By Martin H. Rots

A few years back I was lucky enough to be in one of my favorite cities, London. No where on earth is there more rock history concentrated in such a small space. Although I've never attended a concert at the Albert Hall, I've walked past it many times and am still uncertain how many holes it takes to fill it. I've found the Cheyne Walk residences of Mick and Keith and admired their view of the Thames. Walking down the King's Road, I stopped by the "Chelsea drugstore for a soda, my favorite flavor, cherry red." I've walked across the Abbey Road zebra crossing and stared at the recording studio where so much musical magic was created. My wife spotted Sting at the bar in a Sloane Square restaurant in night in Chelsea.

Whenever I travel internationally, if there is a Hard Rock Café (HRC) at hand, I'll stop by for some down home cooking and a t-shirt for my collection. I can testify that the BBQ Pulled Pork sandwich tastes the same in Melbourne, Australia as it does in London or Amsterdam. In addition to the food, there is of course, the collection.

The London HRC was where it all started. Eric Clapton was fond of the food and brought a guitar in to hang on the wall at his favorite booth, more or less marking his territory. When Pete Townsend found out, he sent one of his own to the restaurant along with a note that read, " "Mine's as good as his! Love, Pete"

It was the beginning of an incomparable collection of rock and roll memorabilia. The Hard Rock Vault (HRV) opened in 2001 across the street from the HRC. In it is stored the most precious and rare items from their extensive collection. The HRV is an actual vault that once housed Queen Victoria's personal jewelry according to the friendly, leather clad guide.

My wife, Candy, and I walked slowly through the vault, speaking in hushed tones, marveling at the collection. On one wall, was a photo of Hendrix smoking a joint, below it was a small couch that once belonged to Jimi. To the left of the couch were two guitars, a Gibson Flying Vee and a Brown Strat.

The Flying Vee had belonged to Hendrix and there was a photo of Jimi playing it in concert displayed next to it on an easel. The old brown Strat had once belonged to Duane Allman and the guide said it was the guitar Duane had used during the Layla sessions.

Okay, so now, I'm completely stoked and the guide says, "Do you play?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead. Go ahead and play it. You can sit on Jimi's couch."

I sat down on the couch as he took the guitar from the stand and handed it to me. I was shaking as I took it from him. He smiled at me and said, "Don't be nervous. Look at the serial number."

I flipped it over and looked at the neck plate. It was number 000016. The sixteenth Fender Stratocaster ever made, built in 1954. I was only a few years older than the guitar, but it was in much better shape.

By this time, I had an ear to ear grin as I turned it back over. "This is really the Strat that Duane Allman used during the Layla sessions?" I asked.

"Absolutely."

I held the guitar gently in my hands and made a chord while Candy snapped a picture. I held it gently, like a newborn. Jimi was looking over my shoulder puffing on a fat one like an electric guardian angel. I thought of the magic the Strat had made all those years ago. If the guitar had any gris gris, I hoped a little might rub off on me.

I really think my playing improved after that...at least for a while.

To learn more:
http://www.easier.com/view/Lifestyle/Entertainment/Going_Out/article-171044.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fender_Stratocaster