Originally purchased from Apple Music, circa 1985, US started life as a Kramer Focus. Since I wasn’t getting an endorsement deal, I didn’t have much “brand loyalty,” and, at some point, pretty early on, I scratched off the other letters (Foc…). It didn't occur to me that the remaining letters probably gave rise to false impressions of my patriotism.
Though I might be wrong, I think it was actually the owner, Kelly, who sold the guitar to me. Some time after that, when I was in the store, I put a guitar back on the rack and accidentally knocked a bass off — it fell and snapped the tuning peg off. He reassured me that I was a good customer and didn’t seem to mind, though I’m sure he did. Many may not have cared much for him, or the store, but they never did me wrong.
I sold my VW Bus to buy US. Desperate to pay off the guitar, as I had it on “lay-a-way,” the Bus was probably too expensive, being so poor at the time, and probably driving without insurance. I went to a used car dealer on Powell, right before the Ross Island Bridge, on the East side—eager to take them up on their advertised “Cash for Cars.” The building is now a nicer looking cannabis store, but back then the whole enterprise seemed sketchy and seedy, though I didn’t hesitate much before going into the smoke-filled back room with the shady manager, who, I’m sure, low-balled his offer. I may have gotten two hundred dollars. But I got the cash, and the guitar — my first “real” electric. I had to take the Tri-Met bus all the way back to Gresham, a block from Mt. Hood Community College, where I lived at the time. There were years and years of buses ahead of me, as well as the new MAX line that opened in 1986. I still have a monthly transit pass, though at 21 I wonder how I was able to get a Youth All Zone. It even has fare inspector notes -- I passed muster.
So many hours, years, and life have been lived with this hunk of wood. I basically learned whatever it is I know about playing with this instrument. It probably even saved my life in 1992, when I had nothing else, at all. And though they’re rather embarrassing to hear, the first recordings I made were done with US. Those “Jungle Harp” days, and nights, which must have driven the downstairs, and upstairs, and anywhere neighbors beyond sanity. How, or why, they put up with up with that racket has no justifiable or explainable logic. And some of my better moments in PDX were with that guitar — the Telecafé Jams, the sessions with The Apostle Harvey, with Pat, the Jans, and John McDonald.
When my first four-track recorder came along, US was the guitar, and remained so until one day at Guitar Crazy -- on Hawthorne at the time -- where I found RA. As I moved between Portland, Washington D.C., and Tempe, Arizona so frequently, I transported the guitar in two pieces, reassembling it when I arrived at my new location. US made more than one or two trips like this. At some point, though, I had to choose, and RA won out, and it spent many years with me in Arizona and is heard on many recordings from the years 1994 until about 2005. It's a bit sad that there's no pictures of RA. But US stayed in PDX, with The Apostle Harvey, who I either gave it to, or who bought it from me. It's not likely that I sold it to him -- it doesn't seem like me. At some point, though, I must have either asked for or paid him back, because eventually it came back to me. Could it be that he simply gave it back to me? I’ll have to check. In any case, that guitar and RA stuck it out for a long time. I had RA probably up until about 2005, when, at I sold it during one of the Norfolk art fairs. I’d set up my own yard sales in the green strips in front of the apartment building at 521 Graydon -- I should probably go into business, as I have pretty good luck with resell commodities. By this time, there were other guitars, too -- the Fernandes with the Sustainer, the Schecter seven-string, and then my new mainstay, the Jackson Soloist. After that, US pretty much never left the closet.
Much, much later, I convinced my son to keep US in his room, hoping he'd play it, but after some damage to the toggle switch, back in the closet it went. Though it still had its mojo, the old style Floyd Rose made tuning a major endeavor. The Jackson is also just easier to play. So, after 35 years (!), I finally sold it -- too cheaply, probably, but I sell gear hoping that the new owner will play it more than I do. I even give instruments away — the Schecter seven-string went to one of my son’s friends. Still, it’s a bit sad to part with so much history, and thinking about how much is in that instrument — it’s so much more than the money at this point, it’s me. I’ve essentially given away part of myself, which is also kinda liberating. I’m no longer that person who bought that guitar, who did the things that guitar may have been witness to, and though that’s my own history, sometimes it’s good, and important, even necessary just to let it go.
