“Heads and it’s back to New York. Tails and we go to L.A.” Les grinned, peering at me over the smudged
lenses of his metal-rimmed glasses. I couldn’t tell if he was pulling my leg or if he was serious but I didn’t really care. I had asked him to tell me about his early days of playing guitar. He launched into this wonderful, lyrical story about playing his way from New York to Chicago, then getting a call from Bing Crosby, who wanted him to come to Los Angeles and record with him. He had no recording experience and was more than a little nervous about it, he explained. Torn whether to head west or go back to New York, out came the coin. He grabbed the tumbling coin in mid-air and flipped it over onto the opposite wrist. Tails. And the rest, as they say, is history.
He was well into his 90s when we first met, yet this slight man with the razor wit and ribald sense of humor was as spry and lively as one could ever hope to be. At any age. Comfortably dressed in all black, he seemed 20 years younger to me, completely relaxed, sitting in the “green room” of the Iridium Club in Manhattan, where he had mesmerized audiences nearly every Monday night since 1996 with his fluid riffs and saucy quips.
The guitar in his hands seemed increasingly to be one of his own extremities rather than an instrument. He knew it at the molecular level, of course. He had, after all, designed this iconic instrument half a century earlier; an instrument that still bears his name as well as the famous Gibson brand.
That night at the Iridium, Les met with Gibson’s Tom Gordon, Guitar Center’s Michael Doyle and me to discuss an idea for a guitar promotion I wanted to do. As enthusiastic as he was gracious, Les was fully supportive of the idea and even agreed to do a photo shoot with a Santa hat for a promotional calendar.There was no hint of pretense, no rock star attitude; he was a “regular guy” who just so happened to be a genius.
His invention of multi-track recording and his contribution to the guitar, both as a player and as a visionary, are immeasurable. His legacy will live on in the millions of instruments that bear his name, in the music he brought us all and in every recording your iPod can hold.
Thank you, Les. Rest in peace.
