I knew from my own experience that once he got into the books, he would never be able to confine his research to a few specific instruments. As I expected, he found all sorts of interesting entries which. as always. raise more questions than they answer. And in the process, he did enough nose-in-the-book research for several months of columns.

The most intriguing items Lynn brought to light were not from the Gibson archives, however, but from Alvino Rey's archives. The first was a set of photos of a pack of Gibson-brand cigarettes with Alvino's picture on the front. This dates from the late 1920s, when Alvino was still known as Al McBurney. The banjo in Alvino's hands and on the back of the pack confirms the dominance of the tenor banjo over the guitar in those years. One side panel states that artists, dealers, teachers and even students prefer Gibson cigarettes.

These cigarettes are to my knowledge the earliest example of a Gibson product unrelated to music and also the earliest example of a licensed product. Gibson made toys during the Depression, but licensing is a much more recent concept at Gibson. Only in the last two years has Gibson lent its name to the makers of refrigerator magnets, pins, etc.

The maker of Gibson cigarettes is not clear from the pack. The bottom panel says "Fred. M. Pinkus, trade-marked cigarettes, New York, N.Y.," suggesting that Mr. Pinkus custom-ordered cigarettes for various personalities or companies. A federally required notice on a side panel says they were made in Factory No. 21 in the district of North Carolina. (Tobacco historians may be able to shed some light on Factory 21.)

Alvino saved two packs, which he never opened. In the 1960s, however, his brother-in-law was visiting and wanted to sneak a cigarette (he had told his wife he'd quit smoking). He found Alvino's stash of Gibson cigarettes and opened a pack. His reaction to the vintage tobacco was not recorded, but we suspect that the first puff of 40-year-old tobacco is not nearly as satisfying an experience as the virgin strum of a 40-year-old guitar would be. The other pack remains unopened.

The second item Lynn brought was one of the most important instruments in Gibson history--the prototype electric guitar made by Alvino Rey in the spring of 1935. This guitar was shown at the NAMM show and a vintage guitar show in Anaheim in January, but this was my first opportunity to lay hands on it and photograph it. As Lynn documented in detail in his Vintage Guitar article, Alvino was playing with the Horace Heidt orchestra in Chicago when Gibson enlisted him to help develop a pickup. Working with two engineers at Lyon & Healy, he built this crude frame of a Hawaiian guitar to try out pickup designs.

Midway through 1935, Gibson brought the project in-house to Walt Fuller, who went on to develop the first Gibson electric guitar. Alvino never even shipped his prototype to Gibson and he has kept it all these years. It's just been acquired by the Experience Music Project in Seattle and will be exhibited in the Project's museum (commonly known as the Hendrix museum). Groundbreaking for the museum is set for May, with a grand opening scheduled for June 1999.

While I was musing over cigarettes and prototypes, Lynn was plowing through the ledger books from 1936 to World War II. As some of my previous columns have shown, there is something of interest or importance literally on every page, and I was not surprised when Lynn jumped out of his chair on a regular basis. Being somewhat jaded myself, and having long since accepted the old saying that "Gibson made one of everything," I did not expect to be suprised by anything he might find.

When Lynn showed me a series of entries for Trojan guitars--a resonator guitar model made at that time by National--I did little more than raise an eyebrow. An electric violin, loaned to National-Dobro in 1938, raised all sorts of questions in my mind, but outwardly still only an eyebrow. I shrugged when he found the L-5 12-string (I had already seen the entry and mentioned it in a previous column). An electric bass from 1937? Ho-hum. One has recently surfaced, so it's not surprising to find it in the books.

I could play it cool no longer when he showed me an entry for an electric mandocello in 1937. The idea of an electric mandocello is intriguing enough on its own merit (especially to someone who owns and loves mandocellos), but this instrument has the added mystique of having been shipped on July 2, which is my birthday.

Lynn also found a number of entries for special models that should either explain or confuse the early history of the J-200. While we're compiling that information for next month's column, I'll be waiting for a phone call from the owner of the electric mandocello.