Sweet satisfaction

Michael Blank turns toward the door and hollers.

"You've never been in the world-famous Root Beer Saloon before?" he asks, incredulous. "It's a one-of-a-kind place."

Taxidermied animals abound inside the Alto Pass, Illinois, establishment. White lobsters hang on the wall, there's a moose in the back corner and a flock of preserved ducks covers the entire ceiling like a cloud floor.

It is indeed a one-of-a-kind place, but then everything Blank does seems to be one of a kind, right down to the world-famous guitars he's built for the past two decades.

His handcrafted Zuni line of electric guitars has garnered a sort of cult following among luthiers and other guitar obsessives.

Michael Blank holds Malibu Sunset, one of his handcrafted Zuni guitars, on May 11 at the Root Beer Saloon in Alto Pass, Illinois.Laura Simon

Each one, he says, is like a Picasso, but the comparison comes more from enthusiasm than immodesty.

Despite his monochromatic dress, in black shirt, black pants and cow-spotted ball cap, Blank is a colorful man. He's a natural-born teller of tales, a frequent and vigorous maker of larger-than-life claims, and terribly good company.

He tells stories of eating beluga caviar with Muscovite blondes and of nightclubs in Rio.

"This is the largest private collection of mounted waterfowl in the country," he says, waving up at the duck-ceiling convincingly.

But he's especially lit up when he's showing off one of his guitars.

"This is Blue Sapphire," he says, cradling the gorgeous azure six-string. It's one of the first ones he made, after honing his craft in Formenterra, Spain, off the coast of Valencia.

It's one of a dozen or so that he keeps around the saloon, each in custom-crafted humidor-equipped guitar cases.

It's pristine, mouthwatering, with a quilted maple top and gold hardware.

Even the pickups are handcrafted, wound to Blank's own specifications.

"I like humbuckers," he says. "They give you that deeper, bully sound. They've got more bluesy soul."

And the attention to detail is absurd. The pickup housings are carved from birdseye maple, Blank says, to enhance tone.

"Imagine a violin or a cello that's made out of plastic," he explains. "But when it's all wood, it melts together and acts as one."

In 23 years, he's made 33 guitars, he says, and each one differs from the others. The design is his own, and although he also owns and plays other guitars, like Fender Stratocasters and Telecasters, his own are his favorite.

"[Strats and Teles] are great guitars, but it's a little like driving a Ford or a Chevy," he says. "If you're driving a Ferrari, when I put you back into a Ford Taurus, you're gonna know it."

The crafting takes about a month, he says, not including the time it takes to cut and season the wood, much of which is years, if not decades, old.

He cuts all the wood himself at a mill he owns about three hours north of Green Bay, Wisconsin.

He had been a director of marketing and promotion for a college in Wisconsin, but dropped it to follow his passion instead.

"Quit on my 39th birthday," he says simply. "Started cuttin'."

Since then, he's cut wood not just for his own guitars, but also has supplied high-end hardwoods to such manufacturers as Gibson, Taylor and Martin, among others.

"You gotta have the wood first," he says. "It's not like going to Lowe's or Home Depot."

But after providing wood to others, he again decided to strike out on his own.

"Then I thought, 'Well, might as well build the best guitars in the world.'"

But, he says, he is one of a disappearing breed.

"Guys like me are slowly dying off," he says. "Brokers aren't cutters. Cutters know wood. By doing my own, I cut out the middle man. When I make a guitar, I remember the tree."

And that satisfaction, when he saw one of his guitars playing on Letterman, or in the hands of Les Paul's guitar tech, makes it that much sweeter.

tgraef@semissourian.com

(573) 388-3627