"Wild Ladies" at the "Hey, Old Guy concert" – 11/15/2001
This one goes way back - 1974, Key West, Florida. Got it and a '64 Strat from an Army friend who had given up on guitars. Don't remember the reason, though.
This guitar has truly been around the country. Started in Key West, hitch-hiked to Pennsylvania for my aunt's wedding (that's quite a story in itself, maybe later - even used the guitar case as a sign with "Florida" in masking tape for the hitch home!); got as far as Summit Lake - 50 miles north of Prince George, British Columbia, Canada - on the way to Alaska; and finally, resting on my office wall. But its heyday was Key West.
After a year of Armytime at Naval Air Station Key West, Boca Chica, and narrowly escaping flying death in a motorcycle accident in Key West 24 days before discharge from the Army and spending the remainder of my military career at Walter Reed Hospital in Silver Springs, Maryland (Washington D.C.), I returned to become wasted away in Margaritaville.
Key West is a great place to live if you don't have anything pressing to do: it's hot and humid in the summertime and hot and humid, but tolerable, in the wintertime. I lived in a two-story house (upstairs) on Williams Street on Solares Hill, the high point of Key West: 12' above sea level. After the Army I shared the house with a still-in-the-army friend named Donald and Skip (who didn't really live there; he just stayed there all the time). Below were two strange sisters, Delores and ? from Tennessee (stories about them!) and a black Scotty dog with really short legs named Doober. Next door, upstairs, was a gay couple we were neighborly with. I think one's name was Jim. His partner was a riot. Sort of the Nathan Lane character in "The Bird Cage." I heard it from one of them that Tennessee Williams was "just an old queen!" Donald liked them because they could talk about more than just the weather. Oh, yeah. Across the street lived this guitar player whose teacher's teacher was Andres Segovia! (or so he said - Key West - a lot is said!) But he could play classical guitar. Came over one morning and played a few songs for me.
Donald and I were roommates. Skip and I were partners, like Simon and Garfunkel. Skip played a solid rhythm on a six-string, I did fills with 12-string and harmonica. He was main vocals, I tried harmony.
Skip could play anything on the guitar, but he couldn't figure out the Army - I'm surprised he didn't get kicked out. He loved especially the Beatles. And he could tune a guitar just by hitting the strings. I was so envious. Skip and I were an act. Once we played spring break in Fort Lauderdale. We didn't actually headline, but we played to adoring crowds - and got paid! Once we hitched to Tampa to see Neil Young and were picked up by a guy in a '68 white Mustang who had a silver-plated 45 and was looking up a "friend" who had "done him wrong." Skip was sleeping in the back. I said we were just going to next town. Another story? Yup.
Our main gig, however, was sunset at Southard Square in Key West. There are two main attractions in Key West as the sun goes down: the sunset itself and the bars, pubs, hangouts on Duvall Street, neither of which were mutually exclusive. First you watched the sun go down, either at Southard Square (southermost point of US) or Mallory Square (I think that's the name) which was at the end of a street, not Duvall though. Southard Square was by far the most popular.
You went to sunset for the entertainment. One was, of course, the sunset over the water and a little island just off in the distance. The other was the music: us and three or four other "acts" playing along what seemed like a wooden pier high above the water with a big elevated sign saying "Southernmost Point Of The U.S." There was even a guy claiming to be the "southernmost sparechanger"! Each act was surrounded by listeners, all calling out requests, dancing and gyrating, and generally having a good time before migrating to Duvall Street. I remember one Halloween or New Years Eve (does it matter?) when the crowds got so thick on Duvall that the Fire Dept. sprayed fire hoses to break it up. Also saw an outstanding version of "Animal Farm" performed by the Green Street Theatre - not the same night. It was awesome.
Skip and I were a regular, nightly happening at sunset. Skip was rhythm and vocals. I was rhythym and lead mostly. Except "Alice's Restaurant." That was me. And not a single night went by without someone yelling for "Alice." That was '75 through '77.
Skip & Thom, 1975, Key West:
Four Dead in Ohio |
Teach Your Children |
Blues |
It Ain't Me Babe |
Rocky Raccoon |
Skip |
Like a Rolling Stone
Skip went back to Massachusetts. Donald went to Minnesota. I went to California. I left in March or April, 1976. Someday I will return. Ask me about Bum Farto. Okay, he was the Key West fire chief whose one claim to fame was painting all the fire trucks and response vehicles green, key lime green. His second was disappearing under suspicious circumstances – I'm sure money was involved.
. . . . . . . .
The Conrad 12-string was made in Japan in the early '70s. Since I got it in '74, it was pretty new, but you wouldn't think looking at its poor condition: some of those vertical stripes are not grain in the spruce top; they are cracks. I took it everywhere with me, slung over my shoulder, and it acquired a lot of damage. I keep it tuned two steps down to minimize the stress and strain. You may also notice the little gash below the saddle. Yup, did that as well. The La Patrie has one too. Yup, did that.
My years in the Keys – one in the Army, another year and a half living in town or in a step van further up the keys – were not too kind to the Conrad. And I played it all the time. By the early '90s it needed some repairs. I had a luthier replace the first six frets and reattach the saddle which was pulling away at the time.
Old Soldiers – 1975
Rain Song – 1977: Conrad, Dorado, Gianinni
Wild Ladies-live – "Hey, Old Guy" concert – 11/15/2001 [image at top]
When Fourth Corner Community Church closed its doors, I was tasked with disposing, for some reason, of all the assets. The regional governing body of the denomination sent sister churches to come pick over the remains. When all was said and done, the strat remained so it went home with me. I don't think I ever played it. However, my younger son did.
As far as I'm concerned, he is a wonderfully talented musician: violin/fiddle starting in fifth grade, keyboard a few years later, and the Dorado; the thing was he made it seem effortless, even playing the harmonica. He took up the strat immediately with songs like "Tiny Dancer," "Under the Bridge," Hendrix, list goes on. And he's the one who customized it with all that blue paint.
No, this one I have never played, but it hangs on the wall nonetheless. It was a gift.
My older son is a programmer, a "pioneer" at 14 in the early days of hacking or modding the XBox, especially "Halo." Needless to say, we were fairly shocked that he could not get into the computer science program at the University of Washington, settling for math, which he claims was actually a better choice. This was the days when tech jobs were being outsourced overseas. With a quarter to go he quit the university and outsourced himself to India as a game programmer. He ended up spending 18 months there.
Uhhhh, the Les Paul?
The iPhone had just come out and on the way to SeaTac and India he wanted to stop in Seattle to get one, which we did. He also announced that his boss in India wanted him to bring one for him. I was assured he would pay it back. Oh, yeah, never did. This was no 24-month contract. It was two full-priced iPhones.
Uhhhh, the Les Paul?
When my son returned from India, he gave me the Les Paul. I suppose I could get $600 for it?