This rare 1941 Kay Carson Robison guitar bears traces of multiple repairs done over time.
Today, we’re familiar with the names Gene Autry and Roy Rogers, but back then, any cowboy fan would have also known Carson Robison. Robison was born in 1890 to a champion-fiddler father and a dance-caller mother. In the 1920s, he was one of the first cowboy singers to become a radio performer, famous for his virtuosic whistling ability. He wrote over 300 songs in his career, including his 1948 hit, “Life Gets Tee-Jus, Don’t It,” featured in episode 123 of the original Muppet Show, which is how I first heard of him.
The Montgomery Ward catalog offered Carson Robison-model guitars from 1930 through 1941. The 6-string changed a little every couple of years, ultimately ending up with eight different variations. The subject of this month’s column is the rare eighth variation, also called Model 964, made only for a short time in the fall of 1941 by the Kay Musical Instrument Company. According to the original catalog, it has a “Selected Spruce Top” and mahogany back and sides, and the top is solid wood as far as we can tell. The back and sides, however, are made of a few disparate pieces. The body on this guitar was shrunk from the previous grand auditorium size (41 1/4 x 16 1/4) to a smaller grand concert size (39 1/2 x 14), and it has a distinctive oval-shaped soundhole. Like the other Carson Robison guitars, it has his signature painted on the body, below the bridge.
Also known as Model 964, this version of the Carson Robison is the eighth variation on the original.
Photo by Madison Thorn
This particular example has had a number of repairs over the years. The tuners are newer, and it’s had a bone saddle installed. Its amber sunburst finish has some overspray, likely covering a past repair. It’s also had a refret and a neck reset, and it’s playing better than ever. The neck has a chunky V-shape, which is typical for these early-20th century guitars that were made before truss rods. It’s got a bunch of dings, finish-checking, and evidence of past repairs, which I think adds character. I like to imagine this guitar had a dynamic early life, being played and loved by some rowdy siblings.
While researching this model, we at Fanny’s House of Music in Nashville came across a clipping of the 1941 Montgomery Ward catalog this guitar was listed in and found something curious cut off on the left side of the page. Featured right next to the Carson Robison guitar was a 6-string bearing the name of Louise Massey. Could it be that not all singing cowboys were boys? I found myself in the throes of a deep Google search when our old friend Frank Hall came to the rescue.
“I like to imagine this guitar had a dynamic early life, being played and loved by some rowdy siblings.”
Frank Hall was a fixture here in Nashville. He was a member of the Serendipity Singers, a folk group that performed at Woodstock. He was also a lifelong guitar collector and one of the world’s preeminent “catalog guitar” experts. He came into Fanny’s often to tell us stories about these old guitars, and when we were lucky, he’d play us a song. Frank passed away in early 2021, but he left us with a wealth of knowledge, and importantly, for our purposes today, a tome called Cowboy Guitars by Steve Evans and Ron Middlebrook.
Time and wear have given this guitar a character as craggy as the old West.
Photo by Madison Thorn
The owners of Fanny’s, Pamela Cole and Leigh Maples, plopped it open on our front desk to page 106, where I read the history of Louise Massey and the Kay-made Montgomery Ward guitar that bears her name. Louise was known for her hit song “My Adobe Hacienda,” a beautiful tune calling back to the real heroes of cowboy culture, Mexican vaqueros. Her signature guitar was only made for a few short months in the fall of 1941, at the same time as our Carson Robison. As far as we know, it is the only cowboy guitar to feature a woman artist. Not even the Queen of the West, Dale Evans, had that honor!
This wonderful Kay acoustic took us on quite a journey. We love the stories in these old guitars, and we especially love seeing them write new stories with new owners. Sometimes all it takes is a neck set, and a little flattop like this one is all ready to inspire a new generation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go scour eBay for a Louise Massey guitar.
Danelectro’s new Longhorn Baritone, which comes from the factory tuned B to B, is not a 6-string bass, which is tuned E to E. But it’s almost impossible to not think of those low-down Glen Campbell tones when you play the Longhorn, which mates the clear, bell-like signal from a Danelectro lipstick pickup with the rubbery bottom end from a 29.75" scale. It’s a combination that’s very much in vogue these days, thanks to Phoebe Bridgers’ adoption of the similar Danelectro ’56 Baritone. And in this very stylish incarnation, it is still an instrument uniquely capable of evoking haunted, dusty, and mysterious musical moods with a single low and twangy note.
Stylishly, Sneakily Huge
Like their long-scale Danelectro forebears, Danelectro baritones have a way of sneaking up on unsuspecting artists in search of something different. Bridgers happened upon the instrument during a session, bought one of her own for $500, and made it a sonic centerpiece of her first LP. And I’ve watched incredulous rockers receive a humble Dano’ baritone from an engineer with a sarcastic smirk, plug it into a Big Muff and a Sunn Model T, and then burst into a lunatic grin as they summon the sound of doom.
One of the coolest things about Danelectro is that, since the company’s resurrection, they’ve consistently made baritones a fixture of the line. But while Danelectro maintains the company’s legendary, lyre-like Longhorn shape in a 4-string bass configuration—and occasionally in the shape of the awesome, mutant Guitarlin—this is the first Longhorn Baritone we’ve seen in a while. Its return, purely from an aesthetic standpoint, is welcome. The elongated neck, capped by Dano’s signature Coke-bottle headstock, gracefully accents the fluid lines of the body. Baritones often look like gawky, ungainly versions of shorter scale guitars—almost like afterthoughts. The Longhorn, however, makes the inherent length of the instrument a design asset, and part of a harmonious whole.
Ergonomically speaking, there are advantages, too. The deep cutaways enable access to every fret, and the combination of light weight, a slender profile, and the long horns, which sit naturally on the thigh and against the ribs, make it comfortable to play over extended periods while seated. Surprisingly, given the long neck and super-light, semi-hollow, wood-composite body, the Longhorn isn’t too prone to neck dive, though I’d be sure to use your least slippery strap.
The Longhorn Baritone is built in Danelectro’s Korean manufacturing facility. Most of the recent guitars we’ve seen from that shop are very well made, and that goes for the Longhorn, too. Obvious construction flaws are non-existent. And the fretwork, in particular, is very nice for an instrument in this price range.
Early guitars from the new Danelectro company were often vintage-correct to a fault. Few players I know love the wood bridge that appeared on original Danos and ’90s incarnations. But the Longhorn, like other current Danelectros, makes smart concessions to modernity. The adjustable bridge is stable and easy to intonate. The Kluson-style tuners are reliably solid. And unlike long-scale Danelectros of old, this one features a truss rod you can access from the headstock—an especially handy feature on a baritone, which has a fair bit of neck-straining string pull.
The tone and volume knobs, too, are a slight deviation from vintage spec (originals had no tone control). But the teardrop tone controls here are a pleasure to use, and the concentric volume/tone knobs are a bit of minor design genius. The copperburst finish is not quite as copper as some finishes you see on vintage Danos—it has just a touch of ruby or pink in places. But it is lovely nonetheless, particularly on this body style, and it’s flawlessly applied. The aluminum nut, by the way, is a very cool vintage-inspired touch that contributes to the instrument’s sense of solidity.
Down Low Done Right
The sense of quality and wholeness that you perceive when giving the Longhorn Baritone a once-over translates to an exceptional playing experience, too. When you tune up and give the guitar a strum, you feel it in your ribs. The semi-hollow body is extremely resonant and the sustain is superb. And when you plug the guitar in (it really pays to have a nice 12" speaker or bigger on the receiving end of the signal), that resonance and sustain is rendered large in a lovely way. Not every player will approach a baritone in the same way, but I was moved to, as Donovan would say, dig the slowness. Taking a languid approach to fingerpicking chords allowed notes to bloom hypnotically. And the guitar’s smooth playability invites that type of approach. The Longhorn also highlights the inherently pianistic nature of baritone guitars, and the guitar’s clarity and organic resonance make playing a high-chord arpeggio against a deep open-string thumb bass accompaniment feel like you’re stretching the boundaries of conventional guitar and entering expressive regions associated with an 88-key keyboard.
The Verdict
Because baritone guitars are just as much the domain of doom metal practitioners as pop arrangers and next-wave indie guitarists, the Longhorn Baritone won’t please every possible customer. The Longhorn’s pickups, which are hotter than the alnico 6 units in Danelectro’s more vintage-oriented 6-strings, are perhaps a compromise made for the heavy music set (and they sound truly huge with fuzz), but I’d prefer a little less output and a little more contoured sweetness. Still, for less than 600 bucks, the Longhorn Baritone is a high-quality, super-playable, and relatively inexpensive instrument that can transform the way you compose and play. It’s hard to put a cost on creative potential like that.
Danelectro Longhorn Baritone Demo | First Look
