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Howdy, folks! 

I have some interesting news. After chatting with the fine folks who run local annual Comic Book Convention, I've decided to go ahead and rent a table/booth selling my CBG's, handmade old-school instruments, and other blues related stuff. The surroundings might be unusual, but the folks who run it are really wanting me to bring my stuff...and something different...to their show. In fact, when we talked about it, they were already sold out of vendor space, but told me personally, that if I was interested, they would make room for me.

Well, it only took them two days to make room for me! lol

How could I say no to this? I couldn't. So, the adventure begins... 

I'm excited. But, I am also nervous. I've never done anything like this before. I've made some guitars and stuff for friends. Through word of mouth, I've sold a few... but I've never done anything like this.

Would any of you out there, who has experienced running booths/tables at festivals and such, have any advice to give me? What to expect? What to look out for? To be weary of? 

Anything? 

I'd really appreciate it a lot! 

Thanks! :O) 

The "Key of A" harmonica is a lot deeper than the C harmonica which makes it feel quite different play. The lower keyed harmonicas feel slower to resonate and like they require more air. They will definitely build up your stamina.

The A harmonica will let you play in the key of E (this is the easiest key for guitarists to play).

D harmonica

This is a higher harmonica and it will feel like it responds much quicker. They need less air to resonate then the lower key harmonicas.

The harmonica will let you play in the key of A (also an easy key for guitarists).

Bb harmonica

This means you can play in the key of F. The Bb is a lovely in between harmonica. It is not too high and screechy or too low and slow. Instead, most techniques will feel relatively easy on it. Indeed, traditionally Bb is the harmonica you start on to learn playing overblows.

G harmonica

This is suitable for playing in the key of D. It is a very low harmonica and sounds best when you are playing rhythmic chugging and slow melodic phrases.

F harmonica

The F harmonica allows you to play in the key of C in 2nd position. It is a very high harmonica and when you are practicing by yourself it might feel like it is screechy and strident. Do not worry about this. When you play with a band, the high pitch of this harmonica will sound sweet because it is different to the lower instruments playing with you.

How do you remember all these keys?

To remember what you are playing in 2nd position just count up 4 letters up from the key of the harmonica. A, B, C, D, E, F, G so a C harmonica in 2nd position is played in key of G. This works for all keys except B and Bb. B in 2nd position is F# and Bb is F.

Hey, next meeting we are having the Swamp Witch Guitar Jamboree. Everyone who has a Swampy will bring it and master Jam it. Special swamp drinks and door prizes.

I'm a Craiglist free stuff addict....Saw a radial arm saw listed...But by the time I found the house...It was gone...Get an email two days later saying guy never showed up....It was mine if I wanted it....That made my day....Will come in handy for cutting fret slots..Gave the guy some cash for his time and effort...Still made out pretty good on the deal

I usually only get a few tags here on the nation but honestly our festival is growing exponentially and local TV and radio plays a big part. I foresee us filling the street and busing folks in just ahead of us because we are over flowing onto the sidewalks now. We remain flexible to change and move on new ideas. Our greatest success is keeping cost down and free to the public. We hire great PR teams and get the event out to a larger crowd. I'm sharing this to not only cultivate interest but to encourage others starting up their own festivals. Locations are important to a point however I feel your event attracts people if it has the atmosphere generated by you that you yourself would enjoy and a momentum that continues throughout the day. Justin Johnson has played all our events and consistently packs the house shoulder to shoulder, literally. This is out 5th and I will step back from vending and be more PR and video photographer. One of my greatest joys comes from meeting new people and sharing our event with other events through gift swamping. It's almost caught on, BSA of France helps keep that going and we invite more so we can globalize this unique subculture.  

Woods for guitar making,
This a business in St. Louis (Ballwin) I went to his home to bought rosewood and ebony fretboard blanks- it's imported wholesale - very good quality. He also has an eBay shop and will ship.

http://getexoticwood.com/onlineshop/index.php?route=information/contact/success

Completed my Sound Box Guitars kit 3 string slide cbg last night! I need to fit a piece of brass or a small brass nail as a "stop" to prevent the strings from tearing into the wood where the strings comes through to the front of the neck, but other than that, and lowering the action with a smaller diameter bolt, it is done. Going to leave this one purely acoustic, at least for now. Thanks to my friends Helen and Larry for handling the power tools for the build. I'll post images as soon as I have them available. The cell phone snapshots are too grainy to bother posting.

Today was a real good day for me...Picked up two boxes (a round one used for candle displays) and a Humidor ..Another pleasant surprise was a Washburn built Disney Hannah Montana Purple 3/4 Acoustic guitar.. for $8.95. I was going to strip it for parts. but it tuned up and worked real good, so why destroy a perfectly good guitar...I also got my parts in from my supplier...Completed building 2 of my 4 guitar necks. A good day

Forty Ounce Feller's Crossbreed Bonanza

2015 - A Goodland County Story By John Bolton

Forty Ounce Feller is an ex con, a screw-up, a schemer and a seldom-do-well. He's a beer drinker and he likes his beer in the forty ounce bottles. They say that even a blind pig finds a few acorns. And in the same way, a few of Forty's schemes work out.

Forty is close to unemployable. He's gone through a lot of jobs. He has burned bridges behind him and pissed on the fires. He makes a poor first impression with an extra large head, long unkempt brown hair, a ratty ball cap that looks tiny on him and a scruffy reddish beard. He is about six feet tall and a soft and jiggly 280 pounds. He keeps his weight stable with a diet rich in beer, pork rinds, store brand mac & cheese and Twinkies.

Forty favors flannel shirts (say that three times and fast) with the sleeves cut off at the shoulders. That style displays his tattoos and hairy, flabby arms. The right bicep is adorned with 'FOURTY, ' tattoo, a misspelling of his nick name. There is, of course, a brown bottle tattoo beneath. I suspect that Forty does not recognize the spelling error. The left bicep has a classic glamor girl at the bicep and a dagger on the forearm. Forty is probably in his late forties, but could pass for ten years older.

One of his schemes that sort of worked out was his free add in the Penny Saver for house sitting and dog walking. One house sitting gig was a minor disaster, but that is another story. This story is about Forty walking a pedigreed standard poodle named Mitzy. Mitzy is white, always neatly trimmed and usually elegant, with a jeweled red collar and sometimes a ribbon or two. Mitzy's owner is an old hippie who takes pride in giving folks a second and maybe a third chance. She was recovering from knee replacement at the time she hired Forty to walk Mitzi. And as they say, no good deed goes unpunished.

Mitzy is a good dog and Forty didn't mind walking her. Picking up mushy dog crap with a plastic bag was beneath him, but he did it just the same – if anyone was looking. Things went well for several weeks and what happened wasn't really Forty's fault and could have happened to anyone. One day Franny, Mitzy's owner, asked Forty if he could take Mitzy for an extra long walk to wear her out if he could. Mitzty was in heat and was to go visit a champion male poodle for breeding later in the day. Franny said she got $500.00 apiece for Mitzy's last litter of six pups.

All was going fine until Forty walked Mitzy past a black and brown Rottweiler chained to a front porch. Forty knew the Rott's name was Spike because it was painted on a big old dog house in front of the porch. Forty would always say, “Hey, Spike. What do you like?”

The Rott had been there on previous walks. He never barked and he wagged his tail when Forty talked to him. But that day, Spike started sniffing the air and his eyes got big as saucers. He whined and yipped. He charged and the eye bolt on the porch end of his chain popped out like a cork.

Forty tried to keep Mitzy walking, but she was frightened and then receptive to Spike's attention. Forty tried to shoo the Rott away. The big dog would not cooperate and growled if Forty got too close. Forty knew better than to mess with a humping Rottweiler. He let nature take its course.

The walks resumed after Mitzi got back from the poodle breeder. Forty kept his fingers crossed and collected ten dollars for every walk. He even hit on Franny, who was in her sixties, favored large and long dresses and weighed about the same as Forty. Things started to look hopeful in that direction.

Then a little over two months after the Rottweiler incident, Franny called Forty. Mitzy had given birth to eight pups. One was white and the other seven were black and tan and definitely not purebred poodles.

Eventually, Forty fessed up. Franny, sobbing by that time, asked, “Why didn't you tell me? Maybe the vet could have done something so this didn't happen.”

* * * *

Forty was out of the dog walking business. He continued to read the Penny Saver when it came in the mail on Wednesdays and about six weeks later he saw an add:

Large breed puppies – free to a good home.

Will make good farm dogs or guardian dogs.

Call: -----------------

Forty recognized Franny's phone number. Also from the Penny Saver, he knew that some crossbred dogs were selling for really good money. There was an add for Puggles, a pug and beagle cross for $400.00 a pup and an add for a Goldendoodle, a golden retriever and poodle cross for $650 a pup. The gears in Forty's extra large head did not mesh well, but they were spinning fast.

He called Franny that night. She said there were no takers yet on the pups. But the add was just out. Forty told her, “I feel like shit about this. I can take them pups and find em' dandy good homes. And you can be done with the whole shebang.”

Franny declined and said she'd see how she did on her own first. A week later she called Forty and told him she had seven of the pups left and that he could take them if he wanted.

Forty and a buddy got the pups home. He placed an add in the next Penny Saver and it read:

Cowboy Pood-weilers. $650 OBO Great farm and ranch dogs.

Gentle disposition. Highly Trainable. Loving and Loyal.

Your pick of the litter, big, strong and good looking dogs

Call: _____________________

It took 3 crazy weeks, but every one of the dogs sold and only the last one went for less than $500.00. Forty thought the 'Cowboy' part of Pood-weilers was a stroke of genius. And maybe it was.

Two of the dogs stayed in the county and Forty heard later on that they were great dogs and just like his add had said.

* * * *

Author's note. Wikipedia lists 21 recognized crossbreed dogs. In many cases, people are paying more for a cross bred than for a purebred.

_______________________________________________________________

I-Doc Potter

A Goodland County Story ~ by John Bolton

2016 Corley, Oklahoma

Mike Potter's first eighteen years were lucky charmed. But like his grandpa used to say, “Things can turn to shit in a hurry”.

Mike had a great senior year at Clayton Community High School. He was in a work and study program with three morning classes and carpentry work in the afternoon. Two classes were easy and the third, advanced English, was a challenge. Mike was smart enough to hang with the college prep kids. But he wasn't going to college. He had other plans. What he really liked was to play music and build things. He figured to make a living doing what he liked to do.

Mike got along with just about everybody in his school and class of 123 kids. He lettered in football and track as a sophomore but never went out for a sport again. He had more fun working and making money. For a while, the coaches gave him shit. The football coach pressured him to play but Mike turned him down. Coach said, “Well Potter, go get a Honda and a guitar and let your hair grow out long.”

Mike knew a good plan when he heard it. He said, “Okay, Coach.”

Mike's grandfather ran the local pawn shop/ music store and bail bond business. From about age four to fourteen, Mike spent a lot of time at the shop with Grandpa. What does a kid do in a shop like that? In Mike's case, he learned to play fiddle and guitar. He played bluegrass fiddle with the Rusty Bucket Band for almost two years starting at age twelve. He was pretty good, but no phenom or prodigy. In early 1964, he heard the Beatles “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” That song and a rock and roll station out of Tulsa put an end to Mike's bluegrass days.

Mike fell in love, also known as guitar lust, with a used Fender guitar at the pawn shop. Grandpa told him he'd have to earn the money and that was fine, but how was he going to do that? He was fourteen years old with just a small allowance and two mowing jobs

Mike's dad worked two or three mornings a week as a non-union, part time carpenter. Mike bugged him to go along on one of those mornings. His dad relented and got the okay from his boss. Mike got his chance on a sweat drenched June day. The crew was shingling a split level house. Mike was big and husky for his age. He was soon hauling the shingle bundles up the ladder and helping out wherever he could.

He got a five dollar bill after that first morning. He was happy with that but even happier that the boss told him he could come back the next day. He came back and worked hard and he payed attention to anything the boss and guys tried to teach him. He learned a lot that first summer and by summer's end, he had the Fender and an amp.

He asked around and found two guys who could play bass and drums and wanted to be in a band. All three were fourteen. By early 65' they were playing at high school dances in three counties. Mike was six one, lean and not bad looking with a chestnut brown hair cut Beach Boy style. The girls liked a singer and Mike sang most of the songs. His main stays were Hang On Sloopy, Gloria, Satisfaction, Louie Louie and two Beatles songs.

For the high school age group, they were big frogs in a small pond. Mike tried to be humble and mostly succeeded. And in truth, the drummer sucked and Mike didn't have good timing. That made it tough on the bass player. The band broke up after an eighteen month run. Mike liked to say, “It was artistic differences.”

After graduation, the talk among guys his age turned to the draft and Viet Nam. Not much of the talk was good. Mike knew two guys who'd been killed in Nam'. Didn't know them well, but well enough to make things very real. One of the guys had been a year ahead of him in school.

Right about that time, Mike started dating Maggie, who was still in school. Things got serious pretty fast. Mike did not want to get drafted. He figured if he had to go, he'd like to go Marine Reserves. But the recruiters said that meant two years active duty and a six year commitment. He tried the national guard and an army reserve unit but there were no immediate openings. He was put on the waiting lists.

And his draft notice came. Off he went to Fort Bragg, North Carolina for basic training. They made him a squad leader and he did well in his training. Guys who enlisted knew what they were going to train for in after basic. Draftees did not. It was a big day when Mike got his orders for where and what was next. What he didn't want was to be an Eleven Bravo, infantryman. Grunt, ground pounder, cannon fodder. Those guys had it tough and too many did not come home in one piece.

His grandfather used to say, 'Be careful what you wish for'. He was sent off to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio Texas for medical corpsman training. The army, in it's great wisdom, was making him a medic. As he learned what that meant, he would rather have been infantry. In his own words, he was, 'Scared shitless.' He dreaded the high likelihood of going to Viet Nam, getting in combat and dealing with severed limbs, sucking chest wounds and starting IVs. His biggest fear was that he might let his buddies down.

At the end of training, he got a 14 day leave and orders for Viet Nam. Less than one month in country and in his second firefight, two of his squad members were killed almost instantly. While Mike was trying to help a wounded man, he took shrapnel to the torso and lost most of the two small fingers of his left hand.

Mike was still trying to help the other wounded guy when the medivac copter got there. As he was helping the guy get on board, an AK-47 round smashed through his right shoulder. After clean up surgeries in Saigon, Mike was soon back in San Antonio at Fort Sam for another shoulder surgery. His carpentry days were ended by a shoulder that would not let him raise his elbow higher than his neck. His guitar playing was over too. Or so he thought.

Maggie waited for him and he was very glad to get home. He used his GI bill and disability checks to enroll in community college and look for something to do with his life. He worked as a hospital orderly and figured out that he wanted to be in a 'helping' profession.

Mike and Maggie got married in November of 70. They moved to Tulsa for Mike to finish up his last two years of college. Then he went on to optometry school. Eyes kind of grossed Mike out. But he figured he would get used to it, be called doctor and make a good living.

Back home in Corley, Mike worked with and older optometrist for a few years, then bought the practice. Maggie fitted and sold frames. They did better than okay, but gave too much away when folks couldn't pay.

Mike never felt right about being called Doc or Doctor. When someone called him that, he would say, “I'm an eye doc. Call me Idoc or call me Mike. It got so folks called him Idoc. It was a bit odd, but he liked it fine. Even Maggie called him that some times.

He and Maggie had a good marriage and life, but no children. They always had a cat or two and later on they always had a female rat terrier too. The pets were almost substitutes for the kids they seemed unable to have.

Idoc got back into carpentry by remodeling his and Maggie's first house. There was not much he couldn't do. He still couldn't raise that right arm above shoulder level, but Maggie or his brother Jim helped with the few things he couldn't figure out how to do on his own. Over the years they bought and remodeled five homes. There last and final place was an old farm house and acreage near Osage Creek.

Idoc would occasionally play slide guitar and a little fiddle, but always in private. Maggie would try to get him to play and tell him he sounded great. But it wasn't what he wanted it to be. His brother, Jim, had taken over the pawn shop/bail bond and music store in 69' when their grandpa died. Jim tried to get him back into music too. And in 2008, Jim found videos about making and playing cigar box guitars on the internet. Jim got Idoc to help him make a three string cigar box guitar. It turned out great and right away, both brothers could play the crap out of the thing.

That first CBG led to more and got Idoc playing again. They started with 3 stringed guitars and found that Idoc's 'disabilities' were insignificant. He had a big enough stub of ring finger to use a slide. And he rigged a retainer to help keep the slide on.

Then an old Harmony tenor (4 string) guitar came into the pawn shop. Idoc tried it and bought it. It had more volume than a CBG for unplugged playing in public. Maggie learned to play too and though Idoc hadn't been a church goer as an adult, he loved playing Gospel songs. And especially bluesy Gospels. Maggie got him to go to church with her and they played that bluesy Gospel.

Idoc and Maggie sold the optometry shop and retired at ages 60 and 59. They took up bicycling, bought a small 60's vintage Airstream trailer and refurbished it. They camped and did a little traveling but were both homebodies. Idoc messed around on the acreage, played in his shop and built more CBGs. He and Maggie played at one church or another about once a month and they took up playing at nursing homes too. Their first five years of retirement were very good.... Then things turned to shit in a hurry.

One of the problems of retiring early is paying for good health insurance. Maggie got a mammogram at age 61 and then maybe due to the high co-pay cost or maybe just being busy, she put off getting the next one. She was 64 when she found a lump in her breast. Advanced, aggressive and metastasized breast cancer. After a tough six months she made it through the holidays and died at home with Idoc and a hospice nurse at her side.

Idoc didn't take it well. He blamed himself for not paying better attention about getting Maggie to go for mammograms. Their acreage had well water and the water tested okay when they bought the place, but that was too long back and he worried that maybe the water had something to do with the cancer.

On a moonless night six weeks after Maggie died, Idoc ran into a bridge abutment at highway speed in his pickup. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. The deputy on the scene thought maybe a deer ran in front of the car and Idoc swerved to avoid it. Idoc didn't text at all or mess with devices. So it probably wasn't distracted driving that caused the wreck. In fact, Idoc seldom had his cell phone turned on. The deputy reported it was turned off at the scene of the wreck.

Interesting fact. Police and hospitals don't say motor vehicle 'accident'. They say motor vehicle 'crash'. Because not all crashes are accidents... Maybe an oncoming car caused the wreck. Or maybe Idoc was dodging a deer or possum or dog or cat. Maybe it was an unsuspected illness. Or maybe it was a broken heart.

Oklahoma 1936 License Plate #134-651      By John Bolton

I was made in late 1935 in the Oklahoma State Prison at Mc Alester. I was black with yellow letters. I was issued in Goodland County in 1936 and bolted on the rear of a gray and black 31' Ford coupe with a rumble seat. I couldn't see where we were going, but when the dust wasn't too bad, I could see where we'd been.

The Ford belonged to Gibson. He had a place in the country with hogs and cattle and he ran the Texaco station in Corley. The Ford's rumble seat was fun. Little kids rode back there and laughed and sang songs and waved at people. I saw a lot Goodland County and once made a trip to Tulsa. That was a big town. The Ford had two flat tires on that trip and Gibson was angry.

My time on the Ford went too fast. Gibson nailed me under the eaves on the cow shed. There wasn't much to see but the weather, the livestock, birds and wild animals. I hung there a long time. The sun peeled my paint and the damp put rust on me. Every year or two a newer license plate was nailed on the wall with me.

51' was the last to join us. We hung there until the cow shed caved in. A man came along with a hammer and pry bar. He saved what wood that he could and put every license plate but me into a cardboard box. He held me and looked at me and I knew he thought I was in bad shape. Then he threw me in with the others.

We went to a store with all kinds of old things. People would pick me up and look at me and then put me back in the box. Most of the other plates left with people. One day a man picked me up and scraped my rust with his thumb nail. I was still solid, just missing my paint and rusty. That man bought me and we took a long ride to a place called Nebraska.

One day that man took me to a cabin along a big river. I later heard people calling it the Missouri. I was given to a man named Patrick. I hoped he would put me on a car, but no, he put me on a shelf . I saw deer and turkey on the far side of the river and many ducks, geese, eagles and other birds. On hot summer days, there were boaters and big boats pushing barges. Patrick would look at some of the boaters with binoculars.

Pat would come in and work with tools. I saw him cut a hole in a Nebraska license plate and mount it on a stick and box thing. Pretty soon, he was making music on the stick, box and plate. If it weren't for the hole he cut, I thought that would be a good purpose for me. I liked the music.

One day Patrick took me to a bucket of soapy water and scrubbed me. He had a process to make me look good and to preserve me. He put me on a guitar, but he didn't cut a hole in me. He did drill a few small holes and mount something on me that I later heard called an Elmar. Then he made music on me and got a big grin on his face. I felt happy and useful.  Pat put a label on the stick that read 'Maddog Guitars'.

I had a new purpose and I hoped Patrick and I were going to make a lot of music. But no, I hung from a hook with lots of other guitars. One day a man with long hair came and talked with Patrick and sampled guitars. Pat called him Justin. Justin picked me up, plugged me in and played. Wow. Patrick is good, but Justin is a wizard. I was sad when he put me back down.

The next day, Patrick and Justin came back. Justin played me again and three of the others. Then he and Patrick shook hands and carried me out to a small motor home with North Carolina license plates. A pretty lady named Nikki was there too. Justin put me inside on a cushion and we drove away.

Now I live with Justin and Nikki. We travel all over in the Gypsy van camper and Justin plays music on me in front of lots of happy people. I have to say, I really like where I am in life right now.

Hey Everyone!

In my never-ending (and silly) quest to build everything myself from found items, here's a quick tutorial on making your own nuts and bridges from plastic dominos.

I read somewhere that really old dominos were sometimes made from bone, so I hit all the local flea markets and thrift stores, but no joy. So, during one of my daily visits to the World's Largest Retailer, I bought a $5 tin of standard plastic dominos.

I don't know exactly what these are made of, but it's not your typical cheap plastic. This stuff is HARD. In fact, short of a power tool, hand-sawing these things was a chore. Dovetail saw worked nicely, though.

These dominos measure roughly 1 inch x 2 inches, so it's easy to get a couple of items from each. Don't worry about the dots on top, we'll get rid of those eventually.

These would both become nuts, so now the dots must go. I recommend a power tool here, but I guess you could sand them by hand. The dust is really fine - a lot like the bone they'll replace. If you sand them just barely clean, you'll end up with a blank that's a hair under 1/4 inch, which is just about perfect for a guitar nut.

A little more creative sanding, and you have something that looks exactly like a guitar nut - because it is! Trim the width as needed, file and sand, file and sand. A little steel wool evens out the sanding marks. I haven't polished any of mine, but I'm sure you could if you like a glossy look.

You can also laminate a domino on a piece of hardwood to cut into bridges. I've used wood glue for mine and, so far, no failures. I'm sure epoxy would work too, maybe even CA glue. Can't say, but I love the look of a laminated bridge. I think they dress things up a bit and it's really not much more trouble than a wood bridge.

Enjoy!

Hi Guy's just thought I'd share my latest build.

I think I posted this in the wrong place earlier, so I'll go again. Its a full acoustic with EQ and bridge pick up. I built it on the lines of building a full acoustic guitar, just to see if the extra thought an effort would make a difference in such a small square box when compared to my other CBG's.

I'm happy to report that I find it does. Volume is up, but more importantly it has a good even response across all strings. I now have a nice loud solid bass that compliments the treble strings when playing thumb/fingerstyle slide. It's has  more of a woody quality tone than all string sounding.

The top and back are book matched and pretty thin, maybe 2mm and have braces inside. the sides are also thin 2.5-3mm The top is Cedar and back and sides are Black Wattle. Neck is Maple and f/board rosewood.

Peghead overlay, bridge and soundhole surround are also Black Wattle. Nut and Saddle are bone.

All tone woods are quarter sawn as are the spruce braces inside. Binding around the top is Rosewood with marquetry inlays. Inlay also goes around the sides.

I think I stuffed this post up. Never mind enjoy

Cheers Taff

I am a passionate writer specialize in web content writing for website and product reviews. If you would like for me review your products/services please let me know.

I write newsletter blog post on various topics, maybe you would like an article for your websites

I am an avid believer in constant improvement and always strive to continue furthering my writing ability any chance I get. I’m a hard worker, whose developed a high personal standard for myself when it comes to effort. I have worked with several big websites. I can write in any tone or style required and I’m more than happy to also provide a writing sample or to complete any writing exercise to showcase my ability. 

Regards 

Toby

Note:  I am working on a collection of short and very short stories that all tie together in a fictional place called Goodland County Oklahoma.   Some are music related and some feature CBGs.   I appreciate your comments, good, bad and corrective.

Jake Leg   by John Bolton

Goodland County, Oklahoma, 1931

The Two Two Store sat two miles east of Corley on a dirt road. There was a good sized open room with pot bellied stoves in the two outside corners. A small front section had the most basic general store items; bread, eggs, bacon, flour, sugar, salt, pepper, canned goods, canning supplies, soap, tobacco, pickles, work gloves, candy, and corn meal.

A tilting front porch had a green porch swing, a big red Coco-cola sign and short barrels for seats. The west side of the 22, the side toward town, was barn red with white lettered 'Mail Pouch Tobacco' advertising. Out in front of the porch was a single gas pump, red with glass top.

Jimmy Mc Neese didn't own the building, but he was the proprietor and he made things work. If you wanted corn liquor and Jimmy thought you were okay, he would sell you some. Corn liquor was his money maker and come Friday and Saturday nights, the Two Two had live music and dancing.

Next door was a two stall repair shop that the big Osage Indian, Benny Poor Bear, rented from Jimmy. Benny could fix most anything. Maybe his work didn't suit some folk's schedules, but leave him alone and give him a little time and he could fix cars, tractors, motorcycles, radios, wringer washing machines and most things that needed fixed.

The Friday and Saturday night crowd was mostly colored, but at least a few whites and Osage always showed up. The fiddler was a white man, John Potter, who ran the pawn shop and bail bond place in town. He and Ted Johnson on banjo did songs you could dance to. Jimmy Mc Neese would sit down with a guitar a few times a night and play some blues. Anybody that wanted to could get up and do a song. If Jimmy liked it, he would call out, “Give us one more!”

Dance nights had free admission. A mule and wagon would be in colored town at seven o:clock to carry folks out to the 22. At eleven, it would carry folks back to town. The 22 might stay open until the wee hours of the morning, but if you stayed later than eleven, you had to catch a ride or walk back to town. Jimmy wanted folks to have a good time, but he didn't want no trouble.

* * * *

Sheriff William Wright got a call on Monday morning from Elton Mc Coy's wife saying Elton was 'Sick as dog and had Jake Leg from drinking bad liquor at the 22. They wanted Jimmy Mc Neese arrested and they wanted him to pay for doctor bills and damages. The Sheriff said he'd see what he could do.

Del Wright, the sheriff's son, was day deputy that week. Del went to the 22 and told Jimmy about the complaint. Jimmy, cussed a good blue streak, slapped the counter top and said, “That cracker came here more than half looped. I don't think he had but two or three drinks! Nobody else got sick.”

Del visited a while, thanked Jimmy, and said he'd look into it further. Del and Jimmy were friendly in a cautious way. An honest deputy could not afford to get too friendly with a colored man who sold boot leg liquor. But they shared a love for music, especially the blues, and in that subject, Jimmy had been Del's mentor.

Del went over to the repair shop and found Benny Poor Boy patching a tractor inner tube. He told Benny what he was looking into. Benny said, “There not a thing wrong with Jimmy liquor. That McCoy come in here drunk. Some people got whiskey sick down in Osage town. Talk to Francois Poor Bear, my cousin. Tell him I sent you.”

Del drove down to Osage and found Francois. Francois said, “Yeah, that dumb ass Tom Lyons and George Benson got sick as dogs. I heard they bought the booze from that Elton Mc Coy. Words out not to buy from him.”

Del drove down to Mc Coy place midway between Osage and the near ghost town of Hard Scratch. He parked the car, went in the barn and looked, then went to a shed on the edge of a nearby timber with a big messy pile of firewood beside it. He opened the shed door and case solved, there was a still inside. He brought the car over to the shed, loaded the still and then went to the house and arrested Elton Mc Coy for bootlegging.

You don't sell bad whiskey in Goodland County and try to put the blame on somebody else.

* * * *

Many law enforcement agencies made only token efforts to enforce the liquor laws during Prohibition. Too many people thought the law was wrong and they were going to have their drinks.

Prohibition made outlaws and wealthy men out of some honest and not so honest folks. Many bootleggers took pride in their product. Some did not have the the knowledge, skill or integrity to to make 'safe' alcohol. Some customers got sick and a few died.

Jake leg was a condition, usually temporary, causing victims to lose the use of their hands and feet. Some could walk, but with poor control of their muscles. They often had a jerky and distinctive way of walking called Jake walk.

Referring to flat pickups, I perceive a lot of statements and many points of views at CBN. Talking about points of views, I would like to share mine.

At midlife, I am studying for being an OT; we do a lot of role play and practices with everyday tasks such as cooking. I want to explain my perception in a story about the housewife Eleanor who is baking cakes. For the avoidance of doubts, I am serious about my ongoing profession and the people around me, whether present or in an virtual environment.

"People know cakes since ages. Eleanor likes baking and at some point in Feb 2011 she thought: Why not making a flat cake? She made one the very next day. As simple as that! Other housewives tried the cake and said that in addition to being flat, it would be tasty too! By the time, many more cakes were ordered. Eleanor founded a small bakery.

One day, another colleague of her asked her the recipe. "Should I tell mine or leave it up to her to find her own?" Eleanor proposed a deal: A small royalty for a certain period of time. In change she would tell her own recipe. More than that, Eleanor referred to the other to serve the demand for cakes in her environment.

As more housewives wanted Eleanor's recipe, her policy was: "If you you want to bake, do it. If you want to bake them cakes like I do, please mention where you got the idea from." Some were spreading the principle of flat cakes and Eleanor thought everything would be fine.

Wrong. Eleanor found out that other housewives were pretending that making flat cakes would be taboo. A secret which she wants to hide, what a bad person Eleanor was! Strangely enough, some of them had started to make flat cakes - and still pretended there was a secret in doing so.

Eleanor was sad. There had never been a secret nor a taboo. Until she realized that in their stories, everybody wants to be the good person. And since there is no good or bad, the only difference is the point of view. From there, Eleanor tried to keep out of other persons' stories and focused on making cakes for people who like them."

My best regards
Elmar

You can easily cut a Scarf Joint, for your guitar necks, using a Radial Arm saw! The 1st step is, set your saw arm to cut at desired angle! ( usually 13-15 degs) next: using a straight piece of hardwood, set up a fence, 90 square to table fence, and at leading edge of saw blade path.

Align Stock to be cut, as deep as needed for Headstock Height.

run your headstock thru planer to desired thickness. And, a couple passes of the newly angled joints over the belt sander... and, Viola!!! A Beautiful Scarf Joint!!!

Body: Black Limba with an aluminum resonator cone/cover with dual sound holes (they aren't speakers).
Neck: Walnut with a mahogany stabilizer
Fret board: Exotic New Guinean Ebony. This was the most expensive piece of the build @ $55.
Head Stock: Hand carved from a Mahogany, Ebony and Walnut blend.
Electronics: Single-coil, low-profile pickup at the neck, a piezo pickup inside the body with an alpha control knob to blend the two pickups and a tone knob for the final output.

Pickup purchased from Victory Guitars at: https://reverb.com/item/259424-lowrider-vintage-gold-foil-standard-pickup

Setup with an open G 4-string tuning with a high action for slide play.

Big thanks to Charles Atchison for his awesome handmade reso and cover. In addition Charles helped me customize the biscuit and bridge for my high-action setup.

Every December the past few years, my band has played in Palo Pinto TX, about 70 mi west of Ft Worth.  It's county seat for the county of same name even though it's unincorporated.   But it has quite a history as you can see from this small sample here.   J. Tom Butler must have been some musician.  This "cello" he built from scrap wood and what seems to be bailing wire (or piano strings) is a gem of Americana folk art and cigar box greatness.  The bridge is flat, not rounded, so I doubt he played it with a bow.  Note too he did not use any sort of bridge pins or anchoring method--he just twisted the ends about the string after passing through the tin tailpiece.  The tuners look to be the same type used by autoharps or hammer dulcimers, he must have used a wrench to tune the strings.   Neck has a nice bunch of little worm holes as you can see...and had to be braced in back with another length of wire to keep the neck from warping forward or caving in the face of the instrument.  Wonder how it sounded 100 years ago?