Steel Guitars for Two

And Coffee for One

DOES anyone remember the historic musical duel (not duet!) between “Eti” Gold, a former Hawaiian player who introduced the “steel” method to Rarotonga guitar-players, and Remi Rey, the champion steel-guitarist of Papeete?

The contest was held in Willie Browne’s “Tivoli Cabaret” dance-hall at Marae renoa: and for weeks before it even tuated, Rarotonga was divided into two camps—the faction, with Tahitian con nections, who supported Remi, and the Rarotonga-cum-Mangaia enthusiasts who “barracked” for Eti (who had just re turned from NZ, after the death of his wife, another celebrated guitarist, at Mangaia).

Poor Eti was in bad shape. Downed by his bereavement, he had given up music.

In addition, he was jobless, and hard-up.

It was Remi who forced on luckless Eti this test of their respective powers.

Eti didn’t fancy the musical “strafe” facing him; but for the honour of Raro tonga and his home island of Mangaia, he accepted the Tahitian’s challenge.

Borrowing a battered old guitar, he Hawaiianised it with eauipment of his own, and turned up, with his Spanish guitar accompanist (a Rarotonga lad) at the “Cabaret” on the great night, ready for victory or the LMS cemetery.

They played solidly for four hours.

Every “stunt” Remi did, Eti equalled— the old warhorse as “ha-ha-ful” as ever, and his neck still clothed with more thunder than Remi had quite bargained for.

Remi was in excellent practice, and had a lovely guitar; Eti had only the damaged “dog-box” he had borrowed, because he had no guitar of his own. The honour of Rarotonga and Mangaia was at stake; he did his damnedest, under a handicap.

But, alas, victory was not for him.

The Frenchman, with rising choler, put over his last and utmost effort—a suoer stunt. And Eti, fumbling numbly, failed to make the grade. The pro-Tahitians shouted themselves hoarse—and Raro tonga gloomed. . . .

Eti rose, and took a courteous leave of his Gallic antagonist. That gentleman seemed a trifle peeved—he even re marked that Eti had better look out, as he might later meet with an accident!

Eti was displeased at this exhibition of French “sportsmanship”: his good-night was somewhat curt, and 1928 had made history.

Next day, however, Remi met Eti and sought his goodwill; and the duelists became friends, and continued so till Eti departed for Mangaia, and Remi returned to his Papeete home—where, regrettably, he later met an untimely end.—R.