This unusual bass instrument is strung with just two flatwound strings, each with its own fretting surface that’s bent 135 degrees away from one another.
Recently, the oddest of odd ducks strolled through Fanny’s front door. It looks like a Harmony Wedge lap steel that was thrown in the dryer to shrink a little bit. It has two flatwound bass strings, in reverse order from where you’d expect—the higher string is on the left side if you’re looking at the instrument’s face. Each string has its own fretting surface, bent at a 135-degree angle away from each other, and the frets are labeled with note names. A raised, thin strip of wood separates the strings from each other on the fretboard.
Oh, wait a moment. Did we say “fretboard?” We should have said “footboard.” Allow us to introduce you to the 1970s Mike Miller Foot Bass. That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet. The strings are tuned a fifth apart from each other. By setting the instrument on the ground and rocking your foot back and forth over the neck, you get a standard country root-fifth bass line—completely hands-free. Are you a guitar player? All you need is one of these puppies and a drum machine and, poof! You’re a whole band!
Along the “footboard” are markers for note names.
Thank goodness for the internet, which gave me access to the original promotional materials for the Foot Bass. Emblazoned with the all-caps header, “BE YOUR OWN BASS MAN,” its pamphlet extols the virtues of the Foot Bass. Describing it as “practically maintenance free,” it guarantees you’ll “amaze friends and audiences,” and “make extra MONEY.”
A brief meander through the United States Patent and Trademark website revealed the patent, whose filer was equally concerned with finances. “A currently popular form of entertainment is provided by an artist who both sings and accompanies himself on a guitar,” it reads, as if this hasn’t been a popular form of entertainment for a very long time. “The performance of such an artist may be enhanced by adding a bass accompaniment.... However, such an additional bass accompaniment ordinarily requires an extra artist for playing the bass and therefore represents an additional expense.” Sorry, bass players. Clearly, you all do nothing but cost us guitar players money.
“That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet.”
Be prepared to dig through your closet when you embark on your Foot Bass journey. If you start with your trusty Doc Martens, you’re in for a disappointing experience. Deep treads make for messy notes and poor contact with the strings. And while barefoot playing allows for more nimble, adventurous basslines, the lack of a rigid surface prevents the “simple and convenient” operation promised by the patent. What you need, as one Fanny’s employee described, are “church shoes”—something with a low profile and a flat sole.
This Mike Miller Foot Bass is from the 1970s, and has a patent for its design.
Even with the right footwear, playing the Foot Bass takes some getting used to. There’s a bit of foam under the pickup cover that mutes the strings when you’re not playing them, but you can still make a remarkable amount of clatter with this thing. It’s a subtle motion that works best, and it certainly takes practice to master it. Add in multiple chords or—be still, my heart—walking up from one chord to the next? Give yourself a couple weeks in the woodshed before you schedule your next show.
If you’re looking for something to watch tonight, there’s a documentary you can find on YouTube called Let Me Be Your Band. It covers the history of one-person bands, starting with blues pioneer Jesse “Lone Cat” Fuller and continuing up to the early 2000s with the careers of Hasil Adkins and Bob Log III, among others. It’s a touching portrayal of ingenuity and spunk, and an ode to owning your weirdness. Not a single person in Let Me Be Your Band had a Foot Bass, though. It’s high time the Foot Bass was celebrated for its cleverness and played by an enterprising solo act. It’s a bit like Cinderella’s glass slipper here at Fanny’s. We can’t wait to see who tries it on for a perfect fit.
This model, which Gretsch advertised as having both acoustic and electric capabilities, was introduced by the manufacturer in 1955 as an option for acoustic players who were hesitant about going down the electric guitar path.
If you didn’t know everything in the guitar business in the early to mid 1900s, you were in good company—as so much was only just emerging. In 1936, Charlie Christian ripped open a can of electrical worms when he used his “pick-up unit” to soar over his otherwise acoustic band, establishing the guitar as a solo instrument and touching off a phenomenon in guitar manufacturing. Then, in 1948, Fred Gretsch Jr. returned to the helm at Gretsch—having briefly managed the company in the early ’40s—with a bold new vision that would meet the demands of guitarists wanting to plug in and turn up.
Gretsch began offering exciting custom finishes and all manner of gadgetry and gizmos, but not every guitarist was ready to take the electric plunge. They needed a guitar for the electric skeptic. So, in 1955, the Model 6199 “Convertible” was introduced. “Play it electric or play it acoustic and get top tone either way,” extols the 1955 Gretsch catalog. “That’s because instead of being built-in, the Gretsch Dynasonic pickup of this guitar is suspended clear of the top to allow full, free vibration.”
Fred Gretsch Jr. returned to the helm at Gretsch in 1942, with the goal of building electric models for the relatively nascent and growing industry.
Photo by Madison Thorn
But, as is so often the case when one tries to be all things to all people, the Convertible was not a big seller. It did, however, attract the attention of prominent jazz guitarist Sal Salvador, pictured proudly with his sunburst Convertible on his album covers. Salvador was a capable performer who valued a willingness to learn, teaching many students privately in New York at the height of his musical popularity.
“If you didn’t know everything in the guitar business in the 1950s, you were in good company.”
In 1956, one of Salvador’s students, 24-year-old Dan Duffy, was hired to oversee quality control at Gretsch. He wrote a book about his experience called Inside the Gretsch Factory 1957/1970. I managed to track down a copy, and found it written in all caps. I delighted myself in imagining Duffy shouting the entire book to someone. It’s really a fun little book. In it, Duffy describes the Convertible as a “good guitar” that had “a great sound but was prone to feedback.”
Duffy had his own learning experience trying to fix this problem. Installing soundposts had a minimal effect, so Duffy decided—in all his 24-year-old wisdom—to stuff it with fiberglass and test it out on a gig. “That night, I shook more than Elvis did,” writes Duffy. “Somehow I got it down my neck and was jumping out of my pants all night.... I brought it to work. I put the air pressure hose inside the guitar and blew it out. The next day, some of the workers complained they had a terrible itch all night. I said, ‘Me, too.’ I knew this was stupid when I was doing it.”
The Dynasonic pickup featured on the Gretsch Convertible, later dubbed the “Sal Salvador,” is suspended above the top plate of the guitar by a thin strip of wood.
Photo by Madison Thorn
By 1958, when the dust of Duffy’s debacle had settled, the Convertible had become so closely associated with Salvador that Gretsch just went ahead and renamed it the Sal Salvador model. Which brings us to ours: a 1961 Sal Salvador model in great cosmetic condition. It has obviously been well taken care of and is all original. Its remarkable acoustic projection does in fact make it a great choice for someone wanting to switch between plugged and unplugged jazz playing. The inviting C-shape neck feels comfy and the action is 2/32″ on the low side and 1/32″ (!) on the high side. Playing this guitar feels a little like floating on air.
One could easily engage with guitars only on this surface level: assessing the neck angle, the scale length, the condition of the finish, et cetera. But digging a little deeper and indulging our desire to learn guided us on a journey: from the earliest days of amplified instruments to the fine old jazz box laying in my lap today. Here’s hoping these guitars keep passing through our doors and telling us their stories, as long as we are willing to listen.