When the time came for Gary Rossington’s family to decide what to do with his guitars and amps after his passing in March of 2023, daughters Mary and Annie along with his wife, Dale, looked for advice from his lifelong friend and bandmate, Rickey Medlocke.

The stash was considerable – 71 guitars including his famous ’61 Gibson “Free Bird” Les Paul SG, his first Silvertone, and the Custom Shop SG he played at his final concert in November of 2022 at the Ryman Auditorium – along with 55 amps.

“We were at a loss with what we were suddenly in charge of,” said Mary. “Ricky suggested we call Andrew Yonke at Chicago Music Exchange, saying he could answer all of our questions.”

The common fate for high-profile guitar collections these days is sale via auction house. But the Rossingtons, being uninterested in the commerce the guitars would certainly generate, were focused instead on furthering Gary’s legacy.

Inspired by Rossington, having been invited to play Duane Allman’s ’57 goldtop in 2016 (after which he told Alan Paul, author of Brothers and Sisters: The Allman Brothers Band and the Inside Story of the Album That Defined the ’70s, “Duane was my main inspiration growing up; he was my first and greatest influence and always will be.”), the family asked for Yonke’s help getting some of the guitars in the hands of players who truly cared about what they were and could help them be heard by generations of players to come.

Yonke was enamored with the idea. And the women knew that Medlocke had steered them right. “We instantly felt like we’d known Andrew forever,” said Mary. “There was a really good vibe.”

To assess the collection and get a feel for the task, Yonke and CME Vintage Manager Daniel Escauriza visited the Rossingtons in Atlanta.

“The first day they were here, they opened every guitar case and examined every amp with meticulous, careful hands,” recalled Dale. “We learned a lot about Gary’s guitars that day, and we were so pleased – and relieved – because it was overwhelming to be responsible for them.”

“We really just wanted to know what was in our possession,” Mary added. “Getting them documented and insured was goal number one. Goal number two was figuring out what we could do with them: How do we keep these beautiful instruments preserved correctly? How do we further his legacy?

“He got such a kick out of playing Duane Allman’s guitar, and always talked about how that was so special,” she added. “We thought,‘That’s the kind of thing we’d like to share with other players’.”

While 30 of the guitars were in Atlanta that day, others were in storage areas and the homes of friends. Eventually, they all made their way to Chicago.

Yonke first met Rossington in 2017, when Guns ’N Roses guitarist Richard Fortus invited him to take in a show by Lynyrd Skynyrd and Hank Williams, Jr. Afterward, Fortus introduced Yonke to Medlocke, and the two bonded over all things guitar, then stayed in touch.

Rossington, Yonke said, was a true “guitars as tools” musician – he didn’t do guitar safaris on tour stops and didn’t gather collectible pieces or chase tones. His gear is exemplary of that pragmatism; “Choosing gear for a tour, he’d say, ‘Where’s my SG? Where’s my Les Paul? Let’s go!’” said Yonke.

The same applied to his amps; as Skynyrd gained steam, they were supplied Peavey amps that served them well, and when word got out that the amps were at CME, Yonke’s phone started ringing. Despite the stash famously including back line Marshall stacks from the band’s earliest days at Hell House – the lake cabin where they wrote “Simple Man,” “Tuesday’s Gone,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Don’t Ask Me No Questions,” “Gimme Three Steps,” and “Free Bird” – most were curious about the others.

“Probably 25 famous players called,” he laughed. “And 22 of them asked about the Mace amps.”

Yonke says it’s been relatively easy to attach specific guitars to stages in Rossington’s career, thanks to photos and video online.

“In the months just before the [October ’77] plane crash (that claimed the lives of singer Ronnie Van Zant, guitarist Steve Gaines, backup singer Cassie Gaines, the band’s assistant road manager, and both pilots), every photo and video you see shows him playing the late-’60s SG with the small nut. And in the early days of Rossington Collins Band, he had a ’61 with side-pull trem. There’s another ’61 with a Vibrola that he’d bang against a cymbal as they played the outro of ‘Free Bird,’ so it’s headstock is bit hacked up, which is especially cool because most of his SGs are so well cared for; he didn’t wear bracelets or anything that would beat up the guitars.”

Another guitar of interest is Dottie, a late-’60s Les Paul Deluxe that Rossington had modified in the ’70s, routing it for humbuckers and painting it sunburst.

“In Rossington Collins Band, he played vintage SGs, Bernice (Rossington’s ’59 Les Paul Standard that resides in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame), Dottie, a few backups, a Dobro, and some older acoustics,” Yonke said. “Then, with the re-formation of Skynyrd, other instruments entered the mix including late-’80s/early-’90s Les Pauls, D’Angelicos, and a few that people gifted to him. There’s a really cool black ’80s ES-335 he used on a gig or two, but there are very few photos of him using anything other than a Les Paul or SG.”

While sorting through the first 30 guitars in Atlanta, Yonke and Escauriza were delighted to learn that Gary and Dale had cataloged the guitars – she with pen and paper, jotting as he mentioned details about each. She recalls there was no specific reason – no health concerns – and that it was simply something they did while spending time together.

“It was fun,” she said. “As we opened each case, he would say a few things that I’d write down, then he’d sign the paper.”
In the early 2000s, Gibson approached Rossington about building a reissue of Bernice and an homage to the “Free Bird” SG. Given the skyrocketing value of his vintage instruments (not to mention their notoriety), he agreed it would be a good idea to retire them and play the new versions. And as anyone will tell you, Gary was not a collector. In contrast, he was the classic, “guitars are tools” player, uninterested in accumulating instruments or chasing collectibles.

“He knew the instruments, and especially the few that worked best for him,” Dale said. “When we opened those guitars, I don’t think he pulled them out or touched them. If he actually held one, it wasn’t for long, but he would say, ‘I remember where that came from,’ and who had given it to him or sold it to him. And of course he remembered which were used on certain songs.”

“So, you open a case and the note inside says something like, ‘Loved it, played “Free Bird” on it every night,’” said Yonke.

Once the guitars were ensconsed at CME, Yonke and his staff set about designing display space and strategizing how to get them in front of visitors – and audiences. Yonke will keep the family involved in every decision regarding who plays the guitars in a concert setting.

“I want them to be comfortable with whatever we do,” he said. “We need to know that they find joy in this.”

And when a guitar is offered, neither the family nor CME will ask artists to play anything specific. Rather, they’ll be encouraged to tell the audience what they’re feeling with it in their hands, and play a song of their choice.

“To have that opportunity to give back and hopefully inspire these younger generations to keep playing true music, to learn guitar, and practice as hard as he did,” said Mary. “We want artists around the world to use them and help further the music Daddy helped create.”

Their first opportunity happened November 7, when Charlie Starr and Blackberry Smoke played in St. Augustine, Florida. Yonke and Escauriza personally delivered the ’61 SG (after it traveled in its own airplane seat next to them) to Starr, who is a family friend, a devout fan of Rossington’s work, and even played a bit of guitar when Gary and Dale renewed their vows.

When he was approached, Starr was bit taken aback.

“My first reaction was ‘Why do I get to be the first person to play this guitar?’ I hold Gary and the music he and Skynyrd created in extremely high regard, and we do have quite a long history with them, but it was still a surprise and a gigantic honor,” he said.
Blackberry Smoke’s choice of songs to play with it required a bit of discussion.

“We’ve never performed ‘Free Bird,’” he added. “Not even when we were playing covers in clubs. I always felt like that song was sacred and belonged solely to Skynyrd, not to be fiddled with… However, this is a guitar that Gary really only played one song on. So, I figured, ‘Let’s do a section, then ease into ‘Tuesday’s Gone,’ which made sense to me, metaphorically, and is another one of Gary’s most-beautiful guitar melodies, and that guitar might be the best-sounding and best-playing example of a ’61 side-pull Les Paul SG that I have ever had my hands on – no exaggeration! I literally plugged and played, nothing else necessary. The piece of wire he used to lift the strings and a slide were sitting there in the case pocket, but I didn’t disturb them.”

“It was a quieter crowd, and when Charlie put the guitar on and started talking, every cell phone came out,” Dale added. “I don’t think there was a dry eye in the crowd. As soon as he plugged in, he said they knew what they had to do, so they put together ‘Free Bird’ and ‘Tuesday’s Gone,’ and it was magical. It sounded incredible onstage, and so pure.”

“Losing Gary was the roughest thing that our family has had to go through,” Dale added. “And being able to hear someone as fabulous as Charlie play his guitar was one of the biggest delights we have had since we lost him. We are gaining so much from this experience and we really hope we can continue.”

The Vault at CME

Conveniently coinciding with the arrival of Gary Rossington’s collection, Andrew Yonke and the staff at Chicago Music Exchange recently opened a new display area where customers and visitors can sit comfortably amongst instruments and take their time playing them or simply enjoying their auras.

The concept began almost by default. Around the shop, employees commonly referenced two large storage areas as “the vault.” Also, the store did an ad campaign showing guitars and amps perched in front of an actual old bank vault in a building across the street, and customers then started asking to see the vault, only to be told it wasn’t really a thing.

But their requests inspired Yonke, and when the store transitioned some retail space in an adjoining building, he had a massive metal door installed leading to it and hired an artist to decorate it with ’30s-style pinstriping and a logo in gold leaf. The Vault was born, conceived with a casual and comfortable atmosphere, properly decorated and where anything and everything can be played in a studio-like setting.

“There’s a lounge area large enough to accommodate an entourage of road crew and friends,” Yonke said. “The main seating is in front of the main display.”

Before the room was ready for prime time, Riotfest happened in late September and they were asked to host a few acts. One player who visited was Judas Priest guitarist Richie Faulkner (VG, June ’24), who was looking for a Custom Shop Strat. His visit gave Yonke the chance to see The Vault in action.

“At the end of the day, I was able to stand back and say, ‘This is exactly why I did this!’ Everybody had a great time, and some players left with the instrument they were hoping to find. That’s the whole point of the room.”

And while displays in The Vault are museum-quality, there are no “Do Not Touch” signs. In fact, Yonke is adamant the room will be inclusive, and not strictly high-dollar.

“Right now in the room is an Epiphone acoustic that I paid $400 for, and it is awesome. It’s right there on a stand. Half the people who walk in ask, ‘What is that doing in here?’ I hand it to them and they go, ‘Whoa!’”

The area has 16 wall cases, none with locks. Still, it’s not a free-for-all.

“I can’t physically do that,” Yonke says. “A sales person has to sit with everyone, especially if we’ve never worked with them. We need to know what they like and may be looking for, so we can curate the experience.

“The future of guitar stores is going to come down to building relationships and the experience,” he added. “Hundreds of people visit us every day, and they come here to dream and to touch. The Vault lets them do that, and in the short time it’s been open, there have been so many people checking in just to see what’s in there. Anytime someone is serious about an instrument but they’re not in Chicago, Nathaniel Murphy will plug it in and create a video showing the details and sound of that guitar or amp they’re eyeballing.” – Ward Meeker

To read Vintage Guitar’s interviews with and memorial to Gary Rossington, search his name on www.vintageguitar.com.

This article originally appeared in VG’s January 2025 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

From the moment he met Rod Swenson and Wendy O. Williams, things for Wes Beech were never really “normal.”

Walking into the basement of their loft for an audition, Beech didn’t know he was about to become part of a stage-storming, car-smashing, guitar-chainsawing artistic statement called the Plasmatics.

The product of Swenson’s high-functioning mind (if you’re into evolutionary theory, do a search), the group “formed” when he met Williams in 1977; his Master of Fine Arts degree from Yale was by then nearly a decade old and he was running a repertory company called Captain Kink’s Sex Fantasy Theater, producing counterculture plays at a burlesque joint buried in the grit of Times Square. Connections to the city’s punk scene via Captain Kink’s tech staff who were members of bands that played CBGBs led to Swenson directing nascent music videos by Dead Boys, the Ramones, Patti Smith, Blondie, and others. His work reflected his philosophy – that true art is measured by its ability to confront. And in Williams, he found the perfect ally to very loudly express rage against consumerism and society’s constraint of artistic expression.

The band was a perfect fit for the eclectic Beech, who grew up hearing his parents’ pop records and music on the radio along with the classical music favored by his mother before he discovered The Beatles and blues.

“From all of that, I developed a love for melody,” he said. “As a musician and songwriter, I’ve always been drawn to it.”

From the day he scored his first real electric guitar – an Ampeg Dan Armstrong see-through – Beech’s taste in instruments has been uncategorizable, much like the Plasmatics.

What first actively drew your attention to music?

My mother listened to WOR, in New York, and it played a lot of crooner-pop songs. Perry Como’s “Catch A Falling Star” was one of my favorites. The first rock song I remember hearing was on the radio when I was with my father in the car; they played “Telstar,” and there was something about that sound that really leapt out at me. From then on, I listened to a lot of AM radio. I was hooked.

What made you want to play guitar?
Of course, like millions of my generation, it was seeing The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I know it’s trite, but for me, that was definitely it. In fact, I took pictures of the TV screen with my little Kodak Brownie box camera, showing Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison singing together.

I played saxophone through high school and even in college – I was a music major for a brief spell and in the marching band and concert band. But, my younger sister, Laurel, took classical and flamenco guitar lessons from childhood, and she got really good. The first guitar I ever held was hers. When she got to high school and discovered boys, she pretty much put it down, so I picked it up and used her instruction books, then started playing along to records.

What was Laurel’s guitar?
She had a Goya nylon-string and a flamenco that I don’t really remember the name of, but it was nicer than a beginner model.

What spurred your next step?

After seeing The Beatles, I asked my parents for an electric guitar for Christmas, and they went to Sam Ash and brought home a Vox Ultrasonic – the ES-335 copy. Unfortunately, its neck was warped and it was years before I knew a guitar was meant to played past the fifth position (laughs). And I could barely hear it through the little Lafayette amp I got from the electronics store the next town over.

What were the first things you were good at playing?
I loved playing rhythm parts and chords, and I had a really good sense of rhythm from being in the school band for so many years.

When did you first jam with someone else?
My neighbor had a drum set, so I’d go to his house, but he drowned out my little amp every time (laughs). He was big into Cream, so we’d play Cream songs and Beatles songs, hacking along at it.

When did you get the Dan Armstrong?
I was in my early teens.

Was it noticeably better?
It was much easier to play and had a really thin neck, so it fit me perfectly. I really liked it. It was heavy, but that didn’t bother me.

How many of the pickup modules did you have?
Just two. I looked for years trying to get more, but never found any. They worked well, and I played that guitar for a while in Plasmatics.

Did it shape your preference for guitar tones?
No, I mostly kept the single-coil in it, but it was thin-sounding and I started wanting something meatier. I started getting into humbucking pickups, and for years I was a solid humbucker guy, but not really a Les Paul guy. Only recently have I gone to Strats and the single-coil sound, just for something different.

What amp did you have with the Dan Armstrong?
An Ampeg B-15 I bought from a classmate, and it was my main amplifier for a long time. I used it with effects like an Electro-Harmonix LP-1 power booster and some fuzzboxes and phase shifters.

Did you have that rig in your first group?
No, I had a silverface Fender Twin. In college, I played in a blues band – mostly saxophone that I miked. I played a bit of guitar and flute, and the Twin was really loud – and clean (laughs). When I made the transition to playing just guitar, I got rid of it. For saxophone, it was great.

What kind of songs did that band do?
Mainstream blues – we opened with J. Geils’ “Whammer Jammer,” with the singer doubling on harmonica. We were a five-piece working-class band with two of us on sax and a guitarist going through a piggyback ’60s Bassman with at 2×15″ cab that sounded amazing. We gigged pretty regularly, playing dive bars and having a lot of fun.

You earned a degree in liberal studies with a minor in music, art, history, and comparative literature. Did you have career aspirations outside of music?
No, I was really focused on it. After college, I got a job working for the Board of Elections, but I joined a punk-rock band called The Accidents, and we toiled away at CBGBs and Max’s Kansas City, playing all week; we could never get weekend gigs.

Which bands were playing weekends at the time?
Oh, the Ramones, of course, Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, Blondie, Talking Heads.

What was your rig at the time?
The Dan Armstrong and a Mosrite. Amp-wise, I had a Vox Super Beatle for a while, then a Sound City 120-watt with two 4x10s. It wasn’t the best-sounding amp (laughs).

Did that band attain any notoriety?
We wrote songs and did some recording, but never went anywhere. When guitarist Joe Katz left, it slowly fell apart. But what was funny is one night after rehearsal, I was , and out of a studio down the hall came a guy I knew from high school. He asked, “Hey, you want to go down to CBGBs? My aunt’s boyfriend’s band is playing. It’s their first night and they need people.” We walked in the door and there was this four-piece band, the Plasmatics.

What was your impression of them?
I didn’t really care for them (laughs) – the sound wasn’t very good. But of course I was transfixed by Wendy and her stage presence. And, I remember how their bass player had a shaved head and would count into the songs in Japanese. They did have a unique look; the guitar player wore a white butcher jacket and his hair was spiked. They looked serious! Wendy paced the stage, shout-singing into the microphone. I was impressed by that.

Fast-forward to six months later, and I find an ad in The Village Voice looking for “the world’s fastest rhythm-guitar player.” The ad didn’t mention “Plasmatics.” I was a rhythm player and I played fast, so I thought, “This is a perfect gig.” So I went to audition, and their bass player answered the door. I immediately recognized him, and was a bit surprised.

How did it go?
They were in a loft in lower Manhattan, and we went to the basement with these low, sweaty pipes. It was packed with people auditioning because a week before the ad, they had a huge feature in Cue magazine where Wendy talked about how they were taking over the music scene.

Were they all auditioning for rhythm guitar?
Yeah, so I sat and waited my turn. But I was hearing the same song – “Want You Baby” – over and over; they were seeing how fast all these players would pick it up. It was basic punk-rock stuff – pretty easy to play – and by the time I got in I’d been rehearsing it in my brain for a half hour and they were duly impressed that I picked it up so fast (laughs). Plus, they had just released a three-song 45 that I bought and I learned beforehand. I told them we could go through those songs, too, and they were very impressed by that.

Wendy wasn’t there – it was just the band and Rod Swenson. They said, “We like you. Do you want to come back?” So I went back when they narrowed it down to three players – me, a new-wave guy, and a girl. All of us played through a few other songs with them.

Did you know any of them?
Nope, but I was invited back a third time and they said, “We really liked the way you play, but we’re looking for somebody lean and mean. Can you lose some weight?” So I went on a crash diet and lost 30 pounds in three weeks – I lived on nothing but black coffee, cottage cheese, and green peppers. I’m 5’9″ and weighed 180, then got down to 150. I was motivated because I really wanted to be in the band.

When did you first meet Wendy?
At the first rehearsal. Their loft was on the fifth floor of an old walk-up. I walked in and in the middle of the room was Wendy in the bathtub. She looked at me and said, “You must be Wes. Hi, I’m Wendy.” I looked at her and thought, “This is going to be some ride.” (laughs)

Anyway, we practiced for a while before she came in, and the chemistry was there from the beginning. They wanted another guitar player because Richie Stotts had this really wild style, and they wanted to bolster the sound when he took leads. That was perfect for me.

Once you joined, how did things go?
We rehearsed every other day from 6 p.m. until 10 p.m., then all day Saturday and all day Sunday. That was a pattern that repeated itself for years.

Had you added to your guitar collection by then?
I came to that third audition with a white Flying V that I’d just got. Richie also played a Flying V, and he really liked mine; after I joined, he asked to trade for one of his other guitars. I’d been eyeballing a lucite Les Paul copy with Dan Armstrong pickups at We Buy Guitars, so I told him, “If you get that, I’ll trade you for the Flying V.” He went and made the deal, and I got the lucite guitar, which I still have.

What drew you to it?
It was familiar, yet unusual. I’ve always gravitated toward unusual guitars.

What did you think of its sound when you first plugged in?
It sounded terrible (laughs). It became a backup right away, and I kept using the Dan Armstrong.

What was your next important guitar?
I saw an ad in Guitar Player for a Westbury guitar that looked like a Les Paul with DiMarzio pickups and six-way rotary switch. In the ad, there was a country guy playing it.

Westbury was a division of Unicord, which was on Long Island, where I lived. So I called and told them I was the manager for the Plasmatics and talked about how we were doing all these high-profile gigs and the guitar player was interested in trying their guitar. They invited me down and I met with the president and vice president, Bob Harrison, and they gave me a Westbury Custom. Bob asked, “Have you ever thought about using Marshall amps?” and I said, “I’ve used them in rehearsal, and like them.” Marshall had just released the JCM800 and he said, “Check this one out.” So we got a Marshall endorsement; I got a couple JCM800s and never looked back. I’ve used them for years – they’re great amps with great sound.

Did you get to ditch the drive and fuzz pedals after that?
I did, since the Marshalls have a Master Volume. I just used a chorus, compressor, and an EQ.

What was it like as the Plasmatics became one of the biggest draws in the area?
We were constantly playing. When Stiff Records took notice of us, plans were made to record an album with Jimmy Miller as producer. He’d produced the Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, Goats Head Soup, and Exile on Main Street and had just finished Motörhead’s Overkill, so he had a lot of credibility.

Jimmy flew over and we got ready to record New Hope for the Wretched at Media Sound, in Manhattan. It was a really great studio, but Jimmy ended up not doing much. One night, he got up and left. We sat around for an hour then started looking for him – he was in the ladies room, passed out. Apparently, he had picked up a heroin habit while hanging out with the Stones. Another time, he left and we didn’t see him for three days. Ultimately, Rod, Dan Hartman, and engineer Trevor Hallsey had to salvage the album.

Did the Plasmatics have any sort of substance issues?
No, we’d have the occasional beer or drink, but Wendy was totally straight. She used to jog five, six miles every day. I’ve never seen anybody with so much stamina. We’d come off stage sweating and gasping, but Wendy would be standing there, ready to go again. She was such a powerful person and singer.

She was constantly working on songs and lyrics with Rod. She’d jog with a Walkman and practice singing. A typical rehearsal was the guys working on new material for an hour or two, then Wendy would come in and we’d run through the entire set like it was a live show – same intensity. By the end, we were panting and sweating, then Wendy would look at us and say, “That was great. Let’s do it again.”

Did she and Rod have an overarching vision for the band?
It was his conceptual art piece. Wendy was fearless – she did her own stunts, and they were always coming up with bigger and crazier things to do. The mission statement was, as Wendy used to say, “We draw a line in the sand, and then we’re going to step over it.”

The intense rehearsals would indicate you were very serious about the music.
We really had to be, because there was so much going on – explosions, Wendy with a shotgun – you had to be on your toes (laughs). But we strived to be really tight, so we practiced until the songs were second-nature and you could focus on being where you were supposed to be.

The original bassist, Chosei Funahara, looked the part but had no timing – his playing was loose. We worked with him for a long time. He even had a music teacher, but it didn’t take. So we had to move on. As we were getting ready to do the first record, we auditioned a number of bass players, including Jean Beauvoir – a young guy who was a really good player and had toured with Gary U.S. Bonds when he was 15. We hired him, and he was around for the first two albums and tours, then Chris Romanelli came in and played on the next couple. We really liked Chris; he was into metal – Sabbath and bands like that. He also played guitar and wrote songs.

How would you describe your own playing when you started with them?
I was still learning, and they pushed me as hard as I pushed myself. We would study records before rehearsals – the latest AC/DC or Motörhead record, Ozzy or Judas Priest.

How did song composition work in the band?
We’d each bring ideas to rehearsal, then we’d listen and decide which to start working on.

Did you all have different influences?
Definitely. Everybody came from a different place, and that was another thing that really helped the band; Richie was a blues guy, I was a saxophone guy and approached from a melody standpoint; “Squirm” is a melody-driven song because that’s how I approached creating it.

Did you ever talk about influential guitarists?
Yeah, Richie liked Albert King, B.B. King, Buddy Guy… On our first tour, we were in Chicago and went to the Checkerboard Lounge to see Buddy Guy and Junior Wells. It was pretty amazing.

In terms of musicianship, how would you compare Plasmatics to the Ramones, New York Dolls, or other bands on the New York punk scene?
I think we were right up there with any of them. And what I always especially liked was we never made the same album twice. We’d progress, and every album was different. I always said we were a punk-rock band until we learned that fourth chord (laughs), and then we started to become more of a heavy-metal band. People call us punk, but really, we were just a rock band. We never put ourselves into that punk-rock thing.

When did you start adding oddball guitars to your collection?
Early on. I was an avid guitar-magazine reader, and saw an ad for Sardonyx in Guitar Player. I thought, “Man, that’s the coolest guitar I’ve ever seen.” So I called and talked to Jeff Levin, who, I found out, was based in Brooklyn. I went to his shop and bought one, on the spot. It became an iconic part of the Plastmatics’ look – I’m holding it on the front cover of New Hope for the Wretched, and I played it constantly until we did a show at the Santa Monica Civic Center, where someone from the crowd jumped onstage and ran right into me and snapped the headstock off.

Ouch!
Yeah, I was devastated. When we got back to New York, I took it back to Jeff and he did a really good job repairing it. After that, I retired it from the road because I didn’t want to take any more chances.

Do you remember what you paid for it?
I think it was $799 – a lot of money at the time.

What are some of the others?
I recently got a Roswell Rhoads. I always wanted one because they’re so cool and futuristic; mine is lucky number 13. I also have an Explorer, a Moderne, and a couple Epiphones, which are really cool.

Ritchie and I were Guild endordsers, and I got an X-79 after seeing the guys in Judas Priest play one. I also got an M-80.

When Guild’s A&R guy, Vince Marreca, moved to Kramer, he asked if I wanted to try them. He sent a limo to our rehearsal space, and me, Michael Ray, and (bassist) Greg Smith went out to their factory in Neptune, New Jersey. They showed us guitar bodies and necks, and told us to pick some so they could put guitars together on the spot. I picked two Voyagers, and grabbed the most-outrageous colors they had – lime green and bright orange – and they put them together with a Seymour Duncan JB pickup in the bridge, one Volume control, and a Floyd Rose. They’re really nice.

Did you use both quite a bit?
Yeah, I used them on Coup d’Etat, Maggots, and Wendy’s metal album, Deffest! And Baddest! I also used a Destroyer I got from Ibanez.

How did Wendy’s music compare with Plasmatics?
It was very similar. Her first solo album was produced by Gene Simmons. We did 32 dates on their Creatures of the Night tour, and afterward, Gene wanted to produce a Wendy project – didn’t want to use the Plasmatics name, so it became a Wendy O. Williams album even though many of the songs were written for a Plasmatics record.

How many Plasmatics played on it?
Just me and drummer T.C. Tolliver. Richie was supposed to play, but his leads weren’t up to Gene’s standards. Richie quit the band at that point. Chris was going to play bass, but two weeks before we went to the studio, he got into an argument with Rod and left abruptly. Gene looked at Rod and me and said, “We weren’t going to use him anyway.”

Really, Gene didn’t want to use any of us on the record, but Wendy stood up for me and T.C. because she wanted to keep that sound, and she was comfortable with us. It worked out pretty well. Gene brought a guitar player he discovered, Michael Ray, who was really good and became lead guitarist in Wendy’s solo band. Gene played bass on every song under a pseudonym for contractual reasons, except “Legends Never Die.” Greg Smith did the live shows. Eric Carr played on “Legends Never Die” and did some background vocals. Vinny Vincent co-wrote one song.

Kiss had just toured Brazil and their equipment was on its way back, so Paul [Stanley] went to a guitar store and grabbed a Kramer. It was my job to sit with him and go through chord changes and cues so he could choose a part to record. But he wasn’t feeling it, so he ended up playing just the motorcycle sounds at the beginning of “Ready to Rock.”

It was interesting because the previous record, with Dieter Dirks producing, was very tight – we rehearsed 10 hours a day with a click track, playing songs over and over. I learned a lot about recording with Dieter. Gene was 180 degrees opposite. We’d go through the songs once and he’d say, “Okay, see you tomorrow.” The result was a more open-sounding record, more commercial. It’s really good, but unfortunately, it didn’t get promotion.

Ace Frehley played on a Wendy song, too…
He played the solo on “Bump ’N’ Grind.” I wasn’t there that day, but I was told he did a few takes and they used his first. It was really good.

What are some of your fondest memories of the band?
Working with Wendy, hanging out with her. She was like an older sister to me – always laughing, always happy, always watching out for the band. She made sure everything was there per our contract rider, made sure we were eating healthy on the road.

Wendy was such a solid person. She promoted personal freedom and wanted people to be themselves and live life to its fullest, which she certainly did.

What did you talk about with her?
Music and life. She always wanted to know how I was doing. Before rehearsals, I’d stop at record stores and buy cutouts – I was a music lover and wanted to hear what other bands were doing. So I’d walk into rehearsal with a bag full of records and Wendy would say, “Hey, Wes, whatcha got there?” She’d tear into them (laughs), sometimes asking, “Why are you buying this?” She got a kick from giving me a hard time about some of my selections.

What do you hope people remember about her?
That she loved music, animals, and exercise. When the band was over, she became a wildlife rehabilitator in Connecticut. Hearing that she ended her life was such a shock. To me, she was always happy, but you never know what’s inside someone. I know she missed performing and being onstage. Rod moved on to other academic things, so she didn’t have that anymore. I visited her and Rod on many occasions, and talked to her not long before she died.

I still think about her all the time. She was such a big part of my life for so long. Her death was a real shock, a real loss. There will never be another performer like Wendy.

Plasmatics music and its aesthetic were so counterculture that they were never going to be a Top 10 hit or rotation on MTV, which was important at the time.
No, our videos were relegated to the 4 a.m. slot, and they only showed each once or twice – though we did have a video on “Beavis and Butthead” (laughs).

What do you see as the band’s place in music history?
It’s unique. We’ve been called “a cultural footnote,” and that sums it up pretty well. We never got a lot of airplay, didn’t sell a lot of records. Mainstream media was afraid of us – afraid of what the band and Wendy represented, which is unfortunate because hers was such a positive message. She was on the cover of Vegetarian Times and used to say she wouldn’t eat anything that had a face. At one time, she and Rod were growing 90 percent of the food they ate, which was incredible when you think about it.

But, people are starting to take interest in the band again. They just got a request for a movie that wants to use posters of Wendy on the set. Zoe Kravitz, Liev Schreiber, and a few other A-list actors are involved.

The Plasmatics name is still out there, and I’m always happy when I talk about it.

To read a list of Wes Beech’s personally curated list of songs for listeners new to the Plasmatics, and the stories behind them, visit www.VintageGuitar.com.

This article originally appeared in VG’s January 2025 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.