One of the 73 million people tuned in to watch the Beatles play “The Ed Sullivan Show” on February 9, 1964, 11-year-old Joe Bigley was also among the throng of kids who immediately started begging their parents for a guitar.

“They were so incredibly mesmerizing with their accents, hair, and swagger that annoyed my folks,” said Bigley. “Of course, young people went nuts for them. It was like turning the page from the old, staid generation to one that was vibrant and new.”

The band’s three Sullivan appearances that month ignited a cultural phenomenon now known as “the guitar boom” (a.k.a. the reason you’re reading this!). Before that, guitars – mostly Fenders, Martins, and Gibsons – were largely relegated to the back corners of stores that sold pianos, horns, and woodwinds. Built for serious players, they were also priced beyond what parents of daydreaming kids were willing to tender.

Fortunately, those kids had the Sears catalog.

“Nobody would ever say Sears was cool, but in the ’60s, they realized that youth culture was becoming a major market, so they added products like guitars and ‘mod’ clothes,” said Bigley. “They were the biggest store around, but ours didn’t carry instruments, so I’d thumb through the catalog; I remember the big one always arrived a month or so before Christmas.”

Gazing longingly at the Silvertone guitars with their fancy finishes and multiple pickups, his curiosity centered on an acoustic.

“I vividly recall the Model 604 being prominent on the page,” Bigley said. “They marketed it as the perfect beginner guitar, brilliantly packaged with a pick, a cord strap, and a 45-rpm instruction record, all for $15.95 (laughs)! It really appealed to me – the fancy sunburst finish with fancy black on the outside. It was so much cooler than the blond folk guitars.”

Taking scissors to the page, he handed a clipping to his parents, who promptly suggested putting the guitar on his Santa list. Proving wishes do come true, it appeared under the tree that year.

“I was so thrilled,” said Joe. “I must confess, though… I snuck down and found it in the basement closet before Christmas (laughs), then pretended to be very surprised that morning. We had just moved to suburban New Jersey and most of my new friends had guitars; if I hadn’t got one, I would’ve been very bummed.”

He started lessons straight away.

“Myself and several of my friends were taught by a really nice guy named Mr. Murphy, who drove to our homes and gave 45-minute lessons for $1.10. He taught from a series of books called Guitar Playing Made Easy for Everyone, which was okay but had corny songs like ‘On Top of Old Smokey’ and ‘The Carnival of Venice.’

“He sensed my disdain for that stuff, so one day he brought The Rock & Roll Guitar Book, which mostly taught open chords and notes in the open position – no theory, no concept of keys. But he also showed me songs I wanted to learn, so I was motivated. A few times, he took me to other students’ homes and we’d play together. That was cool.”

While it served admirably in those first months, the 604 “…was not a fine instrument,” Bigley said. “The fretboard was stained to look like ebony, and it wore off pretty quickly. I never had a case for it and always leaned it against the wall, so the neck warped. Plus, the fretboard was flat, so it was all but impossible for my little hand to play barre chords, and the action was high even before the bridge started pulling away from the top. Also, the pick that came with it was the thickness of a cough drop (laughs).”

Made for Sears by the Chicago jobber Harmony, Joe’s 604 has a date code “S 64 H” and “Made in USA” ink-stamped inside the body, visible through the sound hole.

“The H is a production date from the second half of the year,” said Bigley, who has been fascinated by the guitar as an instrument and cultural symbol ever since that February night. “In the first half of the year, that code would’ve been an F.”

After a few months of lessons, Joe started eyeing electric guitars.

“Mr. Murphy pushed me to get a Fender Mustang, but those were ‘student’ guitars, and I wanted something wild, with three pickups, because that’d make me play better, right? So, I saved $80, then went to a local discount store and bought a Teisco knockoff of a Jaguar along with a crummy Concordia amp. Mr. Murphy wasn’t pleased (laughs) – told me it was ‘junk.’”

By the time he entered high school in 1966, Bigley had dismissed Mr. Murphy and was jamming with friends.

“In ’67, I formed a band called The Mirage of Sound,” he recalled. “We all lived in different towns, so our parents had to drive us to rehearsals, which didn’t happen very often. Still, we had fun messing around with songs like ‘The Letter,’ ‘Let’s Live for Today,’ and ‘Kicks.’ We didn’t even try Beatles or Stones songs, as it would have been a disaster (laughs). We never got past the practice stage.”

Now, he routinely strums a handful of much better guitars.

“These days, relics like the 604 are common wall art in blues clubs,” he said. “And it must have some lasting appeal, because there’s a modern version with a rosewood fretboard, spruce top, and electronics.”

This article originally appeared in VG’s January 2024 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.