Gibson’s archives give up lost treasure.
Delicious smooth-to-silky P-90 sounds. Awesome chunky neck. Pretty, unusual-for-Gibson body profile.
Holy cow, it’s expensive.
$4,999
Gibson Theodore
gibson.com
Gibson has had a lot of time to evolve as a guitar company. But that doesn’t make the breadth of personalities among their instruments any less astonishing. A Firebird, an ES-150, an ES-330, a Les Paul Standard, and an SG Jr. can each inspire very different paths for a given musical idea—or different ideas altogether. Each has its own musicality, attitude, and energy.
So, while it may not look the part at first, the Gibson Theodore, which existed only as a sketch by Ted McCarty from March 1957, is a perfect—or perfectly oddball—fit for the Gibson family. Slim, slender, scimitar-headstocked, and built around a pair of very lively P-90s, Theodore looks and feels like it longs to rock first and foremost. But it also has more feline and economical lines than many of its Gibson brethren. And like a goldtop or SG Special, the Theodore dwells just as happily in smoky jazz settings and mellow, meandering chord melody zones as rocking domains. This blend of attributes and capabilities make Theodore very versatile. It’s also an intriguing peek at the many design directions Ted McCarty was considering for Gibson while at a zenith of his creativity.
Tulip Mania
Striking as Theodore looks, it wasn’t the only guitar at the time to embrace a tulip-shaped double-cutaway design. And one has to wonder if Gibson didn’t reconsider Theodore as a production instrument upon seeing Rickenbacker’s similarly tulip-shaped Model 400 from the previous year. McCarty’s tulip shape is slimmer and more uniform than Rickenbacker’s. But while Theodore might estrange Gibson fans that prefer the company’s more overtly muscular shapes, there’s still much of the adventure and daring that went into the Explorer and Flying V at work here. And though Theodore didn’t fit the future-forward ethos of the Explorer and V, the way it spans 1930s Deco and the fancy organic shapes of Ibanez, Alembic, and Doug Irwin guitars from the ’70s make it a fascinating mash up of 20th century design modes.
There are practical upsides to the configuration as well. The body is alder, just as McCarty’s original sketch called for (it also has a walnut center strip that is implied in the sketch but not listed as a manufacturing specification). Alder construction makes Theodore lighter than a mahogany Melody Maker or SG. And though McCarty’s sketch specified that the body should be flat, it also includes a cross-section diagram of the lower bout that calls for a comfortable contour where guitar and ribs meet, suggesting that the Stratocaster’s ergonomic refinements had put guitar builders on notice. So, though the Theodore isn’t as form-fitting as a Stratocaster, it sits more comfortably against the human body than many slab-bodies guitars of the period.
Hooked up to two old black-panel Fenders, the bridge pickup made as perfect a rock ’n’ roll growl as I could imagine.
Chunky Style, All Butter
The Theodore’s neck is a 2-piece mahogany slab cut in what Gibson calls a chunky C-profile. It’s a fistful, but it’s awesome. And what it may sacrifice in slim-and-shreddy slinkiness it makes up for with inviting, lean-into-it heft that compels you to linger on single notes and extract every microtone, vibrato nuance, and bit of sustain. That approach is rewarded to no end by the excellent P-90s, which are bold, loud, and relatively noise free. Hooked up to two old black-panel Fenders, the bridge pickup made as perfect a rock ’n’ roll growl as I could imagine.
Rocking tones aside, players should not hesitate to use these P-90s at lower volume. Cutting the guitar volume back by just a few notches here and there yields some of the most soulful and dynamic sounds from the guitar. These tones excel for mellower lead passages, jangle rhythms, and jazzy chord ballads. Even at these slightly attenuated volumes the top end output remains very alive and energetic, and you can easily coax excited, just-dirty sounds from your amplifier if you add intensity to your pick attack.
The Verdict
The Theodore is a beautiful playing machine. The P-90s are delicious on the rocking and mellow sides of the spectrum, and they are sensitive—responding in cool ways to picking dynamics when wide open and at cleaner, lower volumes. The substantial neck is fantastic. And though the body profile will doubtless elicit strong opinions, I really warmed to the shape for its elegant economy of line. The short horn on the lap side may make it a less-than-ideal instrument for extended seated sessions as the short horn can slip off your lap in certain positions. But hanging on a strap it feels light, sturdy, responsive, and ready to do damage.
As for the cost: Well, five grand is a lot—a lot—for a guitar that, technically, is short on bells and whistles. On the other hand, the Theodore is immaculately built and sounds heavenly. Given its low production numbers and niche appeal, Theodore is almost certainly bound to be a very rare bird. Hold on to it for a while and you may be repaid with much more than hours of sweet tones and praise from fans of eccentric electrics.
Gibson Theodore Demo | First Look
Ted McCarty's archives reveal a long-lost treasure.More First Look videos: https://bit.ly/FIrstLookSubscribe to PG's Channel: https://bit.ly/SubscribePGYouTube...The French rockers detail how they appreciate the original '50s classic, but Jeff Beck's stirring rendition is an instrumental apex.
The Kay-made Swingmaster P-5 carries the torch for its higher-end predecessors, like the company's Barney Kessel model.
When the guitar boom of the 1960s hit, manufacturing operations all over the world rushed to meet skyrocketing demand. There were factories in Japan and Italy, in Southern California and Czechoslovakia, and, perhaps most prolifically of all, in Chicago, Illinois—that long-established center of American retail distribution. Chicago instrument makers churned out entry-level guitars in enormous volumes, and by the time of Beatlemania, it seemed like they couldn't build them fast enough.
The three big names from this time and place were Harmony, Valco, and, the maker of today's featured instrument, Kay. All three companies competed and at times collaborated, and supplied instruments to retailers like Sears and Montgomery Ward to be sold under a dizzying array of brand names.
This is one of a series of Kay-made instruments with appointments similar to that of the earlier Gold K generation.
In today's vintage market, Harmony is known for the sheer volume of beginner guitars it produced, while Valco, the company behind brands like Supro and National, has enjoyed something of a Jack White-ified resurgence over the past two decades. (Believe it or not, "Fell in Love with a Girl" was released in 2001.) Kay's reputation and legacy, while high among a certain set of collectors and players, is perhaps less well defined, but still claims a fascinating history of its own.
Like Harmony, Kay's origins can be traced to the 1890s when it started as the Groeschel Mandolin Company. In the 1920s and '30s, it went through some name changes, eventually landing on Kay Musical Instrument Company under the leadership of Henry Kuhrmeyer. Kay was right there at the birth of the electric guitar as one of the first makers to explore this new arena in the 1930s.
These Kleenex box variations on the P-90 have larger pole pieces, but typically less midrange than actual P-90s, giving them a distinctive tone that's highly sculptable thanks to individual pickup tone and volume controls.
The most intriguing stretch of Kay's history came in the late 1950s, when it sought to compete directly with higher-end brands and market more professionally oriented guitars, called the Gold K series, which included a set of signature models for jazz great Barney Kessel. A Kay catalog from 1959 proclaims, "Only Kay offers you so complete a line—ranging from a $24.50 student model to a $400 professional electric." A $400 guitar in this era would put it on the same shelf as a high-end Gibson. Mr. Kessel himself made the switch to Gibson by 1961, which, going by the guitars featured in Kay catalogs from this period, coincides with a refocus by the company towards the lower end of the market.
The humble headstock marks this Kay-built Airline as a more affordable model than its Kelvinator-headstock-equipped inspirations. Nonetheless, it is a formidable example from the heyday of Chicago guitar builders.
The Gold K and Kessel models (along with the Thin Twin, which was played by bluesman Jimmy Reed) are the most recognizable vintage Kays and are set apart by their higher-end hardware—flourishes like the ornate "Kelvinator" headstock (which, along with the pickup frames and pickguard, resembled the appointments of that company's line of appliances) and the distinct Gold K pickups, sometimes called Kleenex box pickups, for obvious reasons. Moving through the '60s, as Kay shifted away from the original Gold K guitars, these pickups—a variation on the P-90, with larger pole pieces—continued to be used on other models including today's featured instrument, the hollowbody Swingmaster P-5 archtop. Sold under the Airline brand name exclusively through Montgomery Ward, this guitar shows up in a 1965 edition of their catalog simply as an Archtop Dual Cutaway. While often vintage dealers and others label any Kay with the Kleenex box pickups a Barney Kessel model, this does not appear to have been the actual designation. Instead, this is one of a series of Kay-made instruments with appointments similar to that of the earlier Gold K generation, but overall, more in the mold of the other guitars then being sold through catalog partners.
Here's an unobstructed view of the curly maple back of this Airline Swingmaster P-5. The neck appears to be rosewood.
According to the Reverb listing for this guitar from Guitar Showcase of San Jose, California, it has a replacement bridge and some swapped screws, as well as a noticeable crack on the bottom near the trapeze tailpiece hinge. The listing also points out the strength of the Kleenex box pickups, which are controlled by a 3-way selector and individual tone and volume dials. The triple set of pickups on this guitar is part of what makes this model one of the most sought-after Kay instruments of the 1960s—at about one-third to one-half the price of a two-pickup Kay with the actual Kessel designation and Kelvinator headstock. This specific guitar was listed at $1,995.
There's a tendency for those of us who are interested in the history of gear to seek easy categorization and neat, orderly model names and serial number sequences. During the '60s guitar boom, among the wholesaling factories things were never quite so simple. They used what parts they had. That stack of bodies might meet that pile of necks, and the result might contrast a bit with how that model looked last year or will look in the next batch. Oddities, contradictions, and inconsistent information abound on the vintage market when it comes to Chicago guitars, and Airline-branded Kays like this one are a typical example. Ultimately, though, it's this mysteriousness and the possibility of finding something truly unique that makes guitars like this so much fun.