Orville Gibson

Orville H. Gibson (August 21, 1856, Chateaugay, New York - August 21, 1918, Ogdensburg, New York) was a luthier who founded the Gibson Guitar Company in Kalamazoo, Michigan in 1896, makers of guitars, mandolins and other instruments.

Gibson began in 1894 in his home workshop in Kalamazoo, Michigan. With no formal training, Gibson created an entirely new style of mandolin and guitar, with tops carved and arched like the top of a violin. His creations were so different that he was granted a patent on his design. More importantly, they were louder and more durable than contemporary fretted instruments, and musicians soon demanded more than he was able to build in his one-man shop.

On the strength of Gibson's ideas, five Kalamazoo businessmen formed the Gibson Mandolin-Guitar Mfg. Co., Ltd., in 1902. Within a short period after the company was started, the board passed a motion that "Orville H. Gibson be paid only for the actual time he works for the Company." After that time, there is no clear indication whether he worked there full-time, or as a consultant. Orville Gibson was considered a bit eccentric and there has been some question over the years as to whether or not he suffered from some sort of mental illness.

Starting in 1908, Gibson was paid a salary of $500 by Gibson Mandolin-Guitar Manufacturing Co., Limited (equivalent to $20,000 a year in modern terms). He had a number of stays in hospitals between 1907 and 1911. In 1916, he was again hospitalized, and died on August 21, 1918, his 62nd birthday, in St. Lawrence State Hospital, a psychiatric center in Ogdensburg, New York. Gibson is buried at Morningside Cemetery in Malone, New York.

Famous quotes containing the word gibson:

    The Thirties dreamed white marble and slipstream chrome, immortal crystal and burnished bronze, but the rockets on the Gernsback pulps had fallen on London in the dead of night, screaming. After the war, everyone had a car—no wings for it—and the promised superhighway to drive it down, so that the sky itself darkened, and the fumes ate the marble and pitted the miracle crystal.
    —William Gibson (b. 1948)