Here's a personal anecdote, for what it's worth (I suspect, not very much). I saw an old uke advertised about forty miles from my home. Went to look at it, and found the seller was a very old man who had owned it since he was twelve years of age. His parents had bought it for him as a birthday present. He told me the town and the name of the music store from wence it came. He had played this uke all his life, as evidenced by the prodigious amount of wear on the fretboard.
He was selling the uke because he was now very frail and was moving into an assisted living facility. He could no longer play, because of arthritic fingers, and the uke was in very poor condition. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was no use to me, but he wasn't asking much for it and I didn't wish to disappoint him.
It was quite the worst ukulele I have ever seen - atrociously made, of nasty materials, with horribly ornate decorations very badly applied. Presumably, he never knew what is was like to play a good ukulele.
I fixed it up so that it was playable (just) but it sounded awful. A friend took it off my hands as a kitsch curiosity to hang on the wall.
He was selling the uke because he was now very frail and was moving into an assisted living facility. He could no longer play, because of arthritic fingers, and the uke was in very poor condition. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was no use to me, but he wasn't asking much for it and I didn't wish to disappoint him.
It was quite the worst ukulele I have ever seen - atrociously made, of nasty materials, with horribly ornate decorations very badly applied. Presumably, he never knew what is was like to play a good ukulele.
I fixed it up so that it was playable (just) but it sounded awful. A friend took it off my hands as a kitsch curiosity to hang on the wall.