ben wakeman : : Journal

A Trip to Wayne Henderson's Shop

February 21, 2006

My Dad got it in his head two months ago after hearing Wayne Henderson play that he was going to have Wayne build me a guitar. I've never seen my Dad so excited about anything besides Braves baseball as he was about this little unassuming mountain man who can play the living hell out of the guitar as well as make them. My Dad bought two copies of the book "Clapton's Guitar: Watching Wayne Henderson Build the Perfect Instrument," and finished his copy in two days. Now this may not seem like much because the book's only a couple of hundred pages, but my Dad never reads anything but the newspaper and he devoured this book.

Anyway, it was decided that night that he saw Wayne play and spoke with him afterwards -- I was going to have a hand-made Henderson guitar, even if it took 10 years to get it. My Dad has a big heart and is exceedingly generous of spirit, but he is not one to "spare no expense" or throw caution to the wind when it comes to the price of a thing. He never even asked Wayne how much it would cost. I was floored and immediately told him what he could be in for. Hand-made guitars of this quality are several thousand dollars just to start talking about and I tried to convince him that this was a wonderful thing to do, but not necessary. He disagreed. Two months later I find myself sitting in Wayne's shop writing up an order for my dream guitar.

Wayne puts my Taylor 815-C through the paces.

Wayne is a quiet man at first and nearly unapproachable in the way that many mountain folks are until you have proven that you are not a snake-oil salesman. We brought a sack of fried chicken and a lemon cake to break the ice. After a few awkward moments of standing around with our hats in our hands while Wayne bent over gluing together the sides of a new guitar, he eventually looked up through the glasses purched on the end of his nose, smiled ever so slightly and with a nod we were in. We got to watch him work all afternoon, listening to stories and learning about his craft. We exchanged gig stories and talked about mountain land. This was all well and nice, but frankly, would not have been anything to write home about until Wayne strung up a guitar we had just watched him finish that afternoon and handed it to me to play.

Wayne tunes up #349 for the first time.

Oh my God. That guitar had the biggest voice of any instument I have ever played. It was light as a feather when he handed it over to me, so I was floored when one strum of a wide open G rattled the window panes. Besides being loud, it was clear and balanced in it's tone and so easy to play. I really could not believe all of this came right out of the gate. I watched the man put the very first set of strings on that guitar and it came out singing like an instrument 5 times its vintage. I eventually had to give it back to him, but I was now a believer. Wayne Henderson does not just make guitars, he makes world-class guitars that I would put up against any other maker on the planet.