It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way.”

Charles Dickens

Last weekend at Armand Morin’s Big Seminar, several people told me they’d either been bumped off my email list or that I must not have done a mailing in months. Maybe you’ve been wondering the same thing. It’s the latter.

It’s been four months since I posted my Dad’s eulogy. While it was certainly rough losing my Dad, that isn’t the reason I’ve been silent all these months. Actually I’ve been working on something totally new and very exciting.

I’ll explain what it is in the very near future but today I want to talk about something far more important than how I spent my summer vacation. And that something is Y-O-U.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock or, like some of us, don’t regularly follow the news, you’re probably feeling pretty uneasy right now. Or worse. After all, we’re all headed for a recession right?

The stock market is in the toilet. And the media is loving every minute of it. They know that a crisis means more people tuning in so they’re delighted to fan the flames.

Obviously, our government can’t solve the problem although they swear they could if it weren’t for those evil folks on the other side of the aisle. Yeah, right. I feel reasonably comfortable relying on them to get a letter across town (if there’s no rush and it’s not too terribly important) but that’s about it. Well, that and trying to get their hands on as much of our hard-earned income as possible.

Other than that, they can’t fix a pothole without first forming a committee to study the situation for a year or two.

So the situation looks pretty bleak, doesn’t it? Pretty scary, too.

But is it really?

It depends on how you look at it.

When I look back over the timeline of my life and focus on the lowest valleys, I see they were usually followed by some of the highest peaks.

For example, in the early fall of 1980, I appeared to be on top of the world. I was just shy of 21 and sold vintage guitars to some of the biggest rock bands in the world. I lived in a beautiful loft apartment filled with the latest stereo and video gear and an assortment of expensive guitars. I drove a brand-new Corvette.

But I wasn’t quite living my dream, which was to be was on tour with one of those big-name rock bands as their tour manager.

In order to start on that path, I needed to cut my overhead to the bone and spend a year or two paying my dues as a roadie while working my way up the ladder. The problem was, I was afraid to make those sacrifices. I didn’t want to give up all my ’stuff’. What if I failed? I’d be left with nothing.

Well, in addition to all my fancy toys, I had something far more expensive: a nasty cocaine habit. And by the time I turned 21 in November of that year, I was well on my way to losing everything.

I remember one day hearing a knock at my door and I used the peephole to see who it was because I was too high to deal with a visitor. Good thing I didn’t open it because it was a sheriff’s deputy serving me with an eviction notice. Fortunately, he couldn’t see me because it was dark and the power company had already shut my electricity off. Most of my stuff had been replaced by an inch-thick stack of pawn slips. I’d officially hit bottom.

My friend Tab Nesbitt helped me move my furniture and my few remaining possessions into a mini-storage. Eventually, I lost the stuff I’d stored, too, when I couldn’t afford to pay the bill.

My car was totaled when I was hit by another driver from behind at a stoplight. He was going 55 mph at the time. It turns out he was a diabetic with extremely low blood sugar. He hit me so hard it totaled the car in front of me. My head hit the windshield not once but twice. The car was barely recognizable and I remember gasoline being everywhere. I was lucky to be alive.

I had four witnesses that all happened to be attorneys. I had a concussion and my back was pretty messed up. But I didn’t make any kind of personal injury claim because I was afraid the doctors would discover my drug habit. I got a check for the car and promptly blew that on more drugs.

Now I was homeless and didn’t even have a car.

Pretty bleak, huh?

Well, when you hit bottom every opportunity is a step up.

I had nothing left to lose so when Tab, who was a drummer for a local band offered me a job as a roadie and, temporarily, a couch to sleep on, I was all over it.

I didn’t have to worry about drugs because I had no money. So I dove right in to my new gig. Within a few months, Tab’s band broke up but I was offered a better paying gig running sound for another local band. Within a year, I landed my dream gig as tour manager for British rocker, Steve Marriott & Humble Pie.

The lesson here is that until you become willing to do whatever it takes, you’ll never find success. But sometimes that willingness can be difficult to come by and it takes something drastic to spur us into action. Back then, it took a self-imposed disaster to turn my life around.

I had a similar experience after getting two DWI arrests within a six month period in the late 80’s. That led to me becoming willing to get and stay sober for the past 19 years and learning to live a different way of life. And it’s led to more miracles.

Disaster was there to lend a hand again in 2001.

After retiring from music in 1999, I’d temporarily taken a job with an airport limo service while also teaching a music business seminar on weekends and writing my first book. The temporary job turned long-term while I racked up over $50,000 in credit card debt. At the end of the summer of 2001, I was barely keeping my head above water.

The good news was that I was learning about marketing and absorbing every book and audio program I could get my hands on. One of those audio programs was Joe Vitale’s, “The Power of Outrageous Marketing”.

I absolutely loved Joe’s marketing lessons and began searching for more of his material. I noticed that Joe lived in Houston, just like me. I visited his website and we even exchanged a few emails.

When I heard Joe had a new book coming out called “Spiritual Marketing”, I eagerly ordered a copy.

When I started to read it, I was quickly disappointed. Rather than marketing tactics and strategies, Joe was suggesting I follow steps that involved ‘manifesting my dreams’ and asking “Angels” for the things I wanted in life.

“What the hell was he talking about? Where are all the PT Barnum stories and marketing lessons?”, I wondered. I tossed the book aside. This wasn’t for me.

A month or two later came a day that changed all of our lives: 9/11.

It was, literally, my last day in the limo business. Planes stopped flying so I had no customers and we had no idea how long they’d be grounded and if anyone would get on board when air traffic resumed. I couldn’t afford to wait it out so I turned my car in. Suddenly, I had no car, no job, no prospects and a mountain of debt.

Suddenly, I was willing to do whatever it took… even if it meant talking to angels.

I picked up Joe’s book and followed his suggested steps. Well, almost. Joe recommended getting very clear on what you desire. If it’s a car, then write down the details. The exact model. The color. The interior. Everything.

But I didn’t do that. I just asked for a car and a job. No specifics.

Within 48 hours, Kim Coates, a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years called and offered to lend me a car for as long as I needed it. It was a 13 year-old Honda with 175,000 miles on it. Not exactly a dream machine but I got exactly what I asked for, a car. A couple days later, my Mom gave me my late grandfather’s ten year-old Oldsmobile.

Two days later, a friend whose license had been suspended called and offered me $150 a day to drive him to and from work. Not very glamorous but exactly what I’d asked for, a job. It was a long drive in Houston traffic but it covered my living expenses and gave me plenty of time to write and work on my new website. I also got a call from a seller I’d met on eBay offering me $2,000 to write a sales letter. Now I had two jobs and two cars.

Hmm, maybe there was something to this whole law of attraction business.

I decided to go through Joe’s steps again. Only this time, I did exactly as he suggested. I got specific about what I wanted.

I named the exact car I wanted, even the color. I described the type of relationship I wanted and where I wanted to live. I listed what I wanted to do for a living and how much I wanted to make. All the details.

I found the perfect real estate agent and within a matter of weeks and in a bad, post-9/11 real estate market, I sold my house for about $50,000 more than I expected. I paid off all my debt.

I walked into a dealership and paid cash for a brand-new, silver, Toyota SUV. Before long, I got every single thing I’d put down on my list. And much, much more.

A few years later, when “Spiritual Marketing” was re-released by a major publisher under the title, “The Attractor Factor”, it included my story among many others.

Today, I live in a beautiful house right around the corner from the man that wrote the book I’d originally tossed aside. He’s now one of my closest friends and mentors. We’ve written two best-sellers together including “Meet & Grow Rich: How to Easily Create and Operate Your Own Mastermind Group for Health, Wealth, and More”. We’ve also shared the stage at a number of seminars and workshops.

A few weeks ago, Joe released a brand-new edition of The Attractor Factor. I began reading and experimenting with Joe’s 5-step method once again including some new twists he’s added to this new edition. And I’m seeing some interesting results.

Last Saturday at Armand Morin’s Big Seminar, podcasting expert Paul Colligan was talking to Kirt Christensen and me about why he’s switched from a PC to a Mac. He made a pretty convincing argument for why Kirt and I should switch, too. And I said, matter-of-factly, that I was going to win one from Armand during his prize giveaway that night.

Paul and Kirt weren’t the only ones. I told at least twenty people the same thing including Pat O’Bryan, Craig Perrine and everyone seated at my table that night for dinner. When Armand called out my winning number, I wasn’t the least bit surprised as I’d seen it happen in my mind all day long. Now I’m the proud owner of a new Macbook Pro laptop. [Btw, Thanks Armand and Mary Ann! Big Seminar Rocks!]

One of the other things I intended when working Joe’s steps was to generate some extra cash to pay the taxman on the 15th. I’ve been very busy working on a project and haven’t had time to put a promotion together to cover the bill.

A few days ago, I walked to our mailbox and discovered a check for $4,000. It was a small inheritance from the estate of a relative I barely knew that had passed away several years ago. Last August, I’d been invited to a family reunion. I didn’t really have time to attend but I felt compelled to go anyway. I’m pretty sure that there’s a connection between me following that hunch and the check’s arrival.

Now at this stage of my life, getting a laptop and a check for four grand, aren’t life-changing. But seeing evidence of what is possible when you’re willing to suspend disbelief and try something different IS. What I saw in my mind’s eye before winning the laptop wasn’t wishful thinking. I already knew I was going to win.

So what does all this mean? Does Joe’s book contain some kind of magic?

I honestly don’t know. Maybe no more than the kind practiced by stage magicians. But I believe it is something far more powerful. Either way, the results are the same. If what you want is the rabbit to come out of the hat, does it really matter how it got there?

What I can say with certainty is this: when I’m willing to put skepticism aside, take chances and do what’s suggested by people that have been down the path before me, amazing things happen.

Unfortunately, it’s often required times of desperation to spur me into taking action. But I’m learning to become willing without the painful down payment.

And if I can do it, so can you.

I recommend you order The Attractor Factor: 2nd Edition on Amazon.com right now. Don’t wait until you’ve dug yourself into a deep (or deeper) hole.

While you’re at it, another great book to read in times like these is Napoleon Hill’s “Think & Grow Rich”. At a time when America was experiencing The Great Depression, Hill, with the assistance of Andrew Carnegie, interviewed people that were succeeding wildly despite the bad times to find out their secrets. Hill’s message is just as valid today as it was 80 years ago.

Another suggestion would be to turn off the news. News networks make their money by feeding us a constant barrage of negativity along with totally useless celebrity gossip. You’ll find nothing there that will benefit you in any way.

If you live in the US, I can hear some of you disagreeing with me. You’ve got to keep up with the presidential race.

No you don’t.

Are you really undecided about how you’ll cast your vote at this point? My guess is you made up your mind a long time ago. So why waste time following the daily mudslinging? How is it serving you in any useful way?

How do you feel after tuning in? Happy and fulfilled or angry, bitter and frustrated?

If you think either one of these candidates are going to solve your problems, especially economically, I think you need a checkup from the neck up.

Until they start coming out with television that’s uplifting, stop tuning into what my friend, Daryl Snyder, refers to as the Constant Negative News network.

Read an uplifting story.

Take a walk. Meditate.

Sit down and actually have a conversation with your signiciant other or your kids.

Jump on a trampoline. Call an old friend. Focus on the solution rather than the problem.

Try something different.

Break out that ebook or Internet marketing course that’s gathering dust on the shelf and start feeding your mind with something useful. Start building your online business now so you can control your own financial destiny.

Finally, I want to remind you that you don’t have to go through these times alone. If you don’t already have one, form or join a Mastermind group. A mastermind will provide the support, resources and advice you need to prosper in any economic climate. If you’re not familiar with masterminds or how to start a group, read my book, co-authored with Joe Vitale, “Meet & Grow Rich”.

The water may be rough for a time but it’s up to you if you sink or swim. You can struggle to stay afloat, you can drown or you can view this as an opportunity to build muscle, grow stronger than ever and cross an ocean. You always have a choice.

Dad is gone: Chuck Hibbler (1931-2008)

My Dad on his 77th birthday on May 11th

I am not Bill Hibbler and Chuck Hibbler was not my Father.

Well, not at first anyway. Originally, my name was Matt Kittrell. More on that in a minute.

Dad passed away last Thursday after battling cancer for seven months. We buried him on Monday. I’d like to tell you a bit about how I came to know him.

When Dad and I first met, we were competing for the attention of the same woman, my Mother. This led to, oh, one or two conflicts.

Just the other night, I heard Dad tell the story of his first date with Mom.

My Mom and I were living in my hometown of Orange, TX. I was three years old.

Dad was working his way through college after serving four years in the Marine Corps in the Korean war. When he returned to the states, he ended his tour of duty training troops at Camp Pendleton in California as a drill sergeant.

Tired of trying to meet girls in bars, he turned to a friend at work telling her he wanted to meet a girl that liked to dance and play bridge. The friend said she knew just the right girl for him, my Mom.

He picked her up and drove her 45 miles to a nice restaurant in Lake Charles, Louisiana, where he wined and dined her. Mom was used to dining but not so much the wining. On the way home, Mom fell asleep in the car.

I don’t know about you but when a girl falls asleep on the way home from a first date, I take that as a sign that there’s not going to be a second date. But Mom managed to put a positive spin on things.

She told him that if she hadn’t liked and trusted him, she never would have felt comfortable enough to fall asleep.

Fortunately, Dad bought that line and stuck around. Mom ended up packing us up and moving to Houston. Well, I thought I’d won the war at that point. But Dad, who was one semester shy of graduating from Lamar Tech in Beaumont, TX, wasn’t about to give up that easily. He left school and followed us to Houston.

Two years later, when he married my Mother, Dad gave me his name and I became Matt Hibbler. So now instead of two of us, there were three.

And before I could get too adjusted to this new arrangement, the next thing I know, they bring me home a little sister, Misty. And I thought, “Great Mom, why don’t you just invite the whole neighborhood to move in with us?”

I did discover that it can be useful to have a little sister around. When things go wrong, I could say, “Misty did it!”

Dad & I continued to clash. At first, I tried to escape. I played baseball & football. But then Dad would volunteer to be a coach on the team. You may recall me mentioning that Dad was a former Marine Corps drill sergeant and that’s who he resembled when he was coaching. Yikes.

So I quit playing sports. I wasn’t that good anyway. Like a lot of kids, I wasn’t quite comfortable in my own skin. When I went from elementary to junior high school, they had us fill out a little card with our personal information including what we wanted to be called. I wrote out my legal name, William Matthew Hibbler, and said I wanted to be called Bill. So that’s when Matt became Bill. This decision was not popular with Dad and for years, he refused to call me Bill.

To this day, many of my parents’ friends and employees think he had two sons because he’d refer to me as Bill when I was around but Matt when I wasn’t. When I still lived at home, when friends would call as ask for Bill, they were often confused to hear him shout, “Matt! Telephone!”.

When we met with the funeral director last week, I joked that we should write that Dad was survived by his wife Jackie, his daughter Misty and two sons, Matt & Bill.

Eventually, I took up music. I grew my hair long and started listening to hard rock music. As you can imagine, there’s not a lot of demand for Marine Corps drill sergeants in the music industry so Dad couldn’t follow me there. Of course, he had a thing or two to say about the long hair. We had many clashes over haircuts.

In 1980, I took off with a band and rarely came home for ten years. We’d see each other for the holidays and that was about it. We got along OK but there wasn’t a lot of mutual respect.

Things took a turn for the better when I got sober in 1989. It was Christmas Eve. I’d just broken up with my girlfriend and came by the house after having been up all night. And that morning, I cleaned my side of the street and Dad cleaned his. We did a lot of mending that day and I don’t think we ever had a cross word for each other again. Still, as human beings, we seemed as dissimilar as two people can be.

Then one day, a funny thing happened.

I believe it was in 1994. At the time, I was publishing a music industry directory in Houston and I shared an office with my friend Pat O’Bryan.

I remember it was a Saturday afternoon and I stopped by to see my parents. Dad was sitting on the back porch having a cigarette. We were both in kind of a laid back mood.

“What are you up to?” asked Dad.

I said, “I just stopped by the office to look in the mail to see if there were any checks.”

“Any luck?” asked Dad.

“One or two. A few hundred dollars. How about you? What did you do today?”, I asked.

“I drove over to the post office to see if we had any checks in the box” Dad replied.

“Any luck?” I asked.

“Yeah, we had one or two; maybe a few thousand bucks,” said Dad.

And that’s when I realized that maybe we weren’t so different after all.

To the casual observer, it would seem like I didn’t take after my Dad. He was the country boy that believed in sweat & hard work. I was the long-haired city kid that believed in hard rock. He was the rugged outdoor type and I was definitely an indoor cat.

Dad worked with steel. In recent years, I switched from the music biz to computers. I could no more run Dad’s company than he could run mine. We wouldn’t have a clue what to do. I’m pretty sure that was by subconcious design on my part. The little kid still trying to avoid the drill seargent telling him what to do.

Actually, that’s another thing we had in common. Neither one of us could stand to have someone tell us what to do. That’s a common characteristic of entrepreneurs.

If you walked into my house or my office, you’d see walls lined with books. Dad only had a small handful of books. He rarely took the time to do any serious reading. But we both loved to learn. Dad just chose to do most of his learning through TV channels like Discovery, TLC and the History Channel.

When I was five, Dad gave me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. He taught me to read and write. This was before I started school. That’s one activity he involved himself in that I never ran away from. And now I’m a writer.

Speaking of writing, I rarely write by hand now but when I do, I print rather than write longhand. It’s remarkably similar to Dad’s handwriting. I’d seen his papers around the house and copied his style.

Another thing I picked up from Dad was how to talk on the telephone. This wasn’t something he taught me intentionally. I’d hear him on the phone dealing with customers, vendors and people that were trying to give him the runaround. He was especially effective at the latter.

I listened and learned. When I was a teenager, I started a couple of businesses and used my telephone skills to generate jobs. Later, when meeting them in person for the first time, my customers were often shocked to discover they were dealing with a 15 year-old. And those skills later served me well when I became a DJ and public speaker.

By the way, I think there’s a lesson there for anyone raising children. Children are more likely to learn from what they observe you do than what you tell them to do.

When Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer last October. I can’t say I was completely surprised. After all, Dad was a lifelong smoker; pack and a half a day. I think my family was starting to believe that maybe Dad was one of those smokers that lives to be a 100. Up until fairly recently, he looked far younger than his age. He’d tried to quit many times but never could kick the habit. At least not until getting the news from the doctor and by then, it was too late.

After that, I got home as often as I could. And we talked on the phone quite a bit. That was new for us. Dad was never one to spend much time on the phone. In the past, whenever I’d call home, Dad would talk for a minute or two, then hop off while I talked to Mom.

Now, he was staying on the phone. He didn’t always know what to say so he’d just listen. It was awkward at times but we stumbled through it.

When I arrived for a visit a few weeks ago, Mom, Dad & I had dinner at this little hole in the wall Mexican place we’ve gone to for years. Afterwards, we sat in the living room and talked until nearly midnight.

That may not seem like a big deal to some but it was a first in our family. And it was one of the best conversations we’ve ever had.

I was talking to Dad about the shifts in my business and how I planned to do more public speaking, something I’ve been increasingly passionate about. That night, Dad shared a number of things that helped me realize that he understood me a lot more than I’d assumed.

Dad weakened during chemo and radiation treatments but he never complained. He lost a ton of weight and began to age rapidly. When he lost his hair, Dad took to wearing his Korean War veteran’s cap. And he got one of those little scooters to help him get around.

Suddenly the Marine drill sergeant image was replaced by the type of senior citizen you see in a Veteran’s day parade. He couldn’t get around well and tired easily. At family gatherings, he’d usually have to leave after a short time or lie down. Was this my Dad?

May 11th, which happened to fall on Mother’s Day this year, was Dad’s birthday. My sister, brother-in-law and I got Mom & Dad a suite at the Four Seasons. We’ve been doing brunch at the Four Seasons for Mother’s Day the past few years and hoped to continue the tradition.

The plan was to have a party for Dad in the suite on Saturday and then do brunch on Sunday. Several friends and family members arrived for the party but, at the last minute, the guest of honor felt too sick to attend. We held the room, though, and he made it on Sunday.

After brunch, we gathered in the room. Dad was relaxing on the bed while his grandchildren played around him. That’s when I took the picture you see above. We didn’t know it at the time but that was to be the last celebration we’d have as a family.

On Tuesday, May 20th, Mom called to give me the news that ripped through me like a bullet. Dad’s doctor told him there was nothing else they could do for him. The cancer was spreading too fast. All they could do now was try to make him as comfortable as possible.

I packed my bags and headed for Houston. At first, Dad seemed to get better. The pain medication was working and Dad was carrying on conversations and seeing lots of visitors.

The whole family was there, including Dad’s younger brothers, Jack & Wade. We took turns taking care of him. We did that awkward little dance you do when in proximity to someone that’s seriously ill and dependent on others for almost everything.

Fortunately for the rest of us, we had Mom and my Uncle Jack to show us what to do. They’d been through all this before. It pains me to know they’ve dealt with this enough to be experienced at dealing with terminal illness but I’m grateful they were there to show us the way.

One night Mom mentioned that after a phone call I’d had with Dad a week or so earlier, Dad commented that I’d said, “I love you, Dad” before I hung up. He told her that’s the first time I’d ever said that. She said he was obviously touched by this.

Funny thing is that wasn’t the first time I’d ever said that to him. Maybe it was the first time he’d really heard me. Or maybe it’s the first time I’d truly meant it.

Dad had never seen me speak so I asked my friend Mark Ryan to do a quick edit of my speech at his Attract Wealth seminar I’d given a few weeks earlier. We got to watch it together at a time when Dad was focused and alert. I was really grateful for that and so was he.

Earlier last week, Dad really took a turn for the worse. He was experiencing a lot of pain so the hospice people upped his medication. He wasn’t the same after that and we knew we were getting close to the end.

One afternoon he was lying face down and I started lightly scratching and rubbing his back. He said, “I don’t know who’s doing that but it sure feels good.” I continued for several minutes. Dad asked, “How come I’ve never felt that before?”

Once again, he was feeling my heart. When I was younger, he just felt my anger. When things were better between us, it was more of a meeting of the minds. This was something different.

Thursday, Dad was having a particularly rough day. That evening, my Uncle Jack came to me and said that Dad was fighting hard. He felt that if I spoke to Dad to tell him it’s OK to go, he would probably let go and stop suffering.

I’d already considered the same thing so I didn’t hesitate, I went right in.

I told Dad that it was OK for him to let go. I assured him that the family would be OK. That we’d take care of each other. I told him we’d already said all the important things and that I loved him. That we all do. I told him there was no need for him to hang on and suffer.

Dad couldn’t speak and his eyes weren’t really focused. I wasn’t sure if he could actually see me but there’s no doubt he heard me. Tears welled in his eyes and he was trying very hard to speak. He couldn’t but I understood what he was trying to say.

About an hour later, he was gone.

I hate what happened to Dad but am grateful that I had the opportunity to help take care of him. We both learned a lot about each other in his final days.

I think we finally discovered each others heart for the first time. I’m sorry it took something like this to bring that about but a bigger tragedy would have been if I’d let this opportunity pass altogether.

Now Dad is gone but our relationship lives on. My good friend Gaea reminded me that I should continue to encourage Dad to let go and help him on his journey.

Before I close, I want to acknowledge my Mother. We tease her some times (OK, a lot) but she’s one of the strongest people I know. I watched her take care of both her parents until the end and now Dad. We practically had to force help on her in bringing in nurses to help. I don’t know how she does it.

I’m also truly grateful to my Uncle Jack Hibbler for his help and guidance during all of this. I didn’t really know him well before this happened. He’s been a rock during Dad’s illness and he’s taught me some incredibly valuable lessons.

I say goodbye now to Chuck Hibbler. He was my Father.

What a Rock Star Can Teach You About Internet Marketing

I decided to record today’s blog post rather than write it. So consider this my first podcast. Today I’ve got some stories from my rock & roll days with Humble Pie. There are also lessons here you can apply to Internet marketing or any goals you’re trying to reach or just consider it a rock and roll history lesson. So let’s take a little trip down memory lane. Be sure and check out the videos below, too.

To listen online, use the buttons below to play, pause, rewind and fast forward the presentation. To download this audio to your
computer, right-click here to save the file to your computer. The audio is approximately 29 minutes long.

That’s yours truly 25 years ago when I was Humble Pie’s tour manager/guitar tech. For the pickers out there, that’s a 1959 Gibson Les Paul 3-pickup model with the middle pickup removed. It’s the lightest Les Paul I’ve ever seen. Steve bought the guitar on an early US tour only later to discover that it had been stolen from Keith Richards.

Bill Hibbler with Steve Marriott's 1959 Les Paul in 1983

Before Humble Pie, Steve Marriott formed The Small Faces, which were hugely successful in the UK. Itchycoo Park was The Small Faces highest charting US single reaching #16. It was the first British record to
feature a recording effect called “flanging”.

Steve Marriott was Jimmy Page’s benchmark when seeking a singer for Led Zeppelin. Also, when Mick Taylor left The Rolling Stones, Steve was Keith Richard’s first choice to replace him. Unfortunately, Mick Jagger allegedly blocked the move because Steve upstaged him during the audition. In the video below, you can see Steve with Humble Pie live performing one of their hits, “I Don’t Need No Doctor.”

Click on the image below to hear one of the best interviews I’ve seen with the late Steve Marriott of Humble Pie and Small Faces fame.

Finally, here’s one of the lineup I first worked with in 1982 featuring Steppenwolf’s Goldy McJohn on keyboards and ex-Savoy Brown bassist Jim Leverton performing an un-released song called “Big Train.”

Note: Here is the link to the book I mentioned in the podcast, “Who Are You?” by Jim Barrett and Hugh Green

Free Teleseminar Tonight on how to Attract Wealth

Sorry about the short notice but if you act quickly, you can
participate in a free teleseminar on how to attract wealth.

Nine different instructors, including me, will give you 90
minutes of the best we have to offer on attracting wealth.

The call happens tonight at 8 PM Central but even if you
can’t make it, the talk will be recorded and sent to you via
email IF you register here:

http://111659.com/attract

If possible, try to make the live call as surprise gifts
will be given out at the end. You’ll also have the option of
listening in online.

Here’s the link again to register:

http://111659.com/attract

Talk soon!