Manny's was like a glimpse of heaven & the garden of Eden & a Jewish bakery all
rolled into one- with Henry as St.Peter, standing on a chair.
All of those beautiful guitars in their mostly muted colors, enticing you to
touch them and dare to learn how to play them. And the amps and Fender
echo/reverb units to get you the BIG sounds you heard everywhere around you.
Every once in a while you'd go in there and catch a guitar wizard like Eliot
Randall putting a strat or maybe a big,beautiful Gibson or Gretsch through its
paces -intimidating but educational and exciting to see and hear it done right
in front of you. Nothing better for a young guitar player than to see how its
done for real. And then you'd take your new best friend home and get it out and
thrill to the new sounds while your neighbors and family cringed and complained,
but never loud enough to get to you.
I can still see, hear and smell Manny's and it will be missed by those of us who
knew it. All of 48th St. was magical for me, but Manny's was it.
Gregg Sutton
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