Pawn Shop Guitars
Never trust vintage guitars in the hands of the Rick Harrisons and Seth Golds of the second-hand marketplace
Reality television — a genre of television programming that documents alleged, unscripted real-life scenarios with everyday people instead of professional thespians— isn’t really “real,” so the everyday critics tell us. The shows aren’t intended to be “accurate,” since the primary, only goal of the writers of these shows — such as Pawn Stars and Hard Core Pawn — is to “entertain” the channel-surfing masses.
Well, if it isn’t “real,” then the writers of these faux, “real-life events,” suck at their jobs creating “realistic” moments. And by “entertain,” if they mean “piss me off,” then mission accomplished. And nothing pisses me off more than the rare, vintage guitar segments featured on either of these faux, pawn shop-based programs. It’s one thing when the pawn shop “expert” overpays — and they get screwed (and I laugh and laugh) when the guitar hangs and hangs and hangs, taking up wall space, then the “big money-hundred-dollar-bills-cash” guitar sale tanks at auction.
It’s another thing when the uninitiated customer is grossly underpaid — and ripped off.
The absolute worst of these vintage guitar segments — exceeding the annoyances of the episode where Pawn Stars’ Rick Harrison took a (well-deserved) bath, overpaying on a Vic Flick-owned white Stratocaster, and that show’s segment where a Def Leppard Phil Collen-hand painted and signed a Jackson guitar walked into the shop— was the day two vintage Gretsch guitars walked into Detroit’s “biggest and baddest pawn shop,” aka Les Gold’s American Jewelry and Loan.
Here’s two, similar images of the guitars featured on the Hard Core Pawn episode (S8: S8, “Seth’s Soft Side,” original air date, February 11, 2014): A 1980 Gretsch White Falcon and a 1959 Gretsch “Green Smoke” Double Anniversary — along with a clip from the episode of the initial negotiation.
1980 Gretsch White Falcon Model 7595 Stereo — White w/ Original Hard Case: February 2025 — $7,999.00
1960 Gretsch “Green Smoke” Double Anniversary: February 2025 — $5,933.00. The actual, 1959 “Green Smoke” Double Anniversary featured in the “Hard Core Pawn” episode — according to a March 18, 2016, post on the Gretsch Talk boards, was purchased. The page features an image of the buyer and Les Gold —with the guitar. So, that means the acquisition of the guitars on the show — was “real.”
It’s not the fault of these poor people in dire need of a miracle to save their home, ones that didn’t know what they had in their possession — and neither did the “experts” at the pawn shop.
Most people with passing relatives — who once worked as recording and touring musicians, natch — inheriting their vintage instruments, as did this daughter and father from the woman’s blues/R&B-playing uncle, usually don’t know. And the inheritors have no idea who to ask, where to go, or where to look. So, they head off to the only place they know: the absolute worst place they can go: a pawn shop (real or TV-fake). If they only knew that there are actual, real experts to consult at a guitar brokerage — and with Detroit being a long-suffering rock ’n’ roll town producing the likes of Ted Nugent, Iggy Pop, Bob Seger, Grand Funk Railroad, and Kid Rock — there’s guitar brokers all over the Motor City.
The second those two Gretsch guitars — ubiquitous during the 1960s, as popularized by Mike Nesmith and Peter Tork of the Monkees, Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, Neil Young, then with the Buffalo Springfield, just to name a few — were removed from their cases: a trained eye, without even a closer inspection and pulling serial numbers, could see they were easily $5,000-a-piece guitars.
Even with Seth Gold’s original, criminal low-ball offer of $1,800 for both vintage honeys — plus the later, extra $1000-guilty-I-ripped-them-off payment: $2,800 is still a low-ball rip off.
The offer could have easily— provided if Seth knew what he, or Rodney, the tall, perpetually lifting-and-neck squinting “expert” he always calls in for guitar purchases, was doing — given those desperate folks the full $3,200 they tearfully begged . . . and American Jewelry and Loan would have still turned a profit. The store could haven given them $4,000 for both — I certainly would have without hesitation, even $5,000 — and still turned a profit. American Jewelry and Loan could have in-store displayed the Gretschs — for god’s sake: NOT by guitar wall mounts, but inside a glass-display case, only allowing access to serious buyers; then locking both in the store safe after hours. The Golds could have listed each Gretsch on their Internet store for $6,000 each, customer-negotiating down to $5,000 — and still turned a profit: quickly. Les could have left them in the store’s safe for five years — ten years — and let them appreciate in value, as well. You hoard silver, gold, and platinum, yes? Hoard guitars, Les: your bank account will love you, as guitars never depreciate.
“ . . . live in ‘the now,’ dude, the show’s not real.”
All day long, anyone who is a lifelong player, guitar lover and collector wouldn’t haggle: they’d drool, then pay the full $10,000, even the full $12,000 to that destitute couple because the player-collector knows what they’re buying and they know that rare, vintage guitars are an even more beneficial investment than a 401(k) plus a precious metals portfolio, combined.
Just ask Cheap Trick’s Rick Nielsen: a world-renowned guitar collector who owns hundreds of vintage guitars, including highly-coveted Gibson Les Pauls and Explorers. Now, if those people knew how to reach out to Nielsen. . . .
So, advice to anyone — with a guitar in the closet from a passed relative who, again was a professional musician who toured or recorded and played professional-grade equipment . . . and not something off-the-Guitar Center racks (and the thankfully out-of-business Sam Ash Music) — who reads this essay: NEVER take a guitar to a Seth or Rick Harrison-type. Please, for the love of Les Paul: just don’t do it.
Fire up that smart phone or laptop and Google “guitar brokers” in the area. Go analog old school and “let your fingers do the walking” inside The Yellow Pages under “guitars” and you’ll find guitar brokers listed. In fact: the Internet is your friend. Look for a serial number on the guitar. Don’t know where to look for the serial number? There are many web resources to learn where to look for the number on guitars (and other instruments), as well as to enter the number to discover what you have in that closet, inherited from your late, musician-loving relative.
Guitar Brokers do not see dollar signs with a I-can-make-money-Rick Harrison-glean in their loupe-blackened eye. Brokers know each piece of wood used on any guitar is unique unto itself — and each guitar has a “soul” to be respected (as do vintage amplifiers). No two, professional-crafted guitars used by the pros — are alike.
Oh, and when you move that guitar case out of the closet or attic: always check the latches, making sure the case is securely locked . . . before that honey hits the floor: the first thing that splits: the head stock, if not the tuning pegs, snapping clean off the stock. (Please, I beg of you: I never, ever want to see another 1961 Gibson SG with a Cherry Solid Body and sideways vibrola come into the shop — with a split-down-the-middle headstock and snapped off tuning peg. It’s a heartbreak I never want to again experience. That poor baby is a $15,000 honey, by the way, in case you find one in the closet.)
What adds to the pisses-me-off factor of the “Seth’s Soft Side” episode: In previous episodes, Seth Gold berates his dad for not using a “website” where one enters serial numbers to check the authenticity of rare watches. Yes, here’s Seth Gold, who’s all into knowing-it-all about rare sports trading cards and rare paintings and various artworks, checking websites, making calls, consulting third-party experts on any large purchases . . . then he turns around and buys vintage guitars . . . from his “gut” . . . without himself checking a website to verify the guitars?
American Jewelry and Loan — Detroit’s long-standing, “biggest and baddest pawn shop” — doesn’t have folders set up in their Internet browsers with an easily-consulted, pull-down list of websites to verify a variety of products?
Yeah, let’s bring Cousin Karen Mitchel — the least qualified person in the store — into the deal for a 1930s Rickenbacker lap steel as a “teaching moment.” Geezus Jupiters, where’s Rodney and his eye-squint when you need him?
Bringing in Mitchel is worse than the Sam Ash-drone selling a 15-year-old, Korn and Alien Ant Farm-loving kid a $2,500 five-string bass — upselling the way-out-of -the-kid’s-beginner-level skill set. “Yeah, man, you have some tasty chops,” the tattooed, man-bunned clerk dupes the string-plunking kid, drooling for that commission he’s stealing from the glazed-eye parent . . . subsequently blowing the comish on beers and vaping.
“Let me call a buddy of mine,” Corey Harrison bellows . . . when he could just as easily take photos with his smart phone and send the images to his “buddy,” aka expert. At least, well, okay . . . Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz of American Pickers are at a disadvantage being on the road, having no choice for an in-person consultation, but American Jewelry and Loan doesn’t possess the most basic, analog paper Rolodex with contacts to guitar brokers to consult?
Nope.
So, here we are with Seth Gold and his store “experts” within, and within the store’s extensive instruments section — who should know enough to find serial numbers via the sound hole or how to pull necks and lift pick-ups, something that Jesse Amoroso from Cowtown Guitars — a shop known for possessing one of the largest collection of vintage guitars in North America — always did on Pawn Stars. (Yes, I know other guitar guys rag on his “expertise,” etc.)
Nope.
Instead, let’s get Rodney, that tall, lifting-and-squinting “expert” that Seth calls in EVERY TIME a guitar waltzes into the shop.
Oh, dear, Les Paul . . . here we go again, as Rodney places his sweaty, dirty, unwashed palm on the back of the pristine flame of a vintage 1959 “Green Smoke” Double Anniversary, lifting the guitar in the air, squinting, and “sighting” the neck. “Oh, that’s straight,” or the variation of “Oh, that’s straight as an arrow,” he “authorities.”
Don’t. Do. This. You’ll look like a lower, swinging torso appendage.
Oh, sweet baby Ronnie James Dio, help me!
Rodney’s-stock phrase alone is a not-an-expert cringe moment: an analogous moment to the cheesy used — even new — car salesman who uses the terms “she’s a honey,” “she’s a runner,” and “she’s brand new, the tires never hit the ground” (yet the car sits in the parking lot on the tires and you have to had moved it to that spot) as they ‘kick the tires’ to show you how “solid” the car is. Yes, the lift-and-neck-squint commentary about “straight” necks is the pawn shop-equivalent of a car salesman-tire kick. So, when you meet up with a neck-squinter or a tire kicker: Don’t walk: RUN . . . as fast as you can off the lot and out of the store and cease the transaction: you’re about to be ripped-off.
Is Rodney worse than bringing in Rick Pyle — building a tin shed on drum kits to test their worth, or validate rock memorabilia? No, but not buy much.
“I’m always willing to help a fellow musician . . . but I need a commission . . . off this totally sweet, Korean-copy piece-o-shit bass.”
The bottom line: You do not need anyone — no “expert” need be called in — to improperly lift a guitar up in the air. You NEVER, ever lift rare, vintage guitars in the air, or any guitar for that matter, anyway — like you’re a waiter carrying a tray of food over your shoulder at roadside greasy spoon. Leave that honey — that cherished piece of hand-crafted wood — on the office desk (preferably on a dedicated, flat surface with, at the very least, a towel over it; a thick, padded felt mat is recommend and preferred), shine a mag light into the sound hole, and read the serial numbers. It’s an easy, one-man, non-lifting job.
I guess Seth Gold thought only Rodney was qualified to “lift” guitars or determine neck reliefs? I trust in Rick Pyle more than Rodney — and even then. . . .
The correct, proper method in “sighting the neck” — without tools: Gently place the guitar on its lower bout (bottom), but preferable: place a cushy, soft surface on the floor so the strap peg/button isn’t damaged (break it, and the wood splits right down the middle of the body where the peg is), stare down the neck — sans the Rodney-squinting — to assess neck relief. A trained eye “sees” the neck relief, straight way: without squinting.
In fact, necks, if the guitar is in the case, stored properly — and not left leaning by the headstock against a wall in a corner: it won’t warp. These ongoing, television pawn shop-fears of guitar “neck warping” is overrated. Rare guitars, after being in an attic for years in their cases— play as good as the last time they were held and played.
A 30-piece feller gauge: under $11.00 bucks at any online store or brick and mortar music store. Yeah, but a guy using the proper tools isn’t “real” enough to be “entertaining” to audiences.
So, for the best assessment of neck reliefs by a non-luthier: Don’t lift the vintage instrument in the air. Leave the instrument laying on a flat surface and use any straight edge ruler (metal) to measure neck assessments. However, since we are discussing pawn shops — ones dealing in guitars in Detroit and Las Vegas, two of the biggest, if not the biggest, rock ’n’ roll towns in the United States — the shops should, at the very least, own a feeler gauge to assess necks, properly. You have a jeweler’s loupe hanging from your neck, Mr. Pawn Broker? Buy a feeler gauge and leave it on you belt-looped key ring or hang it on the wall and forget about it: it’s there when you’ll need it. A little Googling and even the non-luthier can pick up a feeler gauge’s use in 10 minutes — and stop the unnecessary waiter-lifting method of neck relief assessments.
However, sans that cost-a-Big Mac Meal #1 metal trinket, that so-called “pro” waiter-lifting $5,000 guitars and squinting should know . . . and what any and every “pro” knows: just by pressing down on strings at the first and last fret — you know by feel.
Yeah, Jesse from Cowtown Guitars knows what he’s doing and then some (again: other guitar guys rag on him), and I know it’s all for the “entertainment value,” but his playing the guitars, at length, on Pawn Stars: just no. Certainly not with nice and sweaty, unwashed hands fresh off the street after you touched a dirty door handle.
At best, a quick strum of three or four chords, hell, just one chord: you know, you just know — provided you know what you’re doing and what you’re looking at and holding in your hands. You can “feel” and “hear” the resonance. . . .
Sadly, you’ve just entered the pawn shop zone: a dimension of sight, sound, and stupidity.
Well, maybe not. . . .
2012-limited edition, Ace Frehley-signed Budokan Gibson: February 2025: $26,215.04 list.
There was the Ace Frehley guitar episode — with American Jewelry and Loan’s owner Les Gold doing the deal — that was promising.
The episode featured a 2012-issued, limited edition Ace Frehley-signed Budokan Gibson model replica, 50-made worldwide, which listed for $12,000 when first issued. Now, what the show didn’t discuss: Those 50 guitars, purposely aged to look “vintage,” were signed by Ace. Then, 100 more identical “hand aged” and unsigned guitars were released. Then, another batch of replicas (amount unknown) were issued. Apparently, this particular model that walked into to the store was #10 of 50, but the owner had the provenance paired with the instrument, with the original box — so he wasn’t too much of a fleshy projection on the deal: just a little bit of a swinging, lower abdominal appendage. (Is a #1 worth more than a #10, and is that #10 worth more than the #50: no. It’s all about the guitar, and its condition, not when one came off the production line after another. Or who “signed” it.)
So, was Les on the mark in this particular negotiation?
Yeah, more so than his son Seth with the previously-discussed Gretsch guitars deal. Until Les kills the buzz with an amateur-hour, kid-in-the-candy-store drooling-in-excitement, “Ace is a legendary musician: he was in the band KISS! I want it!”
Ugh, here we go, again. KISS? Ace? Who cares. . . .
Granted. It’s a Gibson. And a signature model. So it’s a quality guitar. But when your drooling-purchase-point is that it’s an “Ace Frehley from KISS guitar,” you’ve just reduced yourself to the level of the less-informed guy bragging he’s a “twenty year guitar broker,” testosterone-splashing, using-the-one-too-many-times “aficionado” brag to prove his superiority to the lowly pawn shop employee.
In another other scenario, such as with legitimate, authorized guitar brokers: The broker would have — regardless of the guitar’s potential increase-in-value (again: guitars are a better investment than 401(k)s or gold because there’s no deprecation) — showed the “aficionado” the door. Yes, as soon as any collector humbly brags that they’re an “aficionado” or “connoisseur” just like you in the field: Do not do business with that person: you’ll eventually be served small claims court papers or and out-of-the-blue summons for depositions will arrive.
Yes. this guy who knows all there is to know about guitars, is taking his guitar to a pawn shop — where they know less than him, as he debates and degrades on how much “he knows” and “you don’t know,” ad nauseam? Going on and on and on about “. . . it’s an Ace signature guitar!”
Big deal. Ace signed a guitar. . . .
Yawn. If I had a nickle (for every “signed” guitar won from some radio contest) or rare piece of “signed” vintage vinyl that came into the vintage vinyl outlet, aka used record store. . . .
Speaking of Rick Nielsen: An always a posterior-pain store regular — one who obsessed over “dog earring” and “ring wear” on albums, shining mag lights on the vinyl, berating us, “How can you sell this type of quality for this price with a clear conscience?” as he advised “You’re violating federal copyright laws!” by offering taping services of rare (then), out-of-print vinyl singles and albums (that we owned outright and could do anything we wanted with them)— came into the store back, in 1999.
In his hands, this time: A Rick-and-Tom Petersson-signed, 1970-copy of their first official, major-label album issued on Epic Records by their band, Fuse. The guy wanted $10,000. This was after the time he stormed out of the store in a huff when we wouldn’t pay $500 for a beat-up copy of a Molly Hatchet album signed by the band’s guitarist, Dave Hlubek.
Back then, at best, in mint-still-in-cellophane and never played condition, the record was worth $50 — and he’d get a $5.00 trade, since we already had six more copies of the album in the racks. Today, the record is worth about $100 — mint (but the demand is low, so good luck finding any-left used vinyl outlets that’ll take it). A used, played copy with ring ware, retails for less than five bucks. I found a copy in a Goodwill for a buck about two months ago (thus inspiring this vintage guitar rant) and laughed at the memory of the guy wanting 10 grand.
But it’s signed by Rick Nielsen! Dave Hlubek signed it!
“Don’t you understand! Rick Nielsen and Tom Petterson signed it!” he implored. “I am like you guys: I am a vinyl aficionado! I know the product, and, obviously, better than you do. I mean, the whole band signed it!” as if anyone gives a horse’s petute about Chip Greenman or Joe Sundberg to spend the cost of a used car on 12-inches of licorice pizza.
The last straw, snapped.
We pulled out the Polaroid, snapped his photo, showed him the door and placed him on our “banned for life” wall of shame. Granted, the guy wasn’t as won’t-give-it-up irritating as Mike Damone scalping Cheap Trick tickets back in 1982 in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, but pretty darn close. . . . The guy with the “$50.00” Fetchin’ Bones album and his, “But it’s signed by Hope Nichols and the entire band and it has their big radio hit, ‘Love Crushing’ on it!” was.
So, in Les Gold’s case with the Ace Frehley guitar, and in his defense— if the deal was real and not scripted — he was right: he’s got to resell it.
Yes, even with this rant about buying and selling guitars at pawn shops — real and fake: American Jewelry and Loan, as well as Las Vegas’ Gold & Silver Pawn Shop, are pawn shops. They’re not certified guitar brokers. They’re not antique stores. They’re not music stores.
“You heard the man, $12,000, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” fist pumps the newest rube to enter the pawn shop who has just been told by that “buddy of mine” that their item is worth $12,000.
Then, Rick or Les has to explain the what-shouldn’t-be-explained: “I’m not a collector. I’m a retailer that has to display and market the item and pay those employees who do the work. I’m assuming all the risk at auction — plus I have to pay listing fees and commissions, if it sells. I may sit on this for a long time.”
“Okay, I understand. I’ll leave you a little ‘meat on the bone’ and take $11,500.”
You gotta have a heart for Rick Harrison and Les Gold having to deal with these lower appendages on a daily basis — especially Rick with that crusty, old and overweight, know-it-all with the guns and rifles, as well as that smarmy and smirking, I-want-to-punch-his-face urine hole always bringing in the rare books who always know more than Rebecca Romney, an internationally-respected and accredited rare book dealer.
Anyway, so yeah . . . the guitar aficionado claims the Frehley guitar is worth 12 grand — and it is. But the pawn shop assumes all the risk. And the guitar won’t sell for 12, as the interested customer will haggle it down to 10 because the shop wants out of the deal and receive a return on their investment as quickly as possible — but how many people looking for 10k guitars walk into pawn shops? They don’t: pros go to guitar brokers for high-end equipment. (Weekend, six-string warriors with a wife and three kids and a mortgage and a practice space in the garage, will, however — and get taken.)
If the Frehley sits and sits with no buyers— like that overpriced Vic Flick, 1961 Fender Stratocaster Rick Harrison took a bath on during a Pawn Stars’ episode— it goes to a last-resort auction: one that charges listing fees and sales commissions, where it’s a roll of the dice. In this case: Ace’s guitar’s bottoms out at auction and the bidding stalls at $6,000 and . . . going once, going twice, and sold!
Rick way-overpaid at $55,000 . . . then he sold it at auction for $25,000 — less the listing fee and sales commission that typically ranges between 6% and 10% of the final sale price. So, Rick lost an additional, maximum, $2,500 plus the $30,000 . . . but when you factor in the “These shows are staged and fake” arguments, did Rick actually buy it at that price, if at all?
Again, it’s just a very nice, 1961 white Strat . . . and nothing more. Big deal, it was used on a James Bond theme song for “Dr. No.” That fact adds zero value.
So, yes. Les Gold is getting the “professional guitar collector” out of his financial jam — as all pawn shops do most of the time for the financially-strapped — but he’s assuming all the risk, alleviating the seller having to do all the leg work (eBay listings, calling auction houses, contacts, etc.), and, most importantly: Les has to resell the guitar at a profit.
The guy claims it is worth 12k, as he proclaims that “it will only go up in value!”
Okay, fine. It’s worth 12k. And it will appreciate. But a pawn shop isn’t paying full retail, then sitting on the item — for years — waiting for the item to appreciate in value (thought sitting on it is a smart bet). So, the seller’s not breaking even and walking out with 12 grand. He’s not getting the 10 grand he initially demanded and, in full-smarmy mode, insisted it was “steal” at 10.
Then, begrudgingly, he countered with a I’m-taking-it-at-a-loss $8,500. Les countered with $5,000. Then, the self-proclaimed know-it-all-aficionado said he’d sell it online . . . then, he returns. Now, the schtick is that the “signature alone” — here we go again with overvaluing signatures — makes it worth, at least, $8,500. Oh, okay, so the guitar is worth $5,000 — and Ace’s Sharpie scribble is worth $3,500?
Les, please show this double douche the door.
Now, we are at $6,000 . . . as Ashley now enters the negotiation, screeching and bellowing — knowing less than her cousin on that lap steel deal — that her dad is nuts; the store has “too many guitars as it is in the back that aren’t selling,” until the final price is settled at a begrudgingly $7,600. (Those aren’t “rare” guitars; they’re Sam Ash knockoffs of the Guitar Center variety, by the way, Ashley. Stop flippin’ a bitch, okay?)
A guitar broker — based on the guy being such a posterior pain — would have let the guitar walk out the door. No guitar is worth dealing with an “aficionado” of the six string who catches a case of seller’s remorse and sues with claims “he was trick, duped, and deceived.” (Yes, this does happen.)
So, Les Gold — if the Frehley deal was even based in our reality, or it was just show-for-entertainment — offering $6,000 was more than fair — in fact, even risky when one factors the fickle nature of auctions. What if — as with Rick Harrison’s soured Vic Flick-deal, where the bidders pondered, “Okay, nice guitar, but who’s Vic Flick? and low-balled the sale — the bidders say the same about Ace Frehley who, in reality, left KISS in 1982 and hasn’t been artistically interesting or relevant to the mainstream masses, since. I have nieces and grandkids who — after taking one look at the bloated, wirey-haired, egregious self-promoting Gene Simmons on television — laughed and couldn’t believe he is, or was, a “rock star.” Yes, as big as KISS was (and I loved them): there is a “Who’s KISS” contingent. So where does that leave Ace Frehley — Les Gold’s drooling, be damned?
The truth is: Les Gold overpaid — again, because his Ace Frehley fan-boy drooling got the best of him — at $7,600.
Meanwhile, back in Las Vegas . . . at least Rick Harrison wasn’t duped by this nylon-zipped douche bag sporting a “Chuck Berry signed guitar.”
A real man of genius . . . Mr. Flip Flops and Pull-Up Gym Shorts in the middle of the day in a Chuck Berry conundrum. . . .
The best of the “signature guitar” deals occurred during “Confederate Conundrum,” the second episode of the first season on Pawn Stars, in 2009.
Now, even before the you-know-the-shitty-Japanese-knockoff-guitar is zipped-out of its nylon bag: Our first problem is a grown man, probably in his 30s, showing up in public in the middle of the afternoon in a pair of pull-up gym shorts and flip-flops . . . and he’s one Lilo and Stitch cartoon pajama pants and sweatshirt hoodie pull-over away from vandalizing a Telsa in an Olive Garden parking lot because a professional-protestor ne’er-do-well with a bad case of presidential-derangement syndrome has to eat between his 20-hour X-box marathons. It takes less than a minute to pull up a pair of blue jeans, button and zip-up, as well as slip into a pair of sneakers. Talk about giving up on life. . . .
Stick to the comic books, Captain Sweatpants. And get something for that nasty case of halitosis: you’re making my eyes water.
Now, according to “Ted,” aka, Captain Sweatpants, “. . . they’re crazy if they do not buy his ‘Chuck Berry autographed Fender guitar’ . . . for $2,500 . . . and he believes the store could easy sell it for $2,000 and make a $1,000 profit.”
One problem, well, there’s a couple problems happening here, Captain Sweatpants.
That’s not a “Fender guitar” . . . it’s not even a Fender Stratocaster . . . it’s a Fender Squire . . . no, that’s a not even a Fender Squire: it’s a Japanese knockoff of a Fender Squire.
Now, Captain Sweatpants certainly knows how to rattle off about “certifications” and “C.O.As” and how “rare” that Chuck Berry signature is, but he’s obviously unaware that the Squire brand was acquired by Fender in 1965 for the purpose of producing cost-affordable Stratocasters and Telecasters, as well as Jaguars, Jazzmasters, even Jazz and Precision bass copies — which became more prevalent in the 1980s — to provide an opportunity for beginners to play a “legendary guitar” without breaking the bank on a full-fledged Fender.
Sadly, in case of Captain Sweatpants: he thinks he has a Fender (Squire) but what he really has is a Japanese knockoff; lots of companies — from China, Mexico, and Korea, as well — produce these Fender copies, but the Squire original is the only official, certified Fender copy. A copy, Ted claims, “. . . you’re not going to find anywhere else.”
Yes, you will, Captain Sweatpants: At Walmart. At Target. At, sadly, the well-deserved out-of-business Sam Ash, as well as too-many-websites to mention. That these guitars are sold online to unsuspecting parents with kids whining for their “first guitar,” is beyond the criminal.
Now, if this was, in fact, a real Fender Squire, not a problem: It’s a solid, quality guitar for the teenager just starting out on three cords; the slight differences in wood, pickups, and hardware from Fender vs. Squire that contribute to the “sound” of the instrument is negligible and not an issue for a kid learning “Back In Black” and “Smells Like Teen Sprit” by ear for the first time.
Sadly, Captain Sweatpants doesn’t realize — and to Rick Harrison’s credit, he noticed — the case with these Fender-to-Squire knockoffs: the necks never come without a twist or bow and the intonation is a fucking disaster. They’re junk. They’re garbage. They come as part of a those “gig in a bag” box sets that include a buzz-’n’-hum 10 watt amp that grandma buys for her grandson’s 6th birthday.
Now, Ted claims “we have shop,” (his family, we’re guessing) and he admits they buy autographed pick guitars in bulk from “several vendors.” What he refuses to admit to: his “shop” is screwing pick guards to guitars that don’t fit the guitar. Lord knows how many of these “signed guitars” Ted’s family unloaded on the unsuspecting masses before his 2009 appearance on international television.
Yeah, Ted sure up-sells that signature, but the reality is Chuck Berry never played a Fender — real or knockoff in his lifetime — and only, with rare exceptions: Gibson hollow-bodies. Now, if Ted walked in with an ES-335 — signed on the body — then were talking money. Even without a signature, we’re talking money. On second thought: Ted the Spud would walk in with a Gibson ES-355 — and insist it’s THE ES-355 that Chuck Berry actually played on stage and want $1,000,000 — not knowing Berry was buried with that famed Gibson ES-355 guitar in 2017 at age 90. Hell, Ted would walk in with a 335 and insist it is the ONE that was used on “Sweet Little Sixteen.”
Throughout his career, Berry played a 1957 Gibson ES-350T, a 1956 Gibson hollow body ES-350TN, an ES-335 first issued in 1958 (which appears on “Sweet Little Sixteen”), a Gibson ES-330 hollow body electric, a black Gibson Les Paul custom, a Gibson Super 400, and even dabbled with a cherry red 1967 Gibson Flying Vee. Berry also took a liking to — speaking of Gretsch — their guitars: particularly a 1959 Gretsch 6121 Roundup, a 6120, and a G6136DC White Falcon double cutaway; he cut his rock ’n’ roll teeth on a pre-1968 Kay Thin Twin K-161.
Sadly, Captain Sweatpants doesn’t know his pick guard from his guitar, for he makes a daily fashion choice of pull-up gym shorts and flip flops, as he carries “rare guitars” in paper-thin, nylon zip bags, complete with a $10.00 Fender pick guard-clone that’s not intended for the model guitar on which it is installed because, well, Ted doesn’t know that he screwed a Stratocaster pick guard-clone on an Asian, second generation Squire knock off of a Stratocaster.
The truth is that down-and-out rockers, like Chuck Berry in his later years (Berry was 83 in 2009), are paid several thousand dollars to do personal appearances at music conventions and trade shows. The artist comes out, Milli Vanillis a couple of their hits, does a Q&A, then a meet-and-greet — where they sign stacks and stacks of photographs, posters, albums, and yes, guitar pick guards, and, in the case of drummers, even drum sticks — numbering in the hundreds for $30 bucks a piece.
As someone who’s attended retail music conventions over the years, there’s nothing sadder than seeing previous hitmakers — Loverboy and Sweet come to recent memory — as they stand on the narrowest of stages, with no amps and no signs of any patch cords plugged into equipment, as they lip-sync their past hits, then have to slum for an hour at a folding-table, signing away their name for $30 bucks a pop.
Then, along comes Ted . . . upset no one wants to buy his authentic and rare, certified, $2,500 Chuck Berry guitar. So, thank you, Mr. Sweatpants Signed Guitar Trader: you’re a real man of genius. . . . Now, go have a Bud Light with Dylan Mulvaney.
Because all the waiter-tray lifting and squinting in the world won’t help you in your “professional” neck-warping obsession-assessment.
In the end: It’s all about the guitar: not who signed it: not who played it, or on what record it was featured. Unless it’s signed by the likes of Eric Clapton or B.B King or Jimi Hendrix — it’s as meaningless as Rick Nielsen signing a three-decades old record album that didn’t sell or receive airplay and no one knew existed until a bunch of Japanese girls went gaga for his next band.
Again, that Vic Flick guitar deal says it all: Who played it (only in the rarest of cases, does it matter) and what records it was played on: does not add value. It’s all about the guitar, itself: the year it was made, the pick-ups, the woods, when it was issued, how many were issued. Not who owned it, signed it, or painted it — such as the case with the equally annoying Def Leppard episode, that I don’t want to even get into in-depth because, for me: Def Leppard was Pete Willis and I don’t care what Phil Collen painted to make that dumb, hair-metal fangirl in the episode all goofy and annoying as-you-know-what. And besides, I already endured Captain Sweatpants and his Chuck Berry-signature nonsense.
Well . . . the “goal” of reality television seems to working, as Pawn Stars and Hard Core Pawn are now as cable-ubiquitous as the once UHF-perpetual, never-left-the-airwaves delights of I Love Lucy, Leave It to Beaver, Gilligan’s Island, and The Brady Bunch. Twenty years from now — thirty years from now, and beyond — Corey Harrison and Chumlee, as well as Seth and Ashley Gold, will continue to bring a never-let-us-down, entertaining comfort in those lazy day, couch-surfing and channel-grazing hours as have Jerry Mathers, William Frawley, Bob Denver, and Barry Williams since their shows first aired.
Fred and Ethel, the Beaver, and Mary Ann have never left us. Neither should the Harrisons or the Golds — their real vs. scripted guitar purchasing skills, be damned.
END
More Pawn Shop Guitars: Pawn Stars
You can Google “Pawn Stars Guitars” and “Gibson Guitar Pawn Stars” to discover many more guitar deals, but here’s a few of the more interesting episodes to enjoy. (Sadly, there’s not as many Hard Core Pawn guitar deals to share.)
- Def Leppard
That goofy girl with a guitar episode, squealing over Joe Elliot. Why can’t the girls ever be bad-ass shredders? Let Doro Pesch walk in and emasculate Chumlee; maybe Nita Strauss. Susie Rose Major —of “Rocktober Blood” fame —has a Las Vegas residency with Rag Dolls, her all-female, Aerosmith tribute band: bring her in to show the guys who’s the boss. The girls from the Iron Maidens should do an episode. - DJ Ashba
Another goofy girl-with-a-guitar episode: consensus: DJ — regardless of his coolness factor of 150 — shows up: staged. - Stephen Stills’s Gibson Guitar
Consensus: The seller grossly overvalues his own product — with a case of the “Vic Flicks.” Yes, there’s a “Who’s Crosby, Stills and Nash” contingent on the auction house circuit, just like there’s a Gene Simmons and Ace Frehley set. - Jimi Hendrix 1963 Fender Stratocaster
Staged: What “aficionado” is walking into a pawn shop with that “rare” of a guitar? One million? Dude, even with a Hendrix guitar, no one is paying a two million retail for the pawn shop to make an investment return. Consensus: There’s a lot of white, early ’60s Strats out there — and, rest assured, Hendrix “played” played all of them, jacking and over valuing an incredible guitar that needs no Hendrix-connection to sell. - 1960 Les Paul Custom
The guy who claimed he played with Triumph and Toto episode; but the mighty web-warriors dug into it . . . and learned he played with neither; he was actually a Cowtown Guitars employee — and that the “Season 1” episode was staged. In defense: Canadian guitarist Rick Santers toured with Triumph, but off-stage behind-the-amps. Alan Fitzgerald, formerly of Montrose and Night Ranger, toured as an offstage keyboard player with Van Halen from 1991 to 2012. So, it’s possible. . . . - The 10-to-20k 1960 Fender P-Bass Restoration
For a 3k investment: 2k to purchase and 1k to repair, Corey ended up with 12k guitar. Consensus: another pawn shop rip-off. In defense: The minute the expert revealed, once restored, the bass was worth in excess of $12,000 — the seller should have killed the deal, invested the $1,000 himself, then pocketed the $11,000 profit. Again — vintage guitars only appreciate in value, more so than 401(k)s or gold futures. Emptor the Caveat: The show isn’t “real,” anyway, so. . . . - The Crappy Fender-Copy Chuck Berry Signature Guitar
I wonder what closet this $2,500 honey sits in, today . . . and if the seller finally bought a pair of pants with a button and zipper, as well as shoes with laces. - Top 12 Rare and Expensive Guitars: Part 1
- Guitar Deals that Totally Shed: Part 2
. . . but what’s real and what’s staged when it comes to these guitar deals . . . who knows at this point, as this Vital Vegas article spills the beans with “The Big Secret ‘Pawn Stars’ Doesn’t Want You To Know.” Pawn Stars, which ended with “Season 21” back in June 2023, is on longer under contract with The History Channel. Hard Core Pawn ended with “Season 9” back in April 2015.
“I wanted to be rock star at one time . . . but I didn’t have the hair.”
— Rick Harrison
