Scott Blackstone
I didn't know Bill Carson—never met him nor had any remote connection with him—but I look upon this wonderful e-tribute to the man and his work, music and tremendous influence, and I feel that even though we've lost a grandpa-like figure, we're so, so much richer for the wonderful life he lived and shared with us. Thanks, Mr. Carson. When I'm sittin', my Tele® digs into my ribs, too.
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Dave Kyle
I was living in Nashville and acting as a writer for Vintage Guitar Magazine in the '90s when I met Bill and Susan. I can't remember who introduced us, but it was at one of the Music City guitar shows. I was holding court in the VG booth and Bill was checking out an old Fender I had there.
Somehow the subject of banjo was brought up, and I started berating the instrument, much to the joy of most electric guitar players in that town. I had reached my zenith with banjo jokes, asking Bill if he knew what the definition of perfect pitch was. He had been laughing at all my five-string jokes so far, and when I told him the answer, "When an accordion lands on a banjo in a dumpster," I thought he was going to have tears running down his cheeks.
Proud of myself for my stand-up routine, I was ready to hear his reply but was quite embarrassed when he said, "Did you know that Susan is quite the banjo player?" The look on my face made him laugh even harder than my silly jokes.
Even though I live in Southern California now and haven't been back to Nashville in years, I'll miss the chance of seeing Bill's smiling face. Thanks for everything Bill—but you could have mentioned that your sweet wife was a banjo player about three jokes earlier.
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Johnny Woodall
In 1961 we were doing research for a high school economics project—setting up a guitar manufacturing company. I wrote Bill Carson.
He graciously sent me Fender catalogs, a wonderful personal letter (embosed letterhead with a Jazzmaster® guitar, I think). Then I called Bill around 1989 to say thanks and have you considered putting an analog preamp 12AX7s) in front of a good set of digital effects. Must have been a good idea!
He was very gracious to share his time with me. In today's corporate world that is almost unheard of, Bill was a jewell. And for the record, we left the guitar manufacuring business up to him and Leo—good move!
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Michael Hardwick & Lisa Griggs
We would like to send our sincere condolences to Susan and family. We had the distinct pleasure of working with Bill and Susan as our Fender reps at a music store where we were employed.
For Mike (a true Fender fanatic) it was like a dream come true to have the privilege to work with the "father of the Strat®." Bill was always willing to share his time and history about the old days. He told us that Fender almost quit making the Strat in the mid '60s, "and then that kid from Seattle starting playing them—what was his name, Susan?"
"Jimi Hendrix, Bill," she replied.
We also recall that Bill held the world record for the world's largest watermelon at one time. Does he still?
In 1983, Mike met him at a guitar show, and no one was at the Fender booth due to really tough times. He seemed genuinely excited and pleased that someone wanted to talk to him and recognize him. He was a kind man, and will be missed and forever remembered by us.
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Keith Brawley
Bill and Susan will always be very special in my heart and in the hearts of everyone whose lives they have touched. Bill was a larger-than-life character who spoke straight from the heart, with a keen wit and great chops! Susan is a lovely, gentle soul with infinite patience, grace and class. Our lives are richer for knowing them, and the entire guitar world owes them both a great deal.
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