This old guitar.

Here is some background on this guitar and our “One guitar, one hundred hands.” project. The guitar is a 1926 Gibson L1 with a fascinating history.

It was initially sold by T.E. Bevan & Co. Ltd. in Calcutta, India, a known Gibson retailer. The company name is inscribed on the neck and the head stock has nail holes where the company's traditional nameplate would have been attached. The guitar is virtually identical  to the guitar in the famous picture of Robert Johnson, including similar wear marks.

There are several takes on how and when Robert's guitar may have been destroyed. Some claim it was the night he was poisoned, others say it lived on and other have found it to be the day before he even had his first recording session which calls into question what guitar was even on the recordings as determined by Bruce Conforth, author of "Up Jumped the Devil". This only fuels the fire of speculation. As I like to say, we can’t prove that it is Johnson’s guitar but we can’t prove it isn’t either. And as David Gogo said in Eposide #4, "who deosn't love a good Robert Johnson story?"

The L1 has a distinctive round lower bout and this one is a “catalogue model.” This means it has ladder style bracing and does not carry the stylized “The Gibson” logo on the headstock, just like the one Johnson is holding. (The photo does not show a logo, that’s just a reflection).

I received the Gibson as a gift from Michael Leppard, a friend on whose Gretsch I did some major repair work  after he fell off stage and shattered his ankle and the Electromatic along with it. He had seen the CTV News piece about how I had found and restored a guitar belonging to Canadian Country Hall of Fame inductee Wayne Rostad, which was nearly destroyed by an airline.

There is clearly a trend forming here.

Michael saw the Gibson being thrown away from a rental property being emptied in the Kensington area of Toronto, Ontario and rescued it. For some reason he strongly felt that the guitar needed to belong to me. This was at the beginning of the pandemic in 2020 and through a series of family, friends and exchanges it made its way safely into my hands.

Like any who have seen it, I instantly knew that there was something special about it I and began to dig into its long and convoluted history. Also, like the few who have since played it, it was immediately obvious that there is magic in those timbers. As a result of the pandemic, I could not share my newfound love with very many people and the old Gibson quickly became my daily player.

The guitar simply exudes inspiration to the extent that it became the impetus and focal point of a folk music festival I launched with some friends in October 2020: The Upper Canada Folkfest, the only live music festival to take place in Canada in 2020. As a lead up to our second festival in 2021 we held “pop up performances” including one at a local brewery which included Canadian folk musician Scott Cook. I asked Scott to be the first participant in my project. He graciously agreed and closed the show with his popular song,  "Pass it Along", a very apt selection as it is about the fact that we never own an instrument, we are merely its custodians for a brief period of time and then we “pass it along”. The song was streamed to Facebook which was shared and soon prompted a message from Douglas Cameron in Toronto…

“Hi George, I saw your video of Scott Cook and I think you have my guitar”. Through an exchange of messages and photos I knew that the guitar was clearly his and my obligation was to return it to its rightful owner. It was a bitter-sweet realization but I was thrilled for him.

Douglas first received the guitar, also as a gift, in 1979. A musician friend of his had it hanging on the wall of his apartment. It was heavily damaged but Douglas thought there was something special there and tried to buy it. His friend refused to let it go. Douglas would later sublet this friend’s apartment.  On move in day the room was entirely empty with the exception of that broken guitar still hanging on the wall, now with a one-word note: “Enjoy”.

Douglas had new life breathed back into her: a neck set, new fretboard with fixed truss rod, many darts to stabilize a badly cracked top and back, and new pyramid bridge hand carved by Douglas himself which was epoxied in place out of necessity as the top was so weak.

The guitar became his daily player at home, on canoe trips, on stage, and in the studio, for the next 40 years, until it was stolen in 2019. Douglas had gone to the Tranzac Club (in the Kensington area of Toronto) one evening for a gig only to realise he was there on the wrong date. He returned the guitar to his car and continued running errands. 15 minutes later, his window was broken and the guitar was gone. He thought forever… until a friend shared that video to him saying that it looked just like the guitar he used to have. I shared my story with Douglas, my plans for the instrument and various projects, including “One guitar, one hundred hands.” After what I’m sure was much soul searching and a middle-of-the-night very long email outlining his time with it Douglas made what had to be a difficult decision: he told me “The guitar is on a new journey and needs to stay with you”. Obviously, I was honoured, relieved and elated.

With Douglas’ help, we are now tracing ownership between its early days and 1979. It appears that there is definitely an “India connection,” some celebrities and maybe even an Elvis impersonator. So here we are today, and our project is underway. I am choosing 50 musicians whom I will video playing the old Gibson and share each to the Facebook page “One guitar, one hundred hands.” When done, in time for it’s 100th birthday (hopefully), I will turn it into a compilation telling the whole story.

You are now part of the story.