This story of the recovery of a long lost friend, Hutto #132, comes from prominent bluegrass mandolinist and instructor Scott Napier. It’s a heartwarming report with which any instrument owner can empathize.
It’s often said that a singer is born with their voice, but instrumentalists get to choose their own. I’ve only played a few instruments over my nearly 30-year career as a bluegrass mandolin player, which began in 1996 with Larry Sparks & the Lonesome Ramblers.
The first bluegrass festival I ever attended was in July of 1992 in Renfro Valley, Kentucky. The lineup featured several iconic mandolinists, but the standout for me was Dempsey Young of Lost & Found. After their show, I spoke with him. Though his mandolin had “The Gibson” engraved on the headstock, he told me it was built by John Hutto in Augusta, Georgia. He gave me Hutto’s business card, and a printed sheet of paper describing Hutto mandolins that was signed in ink by John Hutto. Dempsey wrote his name on the paper and instructed me to “be sure and tell him I sent ya.” So, the following week, I sent him a letter—written with the same hopeful energy as Ralphie writing for the Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Pin in A Christmas Story.
To my surprise, I received a handwritten letter from Mr. Hutto, along with a dozen printed photos of his mandolins, showcasing various shading and finishing styles. He offered a “pay-as-I-build” plan, noting it would take two years due to a waiting list. The cost would be $2,365. For my family at the time, that may as well have been $100,000.
I remember overhearing the conversation between my father and Mr. Hutto on the phone. I suspect all three of us were disappointed that the mandolin wouldn’t be commissioned. Still, I kept those photos on my dresser mirror for inspiration. I tried to make my cheap mandolin sound like what I imagined a Hutto mandolin would sound like. I believe that unknowingly helped me develop my tone and accelerated my progress.
Three years later, I landed my first professional job with Larry Sparks & the Lonesome Ramblers—a position I’d hold for nine years. This opportunity brought me into close contact with Dempsey Young and that unmistakable Hutto tone.
Larry Sparks was also a fan of Hutto mandolins and knew John personally. He once told me, “You won’t beat those Hutto mandolins.” One night, after a particularly good show where folks were complimenting my playing, Larry told me, not “well done” or “good job,” but: “You’re outgrowing your mandolin.” He meant I needed an instrument that could push me further.
I’d already been saving for a better mandolin when, in 2000, we played the Columbia Expo Center in Mississippi. While setting up the record table, a man came over and asked, “Who’s the mandolin player? I’ve got a fine one for sale today.” He pulled out a brand-new Hutto mandolin—the smell of fresh finish still lingering. I started playing it, and a crowd gathered. The tone was amazing. The seller explained he didn’t even know how to play—he’d just seen Dempsey with his and had to order one. After three years of waiting, he lost interest. “How much?” I asked. “I just want my money back—$2,650,” he said. Less than $300 more from my letter years earlier.
I told him I’d love to have it and had been saving, and he replied, “Play it today and we’ll see what happens.” He handed me a card that read: “Charlie Harrison – Frantic Guitar Picker.”
After an amazing show with the mandolin, I reluctantly handed it back. Charlie said, “Let me know if you can buy it.” Back on the bus, Larry asked, “Where’s the mandolin?” I explained I’d try to buy it once we were home. Larry turned to our bus driver, Charlie Estas, and said, “Hold on a minute!” He stepped off the bus. No one spoke.
Fifteen minutes later, Larry and the festival promoter returned, and I saw the mandolin under Larry’s arm. He handed it to me and said, “You won’t outgrow this one.” I found out later he’d told the promoter, “My mandolin player is buying that mandolin. And if he can’t, then I will. We’re leaving with the mandolin.” With a little help from my father, I closed the deal on Hutto #132.
For the next thirteen years, I played it exclusively on live shows and recordings, like Coldest Part of Winter and the acclaimed 40 album by Larry Sparks, where I performed alongside Alison Krauss, Dan Tyminski, Rhonda Vincent, and The Whites. Highlights included playing the Ryman Auditorium on my 22nd birthday, my debut on the Grand Ole Opry, and collaborations with Dale Ann Bradley and Marty Raybon. I also used it on my solo mandolin album, All Out Front, and a tour of Isreal.
One of my proudest moments was finishing the Love Lost & Found record after Dempsey Young’s passing. He recorded the first half; I recorded the rest. One track even features both of us—on different parts of the same song.
But over time, the very thing that drew me to the Hutto—the connection to Dempsey—began to push me away. As much as I admired him, I didn’t want to be known as “the next best Dempsey.” I wanted to honor his creativity by finding my own voice. “Be different—that’s the only way people will remember you,” Dempsey once told me. It was the last thing he ever said to me.
So, I moved on. I set my sights on classic Gibson mandolins. Eventually, I found a 1939 F-5 that I loved, purchased from Larry Cadle—who, ironically, owns Dempsey Young’s Hutto. To make it happen, I traded some instruments, and Lorraine Jordan ended up with my Hutto. She cherished it, using it on her Country Grass album and in various videos.
But then, about six weeks ago, I woke up at daylight with one clear thought: I want the mandolin back. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I messaged Lorraine that night. She wasn’t looking to part with it, but said, “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
I suspect the recent loss of my father brought up a lot of emotion. He was proud of how that mandolin had come to me after my first attempt fell through. I reached out to Allen Dyer, Lorraine’s guitarist and a fellow vintage instrument lover. He mentioned Lorraine was looking for a smaller-bodied vintage guitar—something like an old Martin. I happened to have a 1943 Martin 00-18 I’d been playing.
A week later, Lorraine invited me to do a mandolin workshop at her festival, Bluegrass in the Blue Ridge, in Kingsport, TN. She said, “Bring the guitar—I’d like to see it.” I arrived early, set up my table, and waited. When it was time for my workshop, Lorraine appeared with her husband Tom and photographer Bill Warren. Instead of a workshop, they surprised me: Lorraine presented me with my Hutto.
Words can’t describe that moment. Allen and I played for the next half hour, telling stories. We announced we were “trading” instruments—but in truth, Lorraine gave me the mandolin, and I gave her the guitar she’d been looking for. She later told me she’d already made up her mind before I came to Kingsport. My mother, after hearing the story, said she’d been praying I’d get it back.
Lorraine shared her heartfelt thoughts on the matter.
“I truly enjoyed playing the Hutto mandolin, and even recorded with it on my 2015 Country Grass project, alongside several Grand Ole Opry stars. It had the best low-end chop I’ve ever heard. After Scott’s father—who helped him get this mandolin—passed away, Scott asked if there was any way to get the Hutto back. I just knew it needed to be with him. Now, it’s back home where it belongs.”
Once I had it again, I wanted to refresh the setup to my taste. I turned to my friend, mandolin expert Jonathan McClanahan. The mandolin was unchanged except for the mods I had done: Don MacRostie’s compound radius fretboard, Waverly tuners, and a Bill James tailpiece. The lacquer on the peghead had developed finish checking, and some was chipping on the back. Lorraine had someone remove the back peghead overlay and finish down the neck, but the front still had the thick heavy checking.
Jonathan not only restored those areas but added his relic magic to the tuners and tailpiece for a cohesive, aged look. We were both blown away by the intricate inlay work—done entirely by hand by Mr. Hutto, who was 78 at the time.
Johnnie Hutto was a character. Born in 1921, a WWII veteran, he acted in old cowboy movies and kept an albino skunk as a pet. He was one a few builders that revitalized the quality of mandolins that had become a thing of the past. I never met him in person, but I did call him after I got the mandolin. He remembered my letter and was thrilled I’d ended up with one. When I told him Charlie Harrison had sold it to fund a Harley, Hutto chuckled: “Well, I can understand that—I’ve owned several myself.”
He told me, “Whatever you do, don’t get rid of it. Take it and play it from now on. I put a lot of heart into building that instrument. It’ll outlast us both.”
Here’s to John Hutto, and the powerful mandolins built by one powerful man and to Lorraine Jordan for giving me a second chance to “take it and play it from now on.”
John Hutto built a total of 144 mandolins and passed away in 2004. He was 83 years old.
