Author: C.C. Rider

C.C. Rider, who spends her life venerating the founding fathers of the blues. She’s walked the crooked highways of this singing country to resurrect the voices of the past. With the dirt of the Delta on her hands, she sleeps in the shadow of the giants on whose shoulders popular music now stands.

It stretches for almost two miles, rising right up out of the Mississippi River. Beale Street. It’s where gamblers lived and died, hookers hooked and killers got away with it. For the first half of the 20thcentury, there was nowhere else you’d rather be….

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It all started with a flat on West Grand Boulevard in Detroit and an 800 dollar loan. Former boxer and Korean War Vet Berry Gordy had a dream…to create a place where a black kid could quote “walk off the street into the studio and leave a polished performer.”

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In the early ‘20s a Vaudeville guitar player named George Beauchamp paid a visit to a stringed instrument shop. His complaint: no matter how loud he played, his guitar just couldn’t compete with the rest of the instruments in the orchestra.

So, the owner of that shop, John Dopyera, developed the idea of fitting a guitar body with aluminum cones. Discs of fine-spun aluminum that vibrate to amplify sound. Make the body out of metal, and you’ve got a National guitar.

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