Pattie…The Lost Harrison & Clapton Guitar

By: Ivan Munoz

In the fall of 1968, something quiet and profound happened. A single guitar—already over half a century old at the time—made its way into the hands of two of the most important musicians of the 20th century. George Harrison and Eric Clapton, both standing on the edge of their legendary band careers, found themselves writing together in a Los Angeles garden, guitars in hand, uncertainty in the air. One of those guitars would not only inspire hits but become a vessel for personal transformation and artistic rebirth.

That guitar? A 1913 Gibson Style O Acoustic. And the story of how it traveled from the dawn of the 20th century into the middle of one of rock's most influential chapters is nothing short of astonishing.

By October 1968, The Beatles were beginning to drift apart. George Harrison had flown to Los Angeles directly from the final sessions of the White Album to work on a solo project: producing an album for Jackie Lomax. At the same time, he was managing mixes and promotional tasks for the Beatles' new material in the U.S. He was tired, disillusioned, and growing increasingly distant from the Lennon-McCartney creative engine.

Eric Clapton, too, was approaching a breaking point. Cream, the power trio that had redefined blues-rock, was imploding. The night before the garden photo in question, he had just played Cream's second-to-last show at the LA Forum. There was another to play that night, and the pressure was mounting. The band was at odds. Clapton was searching for something more honest, more grounded.

And then came the morning of October 19, 1968.

George and Eric, in this rare window of creative detachment from their respective groups, sat down to write. It was one of their earliest face-to-face sessions—a moment of mutual recognition that they were not just sidemen in legendary groups but fully formed musicians capable of standing on their own. It was in that spirit that they began what would become "Badge," a defining single on Cream's final album and a foreshadowing of the artistic risks both would soon take.

And it was in that very session that George Harrison was photographed playing a strange, aged acoustic guitar: The 1913 Gibson Style O. A guitar that, even by the time, was already a ghost from a previous era.

October 19, 1968 Garden Writing Session

Clapton had acquired the instrument sometime during that LA stay. It was beat up, old, barely clinging to life. But something about it—its history, its voice—spoke to him. He took it to Milt Owen, a Hollywood luthier and former Gibson employee specializing in archtop restorations. Owen replaced the tailpiece with one from a rare L-48 model, repaired the delaminating neck binding, replaced the tuners, and brought the guitar back to life. It wasn’t pristine, but it was playable. More than that—it was alive.

Earlier Photo Showing Delaminated Neck Binding

By the time it landed in George's hands that morning, the guitar had become part of the writing ritual. There, in a photo captured that same day, you can see Harrison playing it, Clapton at his side, watching.

Their partnership grew from friendly collaboration to what Clapton later called a "spiritual brotherhood." In fact, it’s even partly responsible for the creation of Harrison’s masterpiece ‘Here Comes The Sun’. The middle 8 section being borrowed almost directly from ‘Badge’, Harrison himself even notes it in his hand-written lyrics sheet - “Son Of Badge”.

The original lyric sheet for ‘Here Comes The Sun’ noting the bridge to be played ‘Son Of Badge’, a borrow from the 1968 writing session with Gibson Style O Acoustic

And that guitar? It stuck around. When Clapton grew closer to Delaney Bramlett, it followed. Bramlett, a masterful arranger and producer with deep roots in American blues and soul, became a creative mentor to Clapton. Bramlett was also responsible for teaching George Harrison how to play slide guitar, a technique which quickly became his signature. The two shared songs, techniques, philosophies. They also shared guitars. Clapton left the Style O with Bramlett, and it became a staple in the songwriter circles forming in Laurel Canyon.

Over the next few years, the guitar was passed between legends Duane Allman. Gram Parsons. Dave Mason. Even Jimi Hendrix reportedly strummed it at Bramlett's home. This was no museum piece—it was a living, breathing tool in the center of one of rock's most influential creative collectives. The Style O, nicknamed "Pattie," was there when the idea of modern Americana-Rock was being invented.

Eventually, the guitar fell into obscurity. Bramlett gifted it to his mother. It was repaired again, used casually, forgotten. But not forever.

Delaney Bramlett Pictured With “Pattie” Alongside Other Famous Guitars Including George’s Rosewood Telecaster

Decades later, the guitar resurfaced. It had changed hands through estate sales and collectors, its origins obscured by time. It was brought into the Victor Company - at the His Master's Voice Archives in Camden, New Jersey—the modern legacy of the Victor Records label that had once recorded Big Bill Broonzy, whose use of the Style O inspired Clapton and Harrison to begin with.

At first, no one knew what it was. The guitar was used in studio sessions and live productions, appreciated for its warm, weathered tone, and that was it. Until one day, a photo was matched. Then the tailpiece. Then the binding repair. Then the wood grain. Slowly, the pieces clicked together. This was the guitar from the garden. The guitar that helped write Badge" and inspire countless other classics from that era. And it still plays like a dream.

Today, the 1913 Gibson Style O—the same one Harrison played that morning in L.A., the same one that traveled from Cream to Delaney and Bonnie to the heart of Laurel Canyon—is safely part of Victor's extensive archive of historic music industry artifacts where it continues to make music. 

Instruments like this aren’t just pieces of history. They’re conduits. This guitar helped usher in a moment of self-realization for two of rock's greatest figures. It helped break the mold of their band identities and led to music that defined a generation. It lived through transformations—personal, artistic, and cultural—and it still carries those vibrations in every note it plays.

It’s humbling when an instrument holds so much and shares its stories with you. And somehow, through the luck of survival and the hands it passed through, it became a silent partner to some of the most emotionally honest music ever recorded. Its voice—dry, woody, resonant, patient—can still be heard today. It reminds us that history doesn’t always announce itself, but rather reveals itself at the perfect time right when it’s needed the most - and shows us that there’s still more music to be made.

Check out Victor’s comprehensive documentary on this guitar below: