Some have asked; So...
I’d heard the stories for years from my grandfather; How Old man Lester who had lived across the field in the next farmhouse over used to play his electric guitar at night. Gramps told me it was a red guitar and that Old man Lester could make it scream. It had been a couple years since Old man Lester had passed on and the farmhouse was slipping into decay.
One summer afternoon after Little League practice me and my buddy Johnny decided we were gonna ride our bikes over there and take a peek at that red electric guitar. I’ll never forget how the latch to the shed door just pulled out in my hand, the wood rotted boards didn’t even challenge my tug as the door swung open with the moan of rusty hinges. Late afternoon sun coming through a thick cobweb covered window provided just enough light to scan the cluttered farm shed. The first thing I noticed was an old dust covered ford pick up. And there behind it, an amplifier sitting on top of a work bench. Then I saw it; the guitar case below the work bench next to some various farm tools, crates, and an old blue and yellow 50 gallon oil drum that said “ZEP” on it. Both Johnny and I gasped in unison. As we made our way over to the guitar case, I could see that it said “Gibson”on the side of it. We both knelt down and reached for the latches to open it. Sunlight ripping through a knot hole shined like a flashlight beam on the case logo. I felt like I was going to explode. The quiet anticipation was shattered by our shrieks and screams as we opened the case and a huge snake bolted from within it. Both Johnny and I slammed the case shut and ran. We never looked back.
To this day, I have no idea what events took place that brought the widowed Mrs. Lester to our house one afternoon a few weeks later. But there she was at the kitchen table, talking to my mom with the guitar case on the floor. I either don’t remember or didn’t quite hear all of the conversation but when she left, it was clear, I had been given Old Man Lesters electric guitar. My dad came in and sat me down at the kitchen table to write out a thank you note to send to the widowed Mrs. Lester. And then he took the guitar upstairs to my bedroom for me.
After dinner, I rushed upstairs, opened the case, and stared in awe at this amazing shiny red electric Gibson guitar. A headless stretch of snake still there inside the case. A few months later, Johnny got a bass and we started our first band, and so it began. From Elk’s and Moose lodges, barn parties, kegers, and bars. That was the guitar I used on every stage that I played throughout my early years. My mom had sewn the button hole piece of some old Levi’s onto that stretch of snake in the case and I used that snakeskin for the strap. People would see that strap and after the gig or on the way to the bar…”Hey Snakeskin!”
And that’s how it happened! Kinda… maybe? hmmm.