ABOVE: Charles shaping a back-and-rim assembly’s two-piece linings in
his Portland, Oregon, workshop.
scene didn’t exist, and North
American guitars were still virtually all factory-made. In the
mid '60s, though, the guitar
was emerging as the magical
Excalibur-like counterculture
power object that inspired the
post-war youth generation to
break free and boogie. The
music, the drugs, the dramatic
social changes, and our shared
belief in a brilliant future . . .
it was all incredibly empowering, and anyone with a new
idea, insight, or dream felt more
free than ever before to just go
ahead and do it. So that was the
zeitgeist when a number of us
independently took it into our
heads to build our own guitar.
I was in my 20s then, with
a master of fine arts degree,
painting and teaching art in
Chicago and studying flamenco
guitar at the Sherry-Brener
guitar shop—at that time, the
US distributor for Ramírez
and other handmade Spanish
guitars. Like so many other
soon-to-be-luthiers, I wanted
a guitar that I couldn’t afford.
Buying a Spanish, handmade
flamenco instrument was out of
the question on my budget, and
no economically priced student
flamencos were available. But
the real things were there in the
store for me to examine, and by
chance there were some guitar-
making materials for sale there,
as well—though I’m not sure
why. I’m sure I wouldn’t be a
luthier today without that ser-
endipitous combination of frus-
trated desire, available examples
and materials, and being still
young and cocky enough to
decide to just build my own
damn guitar. Thus, a life began.
You’ve influenced or taught
or supported the early efforts
of a lot of other builders, and
with the American School of
