on the floor in a drunken stupor and most times I had no idea who they were. It was great! :-)
A couple of the guys played guitar and I was always fascinated when they brought them out and jammed. Nothing's better than waking up past noon, badly hung over, grabbing a beer for breakfast and going out to the sunny porch and play some music. I was hooked. It didn't hurt that a couple of girls would always come over and join in the fun. I had to get a guitar.
So I'm 18 or 19, and I know I wanted an acoustic guitar. I knew nothing about guitars except that I wanted one so I went to local neighborhood music store and tell the guy that. He was nice and tried to help. I walked out of there with a Sigma DR-41. I didn't know it then, but I wound up with a wonderful instrument.
In those days, as it is now, the standard for acoustics was Martin but most of them were out of many people's price range. Martin Guitars decided to manufacture a line of guitars in Japan, to similar specs ad their USA models. They called that company Sigma. I didn't know it at the time but I wound up with their top of the line guitar. A twin to the Martin D-41. Rosewood back and sides, solid spruce top, ebony fingerboard with abalone hexagon inlays. The whole body of the guitar was trimmed in abalone. It was a piece of art. Like I always say, I'd rather be lucky than good.
I was off and running. I learned the basic chords and played that guitar for about 10 years.
Along Comes Marriage..
In 1986 I met Sandy, my wife. My thoughts were all about Sandy. We decided to marry and my sons, David and James, came in quick succession. I was now a responsible family man.
I worried about my family, a job to support them and all the normal day to day things that come with that. I couldn't care less about anything else, including my guitar. I still played a little here and there but it was rare. The poor Sigma met an unfortunate demise when my wife put it in the basement and water leaked in. The wood warped, the glue came apart, and it got moldy from being in a dark, wet case. I finally killed it for good when I tried to adjust the neck after the flood. I wound up cracking it. The corpse is still in my collection as a memento.
The Rebirth..
True Story. It's a little long, but hang with me.
It's a Friday in 1995. I'm sitting in a bar with about 20 friends for happy hour. We got together every Friday. One of them brings in a guitar that he had just bought at a flea market for $5. He was going to use it as a decoration in his house. I picked it up, tuned it as much as possible and was (almost) able to still play a couple of Eagles songs..I was way more lubricated than the guitar was. With each beer I had I stewed more about my poor Sigma's fate and somewhere around 8:3o, in an alcohol fueled impulse, I decided I needed a new guitar.
I dashed out the door hoping to make it to the local corner music store before it closed. Yeah, there were neighborhood music stores still. The owner, Chris, was about to close up when I arrived. Like before, I was talked into the most expensive guitar in the place; a $800 Cadillac Greenburst Ovation. It was good looking . Don't laugh, you thought your hair style from the 80's was good looking also. I plunked down my credit card and headed home with my new treasure.
Next morning in the sober, cold light of day, reality set in. My wife was furious I'd spent that much on a whim. It would be the first of many, many tongue lashings I would receive for buying a guitar <snicker>. What's worse, when I picked up that guitar I realized it was junk. It sounded horrible as if someone had stuffed 10 lbs of used up chewing gum inside. It had no life, tone or playability. Just a bad guitar. I raced back to the music store hoping to undo my misdeed. "Yeah, I remember you from last night.", Chris said laughing. He was nice about it and said he's give me credit towards any other guitar in the place, but the problem was, since I had gotten the top of the line of the guitars he carried, there were no better ones. Small music stores can't carry expensive inventory.
By chance, as I was walking around I notice this beautiful guitar in an open case sitting on the counter. A vibrant Cheryburst, with abalone fretmaker inlays set in a rich ebony board, all gold and pearloid hardware, hand-carved walnut bridge, abalone purfling on the body binding and around the soundhole. It really was gorgeous. I asked Chris about it and he told me that it was a special order for one of his regular customers, an Ovation model 1869 Custom Celebrity. I strummed the strings -- It's hard to describe my reaction. It was perfect. That was it! I told Chris to order me one.
