[JPL] PREOCCUPATIONS: Building Tools That Can Make a Crowd Dance

[Jazz Promo Services]

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/02/jobs/02pre.html


November 2, 2008
PREOCCUPATIONS
Building Tools That Can Make a Crowd Dance

By SUSAN CUMMINGS, as told to PATRICIA R. OLSEN

I¹VE worked at the Martin guitar factory in Nazareth, Pa., for almost 23
years. I¹m the second generation in my family to work there. (My grandfather
started at the factory in 1925, making 35 cents an hour.)

If people think factory work is boring and repetitive, they¹re probably
thinking of automated assembly line jobs. My job is definitely not boring.
I¹m a neck-fitter ‹ I line up the neck of the guitar with the body and trim
the male dovetail, the joint that extends out from the end of the neck and
fits into a matching female dovetail on the guitar body.

It sounds easy, fitting one part into another, right? It¹s one of the
hardest jobs here.

Wood expands and contracts; it¹s not like working with a material like
aluminum. So while all the guitars of a certain model might look the same,
each one is different. The dovetails are oversized on purpose when they¹re
made so that they can be custom-fit.

First, I use a template to make sure the neck is centered and can fit just
right into the body. Then, using four chisels, a rasp, a file, a saw and a
knife, I shape and whittle the dovetail. It takes a lot of work.

For example, I may need to shave minute amounts ‹ even one-100th of an inch
‹ off the various surfaces of the dovetail so that the pitch, the angle at
which the neck meets the body, is correct. The geometry is complicated. The
pitch has to be perfect so that the height of the strings on the
fingerboard, or the playing surface, is comfortable for the player.

What I do is a big responsibility, since it directly affects how easy it is
for someone to play the guitar. Visitors who tour our factory and stop at my
station often say I make it look easy. But it¹s an art, and not everyone can
do it. You have to have good eye-hand coordination.

By the time the two guitar parts reach me, there¹s been a significant
investment of time and material and I don¹t have the luxury of making a
mistake. If I¹ve done my job well, there¹s hardly any final fitting to be
done down the line.

Just before I¹m done with my part of the process, I write the serial number
on the neck and the body so the parts are no longer interchangeable with
other guitars.

I¹ve been doing this job for almost 10 years. I love it. I look forward to
getting up and going to work in the morning. I need a challenge, and of the
25 or so jobs I¹ve had here, this is the most challenging. I just jumped in
and learned how to do it from my boss and two other neck-fitters. It took me
eight hours to fit my first guitar because I was so nervous.

All Martin employees start at Level 1 on the factory floor. One of these
jobs is coiling guitar strings around your hand and inserting them into
envelopes. You have to work your way up to other positions and levels.
Neck-fitter is a Level 4 job, and I¹m the only woman who has held the
position. Other women have tried to learn it but they haven¹t succeeded.

It takes, on average, 15 or 20 minutes to fit a neck on a guitar. If
neck-fitters can¹t complete at least three guitars an hour, they get called
into the office for a conversation with the boss. But I¹m fast. I don¹t do
it every day, but I can fit a neck in seven minutes. I don¹t mean to brag,
but I can complete seven guitars in an hour if I want to. The most I¹ve
completed has been 48 in eight hours.

We¹re very close in this group. We¹re like a family, even though we don¹t
socialize or phone one another outside the plant. People stay forever and
everyone knows everyone else. I was heartbroken when my supervisor retired
two years ago. He was part of my life. Leon Klipple, the neck-fitter on the
other side of my station, is my bench buddy. We even have nicknames for each
other. He¹s Yogi and I¹m Boo Boo, from the Yogi Bear cartoon.

Besides our stock models, we¹ve worked on guitars for musicians that include
Eric Clapton, Joan Baez, Tom Petty and John Mayer. When I was working on
Clint Black¹s guitar, I wrote my name inside it. If something should ever
happen to it and he tears it apart, he¹ll see it.

I just started guitar lessons. I own four Martin guitars, and it finally
drove me crazy that I couldn¹t play them. It¹s like owning a Mercedes and
not being able to drive. I¹m finding it difficult to learn at this stage of
my life, though. There¹s no parent standing over me, making me practice.

I figure I¹ll retire in another 10 or 12 years. Then again, I like my job so
much that when that time comes, if I¹m in good health, I¹ll probably still
be here.

As told to Patricia R. Olsen. Preoccupations
is a feature about working life. E-mail:
preoccupations at nytimes.com.


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