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The Irish Creek Story

It was 1965 and I was 12 years old. I loved spending my summers on my grandparents’ farm in Kansas, milking 3 cows both morning and night, slopping hogs, bailing prairie hay, and harvesting wheat. The summer of “65 was special as I was allowed to drive the truck while we cleared more land for wheat along the banks of Irish Creek, a small stream that ran through the farm. My grandfather, Carl Samuelson, Grandpa Sam to me, claimed he was the only Swede who lived on Irish Creek. Our clearing included cutting down several black walnut trees which we milled into 1-inch slabs and stacked in the old chicken coop. Sadly, Grandpa Sam died in a motor vehicle accident 9 years later and the wood remained in that old coop. My uncle kept the farm in the family and I took my sons there occasionally to connect them to my childhood. We visited the farm with my uncle shortly after I took up building guitars and ukuleles. He offered me choice black walnut boards, now seasoned over 40 years. Several years ago, my beloved uncle was killed by a falling tree while working in the woods along the creek.

I continue to build instruments from those walnut trees and other woods that carry their own stories. Great memories led me to the name “Irish Creek Stringed Instruments” in honor of my grandpa and uncle and those idyllic days along the Irish Creek. Thank you for allowing me to share my story. I hope your instrument brings you joy and happy memories.

Mark Potter

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