Real "Closet Classic"
The Miracle of Discovering a 1961 Stratocaster

Miracles always happen suddenly.

I've witnessed several miracles brought about by musical instruments while working in a music store.
Isn't it a common experience for music store employees to see an instrument that hadn't sold for ages suddenly sell the next day just because a certain musician played it?

Now, the miracle I'm going to tell you about started with an email one morning.
"I own a guitar and an amplifier, and I'm looking for a music store that will buy them."
The email was from America.

From experience, I've been scammed many times by responding to suspicious sales emails from overseas, only to end up paying money without receiving the actual product. However, this time, I decided to listen to the details for some reason.

The email was sent by a man living in Texas, USA.An acquaintance of mine asked me to come because they've been asked to sell this instrument.

Despite not knowing if the matter was even trustworthy, I replied, "I'm coming over now, so let me see it."

This is America! It seems utterly insane, yet for some reason, the wording and content are intriguing. Damn, my usual habit of making hasty decisions has kicked in...

Furthermore, the other party demanded that I pay them cash for the purchase.

Hey, if you open the door with that much money and say "Hello!", you could be surrounded by burly, muscular guys from both the front and back, stripped of all your belongings, and dumped on the side of the road, or shot with a pistol!

Especially in a somewhat shady area of Texas...

After much thought, I quickly decided to go to America, and with cash in both hands, I set off for the country.

I rented a car at the airport and was thinking about various things on the way to the location. I was wondering if I should say something like, "Hey, I'm a karate master!" beforehand.

I get off the highway and head down the regular roads, speeding along a route where I don't even know if there's a guitar there, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement that I can't quite tell.

About an hour after leaving the airport, we entered a peaceful residential area where houses were sparsely spaced and surrounded by brushwood between the roads and homes. We stopped the car in front of a house with a blue roof that clearly showed signs of long-term residence.

I pressed the doorbell, feeling a mix of excitement and fear, realizing I had actually come. After a while, the door opened, and a burly—no, just an ordinary-looking—man invited me inside. "Thank goodness, it looks like I won't be dying here."

It seemed like he was the only one who had done it, and honestly, that was a relief. The fact that it didn't end in an unfunny way and that he was a real person gave me the greatest sense of relief.

When I was led into the living room, I saw a gleaming guitar, along with its case and amplifier, that made me wonder if it was a reissue.
"Seriously?" I said, excitedly looking at him, when he smiled and said, "I'm so glad you came. Actually, I had several offers after that, but you said your shop would come first, so I asked you to come."

Upon hearing the story, it turned out the client had absolutely no interest in guitars, but had consulted me because I play the guitar, so I went to their house myself.

He nodded, saying he would never forget the feeling of relief when he finally reached the storage room under the stairs, which was piled high with boxes of clothes, shoes, and bags, and he had to remove each one to get there.

There, in a brown case,NewA 1961 Fender Stratocaster and a "Brownface" Deluxe Amp were lying dormant inside. Considering they were over 55 years old, I was afraid of damaging the amp's handle, so I carefully picked them up from inside.

According to the story, when this acquaintance was a boy, his father wanted him to pursue music, so in 1961, he bought him an electric guitar, which had just been released at the time, along with an amplifier.
The reluctant boy picked up his guitar and went to take lessons from a teacher who taught guitar nearby at the time, but his interest quickly shifted to cars, and the guitar, along with the amplifier, remained stored in the storage room under the stairs at his home.

The guitar and amplifier, along with bitter memories of his father, were forgotten and remained dormant in storage for half a century, never once taken out.

In the 1980s, my father had already passed away, and while I was sorting through my elderly mother's belongings, I happened to find the guitar and amplifier that my father had bought for me years ago.

Once the transaction was settled, we moved on to the usual pizza and Coke and chatted.
According to an acquaintance's mother, her husband loved listening to music but regretted not being wealthy enough to buy an instrument during his childhood, and wanted his own son to play an instrument.

The instruments he chose were a Fender Stratocaster and amplifier, which had just been released and were generating a lot of buzz at the time. He ordered and purchased them from a music store in his hometown of Waco, Texas.

It seems he knew his son had completely stopped playing instruments, but he selfishly gave up on the idea and never spoke to him about them again. The guitar and amplifier were then stored away in the closet and forgotten.

Strangely enough, the guitar my father left me after his death has become incredibly valuable, far more so than it was back then.

For us, the miracle might be "encountering such an instrument." However, I can't help but think that the real miracle lies in the history that will be etched from this point forward.

The instrument that was purchased for an American boy is now in Japan. Furthermore, that instrumentNewThe instrument remains in the same condition as it was back then. And I was able to bring it back to Japan safely without any embarrassing incidents.

The next owner will say, "This instrument is a true 'closet classic'," and the fact that we can now experience firsthand, more than 60 years later, the original paintwork of the guitar and the sound that people heard back then, is a miracle, and we cannot help but feel moved by the happiness of being able to be a living witness to it.

Special thanks to Scott.