By Tom Pendleton – May 2019
Today I have owned my 1974 Jazz bass forty-four years. I had it as a kid, as a father, and now a grandfather, it always reminds me how wonderful my mother was.
I cut grass all summer to buy my first bass and started playing commercially at 14. Played regularly in a couple of bands and in my high school jazz band. I saved up money from my gigs and bought my second bass and a bigger amp. Unfortunately, our house was broken into and that bass was stolen.
I was devastated and absolutely miserable. I had no idea what I would do.
I went to school on 9th of May 1975 and walked into the band director’s office. I was shocked to find my mother there with the band director. On the floor in front of them, in a case, was a brand-new Fender Jazz.
I was informed that it was mine… I couldn’t believe it. We lived modestly, so I know it was a great sacrifice. It was the Bass I wanted. How she knew that I will never know, but that just attests to how special she was.
Although it doesn’t get the play it deserves, no other bass I own will ever be cherished as much. It’s a simple reminder of how very wonderful my mother was.