Jimmie Rodgers has been called many things; while active from 1927-’33 he was billed as “the Singing Brakeman” and ”America’s Blue Yodeler” but, in the decades since, the “Father of Country Music” has become most apt. Rodgers’ popularity on record was practically unmatched during his sadly brief career, and a great majority of country artists well into the ’60s cite him as a primary influence. That this slight, gregarious (but often sickly) man, scrawny and prematurely balding, was an idol to generations of fans and performers may seem quixotic in our visually enhanced age, but he was the single most important figure in early country music.

Jimmie Rodgers has been called many things; while active from 1927-’33 he was billed as “the Singing Brakeman” and “America’s Blue Yodeler” but, in the decades since, the “Father of Country Music” has become most apt. Rodgers’ popularity on record was practically unmatched during his sadly brief career, and a great majority of country artists well into the ’60s cite him as a primary influence. That this slight, gregarious (but often sickly) man, scrawny and prematurely balding, was an idol to generations of fans and performers may seem quixotic in our visually enhanced age, but he was the single most important figure in early country music.

In the nearly 100 years since Rodgers’ recording debut, country music has moved far afield, sonically, but the paradigm of “singer with guitar” he exemplified is still at its core. Earlier “hillbilly” recordings featured fiddles, banjos, and string bands; Rodgers (and the Carter Family, first recorded at the same 1927 Bristol session) put the commercial focus on guitar and vocal. The current quest to rediscover country’s black roots is nothing new where Jimmie is concerned; his sound was as steeped in blues as traditional balladry, and he recorded with black musicians including The Louisville Jug Stompers, Clifford Gibson, and even Louis Armstrong.

If Rodgers was never shy about promoting himself, he had a good reason not to waste time. His amiable persona covered a tragic story, having been stricken with tuberculosis before beginning his recording career. Not long after his initial Victor Records session in August of ’27, Rodgers emerged as one of the company’s most-prolific and successful artists. Even after 1930, as the Depression crippled the recording industry, Jimmie’s discs were among the few that could be counted on to sell at all. His death in 1933 was another tragedy to many Americans already reeling from economic disaster.

Rodgers’ stylistic repertoire was as wide-ranging as any American artist; he recorded any song he could get hold of or cobble together – solo, duo, in small combos, with orchestras, Hawaiian and jazz players. In any context, his clear voice and trademark yodel were unmistakable, and the guitar remained at the heart of his music. Many of his best records feature just voice and six-string, and more than anyone, Rodgers made the flat-top guitar central to country music.

Never one to miss a marketing opportunity, Rodgers was, unsurprisingly, the first “hillbilly” artist to endorse a signature instrument. A couple of years after crooner Nick Lucas and vaudeville “Wizard of the Stings” Roy Smeck lent their names to guitars (by Gibson and Harmony, respectively), Weymann introduced the Jimmie Rodgers Special Style 890 flat-top. It’s possible (even likely) he first approached C. F. Martin & Company with this idea, but since that company did not indulge such endorsements, Weymann was the next best thing. By the summer of ’28, Rodgers had procured lavish custom guitars from both Martin and the H.A. Weymann company with the then-novel feature of his name inlaid in pearl along the fretboard, which soon became a country music tradition.

Jimmie preferred Martin guitars, starting early in the ’20s with a bottom-line 2-17, likely all he could afford. He upgraded to a 00-18, then once ”Mr. Victor” (his record company) started paying real money, Jimmie ordered a customized top-of-the-line 000-45 in 1928. This was delivered to him that June by C. F. Martin III, indicating the company saw a promotional opportunity with Rodgers. Nonetheless, Jimmie paid $168.75 for the guitar; Martin never gave away anything! Still, the company appreciated his patronage; on the inside back is a note: “To Jimmie Rodgers, America’s Blue Yodeler, with all good wishes C. Fredrick Martin III, July 27, 1928.”

In ’28, a 000-45 was the biggest and best guitar Martin offered, made of the finest rosewood, spruce, and mahogany and adorned with their fanciest pearl trim. In addition to his name on the fretboard, the headstock was inlaid “Blue Yodel.” Legend has it this was intended to read “Yodeler,” but Martin ran out of space! It also had “Thanks” painted in large block letters on the back, which Jimmie would flash at the audience in appreciation.

No matter how much Martin appreciated Rogers, the company had no interest in endorsements or marketing artist-logo instruments; anyone who wanted a Martin, even a custom one, had to order it through a dealer and pay for it. In the ’20s, Martin strongly maintained this policy despite pleas from performers like Roy Smeck; letters proposing such endorsements still rest in their archive. Of course, later in the 20th century Martin obviously re-thought this stance!

In his sole filmed performance (a November ’29 short called “The Singing Brakeman”) Jimmie casually asks for “that old guitar” and gets handed his shiny new Martin and delivers a devastatingly casual performance that encapsulates the essence of his art. After Rodgers died in 1933, the 000-45 was loaned for decades to acolyte Ernest Tubb. It is now preserved in the Jimmy Rodgers Museum in his hometown of Meridian, Mississippi.

While Rogers is most associated with the 000-45, the guitars built for him by the Weymann company also saw extensive use. According to Nolan Porterfield’s definitive Rodgers biography, Jimmie was using one in performance by August 1928 at the latest. Based on photographic evidence, Rodgers received two custom-made Weymann guitars – one with a slotted headstock, another with the solid variety. Both had Rodgers’ name on the fretboard and the Weymann logo on the headstock inlaid in pearl script, more elegant and complicated than Martin’s block letters, but harder to read from the audience! While marginally less flashy than the 000-45, these Weymanns are nonetheless beautiful and striking.

As part of this arrangement, the Philadelphia company acquired the rights to use Rodgers’ name on a production model. It is not known if he was promised a royalty or if it was a quid pro quo for a free instrument! Whatever the terms, it was apparently not exclusive (if so, Rodgers ignored it!) as he played and posed with his Martin and Weymann guitars interchangeably.

H.A. Weymann & Son was nearly as venerated as Martin, and also founded by a German immigrant, Henry Arnold Weymann (in 1852). They were originally a retail operation trading in goods like jewelry and watches, mostly imported from Germany. After Henry died in 1892, son Harry William steered the business into musical goods, which they began to build and import.

Weymann prospered in the 1910s and ’20s with high-grade banjos, their unique Mando-Lute, and flat-top guitars. The retail store sometimes sold Martin guitars, so they were familiar with their Pennsylvania neighbor’s designs. In 1922, Weymann bought almost 1,300 ukuleles for resale from Martin, but quickly came out with their own very similar models. In terms of build quality, Weymanns of the period were about as close to Martins as anyone ever got.

Rodgers’ slot-head Weymann is preserved in the Country Music Hall Of Fame – well-used and much repaired. The top has no pearl trim, but instead, elaborate/multi-layered wood marquetry around the border and soundhole. An unusual feature is extended ribs along the mahogany sides, rather like a violin – a construction quirk Weymann used on Mando-Lutes and a few other guitars. The instrument was examined in the early ’90s by Nashville luthier John Arnold, who then created several replicas. The first was for presentation to Doc Watson, who had been allowed to play the original.

Porterfield quotes Billy Burkes, one of Rodgers’ most-faithful accompanists, regarding the 1929 Victor session for “Hobo Bill’s Last Ride.” Burkes recalled, “I played Jimmie’s Weymann guitar on this particular tune and you can notice the difference in tone; the way it recorded. My, that was a beautiful instrument.”

After studying the original guitar, Arnold described the tone as “More of a Larson Brothers-type sound… punchier and more projection than a Martin.”

He asserts that if one listens carefully to Rodgers’ guitar-and-vocal recordings, tonal differences between the guitars are audible.

Though Rodgrers had his Weymann in 1928, it apparently took some time before Weymann had its Jimmie Rodgers Special Model 890 ready for sale. It appeared in the company’s 1930-’31 catalog billed as “An instrument for the Artist.” While not an exact replica of Rodgers’ custom Weymanns, it’s still a high-grade flat-top. Weymann’s top-of-the-line guitar, with a list price of $90 including a hardshell case, it was fairly expensive – double the cost of Martin’s mahogany 00-18 and $5 more than a rosewood 000-28. Beyond that, the timing couldn’t have been worse, as The Depression was really kicking in. Banjo and ukulele sales had pretty much collapsed, so, like other makers, Weymann was desperately trying to shift to guitars. The Model 890 was their new flagship, but few of Jimmie’s acolytes could afford a $90 guitar. At the same time, Martin had just launched its 14-fret OM models, which soon eclipsed the old 12-fret design in the public imagination.

The result of all this is an extremely rare instrument. Most fall into a tight serial-number range, suggesting a short production run. Some show variations in features, indicating they were individually finished-out. Weymann’s earlier guitars and banjos carried the Keystone State brand, while the Rodgers models have a plain Weymann gold decal on the headstock rear. The style and serial number are die-stamped into the headstock’s top edge.

The first Weymann Jimmie Rodgers Model 890 shown here is an early example, made in 1931 and with serial number 45673. It matches the catalog illustration with the headstock and fretboard covered in flashy pearloid. The 12-fret body is 145/8″ wide (between a 00 and 000 size) made of high-grade mahogany with elaborate colored-wood marquetry around the bound edge of the spruce top and herringbone soundhole trim. These did not have the elaborate raised rims around the sides. The top is delicately X-braced and intended for steel strings; the catalog mentioned that gut stringing was available as an option.

The one-piece mahogany neck has a medium-V profile with a long 251/2″ scale and 13/4″ wide nut. The flashy full length pearloid fingerboard is devoid of position marks, but there are three side dots on the white celluloid binding. The solid pearloid-faced headstock has a slightly crested profile and a diagonal multicolored “Weymann” logo decal. Oddly enough, the only mention of Rodgers is a small strip paper label under the soundhole that reads, “Jimmie Rodgers Special Model – Victor Recording and National Radio Artist.” Rodgers’ image was featured on the catalog page, but not prominently; really, they were underselling the endorsement premise!

The other featured Model 890 (serial number 47172) represents one of the last made, possibly finished in 1932-’33, shortly before the company ceased manufacturing. The guitar is similar but with a standard rosewood fretboard in place of the pearloid, which may have been an economy measure or simply using up available parts. The solid headstock remains pearloid-faced, with the diagonal Weymann decal.

An interesting (if impractical) feature of both is Weymann’s centered-gear banjo tuners instead of guitar machines. In the late ’20s, there was a brief fad for fitting banjo tuners to guitars, both Martin and Gibson giving it a try. Weymann’s proprietary banjo pegs were unique – light, handy, and inconspicuous, mounted discreetly and countersunk into the back of the headstock. They worked well enough on banjos, but their tiny gears – delicate enough to be part of a pocket watch – often proved overmatched by the tension of guitar strings.

Both guitars are well-preserved and original for their age, 90-plus years along. The thin lacquer finish on the later one shows typical pick wear to the top often seen on well-strummed flat-tops. The only notable alteration is the tuners, which are modern high-grade banjo units replacing the original Weymann banjo tuners.

There aren’t many larger-body/non-Martin/non-Larson steel-string flat-tops of this era that match the Weymanns’ build and sound quality. If not as truly unique as Jimmie’s original custom guitars, a Model 890 remains a delight to play. The sound is powerful and rich, with a bit more top-end sing than many similar Martins, but never lacking depth. One hopes Jimmie would have been pleased with them, at least; they certainly sound great for his bass note-and-strum style.

Weymann ceased instrument manufacture in 1933, a casualty of The Depression. The company sold its factory in December ’33, then sold re-branded Chicago catalog guitars. The Jimmie Rodgers Special is their glorious six-string swan song, a really fine instrument even if not a success at the time. While not as well-remembered as its namesake (or even his custom Martin), the Jimmie Rodgers Special is a fitting memorial to the man who, long before Elvis or the Beatles, made the guitar the central object of desire for countless young picking-and-strumming dreamers.

This article originally appeared in VG’s September 2024 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.