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GRAND JUNCTION, Colo. — “If you’ve gotta be homeless, this is a great place to be. There’s a lot of caring people in the Valley.”
Richard “Rick” Naimish should know. This isn’t the first time he’s been homeless. A native of Detroit, he came to Grand Junction several years ago to help his older sister move here. Before then he spent time all over the country, bouncing between coasts and a number of points in between, hitchhiking his way through dusty towns and supporting himself through the occasional odd job. He has a wanderlust a mile wide, but for now the Valley is his home.
It’s a long way from the racially charged streets of Motor City, but Naimish isn’t one to dwell too long on his circumstances. He’d rather focus on the love of his life, a musical accessory he created that springs directly from his days and nights working blues and jazz bars throughout the Lower 48 as an electric bass player. It’s called the Naimish bridge, and its laid-back, fiercely independent inventor is counting on it to make his mark in music.
“I never considered myself an inventor,” he said in a recent interview at J.B. Hart Music on Main Street. “But I spent 17 years in machine shops, and in those 17 years I did all kinds of R&D work. There are all these creative opportunities (working as a machinist).”
Naimish had developed a love for the “bluesy jazz” music played on a Hammond B-3 organ, and he wanted to recreate the sounds its foot pedals make. He tinkered around with his own instruments, eventually switching to a “fretless bass.”
“A fret is what you press the string to in order to create a pitch,” he explained. “A fretless bass is an electric bass guitar with no frets on the fingerboard. And I got into the fretless thing. People would think that I was trying to sound like an upright bass, but no, there’s nothing like (the Hammond B-3).”
Naimish continued to experiment with his playing, eventually purchasing his first Fender in the early 2000s, followed by a custom-built Peavey Cirrus. All the while he continued to work as a machinist, organizing gigs at local clubs with various bands in his spare time.
The idea for the Naimish bridge — a bridge is a device attached to the body of a guitar that allows for string control and pitch — came to him when he became interested in improving upon the German-made ABM, the standard bridge then available for the Peavey Cirrus. That bridge employed a traditional “set screw” design, but Naimish wanted something simpler.
“I followed Occam’s Razor,” he said. “You know, when you have multiple solutions to a problem, usually the simplest one is the best.”
It wasn’t quite that easy, of course. Naimish worked on his designs for two months. It wasn’t until he returned from an exhausting three-day hike and had resolved to give up on his quest to find the perfect bridge that he hit upon the solution involving a half-dowel to create adjustable screws. With the approval of his then-boss, who himself was a bluesman, he created a prototype at the shop where he worked. He then took it to a guitar center in Denver. Within minutes of plugging in his Fender guitar — equipped with his new bridge — and playing a few chords, he was surrounded by a “small crowd” of fellow bass players wanting their own Naimish bridge.
“I thought, Wow, I’m on to something here. The difference was stunning. It absolutely transformed the Fender.”
Naimish went on to create a Web site and sold at least 40 of the bridges to musicians around the world. He even landed a glowing review in the February 2005 issue of Bass Player magazine. The reviewers found the bridge “unusual and impressive,” and urged readers who “crave clean, elegant lines, a uniquely simple design solution, and a touch of custom-made exclusivity” to run out and get themselves one. Naimish followed up that success with a partnership with an investor whom he met at a conference organized by the Rocky Mountain Inventors Association. With a Web site, the promise of financing and marketing expertise and a growing fan base of eager musicians spreading “buzz” about the bridge, Naimish seemed on the way to finding his calling at last.
Then, last December, his life collapsed again.
Following a skirmish with a coworker, Naimish lost his job and then his apartment. He’s been living at Homeward Bound ever since.
“Just when we were ready to take off, we ran out of money,” he lamented. “When you do, they cut everything off, including your Internet, and you get evicted. You’ve gotta worry about getting a meal and putting a roof over your head.”
His relationship with his investor is also in tatters. Naimish claims that, unbeknownst to him, the investor assigned himself the patent to the bridge when he filed the application with the U.S. Patent Office, thereby stripping Naimish, original inventor, the rights to his own creation.
Still, he’s not giving up. Thirty-nine years of playing music and thirty-four years of being on the road have strengthened his resolve to pursue his dream, despite the setbacks he’s encountered along the way. He’s grateful for the kindness and generosity of the people at the shelter and is adamant that he will find a way to get his bridge to the musicians who want it.
“I’ve never given up,” he declared. “It’s been a nine-year battle (to get the bridge to market). Every single person I’ve sent the bridge to has said the same thing: this is the best adjustable bridge I have ever used. I have never seen a penny from (the investor), and right now he owns my invention. But I’m not gonna let that stop me.”
In the meantime he keeps company with a group of friends, looks for work and enjoys the unique freedom that comes from being unencumbered with possessions. It’s a hard life, but Naimish isn’t one to complain. He’s been through it before.
“You can go hungry,” he admitted. “I went to Denver a few weeks ago and stepped on my brother’s scale. I was shocked that I was down to 160 pounds. I took a really good look in the mirror and said, Man, I need to pay more attention to this. But today, I feel great. And now I just want to show people the bridge because I’ve finally created something that’s the best.”
Richard “Rick” Naimish should know. This isn’t the first time he’s been homeless. A native of Detroit, he came to Grand Junction several years ago to help his older sister move here. Before then he spent time all over the country, bouncing between coasts and a number of points in between, hitchhiking his way through dusty towns and supporting himself through the occasional odd job. He has a wanderlust a mile wide, but for now the Valley is his home.
It’s a long way from the racially charged streets of Motor City, but Naimish isn’t one to dwell too long on his circumstances. He’d rather focus on the love of his life, a musical accessory he created that springs directly from his days and nights working blues and jazz bars throughout the Lower 48 as an electric bass player. It’s called the Naimish bridge, and its laid-back, fiercely independent inventor is counting on it to make his mark in music.
“I never considered myself an inventor,” he said in a recent interview at J.B. Hart Music on Main Street. “But I spent 17 years in machine shops, and in those 17 years I did all kinds of R&D work. There are all these creative opportunities (working as a machinist).”
Naimish had developed a love for the “bluesy jazz” music played on a Hammond B-3 organ, and he wanted to recreate the sounds its foot pedals make. He tinkered around with his own instruments, eventually switching to a “fretless bass.”
“A fret is what you press the string to in order to create a pitch,” he explained. “A fretless bass is an electric bass guitar with no frets on the fingerboard. And I got into the fretless thing. People would think that I was trying to sound like an upright bass, but no, there’s nothing like (the Hammond B-3).”
Naimish continued to experiment with his playing, eventually purchasing his first Fender in the early 2000s, followed by a custom-built Peavey Cirrus. All the while he continued to work as a machinist, organizing gigs at local clubs with various bands in his spare time.
The idea for the Naimish bridge — a bridge is a device attached to the body of a guitar that allows for string control and pitch — came to him when he became interested in improving upon the German-made ABM, the standard bridge then available for the Peavey Cirrus. That bridge employed a traditional “set screw” design, but Naimish wanted something simpler.
“I followed Occam’s Razor,” he said. “You know, when you have multiple solutions to a problem, usually the simplest one is the best.”
It wasn’t quite that easy, of course. Naimish worked on his designs for two months. It wasn’t until he returned from an exhausting three-day hike and had resolved to give up on his quest to find the perfect bridge that he hit upon the solution involving a half-dowel to create adjustable screws. With the approval of his then-boss, who himself was a bluesman, he created a prototype at the shop where he worked. He then took it to a guitar center in Denver. Within minutes of plugging in his Fender guitar — equipped with his new bridge — and playing a few chords, he was surrounded by a “small crowd” of fellow bass players wanting their own Naimish bridge.
“I thought, Wow, I’m on to something here. The difference was stunning. It absolutely transformed the Fender.”
Naimish went on to create a Web site and sold at least 40 of the bridges to musicians around the world. He even landed a glowing review in the February 2005 issue of Bass Player magazine. The reviewers found the bridge “unusual and impressive,” and urged readers who “crave clean, elegant lines, a uniquely simple design solution, and a touch of custom-made exclusivity” to run out and get themselves one. Naimish followed up that success with a partnership with an investor whom he met at a conference organized by the Rocky Mountain Inventors Association. With a Web site, the promise of financing and marketing expertise and a growing fan base of eager musicians spreading “buzz” about the bridge, Naimish seemed on the way to finding his calling at last.
Then, last December, his life collapsed again.
Following a skirmish with a coworker, Naimish lost his job and then his apartment. He’s been living at Homeward Bound ever since.
“Just when we were ready to take off, we ran out of money,” he lamented. “When you do, they cut everything off, including your Internet, and you get evicted. You’ve gotta worry about getting a meal and putting a roof over your head.”
His relationship with his investor is also in tatters. Naimish claims that, unbeknownst to him, the investor assigned himself the patent to the bridge when he filed the application with the U.S. Patent Office, thereby stripping Naimish, original inventor, the rights to his own creation.
Still, he’s not giving up. Thirty-nine years of playing music and thirty-four years of being on the road have strengthened his resolve to pursue his dream, despite the setbacks he’s encountered along the way. He’s grateful for the kindness and generosity of the people at the shelter and is adamant that he will find a way to get his bridge to the musicians who want it.
“I’ve never given up,” he declared. “It’s been a nine-year battle (to get the bridge to market). Every single person I’ve sent the bridge to has said the same thing: this is the best adjustable bridge I have ever used. I have never seen a penny from (the investor), and right now he owns my invention. But I’m not gonna let that stop me.”
In the meantime he keeps company with a group of friends, looks for work and enjoys the unique freedom that comes from being unencumbered with possessions. It’s a hard life, but Naimish isn’t one to complain. He’s been through it before.
“You can go hungry,” he admitted. “I went to Denver a few weeks ago and stepped on my brother’s scale. I was shocked that I was down to 160 pounds. I took a really good look in the mirror and said, Man, I need to pay more attention to this. But today, I feel great. And now I just want to show people the bridge because I’ve finally created something that’s the best.”
