Let me begin by saying that this is the short version…
For those who haven’t been following my blog, my uncle, Michael Cahill, was shot and killed in 1979, in Austin Texas. This happened as he came upon someone burglarizing his apartment, who fled on foot with my uncle’s prized possession — a Guild D40 acoustic guitar. As I covered in 2006, this sad episode in my family’s life was resurfaced by journalist Denise Gamino of the Austin American-Statesman (Gamino is now a former staffer and her very excellent article is no longer on their site, however I’m linking to a copy of it here). Fortuitously, a producer from America’s Most Wanted came across it and reached out to my aunt for permission to spotlight this cold case on one of their episodes. And so, in 2007 I got to see the story of my uncle’s murder not only re-explained and re-contextualized, but also recreated with actors on broadcast TV.
And then…nothing happened. I wrote about it here and here and that generated interest. People reached out to share their theories, sometimes the odd story about Michael. Over time — especially given the cancellation of America’s Most Wanted (and the erasure of its online presence which wiped out all of the stories they covered, a crime in itself for families whose only hope for justice was the information that site provided) I grew ambivalent to any suggestion that I should be hopeful my uncle’s murder would find any sort of resolution.
On February 7th of this year, I got on a plane to Tulum, Mexico, for a vacation. When the jet landed on the tarmac of Cancún International Airport, I saw that I’d received a voicemail. I ignored it, assuming it was work-related, or maybe just spam — it was from an area code I didn’t recognize — until I returned to my office on the 18th. It was a Tuesday.
The message was from Randy Crafton the owner of Kaleidoscope Sound, a recording studio in New Jersey. While doing an inventory of their music equipment, they looked up the serial number of one of their studio guitars. Unlikely as it may seem, even as I write this, that serial number was the same as the one my uncle died chasing in 1979. It had likely changed hands many times; at some point I’m sure someone will investigate this.
This past Friday — Good Friday — the guitar was delivered by UPS to my father in Houston, just in time for the 41st anniversary of my uncle’s death. My family down there is, to say the least, ecstatic, and I am still gobsmacked at how this all came to be. Let’s face it, the probability is beyond calculation. I’m grateful, which feels like a tremendous understatement. Grateful to the people at the studio in New Jersey. Grateful to everyone who has shared Michael’s story (including that serial number!) on the web. I will most likely write something more comprehensive about this, because there are so many moving parts — names, places, people — and the story is much larger than what I’m able to encapsulate here. But I’ll get to that when the dust has settled.
Seeing this guitar after 41 years is so moving. I would not have expected to be crying about it. It is as if a piece of a man I loved has come back home safely. An hour into this new reality and I can name my feelings: joy and peace. So fitting because your uncle radiated both of those.
Mike would be thrilled. Our former coworker and dear friend Mark Dorsey, from the Dobie (dorm) kitchen where we met in ’75 friend, would also be thrilled. Mark spent all the rest of ’79 & ’80 scouring Austin pawnshops for Mike’s guitar. He once thought he’d found it and called the police. Wrong guitar. I was glad, tho I couldn’t tell Mark that: If we couldn’t have Mike back, I didn’t want that GD f*cking guitar back into my knowledge as a living thing.
For yes, guitars are living things.
Perspectives change with time. I am over the moon with joy that Mike’s baby is home where it should be. It’s been a few years since I was in Houston and visited his grave. Screw the coronavirus. Even tho today it feels like Cahill is sitting right beside me in Austin as I write this, I’m gonna have to drive to Houston and sit at his grave for a while. First I will call Ave Bonar and Mike’s old roomie, Sam V. If I can find him, Marck’s brother Richard will also be elated. (He was another of the Dobie cook-guitarist/songwriters.)
Thank you, Matt. One day I’ll find the slides from my December ’78 party. There’s at least one close profile of the uncle you never met. I’ll figure out a way to share it. Love, health, and peace to you and all your family.
Thank you for the kind note, Gratia. It’s much appreciated.
Matt
I am glad you got back the guitar. It is an important part of your family history that quite obviously you deserved to have back. My interest in leaving a not for you as to Michael Cahill is twofold. I first want to extend my sympathy to your family for your terrible loss. Losing a loved one is always a difficult thing to deal with. My second comment has to do with it is my understanding a record of his music was made with his available recordings. I apologize for my possible selfishness on this when I ask is it possible for the sake of Michael Cahill being remembered to get a copy of this recording.
Hello Todd,
Thank you for your note. There are songs, some of which are digitized. I would need to check with the family, but yes, making them public (say, on SoundCloud) would be good. I will post an update should that happen.
Matt
Now that the guitar has been recovered, will there be any looking in to where/who Kaleidoscope obtained it from? Where they got it, and so on?
To the best of my knowledge, Michael, it was a private sale off of Craigslist that happened several years ago. There is a service sticker on the headstock that points to a repair shop in NYC — that is an avenue I would like to look into, as they would likely have a record at that store. This information was turned over to the Austin cold case investigator, fyi. If you need any more info I’m at matt AT mattcahill DOT ca.