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A bit of biography
I grew up in Mission, Texas, a little town in the
Rio Grand Valley at the southern tip of the state.
We were two miles from the Mexican border,
and I was exposed to Latino culture from an
early age. I developed a good Spanish accent,
which has since been a mixed pleasure and
embarrassment, as I don't speak Spanish very
well.
The popular Latin music of the day was dance
music like tango, mambo, and cha-cha-cha, and
the local Mexican people listened to the latest
Norteña (northern Mexican) music which derives
from French and German sources.
The single most inspiring experience of my
Texas schooling was playing clarinet in the
Mission high school band when I was in the 7th
and 8th grades. We were a small town, so much
of the band was made up of junior high school
kids. Since the most important cultural thing
happening in our town in the fifties was football,
the band got a lot of local support, because the
half-time shows we put on were popular. I can
attest that the seven academy award winning
movie "The Last Picture Show" is absolutely
accurate in its depiction of the time and place.
After football season, we worked on concert
music. We played opera overtures, and themes
from symphonies, and other short classical
pieces adapted for players at our level. Along
came the overture to The Barber of Seville, and ,
though I didn't realize it at the time, the main
passion of my life was set. Real Spanish music!
In the classic Spanish mode (Phrygian, actually)!
It passed the goose-bump test with flying colors.
I was hooked.
After 8th grade we moved 5 miles east to
McAllen, where the band wasn't nearly as good,
and I had gotten interested in ham radio. So for
the next six years I listened to a lot of music,
mostly classical, and took a music appreciation
course my first year at Stanford. Whenever
something Spanish would come along, like De
Falla's "Nights in the Gardens of Spain", there
would be those goose bumps again. But I wasn't
making music myself.
Fast forward to the San Francisco Bay Area in
1960. I had given up on a career in electrical
engineering, and was at loose ends. I had started
going up to "The City", as we called SF, to a
place in North Beach called "The Bread and
Wine Mission". It was a storefront outreach
project to the "beatniks" sponsored by the local
Presbyterian church, and there were poetry
readings and folk music.
Rio Grand Valley at the southern tip of the state.
We were two miles from the Mexican border,
and I was exposed to Latino culture from an
early age. I developed a good Spanish accent,
which has since been a mixed pleasure and
embarrassment, as I don't speak Spanish very
well.
The popular Latin music of the day was dance
music like tango, mambo, and cha-cha-cha, and
the local Mexican people listened to the latest
Norteña (northern Mexican) music which derives
from French and German sources.
The single most inspiring experience of my
Texas schooling was playing clarinet in the
Mission high school band when I was in the 7th
and 8th grades. We were a small town, so much
of the band was made up of junior high school
kids. Since the most important cultural thing
happening in our town in the fifties was football,
the band got a lot of local support, because the
half-time shows we put on were popular. I can
attest that the seven academy award winning
movie "The Last Picture Show" is absolutely
accurate in its depiction of the time and place.
After football season, we worked on concert
music. We played opera overtures, and themes
from symphonies, and other short classical
pieces adapted for players at our level. Along
came the overture to The Barber of Seville, and ,
though I didn't realize it at the time, the main
passion of my life was set. Real Spanish music!
In the classic Spanish mode (Phrygian, actually)!
It passed the goose-bump test with flying colors.
I was hooked.
After 8th grade we moved 5 miles east to
McAllen, where the band wasn't nearly as good,
and I had gotten interested in ham radio. So for
the next six years I listened to a lot of music,
mostly classical, and took a music appreciation
course my first year at Stanford. Whenever
something Spanish would come along, like De
Falla's "Nights in the Gardens of Spain", there
would be those goose bumps again. But I wasn't
making music myself.
Fast forward to the San Francisco Bay Area in
1960. I had given up on a career in electrical
engineering, and was at loose ends. I had started
going up to "The City", as we called SF, to a
place in North Beach called "The Bread and
Wine Mission". It was a storefront outreach
project to the "beatniks" sponsored by the local
Presbyterian church, and there were poetry
readings and folk music.
Working on a German maple classic in my
shop in Claremont California 1964
shop in Claremont California 1964
In the foreground are the beginnings of an
East Indian rosewood classic, still owned
by Vince Meyer, a guitar maker in his own
right. Also, Claremont California 1964
East Indian rosewood classic, still owned
by Vince Meyer, a guitar maker in his own
right. Also, Claremont California 1964
Another photo of my Claremont shop in
1964 ~ same chisels, rasps, etc.
1964 ~ same chisels, rasps, etc.
I had considerably more hair, and less chub,
in those days.
in those days.
One Sunday night there, I heard a nylon string
guitar for the first time, and I realized that was
the musical thing I needed to fill the hole in my
life where music making used to be. It wasn't
much of a jump to making the connection
between that sound, and the roots of Spanish
music, Flamenco.
So I got a cheap Mexican guitar, and began taking
Flamenco lessons from Freddy Mejia, and Dave
Jones (now David Serva) who both played
professionally at the Old Spaghetti Factory in
North Beach. It was easy to hear the difference
between my guitar, and Freddy's 1931 Domingo
Esteso, but a good guitar like that cost $400 (!)
which was well out of my price range.
I was admiring a friend's good guitar one day,
and lamenting the fact that I couldn't afford one,
and he said "Why don't you build your own?".
John was an armchair craftsman, and his wife,
who worked in a bookstore, had brought him a
slim little volume called "How to Build Your Own
Spanish Guitar". He loaned me the book, and it
seemed like a fun project, and later, like a
satisfying way to make a living.
Stewart Brand, of Whole Earth Catalog fame,
says that you need to have the courage to fail
young, so I guess I was courageous. By 1965 it
was clear that I had to do other kinds of wood
working for money. So in the intervening years I
have done a little of everything-- tool production,
kitchen cabinets, high end furniture, teaching
woodworking... In 1993 I decided to go back to
my first love, building guitars.
Six years ago I started teaching lutherie on an
individual basis, in addition to making guitars, and
it has been really enjoyable. It's much more
relaxed than a class situation, and I can devote all
my attention to one person at a time. This is my
final career choice, along with little side projects
like booklets, videos, and tool development. It's
funny how things turn out.
Cheers,
guitar for the first time, and I realized that was
the musical thing I needed to fill the hole in my
life where music making used to be. It wasn't
much of a jump to making the connection
between that sound, and the roots of Spanish
music, Flamenco.
So I got a cheap Mexican guitar, and began taking
Flamenco lessons from Freddy Mejia, and Dave
Jones (now David Serva) who both played
professionally at the Old Spaghetti Factory in
North Beach. It was easy to hear the difference
between my guitar, and Freddy's 1931 Domingo
Esteso, but a good guitar like that cost $400 (!)
which was well out of my price range.
I was admiring a friend's good guitar one day,
and lamenting the fact that I couldn't afford one,
and he said "Why don't you build your own?".
John was an armchair craftsman, and his wife,
who worked in a bookstore, had brought him a
slim little volume called "How to Build Your Own
Spanish Guitar". He loaned me the book, and it
seemed like a fun project, and later, like a
satisfying way to make a living.
Stewart Brand, of Whole Earth Catalog fame,
says that you need to have the courage to fail
young, so I guess I was courageous. By 1965 it
was clear that I had to do other kinds of wood
working for money. So in the intervening years I
have done a little of everything-- tool production,
kitchen cabinets, high end furniture, teaching
woodworking... In 1993 I decided to go back to
my first love, building guitars.
Six years ago I started teaching lutherie on an
individual basis, in addition to making guitars, and
it has been really enjoyable. It's much more
relaxed than a class situation, and I can devote all
my attention to one person at a time. This is my
final career choice, along with little side projects
like booklets, videos, and tool development. It's
funny how things turn out.
Cheers,
____________________________________
Click on the photos to enlarge