Creating Sustain

I grew up on a farm making things. When family and friends came out to visit us the prevailing question was always, "what do you do out here in the middle of nowhere?" For me, the question was always - What couldn't you do?

When I as about 12 years old I found some old, retired plow points sitting in a building we referred to as the egg house. There were never any eggs there when I was growing up, but I think that my grandfather might of used it for the incubation of chickens. Anyway -these plow points were quite hard and after a little bit of practice with a cutting wheel on a body grinder and hours and hours of grinding the plow point on a little electric grinding wheel, I learned to turn these plow points into pretty nice knives. I probably made about 4 or 5 knives, always giving them away when I found someone I wanted to give one too. 

What does any of this have to do with classical guitar making? Well, before I went to the Peace Corps I decided to do something on a much more grand scale. My best friend Tim had been raving about his desire for a battle ready sword most of the time that I knew him. It just so happens that most swords that you and I can afford ($100-300) aren't worth the metal there made out of. I bought one of these swords when I was 13 to celebrate my viewing the movie "Braveheart". I declared war on every thistle on our farm that summer, which, unfortunatley, meant that next summer there were only more of them and swinging swords was gradually loosing its appeal. The sword stayed in the corner until I was around 26 years old, and that winter I got to thinking about how Tim always wanted a battle ready sword, so I thought that maybe I would just give it to him. First, I just wanted to see if it was actually battle ready. I figured that if it could split a piece of wood, then there - good enough - ready for battle. I placed half of a white oak log on the splitting stump, reach way back and Arrrg! - let her have it.

The result was very dissappointing - a handle in pieces and hands that felt like I swung late on that inside fast ball. I gained an immediate appriciation for something that was "battle ready" and a curiosity for what could make this sword worthy. So I did what any good friend would do. I read articles online about the construction of swords and viewed pictures of swords that were dug from castles and battlefields - the handles all intact - at least the metal was left.

So what does this have to do with making classical guitars? Well, I decided to take that sword and completely redo the handle. I cut of the old handle and used my hours of experience at the electric grinder to create a new one, except this time, the tang of the sword would no longer be a bolt that held the handle in place with pressure. The crossguard, pomel and grip would be fused into one piece! 

After the new tang was ground to the appropriate width, I create a slot in the cross guard that was just a tiny bit shy in size. I fit the crossguard to the handle by banging down the tang relentlessly until it seemed to reach its limit. When I thought that I had completely finished, I lifted the sword up to take a closer look at what I had done, and in the process, smacked the nearby jointer. I completely forgot what I was looking for when I heard a short note arise from the collision - kind of like a tuning fork that was suddenly muffled. I couldn't help but wonder, why didn't it ring like the swords in the movies. Maybe that's a childish thought - I desire with little reason behind it. Curious, I went back to banging the cross guard down the tang - tapped it on the jointer again - a little more banging - getting tighter. Finally, when the tip of the sword was tapped slightly on a something heavy and dense, it sang like a tuning fork. The note went on and on.

That's was probably the best experience and introduction that I could have hoped for in learning to create what we call "sustain" in music.