Tag: features

In the years immediately after World War II, Americans were settling into a new way of life, and plunging headlong toward an economic prosperity never before experienced by everyday people. Change was also afoot among the nation’s guitar manufacturers.

Having been restricted by materials shortages and/or re-tooling to bolster the war effort, guitar makers like Gibson and Gretsch rolled out of the war with a renewed sense of adventure that was quick to take advantage of changes in popular music – fading quickly were big-band music, swing, and be-bop, replaced by simpler, more aggressive types of music that would eventually take on labels like “rock and roll,” “rockabilly,” “country and western,” “folk,” and “blues.”

The predominant trend among guitar builders at the time was the shift to electricity and (a bit later) the solidbody guitar. But there were more nuanced changes, as well, like the burgeoning popularity of folk music, which in 1947 spurred Gretsch to design three flat-top acoustic guitars – the 16″ Sierra Synchromatic 75 (model number 6007), the 17″ Jumbo Synchromatic 125F (model 6021), and the 18″ 400F (6042). Though none went on to achieve status as truly noteworthy collectibles, the 125F evolved to become the most popular Gretsch acoustic ever made.

In 1954, Gretsch removed the word “Synchromatic” from the headstock of the 125F and re-named it the Town and Country. Still a fairly well-dressed critter, it retained the 6021 model number, 17″ body, maple back and sides, laminated spruce top with natural finish, ladder bracing, multi-ply binding on its top and back, and bound fretboard with block inlays. It also carried over certain design elements from the Jumbo Synchromatic, some functional (arched maple back, height-adjustable bridge), others downright funky, like the triangular sound hole, triangular rosewood bridge, and slanted metal string-anchor plate.

Introduced alongside the Town and Country, the 6022 Rancher was simply a 6021 dressed up in what Gretschheads call the “cowboy” treatment – Amber Red (a.k.a. “Western Orange”) finish, a tortoiseshell pickguard with engraved steer head, “G brand” logo on the lower bass bout, “cows and cactus” inlays, and the steer-head inlay on the face of the headstock.

Not exactly renowned for their sound or playability, the Rancher and Town and Country are today viewed much more favorably for their catchy looks.

“They are both artistically avant-garde interesting pieces of art,” said George Gruhn, co-author of Gruhn’s Guide to Vintage Guitars. “However, their laminated top construction, heavy bracing, and bridge design are not conducive to producing good acoustic sound. While they have some appeal as collector’s items, I view them as musical stage props.”

“I agree,” added Walter Carter, Gruhn’s Guide co-author and author of several other books that chronicle guitar brands and models. “You have to string it up with the heaviest strings you can find and play it as hard as you can. That’s the only way to get any sound out of one!”

So it was that the Rancher mostly languished in terms of popularity, and thus was subject to Gretsch’s treatment of similarly dressed guitars (the company also slapped the “cowboy” dressing on the 6120 Chet Atkins Hollow Body, the 6121 Chet Atkins Solid Body, and the 6130 Roundup – the last two were essentially Duo Jet models in Rancher duds) when bits of the “cowboy” detail were dropped from the Rancher with each passing year. Not cool, but certainly better than the fate suffered by the Town and Country, which Gretsch dropped from the line by ’59.

Sans cowboy attire, the Rancher sallied forth, lasting in its original form until 1973, when it was discontinued for two years, reintroduced, then discontinued again in 1980.

While its story is mostly unexciting, one particular 1955 Rancher did become a Hollywood movie star, of sorts, when it appeared in the hands of actor Robert Duvall in his portrayal of has-been country singer Mac Sledge in the 1982 film Tender Mercies. The character is an alcoholic who seemingly lives out the lyrics of a country song by drinking away his career and family before one day waking up on the floor of a motel in Texas, fresh off an ass-whoopin’. Flat broke, he is forced (or allowed) to “work off” his bill, and the subsequent story of redemption centers around his relationship with the widowed hotel owner, played by Tess Harper, and her son, played by Allan Hubbard.

Lauded by critics, the film scored five Oscar nominations including best director, picture, actor, original screenplay, and original song. It is also regarded as one of Duvall’s finest performances, and marked the only time in six nominations that he was awarded the Oscar for Best Actor. And the Rancher played a significant role in his role.

The guitar Duvall used in the film now belongs to Claude Armentrout and his son, Randy, both of whom are fans of Duvall and the film.

“In 2005, I bought a reissue single-cut Rancher simply because it reminded me of the one in the movie,” Randy said. “But of course I never expected to own the real thing.

“The two play and sound amazingly similar,” he added. “I was impressed to find the ’55 was still in excellent playing condition, with clean, low action that’s as quick and light as any guitar I’ve played. Its sound is thin and bright, but very well balanced, similar to a J-series Gibson, but not as deep.

“Both have the neck contours common to all Gretsches I’ve played, which is my favorite thing about a Gretsch.”

Obviously delighted, Armentrout recalls that after acquiring it, questions abounded about various oddities. So he set out on a mission to gather its history, and his search eventually put him in contact with every person who has owned the guitar since the mid ’60s. Here’s what he has learned so far…

History

Though its earliest history is unknown, in the mid ’60s, concert promoter/record collector Edward Guy bought the guitar, used, from New York’s famed Manny’s Music.

“I liked it because it was very different in color, and because of the shape of the sound hole,” Guy recently told VG. “It had a good neck and a hardy bass sound. Plus, it had the G brand on its top, which just happened to be my last initial!”

A friend of Duvall since the mid ’50s, in 1982, the actor asked Guy if he could use it in a movie because of its authentic, “seasoned” appearance.

“Bobby had a Martin D-28 that his fiance at the time time, Gail Youngs, had given him. But he felt it was too common-looking, and wanted to use a distinctive guitar for the film.” So the guitar made its way to Duvall, who used it “…for six months or more,” Guy said, while preparing for the role in some fairly “method” ways. Guy recounts that Duvall drove more than 600 miles through Texas, recording local accents and sitting in with local country bands.

Guy also invited Duvall to attend the 1982 Waterloo Bluegrass Festival, where Duvall spent time with musical legends like Bill Monroe and Charlie Waller, studying their performances and watching as they interacted with fans and fellow players. When invited, he’d hang out on tour buses.

Guy’s input also affected a certain behavioral trait of Duvall’s character.

“I contacted the Country Music Hall of Fame and obtained a rare video of Hank Williams on the ‘The Kate Smith Show’ in 1952,” Guy recalled. “I found out that Hank never removed his hat because his hair was thinning. Bobby thanked me for that tidbit, and said he would thereafter keep his hat on for the majority of the film.”

Finally, Guy and his partner, George Argast, arranged for Duvall to perform with the guitar as the opening act for Don Williams at a concert in Morristown, New Jersey.

The roadwork apparently paid off, as Duvall then sang the songs for the Tender Mercies soundtrack, and even had a hand in writing some of them.

Shortly after, the guitar was one of three at a party hosted by Duvall in his New York apartment following a screening of the film. Cast members, along with Willie Nelson, reportedly played it as guitars were passed around.

“Bobby had me smuggle in two guitars and hide them upstairs, to avoid being too presumptuous with Willie,” Guy said. “But Willie didn’t need any encouragement. He asked, ‘Does anyone got a guitar?’ and he played and sang for hours… to the frustration of his wife, Connie, who left, somewhat unhappy!”

In 1983, Guy moved to the West Coast, where the guitar was routinely present at jam sessions and parties at Duvall’s home in Malibu, attended by music industry luminaries such as Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, and Steve Goodman.

In the mid ’70s, Guy replaced the pickguard with a custom version. “The original pickguard dampened the sound,” he remembered. “So I had Matt Umanov replace it.” In ’81, its tuning machines were replaced with Grovers. “I did that because one of the strings kept slipping out of tune. Plus, the gold Grovers really dressed up the guitar, and I wanted it to look good for Duvall.”

The Lone Star Beer Armadillo decal was partially placed over the G brand by the film’s props department, looking to avoid legal/usage issues. Today, it is as it appeared in the film.

Before sending the guitar “on the road” with Duvall, Guy bought a more-durable Guild case to better protect the instrument. Though the case was in like-new condition when it later arrived on the film’s set, the props department (in a move decades ahead of its time!) “relic’d” it and applied backstage-pass stickers, all in the name of authenticity!

In the mid 2000s, the guitar was sold to Peter Trauth at AJ’s Music, in Las Vegas, who sold it to the Armentrouts in 2010. Randy recalls how right after they scored the guitar, he and a friend got completely geeked out with it one night. “We put in the Tender Mercies DVD and I played along with Duvall in the kitchen scene,” he said. “It was spooky how you could tell it was the same guitar, just by the sound! We’d look at the screen, then down at the guitar… it was truly surreal.”

Fans of The History Channel’s “Pawn Stars” reality series might also recognize the guitar, as Trauth appeared with it on a 2009 episode titled “Sink or Sell,” where head honcho Rick Harrison politely declined to pay $10,000 for it.

The guitar will soon be displayed along with other film memorabilia as part of an exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame.

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This article originally appeared in VG January 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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CLICK HERE for Tender Mercies scene with Gretsch Rancher.

Though today they are viewed as little more than curious relics of a lost era, during the Great Depression, “mother of toilet seat” Hawaiian lap steels were one of the most popular types of guitar. You could argue that these little electrics blazed the trail for the later popularity of electric Spanish guitars. There were almost unlimited choices – a cheap lap isn’t that hard to make – and a whole infrastructure was built up to market guitars like the Dickerson Standard.

The Dickerson family was involved with the Los Angeles music scene during the Depression, if not before. The Dickersons also owned a factory known as Dickerson Brothers, and Delbert J. Dickerson began producing Hawaiian lap steels and small tube amplifiers branded with the family name in 1937 or ’38 and sold through the American Hawaiian Teachers Association (AHT) in Los Angeles (and likely elsewhere). Dickerson also contract-manufactured guitars and amps for Varsity, The Southern California Music Company, The Oahu Publishing Company, Bronson Publishing Corp., studio and store owner Roland Ball (father of Ernie Ball, who began performing on steel in the ’30s), and Gourley, plus others, carrying the purchaser’s own brand. Almost all, if not all, of these were covered in mottled sheet celluloid, or pearloid, which Dickerson called “Lumarith.”

The infrastructure that supported the Hawaiian music scene was a fairly sophisticated nexus of music publishers, instrument manufacturers, and music education conducted either by teachers or through the mail. The publishers were numerous; some thrived on the music, but others were heavily involved in pedagogy, including National Institute of Music & Arts (L.A.), Oahu (Cleveland), Bronson (Detroit), and Eddie Alkire (Easton, Pennsylvania). All offered instruments – primarily through the mail – made for them by manufacturers including Supro, Kay, and Dickerson. Much of the music published by these firms was clearly pedagogical – that is, often consisting of songs in the public domain arranged in simple, beginner-level melodies. This music might be part of a mail-order course or used by a music teacher.

In L.A. and other larger cities, teachers often joined a larger organization such as the AHT, which would send salespeople door-to-door to recruit children for Hawaiian guitar lessons. They might also offer instruments that the family could either rent or buy. The hawker got a fee and the organization no doubt got a cut of the teacher’s pay. A second crew would circle by to pick up the kids and transport them to the AHT for lessons. This is the kind of infrastructure that fed Dickerson, or vice versa!

Dickerson appears to have offered three Hawaiian guitars and four amps, sold in sets. Hawaiian guitar wizard Sol Hoopii, who was teaching Dickerson’s daughter, Belva, reportedly consulted on the design of these guitars – the Student, the Standard, and the De Luxe – all of which had a single-coil pickup mounted underneath their top in a design he patented (filed 1938, awarded 1940). The Student was pear-/paddle-shaped and had a handrest with a Volume control mounted on it. The Standard sported top-mounted controls and added a Tone. Pre-war Dickersons had a relatively heavy cast tailpiece, whereas post-war models used the metal rod combined with the through-body grommets. Both had decal fingerboards and were covered in a silver-grey pearloid; they are the most commonly seen. The De Luxe guitar is much rarer. It was dressed in “pearl Lumarith” (a tan-colored pearloid) and sported “tinsel” (sparkle plastic) fingerboard inlays and trim. All had a headstock that was sort of like a simplified mini-Gibson design, with a center peak at the top.

The guitars were typically sold in combination with a matching amplifier. The Student Model came with the Student guitar and a small amp with a 6″ speaker ($49.50). The Standard Model had the Standard guitar with an amp featuring an 8″ speaker ($59.50). The Semi De Luxe Model came with the De Luxe guitar and an amp with a 10″ speaker ($89.50). The De Luxe Professional outfit featured the De Luxe guitar and an amp with a 12″ speaker ($129.50). Cases were extra. A $90 and $130 pricetag during the Depression probably explains why almost no De Luxe guitars ever show up!

Despite their apparent simplicity, these little Dickerson lap steels are pretty sweet, if this example is representative. It has a full, round tone that’s redolent of the Islands. The Tone control takes a bit too much off when you dial it down to zero, but the drop off is rapid, so if you just back down a quarter-turn, you get a good bass tone.

Dickerson went on to patent an amp-in-case design (filed 1939, awarded 1940), and one of his employees, Art Duhamell, developed an early push-button Hawaiian guitar tuning changer called the Dickerson Multi-Matic.

There are conflicting accounts about what happened next, but Dickerson apparently tired of making instruments. In ’44 or right after war’s end, he seems to have sold the company to former AHT crew chief Gaston Fator. That probably explains the post-war design changes like the rounded head and wire-and-grommet tail. Fator seems to have continued making Dickersons, but in 1947, he sold the company (possibly by then called Fator Manufacturing) to Art Duhamell and it became Magna Electronics, which would go on produce some very cool guitars (including designs by Paul Bigsby and Paul Barth) and some of the greatest amps (with True Vibrato) ever. The move meant the Dickerson brand disappeared, replaced by Magnatone.

So, while Tiki bars are on the comeback, this pearloid Dickerson Standard remains a curious token of a lost time – and yes, they actually did make toilet seats out of the same celluloid back in the day!

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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It’s an extraordinarily rare event to find a high-grade, historically significant mid-1800s guitar in a pawn shop, but that is indeed where this Martin was discovered.

When found in Nashville in the mid 1970s, it was recognized as an exceptional instrument with ornamentation far in excess of any typical Martin of that time, but only recently has documentation surfaced to provide detail about it – and its depth is seldom encountered on any instrument of this age.

There are three remarkable letters in the Martin archive related to this instrument. A letter from Peters & Sons, a music-instrument retailer, dated October 12, 1852, makes the following query:
“N.B. Please write us at Cin(cinnati) the cost, or supposed cost, of a Guitar of the following description: A Guitar of the very finest make (same shape as the fine one we have on con(signment)) with rosewood inside case. The Patent Head to be of Plated Gold and end of screws etc to be pearl tiped (sic). Frets to be Gold (18 carat) and the fingerboard to be covered with pearl, instead of ebony. The man is not particular about the price but wants the best in the country.”

Another letter, dated November 8, 1852, continues; “The gentleman who wants the elegant guitar is at our elbow. He wants as good a guitar as you can make for $100 wholesale. The head to be patent head – the metal part of the head to be galvanized with gold. The fret to be 14 carat gold – worth 50 cts per pennyweight. The spaces between the frets to be made of pearl.

“There must be an extra case, of rosewood, such as the one we have of yours. Also, the shape of the instrument to be the same as the one we have. Above all, the gentleman wants to know soon he can have the instrument, as it for a lady who is about to be married.”

The final letter, dated November 24, 1852 fixed the specifications:
“Make the fine Guitar, with a black neck veneered with ebony. Make the sounding board or top – pale yellow.

“Make the Guitar, same size as the one we have on con(signment)

“Make the neck a little narrower.

“It must not cost us more than $110 dollars, but the frets must be gold as we last wrote you.

“You must cheapen it a little on the Rosewood case and above all, don’t forget to send it away within three weeks from the receipt of our letter.”

In the mid 1980s, an article [co-authored by George Gruhn and Suzy Newton] on this guitar in Guitar Player identified an interesting feature not mentioned in the letter in the Martin archive: on top of the rosewood case, the name “Lula” is inlaid in script letters. Likely the name of the lady who received the guitar as a wedding gift. The article suggests the material for the inlay was brass, but it is more likely that leftover gold fret wire was used for the inlaid letters.

The pictures reveal a very unusual headstock, one not seen on any other Martin guitar of the period. The type of tuning machines used resulted in very narrow peghead slots. Martin selected these peculiar machines because the dealer specified “the Patent head to be of plated gold.” The external mounting plates of these unusual machines would have been much easier to plate than those Martin normally used.

This guitar has what is commonly known as the “renaissance” shape. Until the connection could be made between this guitar and the archival material, it was a matter of conjecture as to when these guitars were made. C.F. Martin did not record this different shape in the day book, but we know from correspondence that W. C. Peters & Sons had at least one more in stock with the same “renaissance” shape. This guitar is one of the few “milepost” instruments from the period because it can be accurately dated. We now know that the “renaissance” shaped guitars were made from about 1843 to 1860.

Martin’s Ledger 1852-’57 records this guitar as being shipped on December 27, 1852. For some reason, it is not recorded in the day book, so we do not have the full description Martin usually noted during this period. Since Martin couldn’t have received the last letter (dated November 24) before November 25 or 26 at the earliest, it is incredible that he was able to make such a stunning instrument in only one month!

This instrument exhibits an extraordinary level of craftsmanship combined with great historical significance and collector’s appeal. At the time, it was one of Martin’s costliest creations. While today $110 wholesale cost will barely buy a good student-model guitar, in 1852, a $20 gold piece, weighed almost 1 ounce and of course represented vastly more buying power than $20 in today’s money. The wholesale price of this guitar was equivalent to 5 1/2 ounces of pure 24-karat gold. While it is difficult to make precise comparisons of the buying power of a dollar in 1852 versus today (since many products available today were simply then unavailable at any price), 5 1/2 ounces of gold today would have a market value $7,150. The cost of musical instruments and other commodities available then and today indicates that would be a very conservative inflation-adjusted price to build a replica today.

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This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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The melodic, evocative warbling of a resonator guitar has for decades been a fixture in country music, and knowledgeable fans will tell you there’s one primary individual to thank for it – Pete “Bashful Brother Oswald” Kirby.

Kirby was born in Sevierville, Tennessee, in 1911. His introduction to the resonator occurred circa 1929, thanks to a Hawaiian musician named Rudy Waikiki. Kirby joined Acuff’s Smoky Mountain Boys in 1939, where his dobro work and tenor harmony helped define country music in its formative years. His stage character was known as Bashful Brother Oswald, and he usually dressed in overalls and an orange hillbilly-type hat, typifying the “country comedian” in such bands of the time.

Dobro took its name from the Dopyera brothers, who started their own company shortly after playing a key role in the development of resonator guitars with National. In the early days of both companies, there were fundamental differences in each brand’s construction, but both used hubcap-like resonator plates to amplify the sound of an acoustic guitar. Today, the word “Dobro” is widely used as a general descriptor of resonator guitars.

The Dobro that Kirby counted on for many years is either a model 27G that was made in California by the Dobro company, or a model 27 made in Chicago by the Regal company which began producing Dobro instruments under license in 1933. Either way, it’s a wood-bodied, two-tone sunburst with a single resonator plate and a round neck (as opposed to a Hawaiian-style square neck) with 12 frets clear of the body. One key to its identity is the lack of three small holes in the top, near the neck joint. Many Dobros had them, but the model 27s (from either manufacturer) did not.

And while a hand-written letter from Kirby (belonging to Nashville musician Mike Webb, the instrument’s current owner) says the instrument was made in 1929, its serial number indicates it was made in 1934-’36. Many Regal-made instruments didn’t have serial numbers, which would give a nod to it being California-made. The resonator plate has patent #1896484 and is embossed with “Other Pat. Pend.,” which also dates the guitar to the mid/late 1930s.

Kirby reportedly acquired the instrument from fellow legend Shot Jackson in 1949, who repaired it and replaced parts after Kirby acquired it. It was always tuned in open A, and Kirby averred that whenever he played his Dobro, he simply stuck with the melody to accompany Acuff’s singing. He also recorded numerous solo albums and appeared on other Nashville sessions.

Acuff died in 1992. Kirby published his autobiography in ’94 and became an official member of the Grand Ole Opry a year later. He passed away in 2002.

In Webb’s letter, Kirby notes, “…an instrument it (sic) no good if it isn’t played and he plays more like me than any one (sic) I know.”

And that says a lot about Kirby as a musician, as he wanted his instruments to continue to be played rather than end up on display in a museum.

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This article originally appeared in VG October 2004 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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The Vox brand may be quintessentially English, but it made a huge impact in the U.S. Riding in with the 1964 British invasion, Vox even displaced Fender for a time as the land’s most desired amplifier. Vox guitars lacked the same impact (the Beatles didn’t play them, after all) but were seen prominently in the hands of the Rolling Stones, Hollies, and others. In retrospect, Vox guitars are most often associated with a ’60s-/garage-band aesthetic. Fashionable for a time, by the end of the decade, Vox guitars and amps had fallen out of favor along with the Beat Group sounds they provided. Still, the best – or at least best-looking – Vox guitars continue to provide an instant cool ’60s vibe (check out the latest Toyota Corolla TV commercial).

The Vox brand hit U.S. teens like a hurricane with the Beatles arrival, but Vox instruments were initially unobtainable, which added to the mystique! Jennings Musical Industries (JMI), a relatively small company in Dartford, Kent, experienced explosive growth supplying the British Beat Boom with its signature amplification. This runaway success was a double-edged sword; needing capital to build the vast amounts of equipment on order (but not paid for), Jennings had no choice but to seek outside financing. By September of ’63, the Royston group (a British electronics concern) had bought a controlling interest from founder Tom Jennings. Amps were the bulk of the business; most Vox guitars were cheap beginner’s models, though by the beginning of ’64 some professional-quality instruments were in-hand. Royston/JMI had no distribution in the U.S. when the Beatles opened this vast market, but one American company had a foot in the door…

By the summer of ’64, Thomas Organ Company was JMI’s exclusive U.S. distributor. Like Hammond and Baldwin, Thomas made mostly large, expensive console organs for the upscale home market. These were big business in the early ’60s, and Thomas was a major player. If, in retrospect, they seem rather unhip (at least compared to Hammond), at the time, Thomas was building some of the most technically advanced organs of the day. Still, in ’64, their big endorser was Mitch Miller; Lawerence Welk was featured in the ’65 ad campaign, the spotlight product being an organ with lighted keys showing students which note to hit! They had no footing in the Beat market, not even building small portable units like Vox supplied to likes of the Animals or the Dave Clark Five.

Thomas was actually a relatively young company – founded in 1956 – and by ’64 a subsidiary of Warwick Electronics, which was a major builder of portable TV sets. Thomas was an early pioneer in high-end solidstate technology – in ’59, the company introduced transistor organs, offering an unusual five-year guarantee. They even sold home organs with a built-in stereo phonograph!

Thomas’ gung-ho founder and president was one Joe Benaron, a big believer in aggressive marketing. In ’62, the company advised music dealers, “Strong, aggressive merchants are selling Thomas – or should be! Join Thomas now… don’t wake up to discover yourself selling against it!” Even so, Benaron was watching its share in the overall market shrink as teenagers everywhere turned to guitars. By late ’64, even Piano Trade magazine was running features like “Guitar – The Instrument with the Golden Future!” Benaron, like many in his shoes, wanted a piece of that action!

Personally, Benaron had much common ground with Tom Jennings, who also started with electric keyboards. Jennings admired the big “Classy” products Thomas built, and it’s been suggested he considered his amps, guitars, and organs to be less-admirable creations despite their success. Jennings was pleased to distribute Thomas organs in the U.K., and in turn Thomas secured exclusive American distribution rights to Vox. At the British Music Trade Fair on August 30, 1964, Thomas placed an order for $1 million worth of Vox equipment; at the time the largest single order for musical merchandise ever made with a U.K. firm. This was followed in mid November by a second order for $1.5 million and, in early ’65, with another for $2 million. Add various exports to Europe and the Far East and the situation for JMI looked rosy – on the surface. The challenge came in supplying the product!

Compared to the American market’s appetite for Vox, the trickle of amps, guitars, and organs JMI was able to supply was a pinprick. Seeing this, Benaron deduced that exploiting it fully meant not just distributing Vox – he wanted his company to be Vox in America! This eventually led to what could be described as a bait-and-switch operation on a massive scale. Instruments sold under the Vox name in the U.S. became the product of a collaboration between English, Italian, and American concerns, many well-removed from their Dartford roots. Vox amplifiers proved very expensive to import. Thomas gave them English-sounding names like Berkeley, Buckingham, and Royal Guardsman, but soon enough they were actually being built in the U.S. At first, Thomas assembled imported chassis into locally-built cabinets, then began substituting domestic components, eventually the only English-made part was the speaker. Using their transistor technology, Warwick/Thomas re-engineered the Vox tube amps designed by Dick Denney at JMI into something completely different, made in a huge plant in Sepulveda, like Warwick’s TVs. In terms of design and construction, these American-made solidstate amps were by no means junk – they have endured better than Fender’s transistor efforts – but they were worlds away from the English “valve” amps they were marketed as being equivalent to.

Vox guitars, too, were re-engineered for the American market, but not in Sepulveda. Guitar making at JMI ran a distant second to amplifiers; despite interesting designs, production relied on sometimes-spotty subcontractors. Solidbodies were assembled in the U.K., but JMI tried several Italian guitar builders as sources for plywood hollowbody guitars nobody in England had the facility to make. After working with Welson and Crucanelli, by early ’65, JMI settled on the Eko operation in Recanati, Italy. Run by founder Oliviero Pigini, Eko was (according to themselves) the largest and most advanced guitar factory in Europe. It already exported to England and America, and was more than willing to pick up contract work on Vox guitars. In ’66, JMI/Royston, Eko and Thomas entered a partnership named EME, to further Vox production worldwide. Jennings, Benaron, and Pigini all had ambitions for the operation, but the goals were not always the same. Eventually, Thomas and Eko essentially cut JMI out of the loop, running their own pipeline from Italy to the U.S., even while the guitars still carried the tag line “Vox – The British Sound.” What Benaron really cared about was clearly advertised in June, 1965, to U.S. music dealers: “Vox: The Sound Of Money… The top beat groups have made a lot of money with Vox… so can you!” Vox was sold to the public with slightly less crass slogans like “VOX: The Greatest Name In Sound,” “The Sound That Travels with the Stars,” “VOX – King of the Beat,” and most famously, “Vox: It’s What’s Happening.”

Amplifiers for European sales, and small numbers of guitars, were still made in the U.K., but by the summer of ’65, most guitar production shifted to Eko. Practically all guitars imported into the U.S. after the first wave were of Italian origin, though JMI-made budget instruments like the Shadow, Clubman, and Super Ace seem to have been brought over in some quantity as early stopgaps. U.K.-made guitars imported in 1964-’65 can be seen in the hands of some early users, but Italian examples soon predominate. Thomas’ early-’65 Vox “King Of the Beat” catalog showed a mix of English- and Italian-made models; by the next catalog, it was all Eko product. The Eko/Vox line was extensive, including distinctive JMI originals like the trapezoidal-bodied Phantom line and teardrop-shaped Mark, alongside others “inspired” by the likes of Gibson’s ES-335 and even the Mosrite Ventures model.

Differences between English and Italian interpretations of Vox designs are often small but significant. JMI used at least three subcontractors for guitar necks and results were inconsistent, especially the fretwork. Most JMI necks are one-piece with a rosewood or ebony fingerboard and have a thinner finish, even when the body is swathed in polyester. Eko necks carry heavy poly finishes, but the actual construction and especially fretting are more consistent. Italian necks used maple (originally one piece, later often multi-laminate) with a bound ebony fingerboard and a truss rod adjusted via an easily accessible plug at the body end. This rod was coupled with a metal T-shaped center section under the fingerboard, and has sometimes worked too well over time – some Eko-made Voxes today show neck and fingerboard crack issues where the rod has been overtightened. Still, at the time, the Italian neck seemed a more-reliable improvement. It’s easy to tell the difference – Eko necks have “Made in Italy By Vox” in small print on the back of the headstock.

Other problems can emerge as the guitars age. Eko’s heavy polyester finishes sometimes crack or check heavily. Unlike JMI versions, the Italian pickguards used an unstable plastic and many have shrunk and warped, though this was not a problem at the time. Much of the hardware was well-made and nearly identical – both used similar Van Gent tuners fitted with stamped metal Vox-branded covers, and Eko copied JMI’s bridge and vibrato designs very closely. An important sonic difference was the pickups; Eko-made units look much like their English antecedents, but produce a thinner sound and weaker output. Most Thomas Vox guitars shipped in a distinctive oblong grey case – attractive, light, and handy, but fairly flimsy, as well with a plastic handle that has an annoying habit of snapping off.

Vox had a ready-made teen market, but Thomas still engaged in energetic promotion, sponsoring Teen Fair and Battle Of the Bands events in California. Thomas’ blatant exploitation of the newly hip “teen” culture seems somehow equally savvy, crass, and somehow endearing almost 50 years on! JMI’s U.K. market strategy of getting gear into the hands of any newly prominent artist proved impossible in the U.S., so Thomas did the next best thing – milking Hollywood connections to get Vox featured on film and TV, sometimes over objections by an endorsee; the Bobby Fuller Four appear in AIP’s Ghost in the Invisible Bikini with a full Vox rig – which a Fender-toting Fuller strongly resented. Bands sometimes appeared on TV with a Vox lineup they likely only saw that day! The Gentrys, Beau Brummels, Seeds, Electric Prunes (who recorded a promo for the Vox wah pedal), local faves the Guilloteens, Dino, Desi and Billy, and many other mostly-L.A.-based acts appeared on TV shows like “Hullabaloo,” “Shindig!,” and “Shebang” with Vox rigs. Garage legends The Standells were sometime Vox endorsers who used their own guitars in their golden movie moment in AIP’s Riot on Sunset Strip (with Vox amps) but the other bands in the film (the Chococolate Watchband and the Enemies) both appear using an identical Violin Bass/Mark VI /Bobcat guitar lineup that was likely part of the set! The Who mimed with matching Vox guitars on the Smothers Brothers show – convenient for Townshend’s smashing routine! As intended, this exposure gave the impression Vox guitars were in much wider use with major groups than was really true!

Looking beyond California, Thomas published its own nationally distributed “Vox Teen Beat” newspaper full of propaganda, and expected aggressive promotion from Vox dealers who were encouraged to sponsor local battle-of-the-bands contests and other teen events. The wildest promotional hardware of all was the Voxmobile, built by L.A. customizer George Barris in the shape of a giant Phantom bass. This traveling $30,000 “guit-car” had 32 guitar inputs, three built-in amps, hidden speakers everywhere, and a dual-manual organ on the trunk. Fender somehow missed that idea! For a time, there was even a Vox retail outlet in Hollywood.

Thomas pursued endorsements in the R&B market with Ike and Tina Turner, and most successfully, James Brown, who for a time featured Vox gear on the back of his LPs. “Instruments by… Vox” was an album credit. His band can be seen with Vox lineups in 1967-’68, and it’s interesting to speculate what brother James’ crack players thought about these relatively flimsy instruments replacing their Gibson guitars and Fender bass!

Another unlikely Vox act was Velvet Underground, the seminal New York cult band. While now considered one of rock’s most influential acts, when active they were a commercial non-starter. Still, thanks to the patronage of Andy Warhol, the band received a package of Vox gear in ’66, which can occasionally be spotted in use.

Thomas’ Hollywood connections entered a surreal phase when Samantha Stevens from TV’s “Bewitched” (played by Elizabeth Montgomery) strummed a Vox Apollo with psychedelic paint livery in the 1968 episode “Hippy Hippy Hooray.” By September of that year, the fading brand received its wildest TV endorsement, equipping Hanna-Barbera’s live-action Saturday morning cartoon stars the Banana Splits! The Vox Ultrasonic and Starstream played by Fleegle and Drooper may have been the last nails in Vox’s credibility coffin. Thomas shut the operation down not long after, plagued by a shrinking market, fading sales, and quality issues. From the Beatles and the “World’s Top Beat Groups” to the Banana Splits in just five years – the Vox brand had a uniquely strange journey. The aesthetic of electric music changed rapidly, and by the early ’70s Vox was as uncool as it had been cool in ’64. Still, Vox amps – even some of Thomas’ transistor babies – maintain a devoted following that has only grown over time. The guitars have not fared as well, but have an enduring appeal to some players – at least for their visual style. Next month, we’ll look at some interesting models from this most varied – and storied – line.

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This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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