background

I was born in the Greenpoint district of Brooklyn New York in 1946, the first year of the baby boomers when TV was in its infancy and the music industry was about to go through dramatic changes. During my childhood, I was privileged to enjoy the birth of rock and roll. Folk music, protest songs, and Motown then supplied the soundtrack to my adolescent years. The space program provided a backdrop to my transition into adulthood. I entered high school one year before Alan Shepard made the first manned flight into space and graduated from college one year before Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. By that time, I too had a completely new view of the world, becoming part of a counterculture redefining wealth, success, and fulfillment.

I studied Industrial Design at Brooklyn Technical High School, one of the finest high schools in New York City . I continued my Industrial Design training at Pratt Institute, one of the finest design schools in the country, also located in Brooklyn. After receiving my B.I.D. Degree in 1968 I taught high school drafting and design for three years at Wantagh Senior High School on Long Island, N.Y. That was followed by several years studying philosophy and practicing various disciplines promoting insight and mindfulness. During those years I drove a NYC cab, worked in a Cape Cod fishery, and established a bicycle shop in Williamstown, MA. It was there in 1974 that I reconnected with my college friend William Cumpiano. I helped him establish his first studio and learned the art of making and repairing acoustic guitars. Today, fifty years later we continue to be business partners sharing and enjoying our passion for the craft.

I prefer the craft of guitar repair more than building. I find the activity of troubleshooting and problem-solving to be more challenging and rewarding. The task is to optimize the performance of each instrument, regardless of its worth or limitations. The idea of optimizing limitations was introduced to me early on watching Max Fleischer's Betty Boop cartoons from the 1930's on television in the early 50's. Betty's grandfather Grampy, was an inventor who would use common items in creative ways to solve problems such as making a carousel for Betty's infant by attaching a broken umbrella to a phonograph. Long before "recycling" became an essential activity Grampy recognized the worth and usefulness in objects otherwise considered to be trash. My affection for creative problem solving was inspired by those cartoons and I will always be indebted to Max Fleischer for introducing me to the virtue of "thinking out of the box".

I am now retired and am no longer available to conduct repairs, however my interest in the creative arts remains. This website is a compilation of past and present work in instrument making, guitar repair, drawing, painting, sculpture, photography, video-making, songwriting, music composition, and writing . Its been an honor and privilege to have served such an extraordinary community of musicians and songwriters.

Metamorphose
Words & Music by Harry Becker
(vocal track soon to be provided)

I came into this world in 1946 World War II had ended just one year before
I grew up on a street in a Brooklyn neighborhood above my parent’s grocery store
outside flippin’ baseball cards, chasin’ balls between the cars
oh but what a time it was to be a little boy
dressed up like the cowboys on the TV shows
I’d sing along with Gene and Roy

I was 10 years old in 1956 the Dodgers won the series just one year before
when they moved the team to California I didn't care much for the game no more
something new called rock and roll, healed my heart and soothed my soul
on a guitar painted black and gold I learned to play a song
listening to the hits on a crystal radio
I’d try to play and sing along

I was seventeen in 1963 John Glenn flew in outer space one year before
JFK was shot and the dream of Camelot gave way to yet another war
protest songs and civil rights Cassius Clay was winning fights
he changed his name and sacrificed all that he had won
Mr. Jones did not know what was happening
and conformity was on the run

I was 22 in 1968 Sgt. Pepper came out just one year before
time to redefine and reevaluate I couldn’t play the game no more
the metamorphose had begun, hearts were broken one by one
at times it seemed like everyone was going round the bend
inside out and upside down the rabbit hole
could never go back home again

You think of it from time to time like the vintage of good wine
savoring the memory of a very special year.
When the hawk were silenced by the dove and you were young and so in love
and songs about Aquarius were playing on the air.

How your wings and courage grew, t’was all so fresh and new to you,
a butterfly with an eagle’s view as high as you can see.
Above the clouds beneath the stars, how very real your dreamin’ was
when you closed your eyes and let your restless spirit free.

Like a migratory bird, the time had come to say the word
your generation seemed to fill the sky.
And though you’ve come to settle down, your two feet firmly on the ground
you know your fate was sealed the day you heard the call to fly.

Well the rainbow’s faded , stories told, there never was a pot of gold
The rights to Eden have been sold , the garden’s gone to seed.
Upon the mercy of the wind you drifted till you blended in
adjusting to the gravity your weary wings concede.

And though at times you wonder if the whole thing wasn’t all a myth
you still believe that dreaming is a virtue not a vice.
For the visionary helps us see a world some say will never be
but there’s the possibility we’ll meet in paradise

Like a migratory bird, the time had come to say the word
your generation seemed to fill the sky.
And though you’ve come to settle down, your two feet firmly on the ground
you know your fate was sealed the day you heard the call to fly.