The instruments were sold primarily at Sears and JC Penney, and later by music distributors. In 1965, Harmony shipped a whopping 350,000 guitars, and sold 10 million guitars between 19, astounding numbers, to say the least. Harmony Guitars of Chicago was by far the largest maker of budget-priced guitars in the US for 83 years. Here’s an overview for those of you interested in collecting weird vintage guitars from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I found out quickly there were plenty of choices out there, but as is the case with well-known vintage guitars, the rarer, odd stuff is more costly than commonly found models. So, I started in the usual places: eBay, Craigslist, Vintage Guitar magazine, guitar dealers, various websites that cater to weird guitars, and to collectors like Mike Robinson, owner of Eastwood Guitars, a company that specializes in reproductions of bizarre guitars. Of course, if I find a ’59 Sunburst Les Paul under a farmer’s bed out in the boonies, I’m not going to turn it down. The solution was to buy “sleeper” guitars: the cheap, easily affordable stuff. I made some serious money on the guitars I sold, and eventually disavowed vintage guitars, but have regained a strong desire to re-enter the arena. All are regrettably gone, and today-as the father of two kids with a mortgage, car payments, and the usual dayto- day expenses we all share-high-dollar vintage guitars are way beyond my grasp. And who wants to look and sound just like everyone else?ĭecades ago, this writer got into the vintage guitar game with the purchase of a couple dozen big-name electrics. Why is this happening? Maybe it’s because many of these cheaply made, once-maligned pawnshop rejects from the ‘50s and ‘60s are easily obtainable, generally priced right, and after a proper setup and often-needed repairs, play pretty darn well, and with a sound, look and vibe unlike most any high-end guitar. Even the “mother-of-toilet-seat” ones are starting to look good. Oh sure, I love my Les Pauls and the rest of my high-quality guitars, but lately the allure of a good Supro, a cheesy Japanese Teisco, or one of those tacky, plastic-covered Italian EKO guitars has been calling me. My name is Bob, and I’m addicted to cheap, funky electric guitars.