For more than 20
years, from 1971 till 1992, Duane
Allman’s famous 1959 Cherry Burst
Les Paul was played, cared for, and
cherished by one man: Joe Marshall.
Duane befriended Marshall in late
1966, when the Allman Joys were
based in St. Louis. Duane and Gregg
often subsequently stayed with
Marshall at his parents’ home
whenever the band was in town. The
friendship between Duane and Joe was
singular and special, but it also
exemplified the loyalty Duane
demonstrated—and inspired—toward
those closest to him. Marshall’s
ex-wife Christine recalls that, in
the years following Duane’s death,
the Cherry Burst served as “a
connect with Duane.”
“I remember one occasion where Joe
left the guitar in the car overnight,”
she says. “It was secluded, so there
was no danger of it being stolen,
but it got a little cold out. The
next day, when Joe realized what he
had done, he ran out brought the
guitar inside. For 20 minutes he
kept wiping the guitar, almost as if
to warm it. As he rubbed polish on
it he spoke to it, or to Duane,
saying he was sorry about the mishap
and would never let it happen again.
That was the only time I observed
him letting his feelings about the
guitar be known. He never left it
outside again.”
Today, Marshall suffers from a
health condition that makes speaking
difficult. Some of his responses to
the questions below, therefore, were
compiled from remembrances he shared
with family and close friends. Other
commentary was gathered from
memories he either wrote down
himself or expressed in a previously
recorded interview. What emerges
from Marshall’s fond recollections
is not only the tremendous regard he
had for Duane, but, by inference, a
portrait of the degree of devotion
Duane felt toward those he
considered friends.
As regards the ’59 Cherry Burst,
Marshall ultimately presented it to
Duane’s daughter, Galadrielle, in
accordance with an informal
understanding and a love for Duane.
Below are Marshall’s remarkable
remembrances of the man who came to
be known as Skydog.
How did you first meet Duane?
A friend and I first met the
band—back when they were the Allman
Joys-- at a place called Pepe’s A
Go-Go, in St. Louis. This was in
November of 1966. We were passing by
and heard them playing The Beatles’
“Drive My Car.” We peeked through an
opening in the drapes and saw this
young guy playing guitar. His hair
was nearly down to his shoulders,
and he was rocking back and forth as
he played. When they took a break we
met the band outside, and they
invited us up to their apartment
above the nightclub.
What was their live set like?
Well, we were too young to go inside
the club, but Duane took care of
that. He said they weren’t 21,
either, and told us to come on and
follow them. We obediently marched
in behind them and sat down. They
took the stage and before the set
began, Gregg dedicated the next
group of tunes to their “new friends
from St. Louis.” Then they started
playing stuff by The Yardbirds, The
Animals, The Byrds, the Stones and
some blues tunes we’d never heard.
It was as if we had been struck by
lightning.
Was it a life-changing experience?
Definitely. I had seen a number of
bands before them, including The
Beatles. That was great, but the
Allman Joys were more accessible.
You couldn’t just go up to the
Beatles or the Stones and say, “How
are you guys doing? Why don’t you
come over and have a sandwich?” We
felt the Allman Joys were just as
talented as the Stones or The
Beatles. They were the greatest live
band I had ever seen.
Not long afterwards you invited
Gregg and Duane and the band over to
your parents’ house. What was that
like?
We asked them if they wanted to come
over and get some food. They were
happy to have some baloney
sandwiches and some potato chips. I
remember Gregg looked in the back of
the utility room and spotted a case
of beer. He yelled to Duane, “Hey,
come look!” They were in heaven.
They stayed there a couple of hours,
until my parents came home from work.
Gregg didn’t have much to say--he
was a bit quiet and shy--but Duane
immediately started talking to my
Mom and Dad. I remember exactly what
he said: “If there were more mothers
and fathers like you, there would be
fewer juvenile delinquents.” (laughs)
My Mom and Dad asked if they wanted
a beer. Duane goes, “Yeah. I think I
know where they are.”
You were present when Duane met
his girlfriend Donna, who eventually
gave birth to his daughter. Can you
tell that story?
Duane and I had gone to see The
Jefferson Airplane, and we ran into
two girls who were having trouble
finding their car. They couldn’t
remember where they parked, so we
tried to help them. We ended up
driving them around, but still we
couldn’t find the car. Finally we
gave up, and we all went to crash at
the apartment of a friend of Duane’s.
The next morning, when the sun came
up, we drove them back. By that
time, their Volkswagen was just
sitting there by itself, with
nothing around it. One of the girls
was Donna, and she ended up
following Duane back down south,
where she became pregnant and they
had their little daughter,
Galadrielle.
How did you end up with his ’59
Cherry Burst?
That was after Duane was killed in
the motorcycle accident. It was just
devastating. I felt so bad. These
guys were on the verge of becoming
this unbelievably powerful and
influential band, and he didn’t have
time to enjoy it. After Duane had
his accident, Donna grabbed two of
his guitars and her clothing, and
came up to St. Louis. She called me
and asked if I would come over. She
showed me the guitars and asked if I
would be interested in keeping one
of them, to play. She said Duane
wouldn’t want the guitars to just
sit in a vault. Of course I said, “Sure.”
She asked me to take care of the
guitar until their daughter reached
a certain age, and then to pass it
along to her. I opened the case and
inside was a Coricidin bottle,
without the cap. Duane used to go in
stores and buy several bottles and
dump the contents, for his slides. I
played the Cherry Burst for more
than 20 years.
Did he ever tell you how he
acquired the guitar?
He got it in a trade with Rick Stein
of the band, Stone Balloon, who were
opening for the Allmans at a show in
Daytona. Duane gave Rick his ’57
Goldtop, $200 and a Marshall Plexi
head in exchange for the guitar. As
part of the deal, Duane got to swap
out the pickups from his ’57 Les
Paul and put them in the Cherry
Burst. I remember him saying, “Hey,
Joey, check out this sweet little
thing I bought in Florida." He
really loved the sound that it
produced.
Do you have a favorite personal
story about Duane?
One time Gregg was in their
apartment in St. Louis with a woman,
and Duane needed the car keys so
that he and I could go someplace.
Duane kept pounding on the door, to
no avail, telling Gregg to open the
door so he could get the keys. I
started laughing and suggested we
try again later, but Duane wouldn’t
hear of it. He just kept pounding
harder and harder and wouldn't let
up. Finally the door flies open and
a pair of jeans—with the keys—came
sailing out at Duane's head. Duane
looked pleased and said something to
the effect that love was a powerful
thing and he knew Gregg would have
to give in sooner or later.
Any others?
I remember being with him at a music
store on Manchester, in St. Louis.
Duane was trying out different
guitars, and it was the first time
he had tried out a Marshall amp. The
door was open, and people outside
were stopping dead in their tracks,
listening to him play. It was like
something in a movie. Duane wasn’t
even aware of the impact his playing
had on the people outside. He was
totally into the guitar and the
sound it produced.
Is there anything about Duane
that might surprise fans?
One of his favorite songs was a Burt
Bacharach song, “Anyone Who Had a
Heart.” Duane really, really liked
that song in general, but especially
the sax solo.
What was his best quality?
He was the first person I knew,
musically, who always found
something good to say about fellow
musicians. Whenever he and I would
hear another musician or group who
maybe wasn’t so great, he would
always find something positive to
say, even if it was just, “Hell,
Joey, at least they're trying." I
tried to pattern my philosophy after
Duane’s, in that respect. He always
tried to find the good rather than
tear someone down.
How would you sum up his essence?
He was different from any other
musician I ever met. He believed in
karma and had a spiritual sense
about him, and he had a special
outlook on life. He certainly wasn’t
hung up on fame or money. Those
things were fine, but he always
played for the love of music. Music
always came first.
(Special thanks to Dave Hinson for
his invaluable assistance.)