The Pearls

The Pearls
Andrew Willinger, George Hudock, Bill Crepet, Jack Hudock

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Origins 3



PEARLS origins -  from Jack Hudock

May I follow up on the Pearls’ instruments briefly?  It really helps to have the financial support of parents who don’t think playing rock ’n roll is sacrilegious.  When George first began to take lessons, Mom and Dad bought him a used Gibson ES-175, a big fat (about 3 inches deep) hollow jazz box with two PAF Humbuckers, split parallelogram fret board inlays, tobacco sunburst paint job, and a single Florentine cutaway.  I believe it had an ebony fret board, but maybe not.  I was largely unaware of such nuances back then.  You, or your parents, can still buy one of these new, but at very close to $4,000 you had better be serious.

The Pearls rhythm guitarist, Bill Crepet, still has one of the original ES-175 models with a single P-90 in the bridge position.  That was the original configuration beginning in the late 40s.  It has a very ballsy scream through some solid state electronic distortion and is a dream of easy playability.  Nice catch, Bill.

George, who (like me) was spending our parents’ money, discarded the 175 for a Stratocaster because the 175 was prone to feedback.  Who knew that feedback would become a trend?  When it became a trend, the Strat went down the well in favor of another Gibson, the big ES-355 TDC.  In the photo at the top, George is playing a Gibson ES-335 he borrowed.  He’s standing next to a Fender Jaguar (I believe) he also borrowed.

Bill Crepet who, in retrospect, seems to be the sensible Pearl got himself a beautiful black Gretsch that he still owns.  It served him, and the band, well through our lives together as a band.  I played it recently.  I’d keep it too if it were mine!  What a great guitar.

At one point, my Mom bought me a Guild F-212 12-string guitar made in the old factory in Hoboken.  This was long ago, after Guild had left Manhattan, and before Guild moved to Westerly, Connecticut.  We never used it in a performance because we couldn’t figure out how to amplify it.  And, I couldn’t play it very well!  It was a great guitar that I ruined by years of neglect and clumsy luthiery work.  Eventually, it had to go because I wanted to be Steve Cropper, but I had Leadbelly’s guitar.  I traded it for another guitar I no longer own.

Regarding the PA we finally acquired:  Bill Crepet got a Traynor column with 4 twelves in it and we drove that baby with a Bogen 50 watt PA amplifier.  In an effort to polish our vocal style, Bill found a Fender tape echo machine that made our PA sound like the voice of the almighty.  It didn’t change the fact that we couldn’t hear ourselves sing over the instruments but it was tough as nails especially considering its many moving parts.  I don’t know if you can get such a sweet and versatile echo effect out of the modern solid state gear.  That Fender echo was another dream.

THAT NAME.  What are these Pearls of which you speak?  Here’s what I think I remember:

At the time the name was coined, George was living with Dan Mahoney in the dorms.  Dan was a tough, serious guy who could be flamboyantly and distinctively funny.  I remember him sticking his whole body, from the waist up, out of the dorm windows from time to time, waving his arms in an imitation of a papal blessing on St. Peter’s square.  In the persona he occupied on those occasions he was “Mighty Yascha” and all men bowed before him.  Dan, I think, suggested that it wouldn’t do for us to take ourselves too seriously.  Boy, was he right. He also wanted to have some involvement in the band.  For reasons of self-deprecating humor content he suggested we name ourselves (just as The Ink Spots did) with some reference to skin color.  Mighty Yascha & the Pearls filled the bill perfectly.  Dan was in, and we were white.

Dan, as I recall, promised (or perhaps threatened) to make himself a “Mojo Stick” out of a tomato pole with soda bottle caps nailed to it, and show up at gigs to stomp around on the stage while we played.  He never did.  I recall having to announce from the stage repeatedly that “Mighty Yascha ain’t here tonight.”  I had to, on occasion, also announce in the first set that we had already received numerous special requests but we were going to play the whole four sets anyway!

If by now, gentle reader, you can’t see why all of us thought this was great fun then you should blame it on your browser and click to some less comical adventure story.

HIRING BILL BENDER. An attempt at self improvement.

We never figured out, until too late, that our vocal failings came as a result of not being able to hear our own voices through the PA.  We brought Bill Bender on because we figured he could make us sound better.  The man can sing harmony (by instinct it seems) to this day.  We had no idea he’d already been to New York and recorded.  We also had no idea that we should figure out how to drive at least one stage monitor with the PA.  It was long ago in geological time, children, and I’m not sure any of the local bands had monitors then.  These days, you ain’t nothin’ if you don’t have lights, a smoke machine, eye make-up, and a cape.  But we worked back in the day.

We had toyed with the idea of bringing in someone with a keyboard to enlarge the sound.  The one fellow we briefly considered (name? Who remembers names at this point?) wasn’t very good and he had a small, wheezy Farfisa Combo Compact that didn’t have an impressive sound.  It seemed like a bad bet to all of us that he could help us and truly earn a share of our revenue.  The revenue was skimpy to the point of being ridiculous; we didn’t mind because it was a great hobby.  But splitting it 5 ways instead of 4 seemed dopey until we got the chance to make Bill Bender a Pearl.

I seem to remember Bill requiring us, as part of basic training, to sing the Don and Juan hit (What’s Your Name?) in the dorm’s concrete stairwells in harmony (well, the best we could approximate) so we’d get the hang of singing together.  In the stairwells, we could hear our own voices, you see.  It was fun, and it may have made a difference.  The fun was what we were after.  And Bill didn’t mind the skimpy pay.  He already knew, I think, the lesson Billy Preston taught us all when he sang Nothin’ From Nothin’ Means Nothin’.  Bill is still a Pearl, still playing his Strat, and jamming with Doug Morgenstern.


NEXT:  Pearls gigs I can remember.  Nothing beats performing, especially among friends.

No comments:

Post a Comment