By Denise Kusel

“I go by Jimmy Stadler Singer/Songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/teacher/husband/dad/brother/friend of Denise Kusel.”

That’s what he wrote. And he wasn’t kidding about any of it. Jimmy Stadler lives in Taos. I didn’t know him; but, I wanted to give away my sweet, old Martin D-28 Herringbone guitar that had traveled with me for 55 years. I could no longer play because arthritis made it difficult. 

The guitar sat in its original blue Martin case in the middle of the living room floor. I sat in my old chair, looking at it and knew I had to do something, especially in this strange time of CO-VID. 

I picked up the phone and called Billie Blair, who had been my boss at “The New Mexican” when I was Pasatiempo editor and a columnist. Billie always had answers to my questions. I explained I’d like to give my guitar away to a student who needed one. Could she give me suggestions? 

That’s when I learned about Jimmy Stadler. “He’s a musician, a teacher in Taos,” Billie said. “He’ll know.”

And he did know. I called Jimmy, and about two minutes into the conversation he gave me the name of  Marisa Alvillar, a 15-year-old student at the Taos Academy who had been in his class. The thing about Jimmy Stadler, he doesn’t waste any time. Before we hung up the phone, I’d made plans to drive up to Taos, deliver the guitar and meet him and Marisa Alvillar at the school. It didn’t matter that school wasn’t in session yet. Besides, there’s nothing I like better than a Road Trip, especially when there’s a pot of gold at the end.

So, I wrote a little letter to Marisa, telling her about the guitar and the places it had been:

“I grew up in Los Angeles and went to San Fernando Valley State College. ‘C55ourse these days, it’s got a fancy name. Cal-State University Northridge. A friend and I used to drive up to the Central Valley in California to bring food to the migrant farmworkers and others who were living in shacks and lean-tos in these camps that dated back to the 1940s and maybe before.

“In the late afternoons, we’d dig out a bottle or two of something, kick back and swap songs and stories. 

“At the time, I was taking a Folk Music class from Bess Lomax Hawes and Pete Seeger stopped by and told the class that he was on his way to Selma, Alabama, and asked if anyone wanted to come along. So, I went. I already had my own car, a VW bug. I got a gig writing some stories for UPI (United Press International) to pay for gas.

“A friend and I traveled through the United States in that VW, with the back set torn out and replaced by a metal plate on which lay the guitar, a ventriloquist’s dummy and a couple of sleeping bags. We stopped at children’s summer camps along the way where we offered campfire programs and songs using the dummy and the guitar in exchange for food.

“You see, I’m a journalist. Listening to people’s stories has always been my thing. I love hearing them, learning from them, and sometimes even writing about them. I’ve been lucky. Learned a lot. And this guitar…well, it’s always been an ice breaker for me.

 “Hey, I’ll tell you a little secret. Even when I moved to Santa Fe more than 40 years ago, when I’d go out to do a story, I’d bring along a friend’s mother (she only spoke Spanish) and my guitar. Always got some good stories and no one ever said no.

That’s it, my friend. Hug it to you, stroke the strings and listen to the stories.

Denise Kusel is a long-time journalist based in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Photo by Leslie Rich: (L-R) Marisa Alvillar and Denise Kusel.

Photo by Leslie Rich