Mike Semrad’s musical roots run deep in his hometown of Fremont, Nebraska – at least as far back as his great-grandmother, who sang at the city’s opera house. But his first glimpse into the true power of music happened in high school, when one night in 1962, overachieving pep-band director Bob Olson stirred things up with a medley of traditional songs he’d charted as upbeat pop tunes for their halftime performance at a basketball game; “Oh, My Darling Clementine” became “The Clemmy Twist.”
The packed gym was set abuzz, and the mood carried over to school the following day. Realizing there was potential, Semrad and four buddies – Quinn Kulhanek, Ed Heine, Jay Davis, and Larry Fiehn, all first-chair players in the band – decided they should grab electric guitars, amps, and drums, and start rehearsing “modern” instrumental tunes. After all, there was no “rock and roll” band in their 15,000-person town.
Keying on simple open-chord songs, within a month they’d dubbed themselves The Nomads and scheduled their first gig at the local youth canteen, Semrad’s Supro plugged into a reel-to-reel tape player running through a home-stereo receiver that he and his dad had rigged as a guitar amp.
After graduating in the spring of 1963, all but one of the Nomads enrolled at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, where they kept gigging, Semrad having by then bought a used brownface Fender 4×10 Concert. As rock bands are wont to do, they chased the latest trends.
“Beatlemania was just starting, so we thought it would be a great idea to wear Beatles wigs,” he said with a chuckle. “It was sort of an impulse – we didn’t give it much thought – and it did not resonate with audiences. So the wigs went away pretty quickly (laughs).”
After playing the Supro for a year, he sold it to get a red Telecaster because its black-Tolex case caught his eye. And while it served him well, he was also a frequent visitor to the third floor at Dietze Music, where he was wall-gazing one day when, “This cowboy in his 40s came in, cussing about how heavy his guitar was and saying he wanted to trade it for a good acoustic.”
That guitar was a ’57 Les Paul Custom “Black Beauty” with factory Bigsby tailpiece, and its owner accepted the store’s offer to trade even-up for a Martin dreadnought. Before the door could hit his backside, Semrad was at the counter, offering the clerk $25 more than the store had in the deal. The clerk said, “Sure, $350!” and Semrad snapped open his checkbook. “New” guitar in hand, he headed home. But…
“There was $12 in that checking account!” he laughs. “I had to call my mom, and she agreed to put more in. I told her, ‘Look, we’re playing a lot and I’m making $30 or $40 every night.’”
Within eight months, he had repaid the impromptu loan.
Eventually, The Nomads changed their name to J. Harrison B. and The Bumbles and expanded their reach throughout the Midwest and into Colorado. Semrad and his Les Paul were living their best life.
In 1968, he left the band after being invited to play trumpet and guitar in a rising R&B/psychedelic-pop group called The Smoke Ring. A few months after he came aboard, they traveled to Memphis to record at Phillips Recording Studio, working with producer/engineer Knox Phillips, son of the legendary Sam Phillips. As the music came together, they got advice and help from staff musicians and songwriters including Dickey Lee, Bob McDill, Charlie Freeman, Stan Kesler, and Allen Reynolds. On the suggestion of Sam Phillips, they recorded a version of The Four Lads’ 1956 hit “No Not Much”; theirs charted throughout the Midwest and garnered attention from major labels. After its publishing rights were acquired by Buddah Records (which catered to a younger audience with titles by pop acts like Ohio Express, 1910 Fruitgum Company, and Melanie), it sold more than 800,000 copies, reached #17 on Billboard’s Easy Listening chart, and earned them an invite to perform on “American Bandstand,” where in May of ’69 they mimed their second single, “Portrait of My Love.” After taping was finished, host Dick Clark chatted with the band for an hour. In the years that followed, Semrad exchanged several letters with Clark, and still has them.
Now 79, Semrad has remained active in music throughout his life, and still occasionally plays out. After his parents passed, he found a payment book for a signature loan from a bank in Fremont, its register marking payments made by his mother.
“Until then, I was unaware that she had to borrow that $350,” he said. “It wasn’t a huge amount of money, but they didn’t have it when I got the guitar. They were never upset about it, and always supported my playing, which makes sense because they were both musicians, so they shared that passion.”
The Black Beauty today remains mostly original. The gold on its pickups and bridge has worn, as have its “Fretless Wonder” frets, both forgivable given the countless hours of play they’ve seen. More importantly, the binding has aged but remains in good shape with no breaks, and while the pickup rings are missing a few screws, Semrad doesn’t recall ever having removed them (or the pickups). The only departure is one replaced Tone knob and the newer output jack/plate, both for the sake of function. He is preparing to sell the guitar to avoid stirring family drama by giving it to one of his six sons, some of whom are accomplished musicians. – Ward Meeker
Special thanks to Gregg Poe. Audio from The Smoke Ring’s “American Bandstand” segment can be viewed on Youtube, along with a handful of other recordings by the band.
Do you have a collectible/vintage guitar with an interesting personal story that might be a good fit for “Classics?” If so, send an e-mail to ward@vintageguitar.com for details on how it could be featured.
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.
